A visa run in Covid 19 times

In Malaysia on arrival by boat the immigration authorities give us a 30 day Visa stamp in our passport when this expires you have to leave Malaysia for at least 14 days before returning. Cases of coronavirus in Malaysia were being reported at the time my visa was expiring so I agonised over whether to go to immigration and ask for an extension (not normally given) or just leave the country for 14 days as per the rules. In the end the matter was decided for me as it took the Volvo engineer two days longer to fix the engine than anticipated and I just ran out of time to make a plea to immigration. I had decided to go to Japan to see the cherry blossom which was due to bloom in March and booked a flight to Osaka in southern Japan.

The cherry blossom season starts in the south in March

At Langkawi airport Air Asia printed out my boarding passes for both legs first to KL and then to Osaka and I was on my way. While I was waiting for my Osaka flight in Kuala Lumpur I perused the latest news on the progress of coronavirus around the world. One of the articles reported a big cluster outbreak in Osaka that day and at that time the number of cases was spiralling in Japan albeit in Hokkaido in the north. I was concerned that I might not be able to return to Malaysia after spending 14 days there. Malaysia had already banned people coming from Hokkaido so I bought a ticket online to Singapore from the airport and went to the transfer desk to ask if they could cancel my Japan flight and transfer me to my just booked Singapore flight. The woman behind the counter refused on the grounds that my boarding pass had already been issued and that under international law you were not allowed to transfer unless it was onto a flight to your own country for emergency reasons. I had no choice therefore to but to continue with my flight to Osaka while fuming at the bureaucracy.

The seven hour flight to Osaka was uneventful and the Japanese guy sitting next to me slept throughout the entire flight. On arrival in Japan around 10 o’clock at night I booked in to a cabin hotel on the airport. These hotels offered little cubicles just large enough for a bed but very clean and surprisingly comfortable. I decided that it would be too dangerous to stay on in Japan with the additional risk of being barred from Malaysia. So I bought a flight that night out to Singapore first thing in the morning. However, the only flight I could get was one to Manila and then an onward flight from there to Singapore, I had spent 12 hours in Osaka and hoped it wouldn’t count against me in future destinations.

My box for a night!
Very few of us on the flight

On arrival in Manila it was a simple matter to go to the transfer desk and be rerouted to my Singapore flight. Manila was in lockdown and it wasn’t possible to enter the country unless you were resident there. The four hour flight to Singapore passed off without incident, the plane was only one third full so we were well looked after by the lovely stewardesses.

In Singapore I had reserved a room at the 4* NuVe Heritage Hotel expecting to arrive from Kuala Lumpur but had explained my predicament by email to the hotel and told them to hold my booking.

The stunning gardens at Singapore Airport

The following morning I went to the splendid Gardens by the Bay which were very quiet. The city wasn’t in lockdown but citizens had been told to stay at home to avoid unnecessary travel and as a society they are very obedient.

The recently refurbished Raffles Hotel and infamous Sikh doorman
Cherry Blossom in the Gardens by the Bay
The cool damp cloud mountain

The government has rules for everything and is very strict on law breakers.The next couple of days I spent in my hotel room as the situation escalated around the world, only going out for meals and a walk to get some exercise. The next morning a friend of mine in Rebak Marina in Malaysia messaged me to say that Malaysia was going into lockdown the following day and no foreigners would be allowed in thereafter. I decided not to try to fly in but to take the land crossing over the causeway between Singapore and Malaysia and travel by bus as the most lenient route to get back in. If I was refused entry I could get the bus back to my hotel but I didn’t relish having to rent an apartment for several months in expensive Singapore. I had only been out of the country for 5 days instead of the regulation 14 so immigration had a very good reason to refuse me entry. I also had a stamp in my passport from Japan and given Malaysia’s ban on visitors from Hokkaido I knew I was doubly at risk.

The land border post at Johor Baru Malaysia

The bus only had 5 of us on it, normally it would be packed with Malaysian workers going to and fro to Singapore for work. I cleared out of Singapore immigration and got a second bus for a five minute ride across no mans land to take me to the Malaysian border. Here I scanned the immigration officers and picked a sweet young girl as being potentially the most lenient, these were tense moments.

She asked if I had been on holiday in Singapore, I said I had and she asked me if I had had a nice time to which I said “yes, it was lovely”. She asked me where I was staying in Malaysia and I explained my boat was in Langkawi and I needed to get back to it. She then asked how long I would like to stay in Malaysia to which I replied 3 months and she stamped my passport and wished me a pleasant stay.

I couldn’t believe it, I was back, I had been so sure they would refuse me entry, I skipped through the terminal, hired a cab to the airport and on my way booked my flights back home to the boat. The only flights I could get from Johor Bahru to Langkawi were via Subang and then Penang to Langkawi the following day. I booked into the Museum hotel in Penang. My first flight was cancelled so I rebooked with another airline for a flight 2 hours later. Fortunately this was still within the layover time at Subang. I got to Penang at 21.50 and took a taxi to the hotel and flopped into a big soft bed.

The Museum Hotel, Penang

The following morning I wondered if I should just stay in Penang for my next hospital appointment in three days time for a checkup on my nose which had been operated on three weeks previously to remove a cancerous growth. I asked the hotel if I could extend my booking but they said they were closing down as I was the only guest. They also advised that all bars restaurants and non essential businesses would close the following day and most flights had been cancelled. So that decided my plans for me. That evening I thought this will be my last restaurant meal for a long while so I went to a Japanese restaurant and ordered Kobe steak and washed it down with Connors beer, truly wonderful. When I woke the next morning I had an email from the airline to say my flight to Langkawi was cancelled. I phoned the airport and asked if there were any other flights still flying, they said only one by Firefly at 12.20 which I then booked online before it sold out. It was then 10.10 so I packed quickly and got a Grab (Asian Uber) to the airport. Quickly cleared through security as there were few people there and went to the gate. Nearly every flight on the board had “cancelled” against it. Boarding time came and went and then an attendant came over to tell us the flight was cancelled because of a “technical problem”. I explained my need to get back to my boat and she went off to discuss plans. She came back to say they would put us (only 3 passengers) on the 5.30 flight, ten minutes later she came back again to say the flight would go anyway. Yippee! Nine airports in 5 days!

30 minutes later we were in Langkawi, I had made it back by the skin of my teeth but here I was. There was only one taxi waiting where normally there would have been twenty and I asked him to take me to the local supermarket to buy fresh fruit and veg. I was relieved to see the shelves were stocked as normal, no panic buying here! Then it was off to the Rebak ferry and the boat after quite an adventure. So here I stay initially in 14 day self isolation and then probably many months more until the movement control order is lifted. In comparison to others however we are so lucky to be based on this beautiful island for the lockdown period.

I have included some photographs of this little island paradise.

Home sweet home for the next few months
Rebak Island Marina located a mile off Langkawi
The track through the pine woods, one of the many walking trails
The entrance is through a curved cut offering good protection from storms and tsunamis
The old pier destroyed in the 2004 tsunami
The Taj Resort bedrooms facing the sea
The hotel pool and one of the three restaurants, sadly the pool is off limits during the lockdown
In busier times the massage parlour would be thriving but no guests in the hotel today!
One of the five beaches on the island
The empty wedding bower! The main island of Langkawi in the distance
One of the old island buses parked in the old salt factory
Some of the islands wildlife which includes giant monitor lizards,eagles , Hornbills, snakes, mostly pythons, butterflies, geckos and fish in the marina.
A regular little zoo!

Bali to Langkawi, Malaysia

Part 2

Setting off at first light we motor sailed to the next rally stop at the resort of Lovina on Bali where Joy and Jo left the boat and the new crew Imogen an English gap year student and Cindy, an Australian woman signed on. Marcella left Cintana to go on a diving course with Jo in the eastern part of the island and Joy returned to Australia to provide care and support for a friend recovering from an operation. Unfortunately Bali is very touristy and both Imogen and Cindy had already spent time there so we up-anchored once they we’re settled in and set off for the next rally destination of Pulau Bawean with an overnight stop over at the Island of Sapudi on the way. The distance from Sapudi to Bawean meant an overnight sail, a first for the two women and this proved to be one of our busiest shipping areas with several cargo ships passing close to and numerous fishing boats dotted around with their drift nets out. It was a game of dogems and meant a sleepless night for me.

We timed our arrival at Bawean for dawn but winds were light and we didn’t finally drop anchor until 11 o’clock off another lovely sandy beach where beach boys helped with landing our dinghy through the surf, and this was a service they performed each time we went ashore. We were treated to an official reception by the government on the island and as I was the first skipper ashore I had to drink and eat the local welcome offerings. The food part tasted like sawdust wrapped in tobacco leaves but it was a traditional welcome so you just have to smile, swallow hard and thank your hosts to avoid embarrassment.

The beautiful beach at Bawean

We were treated on the following day to a tour of countryside by coach with the rest of the rally. We were taken to the official reception by coach amazingly all the side roads had been closed off to give us uninterrupted passage and we were accompanied by eight police outriders four of whom were armed with semi automatic weapons. When we arrived the police moved the crowds and these special forces dressed in black took up strategic positions. We had never seen any hint of violence or unrest in Indonesia so maybe this was just designed to impress.

Armed outriders escort us out to dinner

The reception was held in a great hall

The banquet awaits us cruisers and our generous Indonesian hosts

Music and dancing at the afternoon reception

Cindy had decided to go off to stay in a hotel while we were there and proved to be quite a private person, preferring her own company on and off the boat. She wrote some interesting poetry and was clearly creative but it was becoming obvious that crewing wasn’t really her thing. Imogen’s family were sailors so in contrast she was very much at home on the boat.

We were all looking forward to the next stop in Kumai in southern Borneo where we would trek up river to a reserve which was famed for its orangutans. We arrived in the shallow estuary early in the morning on my watch and our timing was good for a rising tide. One of the other rally boats ran aground here and was stranded for 12 hours. We anchored off the scruffy port of Kumai at lunchtime and went ashore by dinghy to find a boat and guide to take us up river to the reserve.

Long tail canoes on the river at Kumai

The authorities here had organised more celebrations and welcoming events which included a visit to a traditional stilted fishing village, unfortunately it poured with rain but this didn’t stop the performers who played and danced for us. Those who didn’t mind getting wet could go up river in one of the villages long tail canoes at high speed, it was quite exhilarating as we roared along in convoy. Next stop was a traditional long house where we were initiated in the art of using a blow pipe. It’s harder than it looks is all I can say, shooting a monkey 20 metres in the canopy would be really hard. We had difficulty enough shooting at a target 10 metres away.

Undergoing training on how to use a blow pipe effectively

The very smartly dressed school children turned out to welcome us

The eternal battle between good and evil

The next day we boarded the converted fishing boat to take us up river to the orangutan reserve, a two day journey. The food we were given was excellent, cooked by a very talented lady while we watched the wild life in the passing jungle. We watched proboscis monkeys wait in the trees until our boat had just passed then leap as far across the river as they could and swim the rest of the way. Our guide explained that the boat scared off the crocodiles rendering it safe for them to cross, very smart!

Deep in the Bornean Jungle on the way to find orangutans

At night we slept on mattresses on deck under mosquito nets with the sounds of the jungle all around us. In the morning we set off up a small tributary which at times was just wide enough for the boat to get through. The captain told us it was not unusual for them to jump overboard and cut there way through vegetation and reed mats, braving the risk of crocodiles. Fortunately we weren’t expected to join in.

When we arrived at the sanctuary we trekked through the jungle for an hour or so to the feeding stations set up at various points. The rangers would put out bananas and other food and then call to the monkeys with a strange wailing sound that echoed through the thick forest. We waited for quite a while until one then another came out of the jungle into our clearing to feed it was an incredible sight. There were up to eight orangutan at any one time as they came and went, disappearing back into the jungle. On our way back to the boat we had a real close encounter when a mother orangutan carrying a baby walked nonchalantly passed us. We were told by the rangers to be careful if we came across mothers and babies as the mums can be very aggressive, defending their young but this Mum was as good as gold.

On our return to Kumai we decided to visit an area of the jungle which had been destroyed by fire where we could plant some new trees. I chose iron wood, Imogen chose mahogany and Cindy chose wild nutmeg a favourite food of the orangutan.

Planting an ironwood tree to replenish jungle destroyed by fire

We motored slowly back to Kumai arriving late afternoon. Cindy returned to her hotel and Imogen and I to the boat. It had been a fantastic experience and one I would hope to repeat when I return to northern Borneo in two years time.

When Cindy returned to the boat the following day we refuelled after a long wait for the agents boat with our diesel onboard. When I inspected the content of the cans it was clear this was not the premium diesel I had paid for it was filthy black with lumps of congealed tar, this was the cheapest diesel you could buy. The boatmen refused to take the fuel back or to refund the money I had given to Lisa the agent. They claimed they only followed orders which was probably true. I tried phoning Lisa many times but unsurprisingly there was no reply and I had no idea where to find her in the town. I’d been stitched up well and good. We had no choice but to set a course for Pulau Belitung about 200 miles to the North East and the resort of Tanjung Pesona.

Cindy and I on the way to a remote island off Bawean

We stopped overnight on a small island called Gelasa but had great difficulty finding a good anchorage the depth off the reef dropped steeply away and as we had arrived at 5pm and it was getting dark it made it very difficult to see the reef so we switched on the echo pilot, our forward looking sonar and crept in towards the island but each time we were met with a sheer wall of reef below. Gradually we crept round the island testing again and again until at last we found a sandy shelf and put on the anchor alarm in case we dragged during the night as the tide switched around. The alarm went off a couple of times but it was only the boat swinging on the chain. I noticed when I came on deck that Extrapole, a French boat on the same rally as us had anchored nearby.

Our anchorage on the Island of Banka was at the resort Tanjung Pesona about 60 miles north of Gelasa and in the late afternoon we dropped the hook off a delightful beach. In the morning Cindy booked into a hotel again and after some discussion with both her and Imogen it was agreed it would be better all round if she left the boat. Imogen was comfortable with us sailing two handed for the rest of the way to Malaysia and proved to be a competent watch keeper. In Tanjung Pesona the authorities had organised beach boys to help with the dinghy landings and launching which at times was a lee shore as a result we had some lively landings and difficult launching made much easier by having half a dozen strong guys to help. They launched the dinghy with us in it and held the boat in the surf while we got the engine running, it would have been very difficult otherwise. We enjoyed the usual dinners and celebrations which were laid on for us free of charge by the local government and were greeted by a welcome committee holding rose petal water for us to wash our hands on landing.

Imogen at the rose petal hand washing welcome

A traditional band plays for us at the welcome ceremony

Traditional dragon dancing, an amazing sight to watch

Welcome dancers and musicians on the beach as we landed

Our next anchorage was a sandy bay at the north end of Bangka about 35 miles and an easy day sail from Tanjung Pesona with now just Imogen and me as crew. We had uneventful day sails from here to an overnight stop on Pekacan Island from where we set off early in the morning for the trip to Selayar Island about 70 miles north. With no wind it was going to be a long motor on flat seas. About six hours out I went below to check the instruments and noticed the inverter which gives the boat it’s mains electrical supply was off. It’s situated in the engine room so I opened up the doors and was met by a wall of hot steam and could see the engine was half submerged in sea water but still running. I put on all three bilge pumps and after 10 minutes we had pumped the bilge dry but I could see that water was pouring out of the bottom of the expansion chamber on the exhaust.

