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If anyone had to ask me why I dragged my wife and two sons on this crazy trip, then my answer would be simple - The Lau Islands. One of the main reasons for our family voyage aboard our catamaran Shimmi was to search for waves in the remotest corners of our globe. Fiji is one of these corners.
Sure, many of you have surfed (or dreamed of surfing) waves such as Tavarua and Frigates Pass - both of these waves are well advertised with surf camps and organised access, but Fiji is a massive archipelago and hidden away on the South East corner is the ‘Lau Group’. It’s one of those politically unstable military areas fighting for independence. Yachts are prohibited from making landfall there and tourists are forbidden. Most of the southernmost Lau Islands are virtually uninhabited and wide open to the southern hemi swells.
But we were not there yet. We had passed the halfway mark on our Pacific Ocean crossing and Teahupo’o’s mind-bending barrels were behind us. It’s early July, still smack bang in the middle of the southern hemi winter. Our catamaran Shimmi is still in one piece, and so is the crew consisting of my wife Chantal and our young sons Indie (2) and Josh (4). It’s weird to think that Indie was 3 months old when be started this voyage back in Florida two years ago. Yes, my wife is hardcore.
But let’s get back to the story of our mission to the Lau Islands. Some of you will probably tune me about ‘spot exposure’, and I’ve procrastinated long and hard about whether I should even mention this mission at all. Thing is that it’s such a hardcore mission, and so hard to find that if I can inspire a few of you to actually attempt it then I reckon that’s a good thing. But you must understand that everything has a price.
We live in an age of instant surf travel and swell chase air tickets. We moan and complain if we lose half a day of surf or when our charter boat’s aircon unit runs hot. But on this voyage I soon learned that for every turquoise pigdog barrel I was going to get, there was going to be at least one week of stormy pain upon an ocean which simply does not give a damn who you are or where you’re going. So to put things into perspective I am going to devote the rest of this blog to a few of our Shimmi log entries of our nine day crossing to Fiji. My Kiwi mate Kahlil came along to help us sail across. At one stage I thought we were going to die.
The Lau islands are located in the SE corner of the Fiji archipelago.
Extracts from Shimmi’s log:
Day 6: We are getting smashed. 35-knot winds gusting to 50-knots out of the SSE, 30ft SW groundswell, 10 ft SE wind swell across it and 3 reefs in the main. We have been forced to change course for Apia, Western Samoa, 410 miles away. Our bridge deck is taking massive hits from underneath, these blows are as loud as gunshots and throwing everything off the saloon table, sending bone jarring shudders through the boat. (The wide flat section which holds the two hulls together on a cat is called the bridge deck, and one of the problems which all cats face is when big ocean swells slam into the underside of this flat area.) Gigantic ocean waves are breaking over the doghouse, flooding the cockpit like someone emptying a whole swimming pool on your head every half an hour. For a few seconds when a wave swamps the boat everything is just a solid quiet dark green. Chantal and the kids are on their bums on the floor. You simply find a place on the boat from where you cannot fall any lower. This is crazy shit and for the first time I feel that we are in real danger of the boat tearing apart. Feel lucky that you are not on Shimmi right now. We have another two days of this ahead of us. Please let this boat not break.
Day 7: We made it through another night. We’re running with storm, allowing the boat to choose her own course. We’ve found a groove and now we are just counting miles. We’re about 40 hours to Apia. It’s a wild ride. WILD. It’s weird looking out over this massive expanse of ocean, white caps and confused waves as far as the eye can see, with dark line squalls obscuring the horizon...and us on Shimmi such an insignificant little bit of jetsam, bobbing around with our insignificant agenda. But we are coping and our boat is coping. We are sailing very conservatively. It’s strange being in full survival mode, every decision you make has only one goal - survival. Indie pushes a block along the floor, he is happy and smiling - this is the only life he knows.
Day 8: The sea is even bigger and meaner. We just took another green wave right over the top of the coach roof. Fuck I would love to have a pic of us sailing through this shit. Also we’ve been experiencing rain squalls the whole day so we’re all camped out in the saloon. Cabin fever of note. But we trust the boat now - all those hours spent researching ‘what catamarans to buy’ have paid off, she is as strong as we had hoped for. Shimmi is in her groove and eating up the miles. But we are rolling like a monohull, stuff flying off the table, pots have to be clamped, forget about making a meal. Hopefully this is our last night. Still triple reefed main, no jib and averaging 9 knots. I sleep with Josh in his bunk, holding him with one arm and bracing myself with the other against the bulkhead. In the pitch dark I feel these ocean swells pick up our stern then I wait for the vibration of the rudders as she goes through 12knots, surfing down the wave. Then the hum as the autopilot fights the broach, which tries its best to fling us sideways off the bunk. Like sleeping in the trunk of a car that is fishtailing down a dirt road. I hug Josh to my chest. He snores, oblivious, then BOOM as a wave smacks into the underside of the bridge deck followed by an eery silence as you feel another wave lifting you up.
Day 9: We are anchored in Aipa Harbour, Western Samoa. As we approached the harbour at 9:00pm a rain squall came through with 40 knots of wind. Shimmi went into a forced gybe with the boom preventer ON. The 12mm barber hauler rope snapped and the barber hauler block nearly brained Kahlil as it flew past, ripping one of the side screens in half in the process. It just plowed right through the cockpit like a battering ram. Thank goodness nobody got hurt. We are all beyond tired and this is when accidents happen. But we are safe now and we are going to sleep like the dead. In Josh's world Western Samoa is called "Toy Island", being the site of the world's biggest and best toyshop. If they don't have a toyshop here I am so screwed.
So we set sail for Fiji and nine days later we ended up in Samoa. The Lau Islands are going to have to wait till next time.
Next: The Forbidden Islands
 Not all parts of the trip were so tough. Golla pig-dogs his way through another remote island pit. © All Aboard
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