Niue, a tiny island, captures Miranda Baker\u2019s heart after an adventurous South Pacific sailing passage via Minerva Reef, the mid-ocean refugeElliot silhouetted on Fortaleza\u2019s bow against a beautiful South Pacific sunset in the west. Photo: Miranda Baker and Elliot RussoIt feels like a big deal to finally leave New Zealand\u2019s shores, after all the hard work we\u2019ve put into getting ready for this moment.
\nTwo years, including nine months living up a ladder on the hard in a dirty, rain drenched boat yard, spent stripping our 1985 48ft, steel Mason Fortaleza of all her systems and rebuilding her. I\u2019d like to take some credit for this refit but really it was Elliot who did it all \u2013 my best friend, captain and YouTube-taught electrician, plumber, rigger, mechanic and carpenter.
\nAnd here we are, on the most iridescently beautiful New Zealand winter\u2019s day, pulling out of Marsden Cove Marina, waving and yelling to friends and family on shore as we head off to explore the world, very, very slowly. It\u2019s a monumental feeling of surrendering to whatever unfolds. A true letting go. We\u2019ve sold everything we own except for what is right here with us on Fortaleza. The plan is vaguely to head west until the money runs out.
\nIsolated Minerva Reef is barely exposed at low tide \u2013 otherwise it\u2019s identified from the sea only by the surf pounding its shallow circular reef. Photo: Elias Hermann
\nBefore we can begin to head west though, we need to get north to the South Pacific tradewinds and what I\u2019ve been promised will be easy seas and sailing. I have no sailing experience other than our pretty hairy shakedown sail around the Bay of Islands and down the east coast of New Zealand. Elliot has thousands of nautical miles in his wake.
\nWe have decided to head to Tonga via Minerva Reef to begin with. The weather window we set off in allows for a slight easterly heading. A front has just passed and we\u2019re catching the tail of it. Our freshly painted hull and 20 knot winds have us hissing through the water on a beam reach occasionally hitting 9 knots. It\u2019s glorious and the sense of freedom is almost overwhelming. New Zealand shrinks behind us and open water stretches away on every side.
\nDays and shifts pass in a boat-lag blur. We see one other boat, a yacht we know, who comes close enough while overtaking us for us to photograph them and radio a greeting. It is oddly reassuring to see human life out here. There isn\u2019t much else. Just eternal greys and blues.
\nYachts can find some shelter inside Minerva Reef \u2013 but first they have to find it hundreds of miles from civilisation. Photo: Miranda Baker and Elliot Russo
\nWave after wave after wave, the only lumpy interruptions to the otherwise flat 360\u00b0 horizon. The occasional dolphin pod races against our bow, turning on their sides to eyeball us as we stupidly shout hellos. We awe at fiery sunsets and sleepily greet hope-filled dawns.
\nHalf way between Minerva and New Zealand, around 380 miles from each, we spend a day becalmed in the bluest water imaginable. There isn\u2019t a ripple, just a very slow, gentle, rolly under-swell.
\nThe closest humans to us are on the international space station, the nearest dry land almost twice as far again. There is 4km of water between us and the sea floor. It is completely quiet. We are alone and suspended, bobbing on our tiny boat-shaped cork, in a place so isolated, alien and weird it makes us dizzy to think about. The blueness is mesmerising, inky and terrifying \u2013 so we decide to swim.
\n\u2018Minerva is a monumental underwater mountain\u2019. Photo: Miranda Baker and Elliot Russo
\nOur guiding intention for our cruising life is to \u2018throw caution to the wind, carefully\u2019. And so, with the Jaws theme tune ear-worming our brains and unhelpful flashbacks to the movie Open Water popping into our minds, we set Fortaleza\u2019s wheel hard over so she can only drift in circles, trail a 150m long floating line, put two ladders over, scour the water around us for megalodonic behemoth shadows and hurl ourselves, naked, into the indigo deep.
\nIt is exhilarating and, honestly, singularly the most mentally terrifying thing I have ever willingly done. I\u2019d like to say that we linger and enjoy the experience, but the truth is we\u2019ve never got out of the water faster.
