Naviti Island, Fiji

Author: Pete
Location: Naviti Island, Yasawas, Fiji

The morning we planned to sail north into Yasawas proper we were greeted with clear, sunny skies and surprisingly cooperative east wind. We sailed out of Nalauaki Bay with all the canvas we could muster, ripping along on a beam reach in calm seas at eight knots. After all the rough miles we’ve covered getting spoiled with day hops in protected waters has been beyond welcomed, and the day’s sail was glorious. It was like riding a multi-ton kiteboard, albeit with some ugly shoals that you can’t just hop over.
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We anchored near the pass between Nanuya Mbalavua Island and Drawaqa Island, deep in about eighteen meters of water.  It’s not an ideal anchorage, in fact the charts regard it as a day anchorage. We ended up staying for four nights.
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Aside from fantastic, healthy coral, there were several quiet beaches on the various islands. After spending most of the day snorkeling the reefs, we went out one night to have a bonfire on the beach one evening with our buddies from Tallulah Ruby. We got a blaze of driftwood, dead timber, and coconut husks burning, raked out the coals, and threw tin foil packs of fish and veggies in the embers as the stars peeked through the night sky. Just as we were marveling at the tranquility and solitude of our surroundings a boat load of twelve local guys in an open launch came ripping into shore. They jumped into the surf and waded up to our bonfire on shore, introducing themselves amiably. They were fishermen from the next village and come to spearfish on the reef, usually stopping on the beach to have tea before they go out into a cold night in the sea. We welcomed them to share our fire, talked about fishing and helped repair equipment as they waited for tea to warm. They invited me to go in with them but my dive lights were both out of commission at the time. Also, twelve guys wielding spears in close proximity in the dark water sounded like a recipe for a nice puncture wound and a belated tetanus shot.

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The draw of the place is the giant manta rays that frequent the pass between Drawaqa and Naviti islands. We had several days of snorkeling with them as they wing in and out of the pass in the afternoon. The plankton upon which the mantas feed yields poor water clarity, but it’s more than worth it to swim along side of these gulping monsters. They don’t really seem to mind us there, but when you get too close they’ll zip off with almost imperceptible movement, surprising with their grace and power.

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The problem with the anchorage is how the oscillating currents ripping in and out of the pass and the wind swirling around the island affect an anchored boat. The boats weren’t affected by the wind and current in the same way, depending on their keel, windage, and scope, nor spun at the same time on the changing tide. So at any given point, the four boats in the small anchorage were pointed in four different directions, sometimes really far apart, sometimes unsettlingly close. From the air, Tayrona and her friends must have looked like a bunch of four-year-olds in an interpretive dance class. After a couple nights of pirouettes, we decided to go dance by ourselves farther north.

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Sailed an hour or two north to Vaga Bay on the west side of Naviti and settled ourselves in a secluded anchorage for a windy, but nice enough night. The next day we continued on to the well-protected Natuvalo Bay. Met up with Tallulah Ruby and took advantage of the first little bar we’d seen in a while. That night they threw a little party with some fire dancing. Miranda and I spent the next day snorkeling the reefs around the bay and then went back out night lobstering later that evening.

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After a couple days enjoying the anchorage, we sailed around the north end of Naviti island to the wide Somosomo Bay. The village tucked into the southern shores from which the bay derives its name is a collection of rough houses on blocks with a few fishing boats anchored in the shallows. We anchored deep but in good holding and went in to shore to pay our respects to the chief.

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First thing we noticed as we came ashore was the number of people about, generally dressed up and sitting in the shade. As our guide Twoway led us to the chief’s house, the second thing we noticed was a big slaughtered cow sprawled out on the path.  Apparently a village elder had died that morning and people were gathering from the surrounding islands for the expeditious funeral required by the tropical heat, all who needed to be fed after the service.  Hence, the dead cow.

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We presented our kava to the village chief, the first female chief we’ve encountered, and much clapping and chanting ensued.  It was too early to drink the kava, but we bought some fruit and explored the town.  We visited the beachside kindergarten with munchkins running around barefoot.  The older kids are bussed up to the next town in an open boat.  In my mind, the boats should have been painted bright yellow.

