As Tropical Cyclone Winston steamrolled toward Fiji, the fleet at Savusavu went on high alert. My husband, Jim, and I removed sails, canvas and other windage from our Tartan 41, Hotspur. Our 16-year-old daughter, Carolyne, tossed items from deckside down below or lashed them. Jim double-checked our mooring and covered our bowlines with used fire hose to prevent chafing.
Twenty-four hours before Winston’s predicted arrival, we’d felt optimistic. But when we learned the cyclone had morphed into a Category 5 super-storm overnight, our confidence melted into a sweaty brow of doubt. Predicted gusts over 150 knots meant we might lose our boat.
Winston ambushed Savusavu – arriving almost 10 hours earlier than predicted. It bombarded the anchorage, blinding its victims in a mask of white rage. Broken lines sent manned…