\nFortaleza sailing wing-on-wing while heading for Niue. Photo: Miranda Baker and Elliot Russo
\nSouth Pacific Sailing to the Minerva Reef
\nFour days (including 30 frustrating hours of motoring) later we arrive at Minerva Reef and find our depth sounder has given up the ghost. Minerva is not a place you want to show up to without a depth sounder.
\nIt\u2019s a monumental underwater mountain that rises suddenly out of 2,000m of water, named after one of the first ships that discovered it by sailing straight into it back in 1829. Easily done. It is hard to see if you don\u2019t know it\u2019s there and ships have routinely wrecked at Minerva ever since.
\nSnorkelling and diving in the crystal clear waters of Minerva Reef where the wildlife is abundant. Photo: Miranda Baker and Elliot Russo
\nWe decide to trust the charts and enter its southern mountain-top lagoon to anchor up and rest, picking our way past bommies to join three yachts already inside.
\nThere is no visible land at Minerva except for some random rocks that show up at low tide, just massive surf pounding along the kilometres-long, invisible arc where wild ocean swell hits the reef.
\nIt\u2019s an odd place to anchor and a phenomenal place to explore because, while there\u2019s not a lot to see out of the water, under it is a whole other story. The snorkelling is spectacular.
\nCutting through the reef are 20m-deep channels that create laneways and a towering cityscape for diverse sea life. Groups of fat sea trout patrol like mafia bosses. Shoals of small bright things flash and dart, synchronised. Turtles startle and sidle away. Purse-lipped giant clams sporting garish lipsticks sit plump and patient.
\nBeautiful marine life at Minerva Reef. Photo: Miranda Baker and Elliot Russo
\nWhite tipped reef sharks circle, their eyes on us, ours on them. Monster crayfish retreat into dark corners. For two days we swim among it all for hours, captivated, until we are frozen and pruney.
\nOn the third day we decide to leave. It\u2019s a hard decision knowing we\u2019re unlikely to ever visit this extraordinary place again, but the forecast has us excited. The wind has shifted around to the south-west, which is uncommon for June and, for sailors without a plan, it creates an opportunity. Off to the east of Tonga, about a six-day sail away, is a tiny country that almost no one has ever heard of, Niue.
\nYachts moored near Sir Robert\u2019s Wharf at Alofi \u2013 Niue\u2019s main cargo supplies quay. Photo: Geoff Marshall\/Alamy
\nLittle-known Niue
\nNiue is a cauliflower head of coral, the largest of its kind, that sits on its own in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. It is just 45km in circumference, 70m high and home to fewer than 2,000 people. The sides of the cauliflower head drop straight into the sea, vertically to 2,000m.
\nMigrating humpback whales are known to swim right up to the cliffs. One plane a week brings visitors from New Zealand, once a month food and supplies arrive by container ship. The depths around the shoreline mean there is no anchoring, but we\u2019ve read there are some mooring balls available for visiting boats.
\nAerial view of the landing wharf and Alofi township on Niue. Photo: Miranda Baker and Elliot Russo
\nWe have enough food, we have the right wind, we have no definitive plan and we really want to visit, so we lift our anchor, head out of Minerva and bear north-east.
\nThe sail to Niue is downwind all the way. Light to middling winds, a lot of rolling and infuriating sail slapping. Even tethered, the boom is bouncing as the sails empty with each roll and we experiment with every combination of sails we are carrying, ultimately breaking out our unused poles and sailing wing-on-wing for most of the trip. We make a mental note to invest in a spinnaker of some sort.
\nOn the fourth day, alarmingly, Elliot finds the clevis pin from the boom\u2019s gooseneck sitting on the deck.
\nOne slam too many must have sheared the split pin off. Somehow, miraculously, because the mainsail is up, the boom is held in place by our topping lift and hasn\u2019t crashed onto the deck. It is a sobering moment followed by some swearing, some at-sea MacGyvering, and some gratitude for what had seemed an absurd amount of spare everything we are carrying. We cobble together a new pin using a bolt and continue on our way.
\n\u2018Niue is unique in so many ways \u2013 and wonderfully quirky\u2019. Photo: Miranda Baker and Elliot Russo. Photo: David Kirkland\/Getty
\nWhen Niue finally comes into view it has been 14 days since we touched dry land. We are excited to grab a mooring ball and head ashore, to clear in and find our land legs. Just as we arrive, the heavens open and a biblical deluge erupts, followed by monstrous winds. Elliot, drenched and holding on for dear life, manages to grab the ball and secure us, but within an hour we\u2019re wildly bucking into ugly on-shore waves.
