Niue rising, still rising

We arrived at Alofi Bay, Niue late yesterday afternoon.  Now, that was a bit of a nail biter.  Nothing dangerous.  But definitely touch and go on the way in to the anchorage. 

After several days at sea with little to no wind, we’d been motoring for more than 12 hours – which is considerably more than we had previously motored in total in the last 4+ months since leaving Mexico.  Bill was on night watch and I was in a deep sleep when the wind suddenly shot up from almost nothing to 26 kts.  Bill’s first thought was, it’s just a small storm cell quickly moving in and over us, but not so, those high winds stayed with us for the rest of the passage. 

Grateful at first, it seemed we might make it for a daylight arrival on Saturday after all.  And indeed we did.  But the skies turned ugly, and the seas were running high and angry, and the mercury dropped, and a misty drizzle set in.  The closer we got, the visibility got progressively worse.  Within a mile of the anchorage, we still couldn’t even see the headland, nor could we tell if there was a single boat in the bay.  It was still blowing hard as we approached, and the swells were huge, riding up and down and sideways, with contrary waves in different directions.

Alofi isn’t much of a bay, really just a dent in the western shore of the island.  Provides no protection whatsoever from westerlies.  Fortunately our winds were from the south southeast – the wind predictions were thankfully right about direction – so we should be fine.  But why was I feeling it swinging around to the due south. Pray to the wind gods, please, don’t swing southwest. We were about to find out just how much protection we’d get from that bump of land on the south side of the bay. 

Interesting thing about Niue.  It’s unlike the low islands or atolls that we’ve visited before – the Tuamotus and Suwallow.  Also unlike the newer mountainous volcanic islands of the Marquesas and the Societies.  All of them volcanic in origin, including Niue, but Niue adds new twist. 

The atolls are comprised of motus on the fringing reefs left behind after the soft cone of the ancient dormant volcano eroded away.  Niue is just like that – except that something else happened along the geological way.  As Niue’s volcano eroded ever so slowly, a coral reef formed on its top and grew at a rate that kept up with the sinking rate of the volcano.  The result was a coral cap that filled in the space that on other atolls became their lagoon. 

But here’s the interesting part and it’s a bit mysterious.  Niue has been slowly rising up out of the ocean for the last 500,000 years.  Today it stands 70 metres high and still rising! 

It’s not really clear how or why Niue is rising.  It has been attributed to “coseismic uplift” – the result of an underwater earthquake or abrupt slip between tectonic plates.  Makes sense, other raised atolls are explained this way, by coseismic uplift.  But geologists disagree whether this explanation can possibly be right for Niue. Given its location relative to plate boundaries and evidence that Niue’s rising has been slow and consistent over many thousands of years, not abrupt or eventful. 

Not much, if any, conventional research going on to better explain the landscape history of Niue.  So, until we know more, we might have to content ourselves with Niuean formation myths that attribute the rise of the island to the deeds of mighty ancestors and ancestral gods.     

It’s called a high coral atoll – who knew there was such a thing? – or a raised or emerged atoll.  In fact, it’s the largest raised coral atoll in the world.  Instead of a low ring of coral and motus just a few metres high, surrounding a lagoon where the ancient volcano once rose, Niue is one solid limestone landmass with a fairly consistent elevation about 70 metres. 

But I digress. 

I was telling you about our arrival at Alofi Bay.  My point is, we were really unsure about how much protection we’d get from that headland that juts out on the south side of the bay.  If Niue was an atoll of the usual low island variety, we’d have given it no thought at all.  We’d’ve just kept on going to Tonga.  If Niue was a typical atoll, that headland would provide no meaningful protection at all against a southerly of that magnitude. 

But Niue is a raised atoll.  So we didn’t know.  Is it high enough to help us?  Hard to say.  Didn’t help that we couldn’t even see it, and we couldn’t see what was going on in the bay.  We were getting so close, and no signs of the winds or the waves letting up.  We just couldn’t tell if or when we’d feel the love from the headland.