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October sixth marked our one year anniversary aboard the our fair Tayrona! We celebrated with a day of leisure on the boat, some snorkeling, a homemade pizza, and a little skinny dipping!  Note Miranda’s great coconuts!

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The coconuts on the yoga mat, of course.  She uses them to hold it down to the deck on windy days.  Get your mind out of the gutter!

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Moved to the northeast side of Somosomo Bay to hunt down a WWII airplane wreck reportedly sunk on the windward side of the island. I lost a week-long fight with the dinghy prop, which has now basically dissolved after plans A through G to repair it failed. It’s totally shredded. We hopped a ride to shore with Tallulah Ruby and found the winding single track path across island. It’s significantly drier here in Fiji than I expected, but that’s because the rain typically falls on the east side of the islands and we’re in the west.

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On the other side of the island a few deserted shacks and some propped up outboards stood quietly under the palms. With no real idea where to look for the airplane and several miles of open beach we hunted down a lone figure on the shore. The local guy showed us a buoy in the bay that marked the wreck, and we gave him a bag of rice, pasta, and fishing hooks. He seemed pleased by the trade.

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We walked back down the beach and snorkeled out to the buoy. In ten feet of water, a shredded airframe basked. Our friend on the beach didn’t know the history, and the plane was too torn up to show any sign of its origins. Anemones grew in the cockpit hole, and not too much was left to distinguish the wreckage as an airplane. Still it was a worthwhile hike and snorkel. We had another lovely bonfire on the beach and prepared to sail north the following day.

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Panama City, part 1

Author: Pete

 

Well I was hoping to like Panama City more than Colón, but while the city itself is nicer, the anchorage kind of sucks. It’s packed and every five minutes a tug, pilot boat, or tourist barge throws enough wake through the anchorage to knock things off tables and annoy the piss out of you after a while. Also, the area has 4 or 5 meter tides, and heavy current associated with them. Everyone’s boat reacts differently to wind and current, so at some point in the changing tides various boats are feathered in different directions and don’t lay nicely threatening collisions.

 

Our first night a holler yanked me out of a deep slumber and I was on deck and fending off a boat before I was actually awake. Pulled in some chain and stayed up watching the boat doing a devil spiral like our wind generator. In the span of an hour the boat swung stern to wind, right across our stern, spun at the end of its chain, caught the wind with its hull and sailed through to the other end of its chain before flipping back around and being carried by current back toward us. Freaky. I slept on deck with one eye open.

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Shipped Liza and Felix off to see their friends and do some surfing.  Also brought the dinghy motor in to be service by Manuel, who works for Tohatsu motors.  Our dinghy has gone from annoying to completely non-functional in the past few weeks and rowing in the hot Panama sun has been less than fun.

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He started it up, as best one can do that these days, and diagnosed a ruptured fuel pump.  We left the motor with him and took off an hour later bound for Las Perlas!  The Las Perlas island chain is located a nice 35-mile sail from Panama City, and it was a great way to escape our less than desirable anchorage in the city.

 

Pretty good sailing with Mom and Denny in 15 knots of wind on a broad reach. Never thought I’d be able to share this experience with Mom. Thank you Scopolamine patches.God bless pharmaceuticals. Also cool to hear Denny’s sailing stories.

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About two hours in we got a bit on my new squid lure! Denny and I hauled in a 5 pound tuna! My first catch (that I landed)! Finally!

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I think I’ve been using lures that are a bit too big. It was an exciting catch, and then we set to work intoxicating the fish with a shot of alcohol in the gills and a knife to the brain. Sometimes I feel like I’ve had a knife to the brain when I’ve been passing too much alcohol through my gills too. Impressive to see how many little squid and sardines were in this guy’s stomach.

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The wind died along the way, so we motored to Pacheco, the northern most island, arriving just before sunset. The wind then picked up and the current ripped through the island cut. Plus it smelled like cormorant poop. I made the call to move one island south despite the oncoming dark.   I’m glad we did though we had to maneuver through a mooring ball field before anchoring south of Contadora.

