Blue Lagoon, Yasawas, Fiji

17. Oct. 2015
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Fiji
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2 Comments

Author: Pete

Location: Blue Lagoon, Yasawas, Fiji

We set sail in the morning from Somosomo Bay heading north along the west side of Yanggeta and Matathawa Levu islands keeping a wary eye on all those poorly charted reefs. The charts are so contradictory that at one point the chart plotter showed us sailing over a reef that was supposed to be ‘awash’ (think ankle deep), but really we were in 150 feet of water with the reef clearly visible 300 meters to our port. We were exceedingly happy to be sailing in so much sunshine. Cutting into the island chain, we anchored Tayrona in the excellent protection of the Blue Lagoon.

We were again invited to Sunday church service in the village on Matathawa Levu. Seems to be a good way to meet locals and buy fresh fruit. Also, we haven’t hit any reefs yet, so I guess its worth getting up early for the 10:30 service. The church was similar. Following the congregation, we took off our shoes, brushed most of the sand from our feet and padded in to the pews. Little kids looked at us like we were aliens. Heck, so did the adults. The service was again in Fijian. We sat behind the choir and one of the guys passed us a hymn book. The melodies are easy enough to pick up and it was fun to try and guess the pronunciation of words. How does one sing, “Ke’u sa tag tikoga” without sounding like a tenor in Jabba the Hutt: The Musical? With their stunning voices and intricate harmonies, the Fijians pull it off with impressive fluidity and grace.

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Their doctrine varies slightly from most versions of Christianity in that Jesus’ place on the cross is taken by a crucified lizard. I attributed this to the distortion of the message of God in the decades it would’ve taken missionaries to cross the Pacific, much like a theological game of telephone. I had to watch this guy for a while before he resumed catching bugs.

The next few days passed exploring the island’s coral reefs and mangrove swamps. In our wanderings we were invited to dinner with Sami and Lie who lived on Nanuya island in front of our anchorage. They made a traditional feast with cassava, fish, and chicken wrapped in palm-leaf bundles and baked on coals buried in the earth. The spread was ample and delicious, smoky from the coals. There was coconut sauce for the fish and papaya for dessert. We brought a couple bottles of wine to round out the meal. After dinner, Sami busted out the kava, chanted the traditional prayer and brewed the pulverized root in a sawed up fishing buoy. The cup, much like Patagonian mate, is passed to one person who drinks all of it and gives it back to the brewer. Upon accepting the cup of kava on is supposed to clap, say “Bula!” loudly, drink all the kava in one go, then clap three more times. Kava is a plant root which is ripped from the ground, questionably washed, pulverized with a big stick, then brewed in a cloth sack in tepid water. As you’d expect, it tasted like exactly like standing water from a hay field. A few bowlfuls does give one a placid, thoughtful demeanor. Maybe everyone is just thinking, “Hmmm… why am I drinking this again?”

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Sami and Lie asked us about life on the sea and in listing the boat systems that keep us safe and happy aboard, we revealed that we have a sewing machine and operate it with some dexterity. We ended up mending a kava pouch, a scarf, and a shredded pair of shorts for them and also gave them needles and thread for when my seams rip open in the near future. They gave us fruit and a gorgeous cowry shell for the help. Why can’t all transactions came down to fruit, shells, and practical goods?

Poor dinghy had been prop-less for a week. Miranda and I eventually tracked down a chandlery in Nandi on the big island of Fiji. The new prop was shipped in from Melbourne then sent out to us on the Yellow Flier, which hauls passengers though the Yasawas to various little resorts out here. We had to tell them which bay we were anchored in and our friend Paul zoomed Miranda over to pick up the part. Despite the annoyance of the down time in ordering a part from Australia, I was impressed that the whole thing could be orchestrated from a cell phone in the middle of nowhere. I love technology.

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Miranda picked up the new prop because I was busy up the mast replacing our tricolor navigation light, which has been doubling as an anchor light, with a new stacked housing that has both tricolor and anchor lights built in. Many a salty sailor has given me a hard time about using a tricolor at night because it implies that you’re sailing along or a navigational buoy. Now with a real anchor light up there I can’t find the boat in the anchorage because it’s usually red or green! The first night driving back to the boat in the dinghy felt like trying to find a parked rental car. Now what color was that thing? I was pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn’t necessary to run new wire to install the light. Things are looking up. Miranda eventually let me down from the mast too, which is a plus.