Earlier in the day, we’d checked the weather and did a rough passage plan to Tonga – just in case Niue became untenable.  Tonga, it turns out, is another 240 nms and less than two days down the way – completely doable.  So with that little tidbit under our belts, we put that thought away. 

On the final stretch in to Alofi Bay, neither Bill nor I mentioned aborting, but turns out we both were thinking about having to just sail on by.  I was nervous about whether I could steer Turtlebones up to the mooring ball – well, first, we had to find it! – and then could I hold her there in that wind and those swells long enough for Bill to hook the ball and tie us on.  It was feeling like an 80% chance of failure, and I was already disappointed about having to miss out on Niue. 

At what felt like the last minute, five boats emerged from the mist – one trimaran looking quite solid, and the other four boats, two motor yachts and two monohulls, were swaying back and forth dramatically on the swells.  We’d briefly met the Germans on the tri in previous harbours – they’d been very helpful – and Bill tried to call them on the VHF radio for a little intel.  But to no avail.  

We soldiered on.  The swells never abated.  Eventually, not until we were really upon the mooring field, the wind dropped from 25 kts down to 14 kts.  And that was enough.  We succeeded on first try.  What a huge relief.  Turned out that 70 metres is enough to make a difference.

Weather here has been terrible since we arrived.  Really socked in.  Cold, rainy, grey.  Bill says it’s like a day at the cottage when you hunker down and pull out the monopoly board.  Still, we had to go ashore today to check in.  Now, there’s an adventure, a whole new going-ashore experience.

Cliffy shore.  No beach landings here.  Towering concrete dock exposed to pulsing swells.  You can’t safely leave your dinghy tied up to the dock.  So they’ve devised this ingenious crane that lifts dinghies and other small vessels right up out of the water onto the dock.  It’s the only way to get ashore. 

Simple concept.  Crane on the dock, a big hook hanging off the crane, dangling there on the side of the dock just a couple of feet above the water.  You motor your dinghy up to the hook, attach it to a three-point harness on your dinghy, step off your dinghy, up some steps to the dock, press on the Up button, and pull your dinghy up and over the dock.  Lift your motor, slide a trolley under your dinghy and roll it out of the way.  Drop the hook back down for the next guy. 

Sounds simple. And yes, it is simple.  But also terrifying.  It’s the “step off your dinghy” part that really got to me. 

When you pull up to the dock, you’re pulling up to a concrete wall, the first step is about four feet above the water line, the waves are crashing you into the wall, everything is thoroughly wet and slippery, the swell is moving your dinghy up and down, you need to take your painter line with you, and for goodness sake don’t slip or fall in the water or crash your head on the concrete.  No mishaps, it was perfectly fine.  And coming back was easier, the sea had calmed down, less swell.  But I’m already steeling myself for tomorrow’s trip ashore.

So we haven’t been out much in this grey cold drizzle, haven’t explored the island yet.  Still, it’s been pretty magical here on Turtlebones in Alofi Bay.  We had no sooner arrived yesterday, than we were serenaded by whalesong.  From inside the cabin, we first heard humpbacks singing, resonating I guess through the water and off the hull of the boat. 

Huge green turtle came by this morning to say hello – his head as big as mine.  And this afternoon and early evening, we had several whale sightings right here in the anchorage.  Humpbacks.  Up close and personal. Never gets old. It’s calving season, and Alofi Bay is a nursery.  So close – not more than 20 or 30 metres off our stern – before we see them, we hear the blow, it’s so immediate.  

Frankly, Niue is not much to look at from the sea.  No majestic mountains.  No craggy peaks.  No beaches.  No lagoons with multi-coloured blue water.  Pretty long even elevation.  Kinda’ unspectacular. 

But the shore is dominated by limestone cliffs all around the island, which accounts for some pretty spectacular cave-like formations, both above and below the water line.  Amazing snorkeling and diving are on the menu. 

Can’t wait to explore this island!