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In the morning we moved south again to the cut between Chapera and Mogo Mogo. The name of the island was worth going in itself! We even got to dig out our spinnaker and try it out along the 5-mile trip.

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Found ourselves a tall sandy beach to swim to and lounge in the shade. Eventually we made a game of throwing crab apples at crabs the scuttled along the beach. Then after smelling the apples and finding the pleasant, Miranda took a bite of one. It tasted like sweet apple, so we all followed suit with a small nip each. A few minutes later our mouths were all fiery and scratchy. Stupid move. It went away. But stupid move.

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Really interesting to deal with the big tides. Didn’t sleep hard again as we spun and feathered in weird ways all through the night.

 

Bagels for breakfast! It’s interesting what sort of American goodies you can find in Panama thanks to the canal. I worked on the rudders and wired the LEDs for the new inverter. Took all morning, of course. We got suited up and snorkeled right around the boat. Couldn’t go far with no motor for the dinghy and high current. But we had great sea life despite the bland, sandy bottom. Five or ten big stingrays worked the bottom, and troops of puffer fish doted on them as they fluffed the sand. Two long, green eels free swimming on the bottom, a party of 100 starfish, schools of jacks and other fish all added to the fun. The water was surprisingly cold! We’ve been spoiled in the Caribbean!

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Cocktail hour, dinner and cards on a calm starry evening rounded out the night.

 

Motored back from Las Perlas in calm seas back to the crowded, rolling, annoying anchorage of Panama City. Did my dissatisfaction come out just then? Spending a week prepping the boat for the push to Galapagos. Exciting times and a lot of work ahead!

 

 

The Tayrona Years

The short of it?  My wife and I bought, outfitted, and sailed a thirty-eight foot catamaran half way around the world on a two-year sabbatical, starting with only modest sailing experience and some sort of genetic desire for adventure.  We sailed and explored some of the most beautifully inaccessible waters in the world on what is know as the ‘Coconut Milk Run’ and came out on the other side (of the earth) wondering how we pulled it off.  After thirteen-thousand miles under our keels, we sold our valiant Tayrona to sailors who can keep her canvas full on the high seas…and we moved to Switzerland and got back to work!  Slackers!

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The long of it?  Our journey aboard the mighty s/v Tayrona started well before we saw her in Miami, while we were still living in Santiago, Chile.  We started researching the feasibility of this trip a year before we set out, right after we were married in Cartagena, Colombia.  It took quite a bit of planning.  I’m more of a seat-of-the-pants flier, but planning is Miranda’s forte!  We took three sets of classes in Chile and Michigan, read everything we could get our hands on about blue-water cruising, and learned prayers in as many religions as possible.  It can’t hurt, right?

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After moving continents we found and bought a 2000 Lagoon 380 in Fort Lauderdale, Florida.  We stalked the 380’s because they’re large enough to cross the seas (we hoped) and carry friends and family at times, but small enough for Miranda and I to handle alone, as well as light enough to slip into those untouched anchorages.  We named her Tayrona after the jaw-dropping national park in Colombia where Miranda and I kindled our first spark.

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So this is our Tayrona, elegant but mighty.  She’s a four-cabin layout with all the amenities to keep a crew happy and healthy offshore for months on end.  We put a good deal of time, effort, and money into making her energy neutral so we didn’t have to run engines or generators.  Wind, solar, and water powered us all the way across the Caribbean and Pacific.

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So we bought the boat, sailed her to Miami and spent a month refitting and readying her.  We re-powered her with a new wind generator, new wiring and fancy charge controller for the three solar panels, new single-sideband radio for communicating far beyond the horizon.  We also installed a new chart plotter and radar to cut through the night and squalls.  To add to the fun, we enrolled in diesel maintenance and provisioning courses from the Academy of Learn on the Fly.  Looks like a lot of work and not a lot of fun because frankly, that’s how it was.