The bonding holding the lead lined insulation in the engine room had failed due to the extreme heat of prolonged motoring and fell on to the exhaust anti siphon pushing it down onto the prop shaft which cut through the cooling water exhaust manifold and flooded the engine room. This took out both alternators, the master volt inverter and the starter motor so we limped into the anchorage off Penuba fishing village on Selayar. Unfortunately it’s only a small fishing village so there was no chance of getting anything fixed there. The nearest place for repairs was Singapore some 200 miles north and there was little wind to get us there. We needed a working starter motor, I contacted Raymond the rally organiser who said if we could find one in Singapore and ship it to Tanjung Penang he had an agent who would bring it the 80 miles south to us by speedboat. I did find one in Singapore but at a cost of $1500 SD, about £800. However I noticed an automotive part number on the old starter and took a long shot putting it on the internet and wonder of wonders Amazon in the US had one for £140 and could ship to Indonesia in 4 days. It just shows very clearly the huge mark up on marine parts. The rest of the rally moved on and we were left to sort things out.

Imogen shopping for a bracelet in Penuba

In the meantime I fixed the exhaust with sealant and good old duck tape, wedged up the head lining and another cruiser suggested stripping the starter, washing it in fresh water and then baking it in the oven for 24 hours on a low heat. I did and reassembled and fitted it to the engine and when I turned the key the engine leapt into life, we were operational again. Our next scheduled stop on the rally was in the Lingga Regency however I didn’t want to risk not being able to start the engine again with the dodgy starter motor so we headed directly for Tanjung Pinang on the Indonesian side of the Singapore Straits, where the new starter was being delivered to Raymond’s agent. We came into the anchorage at midnight after an 18 hour motor sail with local boats anchored everywhere. Finding a spot where we had sufficient swinging room to anchor proved challenging and Imogen using a torch to light our way eventually found a spot by a fuel barge. We were exhausted but happy to be in a safe anchorage and relieved at the prospect of the spare part arriving the next day.

Diane, Imogen and I exploring Penumba

Our farewell dinner was at Bandar Bentantelani so we all motored the last few miles to get there and had a very disappointing farewell dinner in the pouring rain. However on the bright side Raymond delivered my new starter motor which arrived on time just as our Indonesian visas were expiring the next day. Fortunately there was enough sunshine to keep the batteries on full charge through our big solar panels so the loss of the alternators hadn’t affected us and hopefully would continue until we could get them fixed in Singapore. The solar installation has been such a boon and generates enough power to run the boat in all but the most prolonged bad weather. The following morning Anne Romeril signed off Michael Sweet’s “Henrietta” and joined Imogen and I as crew, an additional crew member would ease the watch keeping back to 4 hours each. Anne was a retired barrister from Dublin and proved great at keeping the boat trim and tidy, not one of either Imogen’s or my strengths. We left Indonesia in glorious sunshine and flat seas with not a breath of wind. I planned our course to run parallel with the busy shipping lanes which run between the two countries through the famous Singapore Straits, the busiest shipping area in the world. Once we were opposite Singapore I intended to cross at right angles and make for the western clearance anchorage. Unfortunately “Murphy” was waiting for us, if it can go wrong at the worst possible moment it will! Just as I turned the boat to cross the 10 mile Strait the electronics crashed, we lost all our navigational instruments, autopilot, radar, plotter and AIS. I later found out it was a fault in the autopilot course computer that brought the system down and nothing I could do would bring it back up again. At least it was a nice clear day so we could see the solid procession of ships for about 5 miles either way but our AIS would have been sending out our ship Identification, course and speed to every ship within 25 miles to warn them we were crossing and I knew the Singaporean authorities won’t let you in if you don’t have an operational AIS it’s a major safety issue. We couldn’t go back to Indonesia since our visas had run out and we desperately needed the vastly superior repair facilities of Singapore to fix things up for us, so I decided to go anyway and see what happened. We played dodgems for two hours crossing the separation lanes in the Straits, judging the speed and distances between the ships visually and as we got half way to our astonishment we came across guys in canoes peacefully fishing, it was the most bizarre sight as huge ships passed either side of them. As we approached the “check in” anchorage I expected the border control patrol vessels to intercept us but nothing happened so I drifted around the area not wanting to switch off the engine and waiting for the immigration authorities to appear. I radioed on their channel and was told to stay put “a vessel was on its way”. Fifteen minutes later they nosed up to the boat and asked for the ship’s and crew’s papers which I passed over the gap in a water proof bag. Five minutes later the bag came back with our clearance papers in it and that was it, we were in and no issues! We headed for Keppel Bay Marina, not a cheap place to stay but very well equipped for the work we needed doing. Once we had berthed the boat Anne, Imogen and I headed for the restaurant and some celebrationary drinks and a slap up meal, we were back in the 1st world.

I spent seven of the eight days of our stay there working on the boat and organising specialists to fix the bits I couldn’t, it was hot tiring work.

Somewhere in Indonesia we had picked up an infestation of cockroaches and they were roaming the boat at night including our bunks so the girls opted to sleep in the cockpit at night until we could deal with the problem. Anne who had a real phobia about roaches went off on our first day to buy some stuff to kill them and bravely cleared out every cupboard, spraying anything that moved. We put down poison, bombed the boat with gas bombs and collectively it seemed to do do the trick. The girls still slept in the cockpit for the next few nights however.

Once the bugs had been attacked the girls of course went off shopping and sightseeing, there was nothing else they could do to help and this was probably one of the best shopping destinations in the world. In the evening we tried the famous street food arcade and one night met up with Diane Gorch who had sailed on a French catamaran on the Rally, for a great chilli crab dinner, a must in Singapore. On my day off we visited the world famous zoo and the beautiful botanical gardens.

Anne and I in the botanical gardens in Singapore

Ukulele practice on board Romano, long way to go to competency

Diane and I enjoying a crab dinner in Singapore

With the new or repaired kit fitted and working we set off for Port Dickson 150 miles north which meant an overnight passage through the Straits of Malacca. A new rally had been set up to sail the west coast of Malaysia and they left Singapore at the same time as us but were stopping overnight at Malacca. I had decided not to join them or to anchor for the night in Malacca as it was a very exposed anchorage with poor holding and a lee shore. After an hour of sailing the autopilot crashed again which meant hand steering all the way to Langkawi on the Thai/Malay border a distance of 400 nautical miles. Two hours is about as much as anyone can safely steer so we set up watches between Imogen and I to get us there. The alternators, repaired exhaust manifold and starter motor on the other hand all worked perfectly. Many boats had problems sailing through Indonesia some hit reefs and had their rudders ripped off, some had complete engine failure and had to be towed into port, others picked up fishing nets around the keel or prop and one boat hit one of the many FADs in the night. It is very difficult water to navigate safely through and due to the lack of wind we all had to motor huge distances on pretty ropey fuel. Fortunately I’d had the engine serviced in Australia and changed fuel filters regularly and it performed faultlessly throughout our journey.

On the way north of Malacca we had more trouble, unfortunately we hit one of the many massed islands of logs and weed while I was on watch, I didn’t see it, in my defence they are difficult to spot at a distance. There was a crunch as the propellor hit a log and I was just too late in knocking the engine out of gear. The boat coasted through the 20 metre mass under its own 18 tonne momentum and we came out the other side. I gingerly started the engine and put it into gear but there was a lot of vibration and I guessed we had damaged the prop or bent the shaft. I checked the shaft but it seemed to be running true so that meant it was the prop. I decided to motor at low revs and limp at 2 knots the remaining 45 miles to Port Dickson. After an hour however I noticed the vibration had stopped and the prop was running smoothly so I increased the revs back to cruising speed and it was still fine. We had been very lucky it must have been thick weed wrapped around the propellor which was gradually shaken off.

On arrival at Port Dickson I decided to go in stern first to the marina berth but on engaging reverse gear I couldn’t get it back to neutral and we were fast approaching the pontoon. I shouted to the crew to get fenders out the back but there wasn’t sufficient time so I kicked the gear lever hard and wondrously it came back to neutral and we gently glided into the berth and were tied up by the anxious marina staff. It seemed like the gearbox had been damaged when we hit the log pile, another job for fixing! We learned later that the rally had been hit by a storm off Malacca and many boats had dragged their anchors in the middle of the night. Fortunately none of the boats were beached, everyone got out safely and sailed the rest of the way through the night to join us in Port Dickson.

On our second night in Port Dickson Anne and I had a falling out and she decided to leave the boat, leaving Imogen and I to hand steer the remaining 280 miles to Langkawi.

The next day we set sail for a river just south of Port Klang which proved to be a nice quiet anchorage off a small fishing village. Imogen and I went ashore in the dinghy to a nice bay where it was good for swimming but not for snorkelling as there was no reef.

We tried to make the journey in day hops to avoid hand steering through the night as well and Sungai Bernam river was our next overnight stop. There were many fishing boats working off the shallow entrance and I tried to follow them in rather than use the charted depths on the chart which showed a very shallow estuary entrance over 5 miles of shifting sand banks. We were close to grounding many times but eventually made it over the bar and into a quiet anchorage up river. Imogen slept peacefully through our hairy passage. It was a very quiet night and after prawn fried rice for dinner and a still anchorage we both slept in which meant we only had a very short time to get over the bar and through the shallow estuary now on a falling tide. On the way out I followed the path of the incoming night fishing boats and found better depths. Imogen was still sleeping having gone back to bed after getting the anchor up, teenagers!

We anchored for a couple of nights on Pangkor Island, a nice sheltered anchorage where we hired motor bike and toured the island. Imogen ended up on the pillion seat with me. She tried to ride a bike but it didn’t work out and the guy hiring refused to let her have one, much to her disappointment.. We followed the only road anti-clockwise as far as the ship yard but had to turn back as the road was no good beyond. We had the same experience on the other side, we got to the Airport and had to turn back turn back. Only half the island is accessible by road!

After three days on Pankor we had a long motor to Port Bunning through loads of fishing traps, boats and nets which we meandered carefully through. It turned out that Port Bunning isn’t a port it’s an Island with long drive-able causeway attaching it to the mainland but I’m not sure why because there was no sign of life anywhere.

This was our last leg and we were both tired from long days of hand steering. There was no wind again and so we motored the remaining forty five miles to Langkawi, Imogen slept all the way to Rebak Marina, I had forgotten just how much sleep teenagers need! With only twenty miles to go the engine suddenly stopped, I had been worried about the dirty fuel we had put in the tank in Kumai and changed the filters regularly but there was nothing for it but to change the filters again and bleed the fuel system, something I had read about but never done on a diesel engine. Fingers crossed I turned the key and the engine burst into life. We thankfully checked into the very sheltered marina set on a private island with all the 5*resort facilities available to us and free ferry to main island Langkawi.

Safe arrival at last – Romano in Rebak Marina in Langkawi, Malaysia

When we had anchored off Penang island on the way up there was nowhere safe to leave the boat and explore so we decided to go back to see Penang Island by ferry. It’s a 3 hour crossing and no frills. Imogen went off and checked in to a party hostel I checked into the much more staid Museum Hotel which was centrally located, comfortable with great staff. I met up the next day with Imogen who was totally wrecked but stoically visited the reclining Buddha which I last saw in 1966, the main temple and then we got a 4×4 up the peak to view the sights. Up there we both went on a 3D ride, a helter-skelter, poor Imogen, but at least she didn’t throw up.

Imogen returned a few days later and went back to the boat to get her bags and go home to England. I stayed on in Penang and did some more sight-seeing.

After a few days back on the boat, the rally came in to Rebak and we had a good welcoming barbecue and free drinks put on by the marina. The next day I headed off by plane to explore Phuket in Thailand.

Oz to Indonesia: Part 1

I left Cairns for the Low Isles about 30 miles north with Poppy and Terence as crew on the first leg of our journey to Thursday Island in the northerly most part of Queensland where we would join the Rally boats mustering for the 5 day crossing to Indonesia. I planned to do only day sails until Terence was comfortable with sailing the boat so our next stop was Hope Island and then Cooktown for more provisioning. By great good luck we arrived in Cooktown on the anniversary of Cook’s landing here to repair his ship after hitting the reef. Each year the town stages a re-enactment on the 16th June and we were lucky enough to be there for the celebrations which included both whites and Aboriginals playing their original roles. This was a peaceful visit of Cook’s and the local aboriginal tribe was reportedly supportive of their efforts to fix the ship.


We visited the local museum which had artefacts and reports from the landing and we then climbed to Cook’s lookout where he was able to plan his next attempted exit through the barrier reef. This wasn’t to be however until he reached our next stop over on Lizard Island so named for the large monitor lizards that live there.


The three of us climbed to Cook’s Lookout and here you could clearly see the passage he took through the reef. We stayed on the island for a few days and snorkelled the lagoon but the coral was disappointing with much evidence of bleaching caused by sea water temperature variations.


Terence on top of Cooks Lookout viewing the Great Barrier Reef

We visited the Reef Research Station where teams of marine biologists study the reef and it’s various elements in an attempt to mitigate damage. We were able to pick up their internet and to get up to date weather forecasts. In the evening the island’s beach resort allowed cruisers to visit the bar on three days a week otherwise we spent our evenings reading, listening to music or Poppy and I would play and sing, her on the guitar me on the ukulele which Terence loved, he was a real fan of our live music sessions.
Our next really interesting stop on the way north was at Restoration Island, which was where Captain Bligh came ashore to re-provision in the longboat they had set afloat in by the mutineers.. Here he found fruit, water and fresh oysters. Poppy had seen a documentary on Bligh before leaving England and recalled that a hermit called Dave lived here after losing all his money on the stock market. We explored the island, initially skirting the house and found the rocky beach where the oysters grew. Of course we had to try them and cracked a few open with a sharp stone, our Neanderthal tool. This was Poppy’s first taste of oyster and she wasn’t impressed. We walked up to the house and were met by Karen and Steve who were house sitting for Dave who was in Cairns buying provisions. They were both teachers at Lockhart River aboriginal settlement and after discussion over a cup of tea they asked us to stay for dinner. I returned to the boat for beer and wine while Steve and Karen fished off the beach. Steve showed Poppy how to cast and she was soon matching him cast for cast when she got a bite and reeled in a very nice queen fish which Steve filleted for us to take back to the boat.


This was the first fish Poppy had caught and she felt a little guilty killing it but very excited by the experience.


Steve then lit a fire on the beach and we gathered round drinking beer and chatting as the sun went down. As the fire died Karen called us to a dinner of spaghetti Bolognese, washed down by our wine. It was a perfect end to the day spent with two kind and interesting people. We learned a lot about the aborigines and there way of life and issues they had with the white man’s world.

Two days later we entered Escape River but Poppy wasn’t feeling great and went to bed early. In the morning she could hardly speak and one look at her tonsils confirmed a bad case on tonsillitis. We hauled anchor and set out for Horn Island where we knew there were medical facilities. Poor poppy had to endure a very rough exit from the river.in a nasty wind over tide waves. After an hour we broke free and turned north.


