The clouds came snarling back at the land. From a dead calm the wind climbed quickly to 20 knots, then 30, then 40, and... (George claims it was gusting over 50 knots.) It pushed us directly towards the reef, whose sharp coral "jaws" lay in wait less than 50 feet off the stern. With the engine completely disabled, Swell dangled at the mercy of the freak blow on a mooring in which I wasn't totally confident. The wind waves grew to 3 feet just in the short half mile fetch across the bay.
I stood helplessly at the helm in a sailor's nightmare. Even if I dropped the anchor, I was already too close to the reef to have enough scope to hold me off. I readied the sails, knowing my only chance might be an attempt to sail upwind if the line broke. I frantically gathered some precious belongings, my computer and the ship's log, and shoved them in a waterproof bag. I'd almost resigned, as if I were on the reef already...
"This is it," I thought. "There is no way the mooring line is going to hold."
The rain came in sideways on the wind, stinging against my face, but I stood like a stone although my stomach had curled into a tight ball and my limbs were jelly. My heart had lodged stiffly in my throat. The wind screamed in my ears. It roared and hollered and threatened. Whitewater ran towards us across the surface of the lagoon. I stared blankly into the scene with the same feeling of terror that I had felt at the realization that I wouldn't make it over the set wave at Teahupoo, except this lasted a lot longer. I waited and cringed with each wind wave that yanked the mooring line with a force that I knew would be the last it could withstand. Looking back at land, the trees shook furiously and debris swirled. I could see George running around his yard trying to pin down lawn chairs and securing the "flying dinghy," as it was attempting to fly away without a driver. The minutes seemed eternal. I was short of breath, almost nauseated.
Yank.........yyyyyannnnnnnnnk...YAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNNK. I could feel the boat lifting the cement mooring block and then setting it back down...I knew it only took the weakest link and I would surely be on the reef...
Finally it seemed the worst was over. Gradually, the whitecaps got farther apart, the wind waves diminished, and the rain fell more slanted. When I felt sure that we were safe, my body went limp. I dried off and curled up in my cabin next to the water bag. The motor mounts would not be ready for 4 more days!
Liz Clark sails solo around the world on her 40-foot sailboat, Swell, in search of people, places and waves. She sends us travel updates, stories and photos several times a week.
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