Sailaway Sarantium

The last 36 hours of the passage from the Cook Islands to Tonga were frustrating and exhausting. Gusty headwinds combined with the shallower sea floor created a short, choppy sea state that made for an uncomfortable ride. Between the rain, cooler temperatures, and the constant motion of the boat, sleep was hard to come by.

Seeing land on the horizon was a welcome sight. I ended up motor sailing for the final six hours, partly because a case of “get-there-itis” had set in, but also because I wanted to arrive before low tide. The customs dock isn’t exactly designed for cruising sailboats—it’s built for cargo ships and ferries—so I knew docking could be a challenge.

Once inside the harbour, it became obvious that my boat wasn’t going to fit alongside very well. I hailed Port Control to ask if there was another option. Their response was simple: “Wait for the big catamaran behind you.”

I turned around and, to my surprise (not), my Spanish friends aboard SV Catarsis had quietly caught up to me. I let the 55-foot catamaran pass, then rafted up alongside them. Customs and immigration processed both of our boats at the same time, and before long we were lowering our quarantine flags, raising the Tongan courtesy flags, and heading off to find mooring buoys.

On my way through the harbour, I passed the famous Hideaway Floating Bar, owned by a Canadian couple from Manitoba and Ontario. As soon as they spotted my Canadian flag, everyone erupted in cheers—a pretty special welcome to Tonga.

Just as I approached my mooring, my Aussie friend launched his dinghy and came out to help. He grabbed my mooring lines and made securing the boat quick and easy.

That night I slept a solid nine hours.

Since arriving, I’ve quickly settled into the cruising community. I’ve shared more than a few beers, caught up with sailors I first met two years ago, and made plenty of new friends along the way.

I’m moored just offshore from the Mango restaurant, which has become the unofficial gathering place for cruisers. They provide a dinghy dock along with laundry facilities, propane refills, and fuel service, making it an easy place to get chores done while catching up with fellow sailors. It already feels like one of those places where everyone eventually ends up.

And now it’s time for the local cuisine!

Five days, and a fly to Florence♥️

This I wrote while on passage….First off, I have made some changes to my itinerary. My intention was to stop in Niue for four days or so before catching the wind to Tonga. What I have discovered is that a storm is brewing and is expected to arrive next week on Thursday. Therefore, my window to make it to Tonga is getting smaller. So, I decided to skip Niue, perhaps catch it after my time in Italy for my daughter’s wedding. The wind and waves have been so lovely that another five days on the ocean on my own will be welcomed. In fact, this crossing on my own has been just wonderful.

Sometimes I wonder if I truly understand the concept of being out here all by myself. Sometimes I stand on my back-rest, at the helm, and look forward, as far as I can see and yell “YES”!. I see Sarantium slicing through the dark blue waves and nothing else matters. I cannot see another boat nor can I see any birds or sea creatures. It’s just me and the beautiful deep blue ocean! Wave after wave. The feeling is pure solitude. Solitude is always something I have valued and reached for. Until now I have never truly experienced it. I believe solitude is extremely difficult to find, especially in a culture that values production, ownership and performance. I valued those things not too long ago. Although, my life was always rich, filled with fun activities and friends to share the moments with, this feeling I have now is new and powerful. The newness of caring much about the small things in life… but not get hung up on the small mistakes or imperfections. I have left a life behind that kept me stuck in certain societal expectations. I now feel free, in so many ways. And I feel connected to myself more now than ever before.

When I am not sleeping or napping, I have been busy with journaling, meditation and reading. I have a couple of people I check in with daily, on my Garmin InReach. I send them my location and a quick hello. I also turn Starlink on every morning and post a photo on social media and post on my blog. I am off-grid 23 hours a day.

I opened my Kindle three days ago and noticed that I had four books started so I decided to finish reading them. I noticed a theme, all books describes the adventurous lives of women who, similar to me, decided to leave and explore the world alone. I really do not know where or what this journey will bring me, and it does not seem important either. Perhaps I will never be able to explain it. All I know is that everyday will bring me a small realization about life. One day at a time. One nautical mile at a time.