A very poorly Poppy coming up to see Cape York, Australia’s most northerly point

As we approached Horn Island I called the clinic at about 5.00pm, explained the problem and suggested I bring Poppy in the following morning. Vicky, the nurse, wouldn’t hear of it and told me to bring her straight away to the wharf where she would collect us in her car. She was concerned it might turn into rheumatic or glandular fever. As promised she was there to meet us as we landed around 6.30 and whisked us off to the clinic. She suggested that Poppy be administered a massive dose of penicillin in her bottom and warned her it would be extremely painful. Poppy confirmed later it was excruciating but what made it worse was Vicky’s step by step comments of “ now this is going to hurt even more”. Poppy also had a very painful ear infection which required antibiotic drops every four hours. Once back on the boat she went back to bed for much needed rest. The following morning she was a little better but not markedly so and spent most of the day resting. In the evening I made dinner and went to bed leaving Terence reading in the cockpit. I was woken at 2.00 am with the sound of him crashing about in the cockpit above my head and went up to see what was going on. He was completely drunk and unable to speak. I told him to go to bed and he staggered off waking Poppy on the way through her cabin. An hour later I could hear him crashing about in the main cabin and I don’t often lose my temper but I did then, his lack of consideration was infuriating. This behaviour coupled with a complete lack of sailing skills sealed his fate and we agreed he would leave the boat in the morning. I need to be able to trust crew and Terence having quietly demolished most of our wine supplies was too much of a risk.
The next morning Poppy was very much better and taking food. I took Terence ashore to meet the ferry and we spent the next few days getting the boat ready for the crossing to Indonesia, provisioning on Thursday Island and refuelling with jerry cans. We used the dinghy to cross to Thursday Island and going was fine but coming back laden with washing and supplies could be a pretty wet affair. We rigged a tarpaulin over our supplies which kept them dry but not Poppy who was doused in gallons of water every time we dug into a wave. She was driving so there was no escape, while I baled to keep the water level down. It took us half an hour to make the crossing back to the boat and we were both cold and soaked. Time for a hot shower!


Choosing dinner, it was delicious

Losing Terence meant we would be on six hour watches at night which can be very tiring over several days but to her credit Poppy coped well over the 5 night crossing. We saw Indonesian fishing boats over the horizon with lights so bright the sky was lit as if by a city. Fortunately all the boats we encountered were lit as were the very long nets so it meant we had to be alert to the dangers. Another risk we’re the FADS fish attraction devices and some of these, the bigger ones were lit but not the small ones. The big ones were large A frame structures on huge bamboo rafts 10m x 20m with a house on board where fishermen lived for a week or so until they had caught enough fish to go to market. The smaller ones 5m x 3m were unlit and a real hazard and they weren’t confined to the coastal waters we would come across one fifty miles from land in 2000 metres of water and they were anchored!!! How on earth they manage or afford it is still a mystery.


You don’t want to hit one of these unlit fads in the dark

In order to pass the time on passage Poppy volunteered to make a Vietnam courtesy flag for Romano. Every one who has sailed with us leaves something behind and this was her gift to the boat.




Another way to pass the time

We arrived too late in Tual to clear in and it was Friday so we decided to get some provisions and a phone card for internet so we could let everyone know we’d arrived safely. Tied the dinghy to the coastguard cutter, big rolling rubber fender to get ashore. Poppy all covered up.
Trip to inland lagoon in the dinghy, on to Debut where the fleet was gathering to check in. Around 40 rally boats in the anchorage. We did a tour of 10 boats to say hello but no prospective new friends found. Had dinner on Little Dove, Terry and Carol’s boat, invited them back for pizza and a musical evening. Tour guide Veronica took us on a tour of the island for Rupiah 1,000,000 about £50. We swam in some cool caves, shopped in Tual Market and had lunch on a lovely beach after swimming and snorkelling.


Veronica took a liking to Poppy and offered to lend her her motorbike the following day. We set off for Tual again to visit the market, taking turns to ride the bike, it was great fun but you did need your wits about you, avoiding Indonesian drivers who don’t care which side of the road they use. It wasn’t uncommon to find bikes or cars coming the wrong way up a dual carriage way. Poppy discarded her hat as it kept blowing off and her blond hair attracted lots of attention and a continuous string of beeping cars and bikes. We had to practice a couple of emergency stops but got back to Debut unscathed and handed the bike back to a very relieved Veronica.

AE1AC46B-7B37-4175-9276-DBE607666345The indoor/outdoor market in Tual is huge, covering a few acres, selling clothes, fruit vegetables, spices, material, tourist toot and carved wood and woven baskets. It was slow progress wending our way through the labyrinth of stalls as every few yards someone wanted their photo taken with us even the police lined up. Clearly they don’t get many white visitors and Poppy with her blond hair and blue eyes was treated like a film star everywhere she went.The attention was all very friendly and the people warm and welcoming. We tried a few phrases of Indonesian as we moved around and managed to buy t-shirts at about £3.00 each and Poppy bought a few pairs of pasha pants to give her lightweight trousers to wear. Most of the older Indonesian women are covered from head to toe it being a very religious society.

The following day the local authorities laid on a welcome ceremony for the Rally on the quay side involving lots of speeches in Indonesian, in the hot sunshine but we were served a packed breakfast of cake, water and savoury rice bites. Two of our number were asked to respond and after two hours of speechifying we were loaded on to buses and taken to a fishing village to watch their traditional festival of the sea. Poppy was coaxed to get up and dance with the children which broke the ice and a few others joined in. I danced with a rather buxom police woman, well why not!


Ladies serving up some of the many local dishes we tasted for lunch.

We decided after another day of speechifying and dancing we would go off on our own, you can have enough of a good thing even when the authorities and villagers are so kind and welcoming. The next day we hauled anchor and headed for Baer Island in the north of the Kai group. It’s a honeycombed Island with a warren of lagoons the sea has cut out of the centre. These waterways are only four feet deep with sandy/coral bottoms so we took the dinghy in and spent a good hour exploring. We anchored the dinghy to snorkel among the coral but it was poor quality with little fish life so we move to the outer reef on the edge of the island where the quality and quantity of both was greater. The following morning we fired up the hookah (dive compressor) and explored the coral around the boat.


It was stunning and Poppy captured some good shots. We then scrubbed the bottom of the boat of weed and a few barnacles in anticipation of our next long distance cruise to pick up Joy and Australian lady joining the boat in Ambon about 250 miles west. We decided not to follow the rally to Banda but to explore these outlying islands instead.
After clearing out of Debut with the port authorities we headed up a chain of islands lying NW stopping each night to anchor. One notable stop was in Pulau Tioor where we anchored off the village. Villagers came out in a canoe offering fresh coconuts and we explained we would come ashore. As we beached the dinghy the men of the village rushed to carry it above the high tide line and we were met by a crowd of 60 or so villagers and children, the whole village had turned out for the occasion. A young student called Mai greeted us in English which meant our hastily revised Indonesian wasn’t required. We explained who we were and why we were there which Mai translated into Indonesian. Mai who is studying at University in Jakarta then took us to her parents house (they ran the local store and were clearly leading villagers) where we were installed on a platform given coconut milk and the sweet immature insides of the nut to eat while the whole village looked on. Poppy was slightly unnerved by one poor old man who just stood and stared at her open mouthed while dribbling copiously, not a pretty sight for anyone.
The villagers put up a volleyball net and Poppy asked if we could play with them, it seems only the women played volleyball but they graciously allowed me on to one team while Poppy played for the other. We had great fun playing for an hour or so until Mai called a halt. We were all very hot and sweaty even though we had frequent stops to blow up the ball which Mali’s father had mended using Elastoplast.


I played very carefully remembering how I broke my ankles doing just this in Honduras 4 years ago. We had some footballs and crayons on the boat as giveaways so we brought them back to village where they were well received and once again the whole village turned out to say goodbye.


All in all a wonderful experience, such spontaneous warmth and generosity! We hopped up a chain of islands, anchoring each night. Many of the islands had fringing coral reefs and sheer drops outside making anchoring difficult. We arrived in Ambon with a couple of days to spare before Joys arrival which would allow us to re-provision, do our laundry, top up our internet, refuel and clean up the boat after the mess of several day’s passage making. We picked up a mooring off the Hotel Tirta Cavennah ? In the village of Amahusu about 10 miles out of Ambon. The Darwin to Ambon race was due to arrive in two days time and the village was busy decorating, painting, setting up tents and a bandstand to welcome the fleet.
We went ashore with our laundry and the hotel agreed to do it for £4.00 for 10 kg for collection the next day. We visited the local store managed by Jan who then offered to take us into Ambon the following day in his people carrier to get our shopping, phone cards, fuel and beer. He charged us about £15.00 for the day which saved us time and money, he knew where to go for the cheapest and what to buy, negotiating the best prices for us which probably saved his cost and we just loaded up the van at each stop including 8 Jerry cans of diesel and petrol. In the middle of this Jan got a call from his wife to say the officials wanted us to move our boat as it was sitting on the race finish line, we finished our shopping and went back to the boat. After moving it to another mooring buoy Jan took us back to town for the fuel beer and phone cards even paying for all our stuff when I found I’d left my wallet on the boat. That night Poppy bought me a five course meal as a thank you in the hotel restaurant the menu was extensive and the food was delicious it was a memorable meal.
The following day we gave the boat a deep clean and set up the fore cabin for Joys arrival and decided to eat ashore again with Joy as the food was so cheap. Joy is German by birth, just retired from nursing and now living in Tasmania. She’s a keen cruising yachtswoman with 15000 sea mikes of experience. Joy quickly settled in well on Romano, she had sailed on another boat in the Wonderfulsail2indonesia rally last year and liked it so much she wanted a second time around which meant she knew where to go and what to see, enhancing the experience for Poppy and I.


Joy joins the boat in Ambon

Our first stop was on Ambelau Island, a halfway house to Wakatobi National Park, where we arrived at dusk. The anchorage was very difficult and we had to move close to the reef in front of the village to find a depth we could anchor in. This was a quite a problem in this part on Indonesia where the reefs fringed the beaches and bays with vertical drop offs to great depth. We carry 60 metres of anchor chain but quite often this wasn’t enough and we had to move on. We dropped the anchor in light wind on the edge of the reef and hoped for the best. At 5am the anchor alarm went off telling me we were dragging. When I arrived on deck the wind had picked up strongly and swung 180 degrees pushing us onto the reef, the depth sounder showed we had only 0.4 metre under our keel. I started the engine and in pitch dark drove off the reef without hitting anything, just in time, while the others came up on deck and we set out for Wakatobi trying to avoid the “fads” in the dark.
These are huts on rafts which the fishermen anchor out at sea, often in great depths. Fads stands for fish attraction device and they camp out on these sometimes for up to a week and fish below. Most of them are unlit which makes night sailing in these waters quite dangerous. The other hazard are nets strung for miles between buoys, sometimes the end buoys are lit but guessing where the nets are is quite challenging in daylight and impossible at night. The fishing boats are also often unlit so as you approach the fisherman switch on a torch and wave it up and down in the direction they’re travelling in. By contrast the big fishing fleets carry huge lamps to attract fish and they light the sky for miles around like the lights of a big city. All this means the watch-keepers have to be really attentive.
We arrived in Wanji Wanji, the main island in the Wakatobi Archipelago at dawn having slowed the boat down to arrive in daylight. The entrance to the lagoon is quite narrow with reef on either side so we wanted to make sure we could see the passage clearly. The pilot book said the charted depth in the passage at high tide was 2.1 metres, we draw 2.2 metres so we radioed for the harbour master to come out to guide us through the deepest part. There was no response but another cruiser radioed us to say they thought the channel had been dredged to 4 metres to allow access for a RORO ferry. We watched the line the ferry took coming out, switched on the forward looking sonar and crept in without issue.
The town was quite large with several markets so we stocked up with fresh fruit and veg and bought stuff we’d never seen before just to try it out. Some were successes some not, like a fruit Poppy nicknamed “armadillo eggs” which tasted like a bar of soap. We decided to hire a motor bike each, owned by the girls on the welcome committee, and tour the Island, with Joy as our expert guide as she knew her way around the island from her trip the previous year.This time we were issued with helmets, apparently you can be fined for not wearing one but it only seems to apply to the driver while your wife and two children go unprotected and only on some islands. On Kai we had no helmets and neither did many others, it seemed to be optional.
We lunched at the splendid but empty P Hotel which was completely deserted, not a guest in sight but plenty of staff.


A hotel to ourselves

How they manage to survive is a miracle and then we visited a beautiful hill top village called Lia where we met a lovely old lady working a loom on a platform outside her house and were mobbed by the children again.



A typical house in the village of Lia

We returned late evening for a much needed swim off the boat to shake off the dust and sweat of the day. Temperatures are in the low thirties and the wind on the bike keeps you cool but as soon as we stopped it was hot as hell..The boat’s equipped with a freshwater shower on the sugar scoop stern so we can wash the salt off and I bought an excellent petrol driven Rainman water-maker in Australia which makes fresh water from seawater at a rate of 70 litres per hour which gives us pretty much unlimited water. This is very necessary in Indonesia where the only drinking water is expensive and comes in bottles.
We then headed down to Hoga Island about 20 miles south and anchored in the lagoon passing through a narrow reef entrance. The forward looking sonar is worth its cost in these tricky situations and gives a view of the underwater profile up to 200 metres ahead. There’s an excellent reef for snorkelling and diving on the north side of the island and the three of us had a great couple of hours photographing the coral and fish life. The following day Poppy and I loaded the hookah into the dinghy and dived on the reef but we were quite limited by the length of air hose which tends to tangle and at one point when Poppy dived I was pulled up and vice versa. Our deepest dive was probably only 12 metres but we managed nearly an hour in the water on one tank of fuel.

In the evenings we ate ashore at the dive resort where a two course meal cost us R60.000 each, about £2.50 and pints of beer were the same price. It’s not worth our while cooking on the boat at these prices plus we met lots of interesting people. The resort was owned by a British company and offered research capability to marine biology students in universities around the world.


Pre dinner drinks on Hoga



A motley crew!


We really liked Hoga and stayed there for four days before heading off to Pasar Bajo on the island of Buton.
Many of the fleet were gathered here with about 30 boats moored to buoys which had been put down specially for our arrival. We moored to one of these but found we were on top of Franksiz, a French boat and moved. It happened to other boats as well and some went out to anchor in deeper water. The mooring buoys had been laid too close together in the interest of providing one for every boat. That night we went ashore for a party on the quay with beer and dancing but it didn’t happen and was rescheduled for the next day so we went of in search of a restaurant and had a Mei Goreng and banana fritters, the bill for the three of us came to R42,000 about £2.50. It’s amazing they can produce it for so little.
The following day we hired a car and driver to go into Baubau with Joyce and Caroline off sv Henrietta, a large city on the other side of the island about 30 kilometres away. We visited the fort, reputed to be the largest in the world, the local market, a large hyper market and visited a waterfall on the way back to the boat.