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And then we shoved off!  Those eighty miles to the Bahamas across the Gulf Stream seemed like a formidable barrier, but the promised land was sure enough waiting for us on the other side.  In the next months we honed our skills in the proving grounds of the Exumas, with its forgiving sandbars, protected sailing and azure waters. DSC_1701

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After cutting our cruising teeth in the relative safety of the Bahamas it was off on our first passage, six days across the rowdy Caribbean Sea.  Heavy trade winds and a beam reach made for a rocketing, if uncomfortable trip, but then Cartagena, the place where Miranda and I met, rose to greet us from the sea.  From Cartagena we sailed down the coast stopping in the Rosario, San Bernardo, and San Blas archipelagos.  After becoming waterlogged from snorkeling we headed to Panama where we hauled Tayrona for some bottom work.

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After running the bureaucratic gauntlet involved in transiting the Panama Canal, we lashed Tayrona to two other boats, who have since become friends.  Over the next two days we were lifted, lowered, and loomed over by giant freighters in the canal.  In Panama City we provisioned the boat for the long push across the Pacific.

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With our fearless crew, we set sail heading southwest, crossing the equator and making port in Santa Isabela in the Galapagos.

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Then it was the big jump to the Marquesas, twenty-four days of open ocean.  No land, no boats, no problems for almost a month; it was a highlight of the trip and something I was both fearful of and salivating to experience.  On our last day of passage the island of Hiva Oa broke out from behind a squall, and we had made it to the South Pacific.

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The Marquesas are stunning.  Jungle-encrusted mountains diving into the sea, friendly ex-cannibals, and all the tropical fruit you can stand to eat.  It’s reminiscent of the Hawaiian islands, but still raw and untouched.  It’s paradise.  We spent several weeks oozing about the archipelago.

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A few days sail west is the Tuamotus Archipelago, several hundred coral atolls spreading out over endless turquoise sea.  The islands are nothing but spits of sand and coral which saw little cruising boat traffic before it was charted not too long ago.  The islands have some of the best snorkeling we’ve seen on the entire trip.  If it weren’t for the walls of sharks, we’d have slept in the water with our snorkel gear.  No foolin’, WALLS of sharks.  I can’t over emphasize how many sharks there were.  I can’t believe we survived dipping our toes in, let alone spearfishing.

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Rounding out our French Polynesia tour was the Society Islands.  We left our crew in Papeete and cruised Tahiti, Bora Bora, and all the gemstones in between.  The islands are incredible, with pointed green incisors towering over reef-ringed lagoons.

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From the Society Islands it was a ten-day push to Niue.  We intended to stop at Palmerston Atoll, but the conditions were too rough for the exposed anchorage.  Our autohelm failed and we spent four days hand-steering the boat in a gale.  It got a bit rough but soon we arrived in Niue and were greeted by humpback whales.

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After a week in Niue we shuffled through Tonga, not stopping for too long because of a wedding we had to get to from Fiji.  I’m sure you could spend years in Tonga.  We’ll have to go back!

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Then it was four more days to Fiji.  We left the boat for two weeks to go home for a wedding but then spend a month cruising the Yasawas Group.  The archipelago runs up the west side of the island chain and makes for some amazing sailing and snorkeling.
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When hurricane season rears its ugly head, we bravely ran for the safety of New Zealand.  Twelve days fighting some recalcitrant headwinds was rewarded with green, rolling hills, hiking trails, and good beer!  We spent months exploring the bays and islands and became adept at catching the abundant fish and scallops.

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The twelve-hundred miles across the Tasman Sea to Australia is generally regarded as ugly piece of water.  We made the passage in nine days with zesty winds into kicking us to twelve knots at times.  Other times it was so flat you could’ve bowled on the deck.  We finally rounded into Brisbane where we had Tayrona hauled and gussied up for sale!

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So will we eventually go stir crazy as landlubbers?  Will we ever succumb to the ceaseless call of the waves?  Will we ever sail Tayrona II the rest of the way around the world?  You can bet your boots on it!

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