\nPulling hard on the mooring ball, Fortaleza\u2019s bow nose-dives green water while our stern is only 50m from Niue\u2019s coral reef skirt. We aren\u2019t sure whether the mooring balls have been maintained, or to what ratings.
\nConditions, held tight to the mooring, are worse than open ocean. Reluctantly we admit there\u2019s no way we\u2019re going to rest here, or get to shore. So, exhausted and deeply disappointed, we drop the mooring ball and sail south to find shelter round on Niue\u2019s east coast.
\nElliot takes time to relax and catch up with the world while some phone signal is available. Photo: Miranda Baker and Elliot Russo
\nNiue only has mooring balls on its usually sheltered westerly coast. Anchoring is not permitted, nor is it possible thanks to the depths. So while the east coast provides us some cover from the onslaught, we\u2019re unable to stop.
\nFor the rest of the night we sail as slowly as we can up the east side of the island until, at dawn, we find ourselves in a quandary: the west side of the island is being hammered by enormous swells, which still make the mooring balls unusable; there\u2019s no place to drop our hook, and we are at least a week\u2019s sail from anywhere else. Samoa is north of us. Tonga is west of us. It is Day 15 at sea.
\nArticle continues below\u2026<\/p>\n
\t\t\t\t\t\t\tHow to plan a route across the South Pacific<\/p>\n
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\t\t\t\t\t\t\tFrom the ocean to the plate: The art of foraging and fishing in the South Pacific Islands<\/p>\n
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Lulls and lullabies
\nThe Windy forecast shows more stable conditions just north of our position, towards Samoa, so we decide to sail north and wait out whatever is going on down here.
\nAs predicted we find calmer seas and spend the next five days drifting in a huge 90-mile circle. No sails. No motoring. Just adrift in a vast expanse of blue hues in every direction. We roll with every roll of the ocean. The motion slowly lolling to and fro, to and fro. Everything on board rolls, clangs and bumps with every heave.
\nSomewhere on Fortaleza something small is rolling and thumping, rolling and thumping but we can\u2019t find it no matter how hard we look: it\u2019s madness inducing. We sleep and read, make scones and paddleboard.
\nNew Zealand to Tonga was the first ocean passage for Miranda and Elliot after refitting their steel 48-footer Fortaleza. Photo: Miranda Baker and Elliot Russo
\nI\u2019ve heard whales are attracted to music so I blast the stereo at full volume through our steel hull. I try everything from Elvis to Vivaldi, sitting on deck scouring the sea for friendly giant breaths and dark shadows. It doesn\u2019t work but, to Elliot\u2019s frustration, that doesn\u2019t stop me from trying.
\nOn the morning of Day 21, a breeze from the east picks up and we guess the residual swells must now be subdued, so we sail back south to where we started.
\nMiranda at Fortaleza\u2019s wheel. Photo: Miranda Baker and Elliot Russo
\nAs we arrive back at Niue\u2019s mooring balls we\u2019re happy to find other cruisers already secured and the swell, while still large, has lost its violence. We grab a ball and, after a three hour fight to lower our motor onto our dinghy thanks to the differential motion created by the sea state, head over to the jetty, desperate now to touch land and stop endlessly moving.
\nNiue is unique in many ways \u2013 geographically, geologically, culturally, biodiversity \u2013 but one of its most unique aspects for cruisers is going ashore. The sides of the island are so sheer and jagged that there\u2019s no beach or boat ramp, just an enormous concrete jetty used by the cargo ships.
\nElliot Russo and Miranda Baker have been cruising full-time since leaving New Zealand in 2023 aboard their Mason 48 Fortaleza. Photo: Miranda Baker and Elliot Russo
\nOn one side of the jetty, which the day we arrive is being smashed by the swell, is a crane. A 20m high, industrial, mechanised crane. We need to hoist our dinghy onto the jetty. There\u2019s no one else around to help so we do a couple of fly-pasts to make a plan. It is quite daunting.