Henrietta another Najad under goose wing sail

Unfortunately this was the dry season so there wasn’t much of a flow in the river. The following night a dinner had been organised at the stadium overlooking the bay for the cruisers by the local authority. We had an excellent meal with about 10 different dishes to pick from with most of us opting for a little from each as a taster. We were then asked to go back stage to watch different local artists and bands performing for us. We were seated in the wings of a stage that would have done credit to Glastonbury giving us a good view of on various performers and the crowds below. Then one of the presenters came over and asked me to dance and led me on stage by the hand. Joyce off Henrietta was also pulled on and the four of danced in front of the band. I now know what Mick Jagger feels like! The second time we were asked a lot more of our group came on and Poppy and a young Indonesian guy gave a very good jive session much to the delight of the crowd.
When we left the stage and moved among the crowd people recognised Poppy and she was inundated with requests for selfies. It gives you an idea what it must be like to be really famous but in reality it is a pain in the neck and we started refusing after the first dozen or so, hoping not to cause offence.
The following day was Buton’s big annual celebration with 5000 students parading in the amphitheatre and we were invited as guests of honour. The morning activity comprised speeches, 200 small boys being circumcised and a similar number of young girls coming out of seclusion. The girls spend 4 days with several older women instructing them in the facts of life and being an adult woman. They then wear the traditional Niqab to cover there hair as a sign of modesty and to prevent unwanted attention from young men. We decided to give the morning events a miss and turn up for lunch. The welcome committee sent a VVIP Black 4×4 for us and two uniformed guys to act as “bodyguards” and get us through the crowds without being pestered. It was like being royalty. The guys took us to the place where lunch was being served by hundreds of beautifully dressed young women in their traditional costumes. Each of the girl’s families had prepared the meal of several dishes which these lovely ladies then served to us. Poppy and I got the giggles because as soon as you ate one dish the next was pressed on you. We ate till we could eat no more, it was really good food, beautifully served and the girls were so keen for us to like it.



After lunch we sat above the arena in baking sunshine waiting for the students to perform. Then we were told that it wouldn’t start until 4pm so most of us sought shade.
When the performance started it was awesome and very well choreographed. To get 5000 students to move and dance with immaculate timing must have taken some practice. The arena was a blaze of colour as each section dressed in brilliant colours marching to different formations made for a great spectacle.


The local mayor welcoming us cruisers to this big annual event.

The next day Poppy left the boat to go back to the U.K. and university, it was really sad to say goodbye, we had had a fantastic time over our four and a half months together, an adventure she says she’ll never forget and neither will I. We made an unusual team a 19 year old and a 72 year old but it worked really well.
As she left Jo Valentin asked if he could join our boat after falling out with his previous skipper. Jo is French, 33 years old and an engineer. So with Joy and Jo as crew we set sail for the Bonerate Reef and the village of Bonerate, famous for its ship building skills. The village was very clean and tidy with well maintained houses painted in bright colours a delightful place spoiled only by the fact they threw all their rubbish into the sea and the beach was knee deep in it. The problem they have is the only alternative is to burn it and on some islands you can smell the acrid smoke of burning plastic hanging in the air in the evening and nights.
We had some very good snorkelling on the reefs off Bonerate with vibrant coral and plenty of small fish life.



We were invited to this wedding in Bonerate


This is the bride saying her vows from her home being broadcast by loudspeakers to the crowd outside.



Jo managed to hitch a lift back yo the dinghy for our farewell to Bonerate.

From there we sailed due south to the large island of Flores and at Riung we took a 12 tour across the island to the traditional village of Bena where they make Ikat a tradional hand woven cloth and afterwards visited some hot springs for a welcome dip, if a little on the warm side.


The traditional village of Bena on Flores


We then sailed along the coast of Flores on our way to the island of Rindja to see the Komodo dragon. We paid to hire a ranger who escorted us on a 2 hour trek around the island. We saw monkeys, deer and although we saw signs of buffalo we didn’t see any.


These animals have been brought to the island as potential food for the dragons. One bite is enough to kill even the biggest buffalo, it has over 80 different bacteria in its saliva. The dragon follows its victim around for sometimes several days in the case of buffalo until it’s too weak and then they move in for the kill. They only need to eat every two months but if they get dehydrated the bacteria starts to attack them and they can die. When the female lays her eggs she digs an underground nest and fills it in returning at the time the eggs are due to hatch. Don’t think this is maternal instinct as she eats her young if she can catch them. Their immediate task on hatching out is to scoot up the nearest tree and hide in the highest branches they seem to know what Mum is likely to do.

We set off that morning to see if we could anchor on the Makassar reef where manta rays pass through on a regular basis but unfortunately it’s a protected park so the trip boats drift through on a weak tide. So we gave up and headed for the Island of Komodo. We didn’t see any dragons but we did see lots of deer and monkey. They seem to have adapted their diet to include sea food as both forage the waterline at low tide.
At the north end of Komodo Jo and I did a drift dive, towing the dinghy or rather vice versa and we saw some really big trevally, a small reef shark, big bat fish and a lot more besides but no mantas. One day I’ll get to swim with them!
We sailed along the north coast of Sumbawa and passed the still smouldering volcano on Pulau Sangean to the earthquake stricken island of Lombok this whole chain of islands sits on a major fault line and eruptions and earthquakes are a way of life for these staunch people.



We were due to meet up with the rest of the Rally in Mendana North Lombok to hand in our passports for visa renewal for another 60 days which would last until we entered Malaysia. The plan was to collect them in Port Singara on Bali in 10 days time, hoping it will all work out. In Medana Jo volunteered to join the cruiser team rebuilding the local school unfortunately Joy got food poisoning. The cruisers started a support fund to buy food, clothing and other essential supplies which were distributed to the worst damaged villages. We also held a dinner to host the local villagers. We paid for 3 villagers to attend and they put on a show for us. The proceeds went to the disaster relief fund.


There were several Rotary volunteers in Medana from around the world, providing, tents, bedding medicines and food. The government did an excellent job reinstating, power and water and supplying housing to the devastated villages. Around 500 people died in the series of quakes.

We visited the local wild life park and had some amazing tactile experiences with the animals, birds and reptiles.


We left Medana to refuel on the island of Gili Gedes where unfortunately Jo went down with food poisoning. It’s ironic that we’ve travelled extensively through the poorest parts of Indonesia eating street food along the way without any problem and as soon as we reached the more sophisticated touristy parts of Lombok both Joy and Jo succumbed to food poisoning.
From here we will go to an even more touristy Bali where both Jo and Joy leave the boat, Joy to go home to care for a sick friend and Jo to learn to scuba dive and do some back packing before returning to France to work. Again, I’ll be sorry to lose both of them they have been great company and very good crew and maybe some day we’ll sail again together. My new crew are Cindy an Australian lady and Imogen my second gap year student after Poppy who will sail with me to Phuket in Thailand but that will be part 2 of this blog as I have had so much to include in the first part of our visit to Indonesia.

Sailing the Solomon Islands

Our 400 mile crossing from Vanuatu to Nendo in the Solomon Islands went well apart from a burst cooling pipe on the refrigeration condenser. I noticed water coming up through the cabin sole about two days out and when I opened the engine room doors it was clear we had a major leak, the bilge was overflowing. The fridge and freezer had stopped working as a result, I drained the bilge but as we were motoring and the engine was too hot to cross over so we kept the fridge and freezer lids closed to keep them as cool as possible and to slow the rate at which our food defrosted. The following day we sailed and with the engine now cool I spent and hour or so in a dark cramped hole while the boat pitched and tossed with Mel handing me tools and material as required, I’m ashamed to say some very bad language came out of the engine room that day and all to no avail. When we arrived in Nendo we dropped anchor in Byron Bay and the following morning I set to work again trying to fix the problem. This time I got the freezer running by by-passing the relay switch which had burned out and fixed the split cooling pipe. No fridge but at least the contents of the freezer had been saved, but not for long! During the night another pipe split shorting out the refridgeration electrics and the two controllers. There was nothing more I could do I needed spares from Australia and a fridge engineer neither of which we were likely to find in the Solomons or in Papua New Guinea. The challenge then was to save the contents of the freezer which would stay cold for two to three days, after that we would have to resort to tinned food, mostly spam and corned beef.

In the meantime we sailed up through the islands, stopping to anchor each night but unable to go ashore as we hadn’t cleared customs, immigration and quarantine so we flew our yellow flag to let everyone know. In Santa Ana on the south end of Catalina Island Stewart, the chiefs representative paddled out from the village in his canoe to welcome us, we were surrounded by curious onlookers from a dozen canoes all staring from a distance. Yachts are seldom seen here and we were obviously the main attraction. Stewart told us we could check in at the police station in Kirakira, the district capital about 40 miles north and suggested if we wanted to come ashore he would check with the island chief to make sure it was OK. We debated this but decided to stick to the rules and the next morning set off in brisk trade winds and frequent squalls to Kirakira. Mel and I went ashore and four young men picked up our dinghy and laid it on top of the jetty for us, out of harms way from the surging surf and sharp rocks. We found the police station with the help of a young lad who acted as guide. The very nice policeman asked for passports and boat papers but told us he couldn’t clear us in as the customs and immigration office had been closed some time ago. After copying our documents he bade us farewell and told us the only place we could check nowadays in was Honiara on Gudacanal some 200 miles north. So off we went hopping from one island anchorage to another, gradually eating the contents of the defunct freezer which lasted to Guadacanal. This through a lot of ingenuity from David and Mel and the repeated use of the pressure cooker as a means of sterilising food each day. By this means we eked out our meat for 9 days.

We duly arrived in Honiara on Guadacanal, a scruffy, dusty, place with a filthy harbour full of water taxis coming and going all day. There is only one mooring buoy in the harbour which we picked up being the only yacht there and thinking ourselves lucky. How wrong we were, when the tide changed the constant swell banged us against this large mooring buoy which removed our anti fouling but fortunately didn’t damage the gel coat on the boat. It was a nightmare we couldn’t sleep with the constant banging of the buoy on the side of the boat.. Fortunately the next day the wind dropped and the swell abated. Anchoring wasn’t an alternative option for lack of swinging room and the deep water in most of the harbour.

The anchorage in Honiara, the Yacht Club is behind the beach area.

It was also one of the most expensive Pacific clearance procedures I have come across requiring a payment of $2000 Solomon just for Customs. Then it was off to shop for much needed provisions.

David and Mel at Honiara market,

While ashore we booked a tour of the battlefields on Guadacanal for the following day and and our guide Eddy turned up in a lovely air-conditioned people carrier, we hadn’t been so cool since New Zealand. He took us to see Red Beach where the US Marine Corps first landed, Bloody Ridge where a pitched battle was fought against Japanese troops attempting to recapture Henderson Airfield.

The three of us on top of Bloody Ridge

We went on to see the Japanese and US war monuments and Henderson Field which is now the islands main airport. We could imagine the ferocity of the fighting and sadly the large number killed on both sides.

The next day was Mel’s last so we decided on a nice farewell dinner at a local hotel and we were joined by the crew of a Swedish boat Valkyrie, Heinrich, Mac, a burly American and Ben a young Israeli. Mel and I had lobster while the others plumped for the curry buffet.

Mel’s farewell dinner at the Heritage Hotel

The Point Cruz Yacht Club was a star in an otherwise mediocre town. They offered incredible hospitality, as we had no freezer or fridge they agreed to chill our white wine for dinner on the boat, they kept our shopping for us, we were allowed to leave the dinghy there, we used their showers and washed our clothes at their tap, all for free as visiting yachties. I was really sorry to see Mel leave to go back to the US she had been a great asset on the boat, had fitted in very well with David and I and had become a really good friend. The next day David and I sailed the boat over to the Florida Islands about 25 miles away and both of us pleased to be out of Honiara and we’re treated to an escort of dolphins as we arrived. We had decided to explore the islands while waiting for my friend Nick who was flying out from England to join the boat. I had met Nick, a retired barrister and his wife Jan a doctor who was working as a locum in Whangarei Hospital while I was in New Zealand. Nick was also a sailor, he and I had both volunteered for the NZ Sailability charity and got on well together. Our first stop in the Florida Islands was a snug anchorage in well named Sandfly Passage. Here we were met and directed to our spot to anchor by John in his dugout canoe from the nearby village. No sooner had we anchored than we were besieged by trading canoes offering fruit, vegetables and carvings.

Curious onlookers as we came up to the village

David and I became expert at fly swatting there, we must have killed hundreds but still they kept coming. The people from the village were lovely and happy to show us their washing river where we could clean our clothes and bedding, a new experience for David.

We left John and his village after two days and headed to Tulaghi anchorage about 15 miles eastwards, the scene of another battle between Japanese and Americans in WWII. The harbour had many wrecks of bombed ships and crashed aircraft and the dive boats were regular callers to our anchorage. By now we needed stores so we ventured ashore and walked a couple of miles to the village shops which as usual had very little, the market was particularly disappointing with no fruit and little veg. We managed to buy the now ubiquitous chicken wings, sausage and mince and replenish our beer supply after much tramping around different huts.

A typical outrigger canoe which was carved from a single tree trunk and lasted about 10 years

One day during our weeks stay here an old man who said his name was John arrived in a canoe to introduce himself, he asked me where we were from, how long we’d been travelling, how much the boat cost, how old I was etc. When I asked him how old he was he thought for a while and then said “31” he must have been nearer 70. Two days later he caught David on deck and tried to sell him a sea horse in a broken beer bottle that he’d caught while diving for shellfish, to save it being sold to a trader and going overseas for someone’s fish tank. We weren’t however prepared to pay his extortionate ransom to save it.

We gradually grew to like our anchorage in Tulaghi where we were the only yacht again among locals and where we could listen to opera at high volume while showering in the dark off the back of the boat, anchored in a lagoon in mirror still water under a carpet of bright stars. One of life’s moments!

Sunset in Tulaghi Harbour

On the days before Nick’s arrival David and I worked on the boat cleaning and repairing the inevitable damage of several months of wear and tear. Our stores after a week were depleted again and David introduced me to the delights of fried spam sandwiches for lunch, that, corned beef, tinned tuna and mackerel were all you could buy in Tulaghi’s empty shops.

We moved the boat back to Honiara in time for Nick’s arrival but anchored this time using a smaller mooring buoy as a kedge to stop us swinging in the tidal flow, which worked out pretty well and we had peaceful nights there this time.

We spent the hours before Nick’s arrival replenishing our water supply, carrying it out in jerry cans in the dinghy and doing our washing at the Yacht Club tap while guests arrived for the 7th July commemoration ceremony for the battle for Guadacanal. We were buzzed at low altitude by a US coast guard C130 which was here for the ceremony.

The 7th August commemorations at the Point Cruz Yacht Club

There were also several Navy ships in from the US, Australia and New Zealand and the club was replete with Admirals and other high ranking officers alongside ministers from the Solomon Island government.

US, Australian and unseen behind New Zealand Warships ariived for the commemoration ceremony

We set off to the airport after lunch and met Nick off the Brisbane flight. He was carrying some much needed spares from the UK and best of all a portable chiller unit to use as a fridge substitute.

The following day we headed off for the Russel Islands 40 miles NW and then we motored 24 miles to Wickham Island in South Georgia, horrible sea, very confused, slopping all over the place. There was no natural rhythm to the boat’s motion, it’s just as well we all have strong stomachs.

From Wickham we sailed up to the reef on the northwest side of South Georgia and attempted what we knew would be touch and go. I tried the passage marked on the chart but had to pull back as the water became too shallow, we tried again slightly further over but the echo pilot was showing it was still too shallow ahead. On the third attempt we used the transit marks and David sighted while I crabbed the boat to hold the line compensating for a strong tide. This time it worked and the lowest we saw under the keel was 5 metres, in this respect the chart was accurate. We motored up through a narrow channel between the islands to Noro where we called port Control to guide us to a safe anchorage. They sent out a boat to guide us through the reef which we cleared with only a foot to spare but we were snug for the night.