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It had been almost a month since our last provisioning run to the Lautoka market. Half of a sad carrot and a couple soft potatoes haunted our pantry, but we had been running on cans for most of a week. We did ward off scurvy with fresh local fruit, but the situation turns dire when you’re hankering for the last of the cabbage. We heard rumors whispered on the airwaves about a local farm on a nearby island. The Yasawas aren’t often able to grow real crops because there are precious few springs on the rocky islands and there isn’t enough tanked rain water to use as irrigation. Miranda and I took off in the dinghy with instructions to find a certain bay only at high tide and follow a murky inlet through a mangrove maze to it’s termination. With bags on our backs and hope in our hearts, we set off to the supermarket.

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We found the parking lot in a muddy pool and parallel parked next to a little boat. A dirt trail ended at a wooden house where we were greeted warmly by Toki and his wife Miri. As we walked down a trail to the clearing cut into the jungle, Toki explained that the farm had been in his family for generations. When we indicated that we’d buy anything and everything they had, Toki and Miri led us up and down the aisles picking veggies and dropping them into our bags. We were thrilled.

Toki also showed us the natural spring that made it possible to irrigate the land. When we could carry no more, we hiked back up the trail to their house and paid them for the produce. I brought an extra machete that I had aboard and gave it to them and they threw in a dozen eggs and a bunch of oranges. Back at the ranch, Miranda and I washed all our new goodies and made a salad that would make a vegan swoon. Not bad for twenty bucks.

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There’s a tropical low forming and the weather has been deteriorating for a few days. We’d really like to keep moving north but the wind was forecasted to kick up to thirty knots and rain. So for the last couple of days we’ve been aboard doing odd jobs, cooking, and reading, punctuated by blustery hikes around the island and kiteboarding sessions in horrid, squally conditions just for the hell of it. On the other side of Nanuya we found two standing shacks, one of which was a tea house. A lady came down from an even smaller shack on the hill to open it up and make us lemon leaf tea and cakes. Pretty darn cute.

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After a couple days of wind and rain we’re ready to move on from the protection of the Blue Lagoon and keep venturing north!

Makemo, Tuamotus

23. May. 2015
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French Polynesia
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Author: Pete

Location: 1632.116S’ 14412.192W’

Date: May 17 – 22, 2015

May 17: Ran under the spinnaker to within a mile of Makemo before dousing the sail and motoring through the pass. There was a little rage going on, and we were a few hours early for slack tide, but current seemed minimal and we only encountered one knot against us as we muscled through. In the anchorage we floated our chain to avoid coral snags which plague boats in this region, attaching fenders at 10, 20, and 30 meters on 40 meters of chain in 13 meters of water. Being Sunday, nothing was open in town, so we snorkeled the lagoon and found significantly fewer sharks than in Raroia.

May 18: Spent the day snorkeling in the lagoon and went for a long run on the island. My legs haven’t been asked to walk more than 10 meters at any given point so they voiced their objections about an hour and a half run loudly. The town is cute, with people biking all over on trikes, mothers riding around with one naked baby standing on the crossbar and an infant swaddled in blankets in the basket in the back. Found some internet at the post office in front of the harbor. Later than night had our friends Martin and Lexi over for drinks. We met them in Galapagos, and they were on our Tangaroa radio net on the big crossing, but we missed them in our Marquesian island hopping.

May 19: Snorkeled outer reef and the pass. The undulating coral bed off the island was fantastic. In the pass a wall made for excellent snorkel drifting too. Went over to Martin and Lexi’s boat, Pao Hana for dinner and drinks again.

May 20: Haircuts in morning. Liza busted out the trimmers and scissors and gave Felix, Martin, and I all haircuts. It took a good deal of the morning and when we finally weighed anchor to sail north in the afternoon, the glare off the lagoon was terrible. You couldn’t see the coral heads coming, so we made it about ten miles north, then pulled into a nice beach and set anchor again. Along the trip we caught a 50 cm Green Jobfish, which turned out to be really tasty. We made a bonfire on the beach that night and cooked the fillets in the coals with potatoes, carrots, onions, and old bay. Heaven.

May 21: Flew the spinnaker on our morning sail to north anchorage. We pulled in and were immediately welcomed by our friends on Georgia, Continuum, and Free Spirit, but also the gray-green serpentine forms of black tip reef sharks. Dozens and dozens of them. I’d go so far as to say ‘shark infested.’ Apparently the two local guys up from the town in south Makemo had harpooned and cleaned a mahimahi in the anchorage.

