Boy, it’s bumpy!

We left Bora Bora on the 4th of June, just after lunch, and the moment we came through the pass, things got unpleasant—to put it mildly.

We had waited for a reasonably decent forecast, with waves predicted at 2–3 metres. I’m very glad we did, because some of these watery hills are definitely bigger than advertised.

This part of the South Pacific has quite a reputation. Its nickname, “The Dangerous Middle,” kind of gives the game away.

Funny story: a friend on another boat recently asked if we’d ever heard that term. Mark and I both confidently said no. Later, while looking through our old blog, I discovered that I had actually written an entire section about it years ago. So it turns out sailing is a bit like childbirth after all—you forget just enough to do it again.

The reputation isn’t entirely undeserved. Between low-pressure systems rolling through from the south, the constantly shifting South Pacific Convergence Zone, difficult-to-predict weather patterns, confused seas, and long distances between safe harbours, there are plenty of reasons sailors treat this area with respect.

With all that in mind, we changed our original plan of sailing straight to Tonga and decided to break the trip into smaller legs. The forecast for the 10th of June is showing a 5–6 metre swell arriving from the south, generated by a large low-pressure system near New Zealand, and we’d rather not be out here when that arrives.

So the new plan is to reach Aitutaki in the Cook Islands on the morning of the 8th. We could probably get there on the evening of the 7th, but Aitutaki’s pass has a somewhat sketchy reputation and is best tackled in good daylight. The idea is to stand off overnight and head in once we can actually see what we’re doing.

What we didn’t expect was quite so much wind during the first couple of days. We’re currently making much better speed than anticipated, but that also means the sea state is more energetic—and exhausting—than we’d hoped.

As a result, the first 24 hours were a challenge for all of us.

Luckily, I recovered from a mild but annoying gastro bug just in time for departure, and on the morning we left, everyone was feeling fit and ready to go.

Then the waves arrived.

The kids naturally felt pretty queasy. Mark was doing okay-ish, and I fought back with a carefully curated soundtrack and an unhealthy dependence on my headphones. Even while trying to sleep, I listened to one of those Spotify deep-sleep noise playlists. Surprisingly, it worked.

Unfortunately, this morning Mark woke up feeling decidedly off and has gone steadily downhill throughout the day. He’s now lying in bed feeling thoroughly miserable and very seasick. Thankfully there’s no fever, and since I’d like to give him every chance to sleep it off, tonight’s watch is entirely mine.

Hopefully the sky stays as friendly as it currently is, with no squalls lurking on the horizon. And hopefully Mark gets over what I suspect may be the same little bug that visited me recently—especially since Nino also felt a bit under the weather shortly afterwards.

Because despite the challenging sea state, it really is beautiful out here.

The ocean is a deep, impossible blue, the stars are spectacular, and every now and then, between being launched off a wave and wondering why we voluntarily do this, we’re reminded exactly why we came.