The anchorage at Noro.

We were here to clear out of the Solomons through customs and immigration but first we needed supplies, a weather forecast, fuel, water and a meal ashore. We asked if we could come alongside the main wharf to bunker and take on water, much easier than the jerry cans we had to use in Honiara, permission was given and we moored up. After getting our clearance from customs and immigration we took on duty free fuel at the equivalent of 50p per litre, one of the nice things about cruising outside Europe.

We left after lunch to head for Siniasoro Bay on Fauro, an overnight sail 110 miles north, still in the Solomons. Here we planned to rest before completing the 70 mile sail to Kieta, the nearest port of entry in Papua New Guinea. Sianasoro proved to be a quiet anchorage where we met Livia and his wife Caroline and their daughter who were passing by in their dugout canoe. Livia told us he farmed copra which he sold dried for $4 per kilo. This involves planting the trees, collecting the coconut, husking them, drying them in a homemade kiln and shipping the bags 100 miles by motor boat to Noro where it’s then loaded on to ships for processing and oil extraction. After a quiet night in a beautiful Bay we headed off for Kieta through reefs and shallows and with a 5 knot tide to help us we motor sailed at 8 to 9 knots as we shot out of the Slot.

The North of Guadacanal with inter-island ferry and cargo boat passing.

Our views on the Solomons were mixed, despite the dire warnings the people were lovely, we were shown nothing but courtesy and kindness and they were curious and interested about where we came from and how long it had taken us to get there. They were keen to barter and we had bought extra rice and sugar just for this purpose.

The islands are very similar, small beaches, heavily wooded, occasionally broken by rivers or logging and small villages. So once you have seen one island you know what to expect at the next. That said the bays are beautiful and there are many good anchorages even if swimming is limited because of crocodiles.

The lives of the people outside the few towns was very basic, there is no tourism to speak of other than at Guadacanal so no infrastructure, no roads, no internet, no TV, no street lights ad very few houses with lights, where they had them they ran off solar panels. There are probably no more than 20 restaurants in the whole country and most of those are in Honiara.

The main activities are fishing, copra farming and growing vegetables, really just subsistence living. Despite the poverty people were clean, polite, simply dressed in t-shirts and shorts and their only mode of transport was a dugout canoe. They would think nothing of paddling several hours to get to another island in the open sea to visit relatives or sell produce. Ironically we were the tourist attraction and people would paddle distances to come and see the British boat. There’s no doubt we were a rarity, we never saw another boat while we were cruising the islands, it seems fewer and fewer yachts are coming here.

The children were universally well behaved and learned to paddle a canoe from the age of 4 or 5 and were often seen out on their own competently handling the boat. Schooling seemed to be optional, other than parental control there was no means of stopping truancy and it was evident it was quite high. In common with many Pacific Islands many of the towns were dirty places with people tossing their rubbish but the villages were generally clean and well kept.

Young children visiting Romano in their canoe, most were very shy and didn’t speak.

There’s little evidence of any influence of the Japanese or American presence during the war and the residual hardware has been swallowed by either the sea or the jungle. We enjoyed our journey through the Solomon Islands but I wouldn’t come back again.

A Voyage through Vanuatu

The conditions on our trip from Fiji to Vanuatu threw every kind of weather and wind from every direction which meant we had a four day 540 mile crossing which included our best ever daily mileage of 176 miles followed by a day of flat calm to make up for it.
We cleared in at the capital of Vanuatu, Port Vila but as we arrived on Saturday morning we had to wait in the quarantine anchorage until Monday for customs and immigration to open. Prince Diamond who we had met many times before arrived in quarantine around the same time so as we weren’t allowed ashore until we had cleared, we invited Carol and Brian on board for drinks and nibbles.
While we were in Port Vila we hired a car to visit the sites of Efate. We visited the Cascades waterfalls, Blue Lagoon for a swim and then headed for “Ripples on the Water” restaurant for some lunch.


Cascades waterfall on Efate

Mel taking the plunge at Blue Lagoon

The restaurant proved a real test to find and we had to abandon the first attempted dirt track after we got stuck in mud. Mel and David helped to push the car out and off we went in search of a better road. We found another but it wasn’t much better, with huge pot holes and deep hollows, however we did eventually arrive for a very welcome late curry lunch. The next day we spent at Hideaway Bay where David and Mel posted plastic postcards in the world’s only underwater post office. We snorkelled the reef with a guide and lunched at the resort restaurant.

Mel posting her waterproof cards in the underwater post office at Hideaway Bay

Fish life on the reef at Hideaway Bay

Provisioning was a delight in Port Vila as the main supermarket Bon Marche on top of the hill out of town was the best we have seen since New Zealand. We bought french cheeses, good wine, veal escalopes and great steaks at very reasonable prices, plus all the herbs and spices we could use. It was an Aladdin’s cave of food.

The town itself was busy with traffic and rather dirty and run down, but right in the middle was a micro brewery/ pub run by an Australian called Matt. He gave us a tour of the brewery one night followed by some free samples! The beer was the best we’ve had since NZ and we were able to watch Scotland beat Australia and the Lions beat the Maori All Blacks on the big screens. It was Mel’s second rugby experience after watching a game in Australia, I think the complex rules are becoming clearer.

Laundry day on board

After a week or so in Port Vila we headed around Efate to Havana Harbour which was used by the Americans in the second world war as an anchorage and hospital. We anchored off the village and it wasn’t long before the canoes started coming out to find out who we were. We anchored there for the night and the following day David and Mel went ashore to visit a little private museum of World War II artefacts. The main interest being coke bottles from all over America.

An outrigger canoe selling wares from the village garden

 In the afternoon we sailed for the island of Emae and the anchorage at Sullua Bay and the next day sailed on to Revolieu Bay on Epi and on the 24th June we anchored in a lovely sandy bay on Sakau Island which had a deserted village to explore. Here we were able to buy fresh fruit and vegetables from passing boats and outrigger canoes returning from their “garden” on the next large island, loaded with produce bound for the main village on an adjoining island.

David and I getting some much needed excercise after days at sea.

Next day, continuing our hopping from beautiful island to next beautiful island, we anchored in Nopul Bay on the north west corner of Ambryn renowned for its magic and witch doctors and we went ashore to find more stores and walked through several villages, stopping to chat with the locals and buy a few bits. David likened it to something from Middle Earth and it had that sort of look and feel. We met many villagers on our walk who were keen to know our names and where we were from. One very large chap introduced himself as Wenceslas, now there’s a name to conjure with. Ambryn has two live volcanoes smoking away peacefully 10 miles south west of our anchorage and although we didn’t make the climb, it’s possible to hike up to the volcano craters and peer in. In one of the small village stores they had reached a new level of sophistication and instead of rough shelving they had somehow got hold of glass and wood display cabinets to make a counter. In one of these display cabinets along side tins of tuna and corned beef were two football trophies for sale. It never ceased to amaze us the strange variety of goods in these tiny stores.

We sailed across a 10 mile channel between Ambryn and the next island going north, Pentecost, famous for its land diving which we were hoping to witness. This strange ancient ritual is carried out each year between April and June to ensure a good yam harvest and entails building a 25m tower out of rough cut poles and installing three jumping platforms at varying heights to which they attach vines.

A land diving tower, they take three weeks to build and need regular maintenance during the season

In the village of Wali we were lucky enough to meet up with Warren who explained that the land diving had finished for the year but that he might be able to arrange it at the French village of Lonton, further along the coast for 9000 Vatu each (about £70.00). He said he would let us know the following day if he could organise it. At 09.30 the following day he appeared on the beach saying it was all OK and could we take him in the boat to the other side of the bay. As we came in to re-anchor a school of dolphins surrounded the boat and a large dugong (sea cow) surfaced not far from the boat, a fantastic sight. We went ashore and walked up to the village where we were told to wait while they got things ready refurbishing the tower and checking the vines.The vines are secured to the jumpers’ ankles. The village then congregated behind the tower and the women bear-breasted and wearing only grass skirts and the men in only penis sheaths chant prayers to the earth god. The jumpers climbs the tower to his appointed platform and offers up a prayer with arms raised aloft and then plunges to earth. The platform breaks, slowing their fall and the springy vines also help them to decelerate but nevertheless the first jumper surprised us by hitting the ground chest first with a resounding thump. We were expecting them to pull up short like a bungy jump but hitting the earth hard is a part of the ritual.

The Village People backing group chanting to the yam gods

Mel being a woman was not allowed near the tower or to touch the vines to avoid bad luck but David and I were permitted to climb the lower tower and swing on the vines. It was a truly awesome experience with three young men diving, put on just for the three of us. We felt really privileged to have witnessed this bizarre ritual.

A landdiver ready to take the plunge wearing only a penis sheath!

David testing one of the vines for strength.

That night at anchor in Wali Bay we saw the sky lit up by the two volcanoes back on Ambryn, the red glow reflected off the clouds made an impressive sight.

From here we sailed up the coast of Pentecost to Lolton Bay where we had read about a “Yacht Club” a pseudonym for a basic restaurant trying to attract yachties and as we had run out of essential beer supplies and were getting low on fresh food we thought we could call in, have a meal and buy some beer. We met Matthew and his wife Mary who spoke French, a lovely village couple who had built and ran the Yacht Club.

The Yacht Club in Lolton Bay on Pentecost Island

 Matthew took us on a tour of the villages in the bay and we agreed to come in for lunch the following day when Mary would prepare some traditional village dishes. We were also told we would be taken to the mysterious cave where the first inhabitant of Pentecost had lived with a chicken and a snake! Just before lunch the next day we were shepherded down a narrow path to meet up with a couple of very old men dressed in loin cloths chanting a song, and beating time with the shells/nuts tied to their legs they sang first to the chicken and then at the entrance to the cave, to the snake. 

The dance and chant to the chicken!

The lead man Patrick told us through an interpreter of the dream he had had one day about the cave and its first inhabitants and he went to the place in his dream where the cave should be and he found it. Inside are a small table, some ornaments, a sand drawing, we were shown where the snake lived up a chimney and the man and the chicken lived on the floor. This very funny experience cost us about 4000 vatu (£35) and I think it’s fair to say we were well and truly had but it was worth it for the fun side.

Patrick showing us the inside of the cave where the first man on Pentecost supposedly lived.

Lunch turned out to be a ten course tasting feast and Matthew explained what each dish was and how it was prepared and all this washed down with freshly made lemonade. After lunch feeling fit to burst we returned to the boat and set sail for a couple of hours to the next island called Maewo where we dinghied ashore to see a spectacular waterfall just behind a small bar which unfortunately was closed. Here we also met an Australian couple Bindy and Colin on “Distracted”, anchored nearby.

The waterfall on Maewo

With stores running low again we made for Luganville 60 miles to the west, a significant town on the island of Espiritu Santo. We arrived after dark and spent some time cruising around looking for a mooring ball off the Aore Resort. Fortunately Nils and Madge, a Dutch couple we met in Port Vila on their boat Un Wind directed us to the spot and we settled down for the night in a very snug place.

Aore is an island on the other side of a two mile wide channel across from Luganville, it’s the best anchorage around but it does mean a rather wet 20 minute dinghy ride to and from town which meant walking around town in wet clothes.

Luganville has one main street down which streams a line of 4x4s intermingled with the smallest taxi cars you’ve ever seen. It has one “supermarket” which was a big disappointment after Bon Marche in Port Vila but it has one of best hardware stores in the South Pacific. The highlights of our stay were a “Brexit 1776” party on board Romano on the 4th July where the Brits hosted Americans and Kiwis. We had 11 on board for the evening, two of the Americans, Andrew and Leslie arrived in their dinghy flying a huge Stars and Stripes on an improvised flagstaff and Mel played “God Bless the USA” by the four Texas tenors on her iPad.

Andrew and Leslie arriving in style for the Brexit 1776 party on Romano

 The boat was decorated with blue and silver balloons and two US flags but we still flew our Red Ensign to remind our colonies of their past!! A great time was had by all evidenced by a few sore heads the next day.
Our next highlight was a really great experience, innocently advertised as a trip to the Millenium Cave. We set off in a minivan which bizarrely had a red and black padded ceiling the purpose of which was to become apparent as we turned off the main road onto a track. The track had once been a road built by the Americans during the Second World War out to the airstrip which had also become part of the track but sadly no one had maintained either since 1945 and we spent 40 minutes being bounced and thrown as we charged on down this track at speed. We eventually arrived at a village, disembarked gratefully and joined another party to make our group up to 10 plus guides. From here we trekked for half an hour on a jungle path to a second village where we were kitted out in life jackets and then started to descend down the walls of a canyon on ladders made of branches nailed together, some of which had long since rotted. 

Descending to the canyon floor

The descent took about 30 minutes and ended at the mouth of a huge cave through which a river ran, this was the Millenium cave, so called because the locals started the venture then to provide funds for three surrounding villages. We were issued torches by the guides and moved down into the cave, waist deep in tumbling water. We gradually picked our way into the cave, in file, our torches picking out swallow nests high up on the walls and deeper into the cave when you grabbed a ledge and your hand sunk into black mush you knew what bat shit looked and smelled like. The cave was amazing with the roof reaching up in parts to 100ft above us carrying impressive stalactites. 

Traditional face painting using red clay before going through the cave

It took us about 45 minutes to pass through the cave into a cavern which opened onto a stony beach at the confluence of two rivers. Here we stopped for the packed lunches we had brought with us after carefully washing our hands in the river. 

Our lunch stop in sight

A well earned rest for everyone

After an hours rest we set off down the joined river which flowed through a deep narrow gorge and swam and bumped our way over rocks, scrambled over huge boulders neatly fitted with iron handholds cemented into the limestone. All this through spectacular scenery alternately scrambling and swimming in the deeper parts for about an hour until we came out at a small beach.

Scrambling and swimming down the river

By now I was exhausted and climbing out of the river, cold, wet through, encumbered by a large kapok life jacket I stumbled up the beach grateful for a rock to rest on. David and Mel seemed to fair much better and I had had to rely on help from the main guide to get me through the more difficult parts of the gorge. The guides had one last little surprise for us, the climb out of the gorge. This was another set of multiple ladders set into the course of a near vertical stream which we scaled for about 200 metres to the plateau at the top and then walked 30 minutes through the jungle to our waiting minivan which then took us back to our starting village. Here the village women had laid on fresh fruit, orange tea and coffee as very welcome refreshments. This would make a very good SAS training day.
We then got back in the van for our shake rattle and roll back to the quay and our ferry to the boat. We all agreed it had been a very special day, very strenuous, amazing scenery, challenging in many ways but one to remember and we had come through.
We went ashore to the Aore Resort one evening to meet up with Andrew and Leslie off Sonrisa when a troupe of women and young girls in grass skirts entered the sea and proceeded to beat the water with their hands to the beat of the drum and the rhythm of a beach dancer bedecked in shells and rattling nuts.

Andrew and Leslie with the parrot at the dive shop

It was getting close to the end of our 30 day visa for Vanuatu but we decided to stay to watch the All Blacks and Lions decider match with some Kiwi friends and Andrew and Leslie in the local hotel on their wide screen TV. A just draw resulted after an exciting match so honour was satisfied all round and the Americans in the party were a little wiser about the rules and the passion the game raises.
In the previous days we had ferried 30 jerry cans of water in the dinghy from the dock at Paul’s dive base to fill our tank before leaving for the Solomon Islands and made several long dinghy trips to the supermarket and fruit and veg market, so we were ready for the off.
The following morning we went ashore to check out at customs, and paid a visit to the duty free shop to spend our last few Vatu. Fully provisioned in case we found little before reaching Honiara we set off for the Island of Nendo on the southern end of the island chain.