Somewhere in the middle of the South Pacific. 500nmiles to go, before I see the land of the Kingdom of Tonga!

What can I say … just 🥰

July 30 at 0900:

SOG: 6.5 COG: 260 degrees

18* 33.356 S

164* 24.032 W

It has been an absolute blast! Everything from making new friends with cruisers from Australia, India, France and Lithuania to swimming with the humpback whales.

The consensus on Friday was that there was a weather window on Tuesday before a lull on Friday this week, so five cruisers went to Aitutaki Customs to see Bob. I am sure he wasn’t pleased to see five check outs at the same time. In addition, we had woken up to two boats approaching the harbour to clear in. This created some drama, as the harbour was full. We squeezed one boat in and asked the second to remain on the outside until we had left as they could maneuver the pass and harbour more easily with fewer boats around. I was up early on departure day and was ready to untie the lines around 08.30 and pulled the anchor at 08.45 and waved goodbye to the guy in the backhoe expanding the yeti. I began motoring out of the channel and a humpback whale spyhopped right beside Sarantium. That finalized my stay in Aitutaki.

As soon as I raised the sails, I killed my engine, I noticed SV Wallis, SV Luka and SV Atlas on my tail. I sailed away leaving a very special place that will forever have a place in my heart.

The first few hours brought decent wind. In fact, I kept two reefs in both main and genoa sail. The winds were up and down and I had to work for my departure sail pretty much the whole day. With sundown the winds settled a bit into a more comfortable wind angle and waves became more organized.

The night was decent; I managed to sleep a bit, but rain and ocean spray kept me alert most of the night. The original plan was to sail the 575 nmiles to Beveridge Reef on the Friday when wind decreases. Today, I am thinking that I can make it to Niue and stay there instead, as it brings me closer to Tonga by another 130 nm, leaving only 238 nm to go. As I noticed, the weather report upgraded and shows heavy winds next week, I think it is a wise choice to continue to Niue. 456 nm to go and I will be in Niue!!

At 07.00: COG: 260 degrees; SOG: 5.7

18 degrees 32.714 South / 161 degrees 36.393 West

South West Wind…

… it’s time to move on…

Next stop is either Beveridge Reef, Niue or Vava’u, Tonga!

… around Aitutaki, different road, new grocery stores and more good vibes!

Also, last night Cruisers got together to share some Mai Mai and great stories!

Seems a bit dramatic, but this was easily one of the top ten days of my life—and Aitutaki is probably the nicest place I’ve ever been.

It’s hard to put my finger on exactly why, but there’s something extraordinary about the vibe here. The people, the sense of community, the cruising lifestyle, the island itself… and of course, the whales. Where do I even begin?

After a great night’s sleep and of course, coffee and morning dip, I walked up the road to rent a scooter. One of the dive instructors I’d met the day before happened to be heading out for a private tour. She saw me and said, “Why don’t you join us? We’re heading out to swim with the whales.”

Heck yeah!

I sprinted back to the boat, grabbed my freediving gear, and made it back just as they fired up the engine.

We motored out through the pass and, almost immediately, found a pair of humpback whales. The skipper shut off the engine, and the four of us slipped into the water. Suddenly, I was just 10 metres away from a pregnant female and a male, calmly resting beneath us. They were hovering at about 10–15 metres deep, their tubercle, their head, almost touching, completely relaxed and seemingly unfazed by our presence.

After about five minutes, the female slowly rose to the surface for a breath. As she floated upward, she kept looking directly at us. It felt as though she was completely aware of where we were and had chosen to come up right beside us.

As she approached, I was convinced I was in her way, so I swam off to the side. She adjusted ever so slightly and still surfaced right next to me. Her eye was about the size of my head. Had I reached out, I could have touched her—but that thought never crossed my mind. Being that close to an animal that enormous, so gentle and so completely at ease, was overwhelming.

She took a few slow breaths before gracefully diving back down to join her partner.

They could have disappeared into the deep at any moment, but instead they stayed with us for nearly two hours.

The videos below don’t do the experience justice. They never do.

Those two hours were, without question, among the five greatest moments of my life.

… just before sunset!