\nElliot noses the dinghy close enough to the jetty for me to jump out, timing my leap with the swell which is back-washing off the jetty\u2019s rough hewn, concrete steps with some force. It takes several goes and a lot of shouting before I make it. At one point, over the roar of the outboard and waves, I hear Elliot yelling \u201cCommit Miranda, commit!\u201d and I consider punching him.
\nEventually I land, dizzy, on solid ground, and with unsteady sea-legs buckling I rush to read the laminated crane instructions nailed to its frame, while Elliot circles nearby, dodging waves and a nearby reef. Pulling on a thick, heavy rope I manoeuvre the arm of the crane out over the water, and, pressing a button marked DOWN, lower its foot-long, wildly swinging steel hook down to Elliot\u2019s head level.
\nNatural stone arch at Limu Pools on Niue\u2019s north-western coast. Photo: Miranda Baker and Elliot Russo
\nElliot positions himself and the dinghy under it, one hand steering himself into incoming waves, the other attempting to attach our homemade, untested Dyneema boat sling onto the crane hook. It takes several aborted attempts.
\nOnce on, the dinghy is held by the crane hook at the same time as it rises and falls with each surge, causing it to alternate between being momentarily violently suspended, then being lifted, the hook smashing into the floor of the dinghy as a wave passes underneath. Elliot\u2019s head is in the middle of the danger and it all seems incredibly reckless.
\nI hit the UP button with Elliot clinging on, the dinghy slowly lifting out of the water at the same time as being smashed by oncoming waves. All our trust is in the Dyneema now as Elliot and the dinghy are dangling 4m above the angry sea and I grab the rope to heave the crane arm back in and over the jetty, where I lower them safely to the ground.
\nWith no beaches to run up, the tender has to be craned out of the sea onto the jetty. Photo: Miranda Baker and Elliot Russo
\nWe both collapse in a heap of out of breath whoops, hurrahs and fist pumping. Twenty-two days \u2013 and one crane \u2013 later, and we have made it to Niue.
\nOnce we catch our breath we head up to the Customs building where a jolly, dark-haired Father Christmas lookalike seems to find our dishevelment amusing. He talks to us about New Zealand and whales and his family, and he laughs a lot.
\nAnother couple, Alan and Maria from SV Jamala are also checking in. We don\u2019t know it yet but we\u2019ll continue to cruise with Jamala through Tonga and Fiji. Right now, though, they\u2019re strangers who invite us to hire a car with them to explore what Niue has to offer \u2013 which is a lot for a teeny island.
\nElliot Russo and Miranda Baker are also raising funds for the SAR team at Sorong, Raja Ampat. Photo: Miranda Baker and Elliot Russo
\nDips in cool, freshwater, underground swimming holes, snorkelling in crystal clear water, forest walks and almost as many churches as there are residents. A weirdly good pizza restaurant. Evenings are spent whale watching from high up on cliffs as the sun sets to the west.
\nNiue is wonderfully quirky. There\u2019s a prison, where the prisoners let themselves out for a round of golf each morning before reincarcerating themselves. And there\u2019s the Niue Yacht Club, a two-roomed, unlocked building with showers and a laundry tub, but no members. There are smiling faces everywhere.
\nClevis pin was found on deck after the split pin securing it in place sheared off. Photo: Miranda Baker and Elliot Russo
\nWe spend three days exploring. After their first landing experiences, the other crews don\u2019t return to their boats each night. They all take accommodation ashore rather than risk the crane again, but we start and end each day running its gauntlet and begin to feel like pros.
\nNiue is enchanting, charming and friendly and it crosses our minds to stay forever. But the south-westerly wind is gradually picking back up and our hand is forced, it\u2019s time to leave. With some sadness we let Fortaleza free of our mooring ball and set our course west, to Tonga.<\/p>\n
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The post South Pacific Sailing: \u2018Niue is a tiny country almost no one has ever heard of\u2019 appeared first on Yachting World.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Niue, a tiny island, captures Miranda Baker\u2019s heart after an adventurous South Pacific sailing passage via Minerva Reef, the mid-ocean refugeElliot silhouetted on Fortaleza\u2019s bow against a beautiful South Pacific sunset in the west. Photo: Miranda Baker and Elliot RussoIt … <\/p>\n