This was posted on the notice board at the immigration office and sums up work in Vanuatu very nicely.

It was getting close to the end of our 30 day visa for Vanuatu but we decided to stay to watch the All Blacks and Lions decider match with some Kiwi friends and Andrew and Leslie in the local hotel on their wide screen TV. A just draw resulted after an exciting match so honour was satisfied all round and the Americans in the party were a little wiser about the rules and the passion the game raises.

Gathered in the Espiritu Hotel to watch All Blacks v Lions rugby.

In the previous days we had ferried 30 jerry cans of water in the dinghy from the dock at Paul’s dive base to fill our tank before leaving for the Solomon Islands and made several long dinghy trips to the supermarket and fruit and veg market, so we were ready for the off.
The following morning we went ashore to check out at customs, and paid a visit to the duty free shop to spend our last few Vatu. Fully provisioned in case we found little before reaching Honiara we set off for the Island of Nendo on the southern end of the island chain.


Central America

We arrived in Mexico on the beautiful island of Isla Mujeres, (the Island of Women) off the coast of Mexico and 5 miles east of the well-known holiday resort of Cancun, a concrete jungle looming on the horizon.


Cancun showing the Mayan influence on hotel design

The Island was tiny, 3 miles long and ½ a mile wide but a lovely little spot, if a teeny bit touristy, however it took us over 3 days to clear in to Mexico with all the bureaucracy here and we even had to apply to temporarily import the boat which took another day and a trip to Cancun, a legal requirement if you wanted to stay in Mexico for more than 5 days.All the boat documents, passports, crew list etc had to be supplied, original and 5 copies and for the importation certificate we had been warned by other cruisers that they had to be in colour, both sides and include a list of equipment on board together with serial numbers. What a nightmare and to cap it we had to pay for the import certificate in US dollars and with the exact money of $52.20. Fortunately we were able to scrape this together but had to clean the verdi-gris off the 20 one cent coins and then the customs lady had the cheek to refuse them, asking for dimes instead. Pity it was a good opportunity to get our own back.


Marina Paraiso from the anchorage

After we had officially cleared in we decided to treat ourselves to dinner ashore and had a magnificent dish of mariscos  and had a lovely evening listening to a duo playing clarinet and classic guitar as we sat on the beach, watched the sun go down and picked our way through the large platter of mixed seafood. Both musicians were accomplished but the guitarist especially so and we were disappointed when they finished and went over to tell them so. Back to the boat then to get our heads down, only trouble being we couldn’t find the boat, it wasn’t where we had left it at anchor. After scouring the bay we eventually found it 30ft off the reef several hundred yards from where we had left it but it was still afloat, we leapt on and hauled up the dragging anchor and set off back across the bay to re-anchor. Next morning Mark a Canadian from a neighbouring boat came over and the whole story was revealed. At 5.00pm the previous evening I had brought the Customs and health officials out to the boat for an inspection and all was well as I returned to shore with the officials in the dinghy. Shortly afterwards for no apparent reason the boat started to drag its anchor (we learned afterwards that the holding was poor in the bay and lots of boats dragged) and was headed for Mark’s boat, both he and Terry, another Canadian, boarded Romano and let out more chain which eventually held but not before Mark had to up anchor and move his boat out of the way. Our engine keys were locked inside so there was no way for them to manoeuvre the boat, Romano came to rest 30ft from the reef – a close thing and a valuable lesson. Needless to say we wanted to thank these guys and invited them over for drinks the following evening and met their lovely wives, Sandy and Linda and a great evening was spent enjoying their company.

One little unexpected adventure came about on a day trip to Cancun when we were stopped by one of the ferry staff as we disembarked. He managed to persuade Gill to attend a time share presentation in a nearby hotel and for doing this they would pay us 1500 pesos, about £75.00 and all we had to do was listen. To qualify for the payment we had to be employed, staying in a hotel and be on a short stay holiday and if so he got his commission from the time share company. We agreed to go along and told our tale well enough but were then subjected to a 3 hour ordeal of hard selling. After fighting our way out through wave after wave of increasingly senior people we emerged with our hard earned £75.00 – not an experience to repeat.

While in Mexico we were keen to travel inland from here and see some of the Mayan temples and cities for which Mexico is famed. There are regular ferry services from the island to Cancun which take around 30 minutes and offer live music on passage, some good, some not so good.

So when it came time to go off on our tour of the temples we put the boat in Paraiso Marina on the island where we had to tie up between four tree trunks driven into the ground which was a first for us and not the easiest to accomplish. So with peace of mind after our earlier experience, we hired a car for 4 days and set off into darkest Mexico in search of ancient ruins.

We visited three places on our tour – Chichen Itsa which is the main site in Mexico; Coba which is spread out over several square kilometres in the jungle and; Tulum on the coast which is the smallest of the three sites and located in a beautiful spot on the cliffs overlooking Caribbean white sandy beaches (probably an early Mayan Butlins holiday camp for those who weren’t sacrificed!)

We won’t go into detail but suffice to say they are all well worth a visit, stunning achievements in architecture, maths and astronomy in the period up to 800AD when inexplicably the civilisation went into decline. Unfortunately in Chitchen Itza everything was roped off to preserve what is now a world heritage site and we were unable to climb the steps to the top of the temple however in Coba we did have that chance and both of us climbed to the top to enjoy spectacular views over the jungle tree tops. The descent down was more difficult on steps polished by thousands of feet and I don’t have a head for heights, Gill coped much better.We have included loads of photos to give you all some idea of the scale and quality of building in these cities.


The main temple at Chichen Itza


Gill exploring the Temple of Warriors – couldn’t find any!


A Mayan Indian woodcarver showing off his work


The temple in Coba that we climbed


The view from the top of the Temple


Gill on the top admiring the view


The Mayan city in Tulum


The beach at Tulum

For our first two nights we stayed in a nice roadside hotel near Chitchen-Itza with pools and the cost including our accommodation, breakfast and 3 course dinner all was £50.00 per night for the two of us. On the second night we stayed at an American style motel on the road between Coba and Tulum with no facilities but we did find a very good local restaurant nearby where we dined on seafood and delicious homemade fruit juices.


Our first hotel on the trip at Chichen Itza


Gill enjoying the ecopool

On the last day of our mini tour we visited a friend of Gill’s – Manuela who she had first met while backpacking in Argentina a few years ago. Manuela, a larger than life character with many a story to tell, now runs a very nice hostel in Playa del Carmen, a holiday town just south of Cancun. Manuela put us up for the night and Gill drove a party of us from the hostel downtown to 5th Avenue for sightseeing, dinner and drinks.


Manuela and Gill at the poolside in the hostel

The people we met in Mexico were delightful and invariably helpful, it’s a lovely country, steeped in history and it was bewildering to see the range of goods for sale in the supermarket – back to having choice after Cuba’s limitations.

The following day we dropped of the car in Cancun, changed the boat import certificate with the Port Authority because they had issued us with the wrong one and took the ferry back to Isla Mujeres. After our week in the marina was up we headed out to anchor in the bay only to discover a northerly storm coming in so we moved the boat behind the ferry terminal to shelter from any north wind. In these storms the wind swings round very quickly from South to North as the wind picks up and the speed of change nearly caught us out we had intended to put out two anchors out but the storm hit us quicker than expected and we could only hope that our one anchor would hold in 55 knot winds. In driving rain and a full gale which came up in a couple of minutes from calm, we had no choice but to set the second anchor. We went below wet and bedraggled and hoped for the best. As it turned out we were well protected by the shore and the twin anchors held well. In the morning the winds abated, the sky cleared and all was well again.

After a few days of mixing with our new friends we decided to move on and check the boat and crew out of Mexico in Isla Mujeres, this to save further frustration in the southern ports where it would have been difficult for us to get in because of our depth. The process was much slicker and less expensive but clearing out meant we would be unable to go ashore again in Mexico and we still had 200 miles to cover to Belize.

Our next port of call was Puerto Morelos where we picked up a mooring buoy next to Quetico an Island Packet owned by yet another Canadian couple, Rob and Kathy who we had met in Los Morros on our last day in Cuba and who were also headed for the Rio Dulce in Guatemala for the hurricane season. I had developed a severe toothache so we needed to find a dentist fairly soon and managed to book one in Cozumel at 10.00 am the following day on the internet. Off we went hoping all would work out and it wouldn’t resemble a medieval torture chamber.


The Island of Cozumel from our anchorage


A man with toothache


A lovely fountain on the waterfront

We arrived on the island and dropped anchored in a bay with three other local boats near the ferry terminal which linked the mainland at Playa del Carmen. After some hunting on foot we found the dental practise in part of a hospital. My worst fears were quashed, the service was superb, the facilities excellent and the cost, a fraction of the UK, it couldn’t have been better. However the full treatment was going to take at least 10 days and strictly speaking we were illegal immigrants so I opted for a course of antibiotics and copies of my x-rays for the next dentist along the trail.

In the morning we sailed down to Bahia Espiritu Sancto a huge inland bay protected by a reef and anchored in the middle, miles from anywhere and a very strange experience. Then it was on to Chinchorro Bank a large reef structure about 30 miles offshore where we anchored in the north end through a gap for another unusual night in the middle of the sea but perfectly calm and protected by the reef. We were boarded the next morning by an armed Mexican Navy patrol who wanted to see our papers and took details of who we were and where we were headed but all in a very courteous way. We declared we were “on passage” and as long as you don’t go ashore after you have checked out, the authorities accept a boat passing through and crew resting at anchor! We left them to head south on a wonderful overnight sail in ideal wind conditions down to Belize City. In fact the wind was so good we had to slow the boat down to arrive in Belize in daylight.

We failed however to get into Belize to “clear in” as our draft was too deep to enter their marinas and it was too rough to launch the dinghy to go ashore so we headed farther south to the next port – Dangriga. We found out on the way that it was Easter and everything was closed anyway– it’s like that on a boat, days and dates don’t mean anything and we had no idea so we anchored off Garbutt cayes for a couple of days and bought fish off the fisherman and swam and did jobs on the boat. Gill went ashore to explore one of the islands and found it covered in thousands of conch shells with a small stilted house and a beach garden created by the fisherman who lived there by grinding the broken coral to a fine powder, believe it or not to create the sand – obviously has a lot of time on his hands!


Garbutt Cayes from our anchorage


Gill proudly displaying this Belizean flag she made by hand – a work of art


Sunset over Dangriga where we checked in.

Our next blog will cover our adventures in Belize but won’t be posted now until we reach Guatemala in the beginning of June. If you want to track our position I will try to update the tracker log on www.blog.mailasail.com/romanocrew

Bumping our bottom in Belize

One of the features of Belize is its barrier reef which extends for over 100 miles; inside the reef is shallow shoal water with lots of coral heads which make for challenging navigation especially with a 7ft draft. We ran aground many times in our travels through Belize but somehow always managed to get off unscathed. For this reason and strong winds to boot, we were unable to get into Belize City to clear in through customs and immigration and had to anchor off Dangriga, the next town going south, in an exposed roadstead where the anchor dragged one night – it all keeps life interesting and us on our toes!

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The harbour in Dangriga,              The market on the beach

Dangriga is an unpretentious one street town and was a favourite with Gill probably because of a wonderful little café we found which not only served excellent food but also the most delicious homemade soursop ice-cream. A meal for two here including fresh fruit drinks and ice-cream cost us £7.00.

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The Dangriga café.       The Garafuno drums – part of their culture

There were also seven hardware stores in this little town and we were able to get much needed boat stuff at a fraction of the cost of a chandlery.

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The local butcher at work on his band saw

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Oranges on their way to the juicer holding up the Belize city bus

One of the key items was finding a future means of cooking, as filling our European gas bottles which we had last managed to do in Haiti was impossible in either Mexico or Belize and our on-board experiment with a charcoal barbeque was not to be repeated. Belizeans use a US propane system with completely different fittings and gas bottles. However, in one of these little stores we found a little one ring gas cooker and the matching gas cylinders in another – problem solved for £25.00. We have cooked our meals and made our tea on this little one ring stove for the last month. When we get to the Rio Dulce where there are extensive yachting facilities we will change our gas system to the US propane standard and should have no further problems.


While we were in Dangriga Gill took the opportunity of a day visit to Belize City on the local bus service, while I watched the boat and did a few more jobs.

– Gill’s account “Six hours on a hot, rickety old bus, sharing (or trying to) a torn plastic seat with an often very large person is probably not everyone’s idea of a good day out, but it was fun and interesting.  I knew that Belize City wasn’t the great metropolis but I’d read that the scenery between Dangriga and Belmopan (the uninspiring purpose-built capital) was stunning – and it was – towering mountains, statuesque trees, rivers and vast orange orchards and pineapple plantations.  We were slowed many times by the road trains of oranges (just imagine an orange juice accident – very sticky!)  The journey from Belmopan down to the coast and Belize City became less interesting by the mile until the land was virtually reclaimed swamp.  One sight I shall not forget though was the old cemetery which we drove through the middle of – and I mean through the middle – with the road at one point encircling a central reservation of gravestones – very bizarre!  Belize City was all I expected – hot, dusty and fairly nondescript, full of the usual backstreet sellers of all sorts (many Chinese) and hundreds of aimlessly wandering tourists off of the cruise ships anchored offshore with little to interest them once they have been led through the usual assortment of local arts and crafts.  I went in search of Fort George but disappointingly only found a new Radisson Hotel.  Whilst in search of a bookshop, I was kindly assisted by a helpful young Rastafarian called Will who insisted on being my guide and taking me to the Library (well I did say I was looking for a book!)  We parted as firm friends and he returned to his street corner with enough for the day’s lunch and I collapsed in an air conditioned café.   After a further three hours of shake, rattle and roll, I ended up on the beach back in Dangriga trying to attract Mike’s attention back on the boat – short of swimming, I thought I was going to be spending the night ashore, but a local fisherman came to my rescue and transported me amongst his nets and anchors back to Romano – adventures all the way!

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Nicer parts of Belize City

From Dangriga we set off for the reef and the Cays (pronounced keys) stopping off at a number of these tiny islands (some no more than 400 yards long and 100 yards wide), where we could get in close enough to anchor. These islands were a pleasant change from the mangrove covered islands we had visited in Cuba and Mexico and were more like everyone’s idea of a desert island, complete with coconut palms and white sandy beaches. What the guide books don’t tell you is that you share them with mosquitoes and tiny midges that eat you alive if you are not covered in insect repellent.

We visited places like Tobacco Cay and South Water Cay which had restaurants and cabins for accommodation.

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Tobacco Cays and the lodges

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More salubrious accommodation on South Water Cay

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A birds eye view of Romano at anchor       Gill in paradise

We booked into a restaurant in South Water Cay through a lady we met on the beach and duly turned up to eat at 6.30 as requested, ordered drinks and sat at a table. The waiter came over and told us we had to pre-order to eat, we explained we had arranged it with “Barbara”. He politely informed us we were in the wrong place and her restaurant was at the other end of the island so we sheepishly finished our drinks and got back in the dinghy to drive the 300 yards to Barbara’s place. She was there to meet us off the jetty, concerned that our meal was cooked and having seen us go over to the “competition”, who we later found out were not on speaking terms and that they had divided the island with a 10ft wire fence to keep the two apart, very strange! We enjoyed our prawns in garlic but we were the only people in the restaurant, so got lots of attention from Barbara and the staff.