To their credit they invited everyone in the anchorage to a seafood bonanza at the copra shack they were using for a week as their fishing camp. Vaienui and Jonah were in their late 20’s, local boys excited about showing off their culture and fishing prowess. When we showed up in the afternoon they had great green slabs of mahi grilling on chicken wire over oil barrels with palm wood blazing. On the grill they threw a dozen blue lobster and a local chicken they macheted on the spot. To top it off they caught a dozen coconut crabs the size and disposition of snapping turtles, a delicacy in the area and in Tahiti. They were bright blue and orange, really beautiful crustaceans. Several of them went into boiling pots of water. The cruisers brought side dishes, desserts, and lots of booze to add to the feast. The boys didn’t have plates or forks, so we brought some. They encouraged us to go for the local style and crack the crab legs with the back of a machete, split and de-vein lobster by hand, and dug into the steaming mahi with our fingers. It was awesome. They showed us how to tear open the coconut crab abdomen and scoop out the gray goop they they likened to foi gras. It was a massacre. Shells, legs, bodies strewn across the rough table and weaved palm table mat the boys had made. Everyone had a ball. We left the treats and booze for the boys and gave them some money for the amazing spread. They insisted that they couldn’t accept the money, that the food and firewood was free, but we wore them down and they seemed pleased with the gesture. We all sat on the dock under the starry moonless sky and talked in broken French and English. It’s a lot tougher to communicate at night when gestures are removed from one’s arsenal of translation.

May 22: Left Makemo Atoll today at what was supposed to be slack tide. The northern pass has a constant ripping current that we watched for three days before attacking. I lined up the boat with the two green navigation cans, unfurled some main, and ran into the melee with the engines roaring to keep some traction on the ripping water with the rudders. Deep swirling vortices pulled the bow this way and that. At some point we were making 13 knots. Weaved and staggered through the eddies until the pass spit us out like being shot from a cannon into a moderate rage. It was all very exciting.

Now we’re heading toward Fakarava under spinnaker, another atoll with some surfing potential. Should be there tomorrow morning after a quick overnight sail.

Overnight and Landfall in Makemo

17. May. 2015
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French Polynesia, Passages
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No Comments

Author: Pete

Location: Passage Raroia to Makemo

Date: May 15 – 17

Sailed back from the western chain of motu in great morning sun and anchored just north of the pass on an uninhabited islet. We took advantage of the turning tide and went out for another amazing drift snorkel in the pass, then I foraged around the islet. Came home with a couple coconuts and a oyster net buoy that I’ll use as a float.

The 16th saw us waiting for the slack tide at 3:15PM. We were a little sharked out by then, so Liza and Felix explored the islet. Meanwhile, I went on a repair spree and fixed the 120V inverter, two 12V oulets, and a exhaust hose. A hole was worn through the aging hose and it was spewing exhaust water into the port engine compartment when the diesel was running. The water was vented to the bilge and the pumps were kicking on more frequently than normal when we were motoring. Some plastic, vulcanizing tape, an a little duct-tape on the top just for good measure, and we’re back in action, at least until I can replace it in Tahiti.

After the repair fest, I jumped in to check the anchor and found it pretty terribly tangled in a mess of coral. The anchor was sitting happily in the sand, but the boat was hung up almost directly about the coral head, the chain wrapped tightly under and around a mushroom-shaped dome. Bad news. It came down to a team effort getting us free. Miranda let more chain out to give the boat some wiggle room. Felix towed the boat forward with the dinghy to give the chain some slack, and I swam the 17 meters down to the coral head and tried to pull the chain out from the crevices, then up and over the 6 foot coral heads, and deposit it in the sand on the other side. It took me about 6 dives to get it, each time I’d run out of breath, the boat would pull back tight on the chain in the wind, and we’d have to do it again. This was probably my limit for working at depth and each time I came up it didn’t seem fast enough. I ended up with my hand inadvertently on the clasp of my weight belt. Good practice though. As if 17 meters wasn’t a pain enough, half way through our rigmarole a couple sharks showed up and loitered for a while. We are researching floating the chain next time.

After a nap and a little lunch we motored out the calm pass with the main up. Back in the open water we unfurled the jib and took off at a nice 6.5 knots heading southwest towards Makemo, our next atoll in the Tuamotus with an easy pass. A couple miles out a dark, ominous shadow slipped past Tayrona’s starboard hull. It looked like a really big shark to me until it jumped out of the water. It was a ten foot long porpoise, dark with some white blotches. Another showed up and they played in our bow wake for a while, showing off, jumping and swimming belly up just under our bows. It’s a good omen, I hope.

Then it was sunset and in no time we were out of sight of the low atoll and back to the open sea. Huzzah! The dark crept in as we made dinner and ate under the canopy of a moonless starry sky. Went to bed around 7PM, woke at 2AM for our turn around the atoll Taenga, a passless, uninviting coral berm. It was out there hiding in the dark, and with no moon it was a little disconcerting to know it was lurking four miles off our port. We lit it up with radar and the low islands showed up clearly out of the darkness.

Went to bed anticipating our landfall in Makemo the following morning. Looks like we might be slower than we calculated, missing the slack tide we hoped to hit in Makemo’s south pass, but plenty of time to figure that out when we arrive. Worrying about speed while traveling by sail is pretty wasted emotion.