Yesterday evening, after a stunning sail with perfect wind in exactly the right direction, I arrived at the pass into Aitutaki, Cook Islands.

Being close to land always makes me nervous. Out on the open ocean, far from shore, is actually where I feel the safest.

Before arriving, I had been corresponding with the “Welcome to Aitutaki Committee” to make sure I would have some help tying up in the harbour. As I approached what was supposed to be the entrance through the reef, I simply could not make sense of where I was supposed to point the boat. The reef looked intimidating, and time was not on my side. The sun was setting, and the ebb current was running at 5–6 knots.

I called one of the boats already in the harbour, hoping they could give me a better set of eyes on the entrance. Their advice was reassuring, if not entirely comforting: “It’s confusing from the outside. Just trust your chart and the markers.” Easy enough to say, even though it looked like I was about to drive straight into the reef.

Yikes!

Once I committed and motored toward the first reef marker, everything suddenly made sense. I pushed the engine to its full potential. My paddlewheel log proudly showed 8.5 knots, although my actual speed over ground was only 3.5 knots thanks to the strong opposing current.

The entrance channel was remarkably narrow. In some sections it measured only about 8.5 metres across, while my boat’s beam is about 3.8 metres. There wasn’t much room for error. The shallowest depth I saw beneath the keel was 3.8 metres, which felt plenty close enough.

When I finally reached the harbour, two dinghies were waiting to help. After dropping my anchor, I backed toward shore while they secured my stern lines to concrete mooring blocks. Everything went smoothly, and before long I was safely tied up and had already made six new cruising friends.

After tidying up the boat and roasting the last of my vegetables for dinner, I climbed into bed and slept for twelve straight hours.

I was very happy to be safely in the harbour.

This morning I woke at 7:30 and enjoyed my last piece of fruit from Bora Bora. I’d been warned that Biosecurity would confiscate any fresh fruit and vegetables they found lying around, so I figured I might as well enjoy one last treat.

Around 8:30, Health arrived for the first part of the clearance process. They completed a quick inspection, issued my certificate, and I was finally able to lower the yellow quarantine flag and hoist the Cook Islands courtesy flag.

Within minutes, Biosecurity arrived. They had a quick look around, confiscated my bananas, and cleared me in. At almost the same time, Bob from Customs showed up to complete the final piece of the puzzle.

What I expected to be a quick visit turned into an hour-long conversation. It turns out his brother lives in Port Alberni, on Vancouver Island.

Small world.

Bob taught me a few words in the local language, and we spent the next hour talking about history, politics, and life in the Cook Islands. All three officials who helped me through the clearance process were absolutely lovely. They made what could have been a stressful morning into a genuinely enjoyable welcome.

That brings me up to now.

Tomorrow I plan to rent a scooter and explore the island. The following day, if all goes according to plan, I’ll be diving with the whales.

Until then…

E no’o rā!

Just sailing slowly, fingers crossed I will arrive around noon or within a couple of hours of high tide, in Aitutaki.

At 07.00:

COG: 245 degrees

SOG: 5.5 kn

Position:

18*30.895 S / 158*52.095 W

Not much to report! Yesterday, I fell asleep around 1500 and slept until just before sunset. I had set the alarm so I would have time to decrease the sails and plan a bit for the night before the sun disappeared! I have had to break out the winter gear, as temperatures have dropped to 15 degrees Celsius at night. Last night I had rain for the first time out here, as well. Rain clouds are all around me but not on top of me, so far today!

I seem to be averaging 6.5-6.8 knots and I’ve seen my speed as high as 9 knots. Sarantium is surfing nicely off these massive waves, giving me an extra knot or two! I might not make the noon timeline for tomorrow’s high at Aitutaki entrance. If that’s the case, I’ll probably need to slow down and plan for the following day! One option is that I heave-to outside the island for the night, preferably out of the swell. Heaving-to is basically doing a tack but not turning the big headsail, leaving it on the “wrong side”. This will, together with the rudder turned opposite, act as a break. The boat still moves but only at .5-1 knots. Or I’ll sail around in circles all night long!

At noon on July 21st, 2026: SOG: 7.5kn COG: 250T 17*50.207 S / 156*43.916 W