We also visited a lovely little private island called Moho and anchored off the beach. We could see a man raking the beach and went ashore in the dinghy to ask if we could look around.

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Moho Cay

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Pedro at work

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Pedro’s assistant at work

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The other side of the island

He turned out to be Pedro, a Guatemalan who only spoke Spanish and who lived alone full time on this remote desert island as a caretaker for the owner on the mainland. Every day he raked the beach and filled his wheelbarrow in the company of his bouncy Labrador pup, “Princess”. He loved the life and the solitude only occasionally being visited by cruisers or kayakers. With his permission we toured the island, the other side of which was covered in rubbish, plastic everywhere. He only swept the beach on the inhabited side of the island.

Coming south we visited Pelican Cays which form a ring of islands with a deep centre. We tried to anchor close to the edge of the inside circle but the ground fell away so quickly our anchor just kept dropping off into the depths. After several attempts we found a little mangrove island near the centre where it was so deep close in we could sail right up to the mangroves and tie up to them by swimming the last few yards. Having battled through the mangroves I decided the next line would be easier in the dinghy. The boat was fine and we had a very peaceful night so close in while the wind blew over the top of the island.

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Tying up with the dinghy – much easier than swimming

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Dramatic sunset heralding stronger winds

In most of the islands we snorkelled out on the reefs but were mostly disappointed by the lack of fish life and the best places were out on the reef itself. One such place was Carrie Bow Cay and here the water was so clear you could see 100ft around you with wonderful coral formations both soft and hard.


Another palm covered island

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Another glorious sunset!

We could spend hours just swimming around watching the reef at work. We saw barracuda, grouper, snapper, stingrays, angel fish, parrot fish and many more in our daily sojourns on the reef. Our snorkelling was unfortunately confined to the inside of the reef as the waves breaking on the outside of the reef, where most of the fish life and coral was, was too dangerous unless you were diving and as a result we didn’t see any sharks at all.

In order to re-provision we came to Placencia, back on the mainland, a pretty and friendly little place but much more of a tourist town and full of craft shops, tour companies, restaurants and bars.

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Placencia from the anchorage

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Wonderful fresh fruit and so cheap

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Boys at the bar

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Great sign!

Here we had a well-protected anchorage with a number of other cruising and charter boats in the bay. Everyone met up at Yoli’s Bar for live music, a few beers and an opportunity to exchange tales and information with other cruisers. It was here we met George, an American gentleman and one of life’s characters. with a love of travelling to remote parts of the world and we enjoyed his conversation, anecdotes, advice on where to visit and shared dinner together at his favourite restaurant a really nice evening.

On one of our visits ashore Gill was intrigued by a shop selling Lion fish jewellery and went to investigate she talked with the owner, Kadija and a whole story unfolded. Gill did a bit more research and wrote this interesting next piece for the blog

The Lion Fish threat

Beautiful but deceptively deadly, the invasive Indo-Pacific red lionfish is terrorising and decimating native reef fish in the warm seas of the Atlantic and the Caribbean.

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Following the accidental release of 6 lionfish from an aquarium in Florida during Hurricane Andrew in 1992, plus other probable less accidental releases by “enthusiasts”, the population of this non-native species has taken the Atlantic by storm and colonised the seas as far north as Cape Hatteras in the US to Venezuela in the south and throughout the Caribbean, with a devastating impact on the indigenous reef fish population in the affected areas.

The lionfish increase at a prodigious rate, females which reproduce on a monthly cycle throughout the year can tally 2 million eggs in a year.  This voracious and aggressive predator can devour whole fish two thirds its own size and its stomach has the capacity to expand by thirty times its original size – obesity even in the fish world!  In other words, it’s hoovering up everything in its path, with little chance of being preyed upon itself.   Unfortunately, its predators in the Atlantic/Caribbean area are few and not nearly enough to combat the huge growth in numbers, although divers in Roatan marine park, Honduras, are trying to train grey reef sharks to develop a taste for the venomous pests.

In Belize with its treasured UNESCO World Heritage site – the world’s second largest barrier reef –  the fight is on to ward off disaster and, if not eradicate this intrusive species which is now too well established, to at least control its growth and minimise its effect.

Divers and fishermen in Belize are collaborating to catch these pirates of the fish world and produce a solution to their control.  A market for this tasty, white fish is already being developed in the US and the fishermen are being encouraged to turn their attention towards this intruder and away from  the overfished conch and lobster.  Their previous fear of the venomous spines is being overcome with correct training in the handling of the fish and the results are benefitting everyone.

An unusual and original cottage industry, still in its infancy but expanding fast, is being promoted by two enterprising young women – the hand production of lionfish jewellery.

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Kadija with some of her Lion Fish Jewellery.

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They have discovered a way to highlight an extremely serious local problem and at the same time incorporate it into the world of fashion.  Kadija Assales who runs the Treasure Box jewellery shop in the pretty little tourist village of Placencia has become a certified diver so that she can spear her own lionfish and gather her materials first hand – she then designs and hand makes necklaces and earrings incorporating the treated and now harmless spines and fins of the lionfish.  Her friend, Palovi Baezar in the southern town of Punta Gorda is likewise designing unique bangles and unusual earrings to add to their joint collection.  The two girls are doing their bit to bring attention to the lionfish problem whilst, at the same time, bringing much needed new work and skills to their respective areas.

So lionfish of Belize watch out, the fight is on – your spines are being used against you! “

We had returned to Placencia from the Cays to restock the boat and spend some time visiting the mainland, We spent a week at anchor off the beach at Placencia in a well-protected bay which gave us the time and security we needed to spend more time ashore. We tested a few local restaurants where we could buy a meal for two with drinks for £20 equivalent and often ate lion fish which was delicious and even served as fish and chips. There was also the usual plethora of excellent hardware stores and at costs a quarter of marina pieces we fixed a few things on the boat and invested in a couple of solar lights to light the boat at anchor rather than using our power hungry Anchor light.


Placencia High Street


Fruit and veg was great quality and not expensive


Shopping at Greg’s store before we leave for Guatemala

After a few days relaxing we decided to take a two hour bus trip to Punta Gorda which entailed getting a water taxi to Mango Creek, a taxi to the bus station in Independence and a bus to Punta Gorda. When we arrived at the bus station I discovered I had lost our kitty money (around £200.00) after paying off the taxi. Panic stations – the taxi had gone but staff at the bus station were great, they identified the driver as John from my description and phoned him to ask to check the back of his cab. He phoned back to say it wasn’t there. I knew it had to be so I asked another taxi driver to take me to meet him, and after 30 minutes we tracked him down only it wasn’t our driver and this guy who was the President of the taxi association was furious at being accused of absconding with the money; not by me but by other drivers. I described the car and driver again to my driver and he identified him as “Junior” and rang him; 3 minutes later he rang back to say he had found it and so with great relief we set off to meet him. He told me I was very lucky because the wallet had fallen under the front seat and not been noticed by the two other fares he had had since us. Gill knew I had found it by the huge cheesy grin on my face as I got out of the taxi, just in time to catch our bus to Punta Gorda.


The bus station at Independence where we caught the bus for Punta Gorda

The bus passed through a mix of agricultural land and light jungle and we saw lots of little thatched farmhouses and at one point a sign which intrigued me saying “Slow Tapirs Crossing”. Apparently they roam naturally but are not very good at the green cross code!  This was the “Express” but in true Belizean style they stopped anywhere for anyone and delivered and collected parcels along the way. When the driver got thirsty he stopped at a little roadside shop and the conductor got off to buy him drinks and a snack and off we went again. Then a guy hopped on who sold snacks and went up the isle selling his wares and when he’d finished he got off to wait for the bus going the other way, no fare to pay, all very laid back.

One of the places we wanted to see in Punta Gorda was the chocolate factory which reportedly benefited from the first fairtrade agreement set up by Green and Black in the UK with the cocoa bean growers of Belize. This tiny facility made thousands of different flavour chocolate bars a week and of course we had to try some samples before buying the ones we preferred. The bars are individually numbered by hand and a best before date written on the back and taste terrific. (see photo). By sheer chance we met up with Palovi Baezar the other Lion fish jeweller in the Chocolate Factory while we were both visiting and gained a broader insight to the problem.


The Chocolate Factory but no Charlie


Gill doing a little tasting in the Chocolate Factory

By the time we came out of chocolate heaven it was lunchtime and we decided to eat at a beach side hut run by a large formidable lady called Jocelyn. We both chose grilled snapper which was delicious and washed it down with her freshly squeezed orange juice. This was quite similar to a place we ate at in Placencia called Brenda’s, another formidable lady of great character who had a shack on the beach, served simple tasty food from very basic equipment at a very reasonable price and bring your own beer.

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Jocelyn’s Beach side restaurant serving great fish

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Brenda’s Beach shack, Placencia

After a week in Placencia and with a favourable weather forecast for the coming week we decided to go out and visit the Sapodilla Cays at the south end of the reef, reputedly the loveliest and most remote in Belize. Our first stop was Ranguana Cay which we reached after threading our way through very shallow waters and coral heads, something which was to be a feature of our days on these cays. From here we sailed outside the reef passing through a narrow gap to the sea beyond hoping to catch a glimpse of the whalesharks which are currently taking advantage of the snapper spawning season (not one in sight) and then back in again at Hunting Cay 12 miles further south. This was easier sailing, avoiding the shallows, but nerve racking enough passing through these reef gaps, hoping the charts are accurate!  At times like this the forward looking sonar I had fitted in Cowes came into its own – a fantastic bit of kit that gives you a 40 metre underwater sonar view forward of the boat and a great aid for threading your way through such treacherous waters.

We tried to anchor off Hunting Cay but it was too shallow for us to enter despite chart information to the contrary, so we aimed for Lime Cay and anchored with 0.5 metres below our keel. We were then hit by a rain squall but all held well and we didn’t touch the bottom.


Lime Cay and its shallow anchorage

The following day we headed north to Nicholas Cay but the same story it was just too shallow for us to get in so we sailed 3 miles north to Franks Cay and anchored in a perfect horseshoe anchorage protected from everywhere but the north. Again we anchored after 5 attempts and a change of anchors in 0.6m under our keel over thick turtle grass, the prospect of a beautiful island to visit the following day and some great snorkelling on offer. Wrong – the wind got up in the night and guess from where – the north. We bounced and pitched all night but only hit the bottom once, I was out of bed 2 seconds later. We couldn’t risk trying to find the narrow entrance out of this trap in the dark and had to wait it out until morning. By dawn the wind was 30 knots and rising, not what was forecast, so we decided to get out fast but as we had used our second anchor it meant that Gill had to raise it by hand while I controlled the boat in wildly pitching seas. She did it brilliantly and we squeezed out between the reefs into deeper water, breathing a huge sigh of relief and counting the lessons learned. The nearest safe haven in a northerly wind was 4 hours away on the mainland and we spent an uncomfortable time motoring through steep seas towards it with uncharted shallows around, sometimes having to stop the boat to find a way through and unable to use our sails which would have stabilised some of our pitching and rolling – not for the faint hearted. We later learned from an American boat that was also out on the Cays that the weather had worsened considerably and we were so glad we had decided to cut and run when we did. I also decided to give Gill much more practice in boat handling to free me to do the heavier tasks when required – one of our lessons learned.

We headed for a place called New Haven and anchored in 6m of water behind an island, well protected from all directions and by nightfall the wind had died and we had a blissful sleep. The next day we decided to explore the 3 mile long deserted beach ashore and headed off in the dinghy. There we found many coconut palms, some of which I could whack coconuts off with a long bamboo pole. The problem then was how to open them – the pictures show our manic attempts to crack them open with only modest success. (We now have a 3ft machete which does the job just fine and provides us with an effective boat defence.


How not to crack a coconut


Still no luck!


This could be better


Gill looking on with amusement


This how you do it


All that work for this!


Much easier – now we’re talking coconut tonight

We now have a good supply of coconuts and a source of milk – useful for our Pacific Island adventures yet to come.

Farther along the beach we saw some manatees grazing on the turtle grass close to shore and walked in to chest height to get close to them. We got within 20ft before our presence scared these gentle creatures away.


A view of coconut beach


Believe it or not this is a manatees nose and only 15ft away

We had decided to go back to Placencia to restock the boat again after our week on the Cays and return to Dangriga by bus to clear out through customs and immigration as our visas expired on the 21st May and the Customs guy had said it would be much cheaper than Placencia or other ports. The bus left at 7.00am so an early start to dinghy ashore and walk up to the terminus. The bus as always was packed and we were lucky to get a seat, although they are so hard your bum goes numb after half an hour. The kids are great and give up their seats for elderly and people help the elderly and infirm on and off the bus in a very caring way. No – neither Gill nor I needed assistance if that’s what you’re thinking. When we arrived at the offices the Customs guy told us it was $50.00 fee to exit but when I told him it was my birthday he let us off with no charge and a hearty handshake and happy birthday wishes – what nice people.

One of the other reasons Gill wanted to come back to Placencia is the Italian ice-cream shop, Tutti Frutti where they sell the most delicious selection of 18 flavours. So when we returned from our hot bus journey we headed straight there for choices of mango, dark chocolate, lime, baileys, pistachio, blackcurrant and many more – mmmmmmmmmmmmm!


Spoiled for choice


She’s here again


Gill’s second home in Placencia

While we were in Placencia I celebrated my birthday and had lunch at a place called the shack which served the hottest tacos we have ever tasted – needless to say it required a lot of beer to put the flames out


The Shack on the beach in Placencia


Man killing the heat!

Back in the nineties Placencia was hit by a hurricane which fortunately did little damage but just after it passed they had an earthquake which devastated the village and they left this jetty as it was afterwards.

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We often moored to this sorry structure with the dinghy

We wanted to go back to the Sapodillo Cays however the winds were too strong for the exposed anchorages so we headed down south to Guatemala a journey of around 60 miles stopping along the way at New Haven, where Gill ran the boat aground for the first time and another little cay called Moho – confusingly this was named the same as another cay we had visited further north.

We entered Guatemalan waters and hoisted our yellow quarantine flag and as we approached Livingston at the mouth of the Rio Dulce we set out lunch in the cockpit only to be attacked by a large swarm of wasps that decided our boat would make a handy resting place – let battle commence! Gill battened down the hatches and I set to work with a flip-flop and Gill with a kneeling pad and her expert tennis swing and we attacked the swarm with vigour. The main swarm had landed on a red and black reefing line hanging on the rail while the rest explored the boat. Lunch was put on hold while the battle raged for an hour until we had killed or driven off every wasp. The aft deck and cockpit were thick with dead bodies and remarkably neither of us was stung – boarders repelled!


A few of the casualties

To get over the 5ft mud bar at the mouth of the Rio Dulce river we had organised a tow from a fishing boat through Raul Morales the local agent, prior to leaving Belize. To catch the highest tide in May we had to arrive at 06.15 off the Livingston sea buoy and so after sussing out the lay of the land for the next morning, we spent the night at the nearest sheltered anchorage off Cabo Tres Puntas (2 hrs from Livingston) see map!

