The knot would hold but there were no longer enough wraps around the furler drum for me to reduce the amount of sail we had exposed to the wind. This meant I couldn’t slow the boat anymore than I already had. That’s VERY dangerous (I’ve since learned a trick to overcome that, but I didn’t know it then). The howling of the wind in the rigging was eerily frightening. The wind blasts were so intense that it ripped the bimini (that’s the sun awning that covers the cockpit). 

After that, we had the added drumming of the fabric flapping violently. There was nowhere to sit outside without getting soaked. The rain and the saltwater were competing for real estate. The boarding waves would drench the boat with their crushing weight and the rain would wash the salt away only to be replaced again with another enormous roller that became our uninvited guest. 

And this continued for 48 hours. 

Half way through the second night, when my exhaustion had reached its peak, I locked up the companionway and we laid below trying to rest. There was no longer any reason to remain in the cockpit. It was the blackest of night and we were only going to be swept away never to be recovered. We entrusted our very lives to the autopilot and her ability to keep us running from the waves. I feared that if she quit, and we turned broadside to those monsters we’d be rolled. The autopilot never let us down. We went to separate bunks. It was impossible to be near each other as we were projectiles being thrown around the cabin. 

It took all of my last remaining strength just to keep from being tossed unto the floor. Real sleep was impossible. Fear sabotages any true ability to relax and the adrenaline negates the exhaustion and sleep deprivation. I laid there trying to anticipate the next system failure and how I should react. At 7 knots we were careening off the waves and crashing into the troughs below. It was bone jarring. 

Daybreak came and I went top side to find that the wind had increased but the boat was intact. No rigging had failed, there were no further rips and nothing else was missing. Palmerston atoll was now only 40 miles away. We were going to make it. When we got within VHF radio distance I put out a distress call for anyone in the Palmerston anchorage. Someone answered, but there was too much static to make it out. I told them I’d try again when we got closer. A few hours later I made contact with David on Reflections.

They next day she was just lying on the surface about 100 yards away from the boats. I went in the dinghy with the Mexicans off the boat next to me and we rowed over to her. We slowly got in the water and she gradually turned and stared right at me. Then she moved forward. We were nose to nose. That thing was bigger than Barraveigh. Turns out she was pregnant. She had her calf on our last night right next to the boat, and the next morning they took a victory lap around the anchorage to show off a bit. This is the magic stuff that makes the terror of the open ocean all worth it.

The 3 day passage to Niue was a tough one, but I have a new grading scale after our previous nightmare, so it’s no longer worth complaining about 12 foot seas and 30+ knots. Niue is the island that Captain Cook was repelled from and he gave it the name “Savage Island”. He was wrong. The people are some of the nicest I’ve met. Hot showers, ice cream, cold beer, and Indian curry were a giant plus, but the most amazing attraction is the geology of the island itself. This is the smallest self governing country, and at the same time, the largest raised coral island in the world. There are no rivers, and it's comprised of mostly limestone instead of soil, which makes for some of the clearest waters ever. On a bad day the visibility is 100 feet. When my leg heals up, I'm going diving. 

We met some crew members of the 140 foot mega yacht that is on the other side of the anchorage. They rented a car and invited us to join them around the island. The geography is beyond beautiful. We stopped the car at Togo to find gray razor sharp lava everywhere, with green succulents growing in the recesses. There, at a chasm in the lava field, was an oasis of white sand and palm trees with the sea crashing violently just out of reach. We explored caves and stared at tidal pools so clear and still that you can’t even see the water. Put Niue on your list of must see places. It deserves it.