For the next chapter when we cross the bar to Livingston and explore the beautiful Rio Dulce through the Guatemalan jungle tune in at the end of June.

The Rio Dulce

Apologies that there has been a long time between blogs but we have been busy getting the boat sorted and then in my case spent 2 months in the UK and Gill spent an extra month in Thailand visiting her daughter. So this post brings us up the Rio Dulce to Fronteras and the place we left the boat to go back home.

“During the hurricane season from June to November we needed a safe spot to leave the boat and have some work carried out to prepare the boat for the next phase of our circumnavigation. Our choices were; going north to the eastern seaboard of the US; going south out of the hurricane zone to Panama or Colombia or; to tuck in up the Rio Dulce in Guatemala, although technically speaking it’s still within the hurricane zone and also suffers from occasional earthquakes. We decided on the Rio Dulce, however, for four reasons; it’s a beautiful place; it’s very cheap to live there; the boat yard labour cost is very low and the skill base high and; although in the “zone”, it’s a very sheltered hurricane hole. I checked it out with the boat insurers and they agreed provided we had the boat lifted out and chained down while we were back in the UK.

To get into the river you first have to cross a mud bar at the entrance outside the town of Livingston and the maximum tide height in May was 6ft 6” and we draw at least 7ft maybe more fully laden. We were advised by other cruisers while in Belize to use a clearing agent called Raul Morales who would also arrange a fishing boat tow through the mud. I contacted Raul by email while we were still in Belize and agreed to be off Livingston on the 27th May at 6.15am (high water was at 7.00am) to meet up with the fishing boat and then hoped for the best.

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On the 26th we sailed from Moho Cay in Belize and anchored overnight at a sheltered anchorage called Tres Puntas. From there we set off at 4.00am in the pitch dark over shoaling water and by following the previous day’s incoming track on the plotter we arrived safely at the Livingston buoy ahead of schedule. There waiting for us was a rather decrepit old fishing boat with two crew. The crewman threw us a line which we hitched to our bow cleat and off we went at speed, both of us on full throttle to cross the bar which was around 2 to 3 miles wide. We had only gone 200 yards when the fishing boat ahead of us suddenly stopped and I pulled the boat up behind him to discover that he had blown a seawater cooling hose on the engine. Undaunted and in true Guatemalan style he shot below to fix the problem while we drifted around on the end of the tow line, gradually both boats being pushed back out to sea by the river flow.

Fishing boat tows us into Livingston

After half an hour and a few failed attempts he got going again and just on high water. As we re-approached the bar we could see the depth dropping on the echo sounder and soon we slowed from  7 knots to 2 as the keel sliced through the mud, all was well for 100 yards and then we stopped altogether, stuck fast. I had been warned there was a chance the tow wouldn’t work so as advised by other experienced cruisers I had rigged a line to our mast which the fishing boat skipper now took and drove to the side of us until Romano was at 45 degrees. I powered up our engine, the fishing boat skipper (who we later found out was called Hector) put his crew on our boat and with Romano’s draft reduced by the heel we continued trouble free over the bar. His crewman made sure I steered an exact course and with the boat on a steady heading the fishing boat was able to maintain a precise angle of heel. It was a very strange experience and quite exhilarating and cost us $60 but we had made it and were in the Rio Dulce which then continued at depth for at least twenty miles inland.

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By 9.00am on the 27th we were anchored off Livingston town to be met and boarded by our agent Raul Morales and five officials from various authorities. We welcomed them on board and they inspected the boat, asked questions about our health, wanted to know how long we would be staying (the normal visa is 3 months duration) and as we were staying until November we requested a one year visa which was granted at a cost of 3000 quetzals (£250.00). We then went ashore in the dinghy to find a cash machine only to discover we were limited to 1000 quetzals (approx. £80) per day. On production of our passports the bank allowed us to cash the balance.

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We passed through steep sided ravines and forested banks with fisherman in dugouts under the overhanging branches, we passed their thatched homes on stilts with children playing in the water and tiny villages tucked away up creeks. The noises of the jungle were all around us and we could only guess at the sources. A flock of swifts took up residence in our rigging swooping off to catch flies and back to roost chasing each other off the prime spots. It was an idyllic journey and everything we had hoped for.

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Texan Bay was a small lagoon and village just off the main river and we dropped anchor with another four or five boats about 20ft from the shore in a perfectly still spot. We launched the dinghy and went exploring off the beaten track up narrow waterways, overhung with trees and lianas, hitting an underwater log at one point which fortunately didn’t damage the outboard. Back on board it was time for a welcome sun-downer and a meal in the cockpit, suitably protected with insect repellent. Gill had made some mosquito screens for the companion way and portholes so we could get air through the boat at night and these were about to get a rigorous testing (as I write this several weeks later they’ve performed well).

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The following day we set off after a leisurely breakfast and passed through a large lake about 10 miles long called El Golfete. Here we came across some shallows we had to skirt around and our forward looking sonar came in useful again. It was quite different sailing up a river after months at sea and something I had never done before in a yacht. It was then on to the town of Fronteras where we anchored on the other side of the river, off Ram Marina, where we were due to leave the boat while back in the UK.

Well we had made it, it was the end of our first leg and quite strange not to be going on. I have sailed nearly 8,000 miles since leaving Cowes, 5,000 of those with Gill and about 2,500 with just the two of us. We have enjoyed the company of Sim and Stefan helping crew the boat, visited many countries en route and met hundreds of people nearly all of whom have been welcoming and helpful. We have a long list of jobs to do here including; the addition of a proper bimini; building a gantry and adding solar panels to increase our electrical generation without having to run the engine; converting the gas system to US configuration; adding a long range SSB radio; all this and more to prepare the boat for the next leg.

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After a few days of trying to contact various specialists to undertake the work we were starting to find our way around. The town of Fronteras on the opposite bank of the river and at the end of a huge bridge built by engineers of the US Marine Corps, is an amazing place. A narrow two way road passes through the middle of town, coming off the bridge and this carries the main traffic for miles around. The result is chaos with huge trucks, buses, tuk-tuks, taxis, bicycles, motor bikes and people all competing for road space; there is no pavement and the shops and stalls encroach on the road. The huge trucks very patiently nudge their way through the melee and come to a halt if another is coming the other way, amazingly nobody gets squished and we have yet to see an accident. This is our main shopping place so we have to play dodgems while shopping but somehow it all works.

We decided to check in to Nanajuana Marina rather than RAM for the period up until we hauled out at the end of June as it was a hotel and marina and had much better facilities – bar, restaurant, great pool (one of Gill’s favourite places) and lovely tropical gardens. The mooring fees are a fraction of the European marinas, at £5.00 per day you couldn’t park your dinghy for that in the UK. Here also in these lovely surroundings we have made many friends of fellow Australian and French cruisers, this has been our first opportunity to develop a real social life with the opportunity for entertainment on board and parties on the dock. It’s not all milk and honey, most of the boats, us included have cockroach infestations and there are lots of biting things that come out at night and dawn to feast; insect repellent is an essential. We caught two scorpions in a house some German friends were renting and it’s not safe to walk through the grass back to the boat at night, we have to stick to the concrete paths. Gill also spent a morning trying to sieve weevils from the flour and gave up with the comment “well it’s only added protein” and perhaps scariest of all was the story that a French woman found a 4ft (growing by the day) snake on their boat and her screams could be heard for miles. The temperature varies from 32 to 38C and the humidity level means that you sweat all day and most of the night.

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For an outback town Fronteras provides most of what we need and what they don’t supply we can ship in from the US. There are some unusual shops however like the local gun shop where you can walk in with your wad and come out with a colt 45, which many carry in side holsters to match the Stetson, jeans and cowboy boots and hats, amusingly the coffin shop is just opposite. Getting cash from one of the three banks is also a challenge; they limit you to 2000 quetzales (about £150 per day) which doesn’t go very far when you take living expenses and paying tradesmen into account. Often the banks run out of cash (Q100 notes are their largest denomination so you end up with a fistful of monopoly money, which you have to stash away before coming out of the banks) or there is a power cut or they station an armed guard to prevent you using the machine, or the machine eats your card. When this happened to me it was at a machine in the Marina store, the staff were great and repeatedly phoned the bank over a couple of days. When they did arrive to open the machine it was with a photographer to take pictures of the process and a guard armed with a sawn off shotgun, not the sort of response you would get from Barclays. But on presenting my passport I did get my card back. You get the idea this is a fairly lawless society where even the supermarkets have armed guards on patrol. To be fair however although they do seem to kill each other in numbers we have had no trouble at all and the local people have been welcoming and very friendly.

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On one occasion we needed more cash than the machine would give us so we tried to use our passports and cards to increase the amount we could draw but the banks refused; something that has never happened to us before, so it was back to the ATM each day to draw our daily allowance. About a week later when I went to get our passports to complete an online application for a US visa for our return trip I discovered both our passports were missing and we then spent two panic stricken days retracing our steps trying to find them. The loss would mean a 6 hour bus journey to our consulate in Guatemala City, an overnight stay and hopefully the issue of temporary passports to return to the UK in a fortnight’s time. We also learned from Gill’s daughter Sarah that the passport office in the UK had a huge backlog and were taking months to process applications. This had been caused by the closure of many UK consulate passport offices around the world and a failure to deal with the increased load back home – nightmare! We had checked everywhere without success, only one bank to go – Gill went in while I waited outside. She rushed out kissed a rather stunned guard and produced the passports – which I had left on the bank counter a week before! The sheer sense of relief was overwhelming but I did get quite a severe and well deserved bollocking from Gill.

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We are now just a few days off returning to the UK via Miami and have lined up some good deals for work on the boat while we are away. I also have a list of things we need to import from the US and have set that up with an import agent. I return to Guatemala on the 20th August to supervise the work and complete various jobs. Gill will return on the 10th September and hopefully we should be on our way again by the end of October.

Exploring Guatemala

The northernmost of the Central American nations, Guatemala is slightly smaller than England. Its neighbours are Mexico on the north and west, and Belize, Honduras, and El Salvador on the east. The country consists of three main regions—the cool highlands with the heaviest population where we visited last week; the tropical area along the Pacific and Caribbean coasts, and the tropical jungle in the northern lowlands (known as the Petén where we will be exploring further in a few weeks’ time). The population is around 12.7m most of whom are Roman Catholic and of Spanish or Mayan origin. For centuries the Mayans ruled this whole region until the Spanish arrived in the 16th century and governed the region until 1881 when Guatemala, which means “Land of trees”, was given independence. Various dictators and military juntas ran the country for many years and in 1960 civil war broke out and around 200,000 people lost their lives; it’s only since 1996 that law and order has been re-established but still with a very heavy and obvious military presence.

When Gill came back from the UK I went up to Guatemala City in the highlands from Rio Dulce to meet her with the plan that we would spend a week or so exploring the nearby town of Antigua which used to be the capitol of Guatemala until it was badly damaged by earthquakes in the 18th Century and Lake Atitlan reputed to be the most beautiful lake in the world.

In Guatemala City (population 1m) it was Independence weekend when we visited and the main plaza was filled with marching bands and cheering school children.

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The next place we visited was the Cultural Palace, a huge building dominating the central plaza which was built in 1939 to celebrate the culture of Guatemala. Its an impressive building built with marble from Italy, chandeliers from Spain, stain glass windows made locally, gold leaf decorating the pillars and huge murals on the walls.

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Fortunately we were given an English speaking guide who gave us the grand tour. The sculpture below was created as a symbol to end of a long period of violence during their 36 year civil war and as reminder not to go back. The rose is white and replaced every day as a renewal of their determination.

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Afterwards we discovered a large underground market selling everything from food to clothes, leather goods and tourist toot! I bought some T shirts and baskets to keep loose items on the boat and then we had lunch at a market stall. We had no idea what we ate but it tasted OK, as usual, the old lady grossly overcharged us in their terms but it was still only £5 equivalent –they think we’re rich gringos!

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So, after a day exploring Guatemala City, we headed off on an hour’s drive to Antigua by taxi. We had intended using the famous “Chicken Buses” used by the locals but for two reasons we were advised against it and to use a taxi instead; firstly, this was the rainy season and the buses carried passenger’s luggage on the roof and secondly over one hundred bus drivers had been murder by local mobsters, in the last few years, who tried to extort protection money. If the drivers didn’t pay the gangs the bus was attacked and the driver killed and the passengers robbed – it wasn’t a hard decision to pay the extra for a taxi.

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Antigua is the lovely old capitol of Guatemala, nestling amongst three volcanoes which dominate the views from the town, but they moved it to Guatemala City after several earthquakes devastated the town, in consequence all the buildings are only one or two storeys high.

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Our first task on arriving was to find the Posada where we were staying and after many attempts by the taxi driver we eventually found it by asking an electricity meter reader. Our welcome at Casa Alina, which was unprepossessing from the outside, was wonderful, we were ushered in to a beautiful courtyard home and on to to the spacious lounge where Alina and her sister made tea for us, almost unheard of in Guatemala which is coffee growing country and gave us their life history over a couple of hours. We were then, to our surprise, invited to dine with the family at a local restaurant which was a converted monastery that had been beautifully restored, serving traditional food from the locality and all you could eat. So here we were 3 hours in Antigua and being accepted as friends of Alina’s family.

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Her sister Lucy had been a much valued housekeeper to Lachlan Reed, a Scot living in America who had married into the Honeywell family and gone on to make his own fortune, Lucy was lovely but boy could she talk. They had had a brother but he was captured by the rebels in the civil war and held for ransom but before they could come up with the money he was killed. This was told to us in a very matter of fact way as though it was an everyday occurrence.

We then spent a couple of days exploring the town using Casa Alina as our base,

The photo below shows The Convent of Mercy which unusually only contained monks, around 100 of them, unfortunately its now in a state of disrepair but must have been a wonderful place when in good order.

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it happened to be “Independence Day” when we were there so we were treated to bands and drumming displays and fireworks, however after the first couple of hours the endless chain of marching bands and noise became a little wearing so we found another local restaurant to hide away.

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On the second day in Antigua we visited a 750 acre coffee plantation close to the town; coffee is one of Guatemala’s main exports and is now much sought after in the UK. Our guide took us through the whole process, from the plant nursery, to growing the beans, the harvest, and the drying and roasting process. It was a great day and fascinating to see the complete thing from ground to cup and of course we had a little tasting afterwards and then back to Antigua in an army truck.

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We found a little restaurant which had all the dishes of local food displayed in big pots at the entrance with offers of tasters so you could choose which to have. After the meal we left to cross town through a myriad of cobbled streets back to our Posada. Fortunately our combined navigation skills worked and we found home about half an hour later.

The following day we took our farewell from Alina and Lucy and set off by minibus with a young Chilean couple on a 150kmjourney to Lake Atitlan a further 1000 feet up in the mountains. The lake which sits at an altitude of 5100ft is also surrounded by three huge volcanoes one of which is live and these make a spectacular backdrop, especially when the lake is still and gives back the reflection of the mountains, it certainly deserves its reputation for beauty.

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Our Posada – Los Encuentros, was in a town on the edge of the lake, called Panajachel and was unusual for its gardens which consisted almost entirely of edible or medicinal herbs and plants. The owner had written a book on their various medicinal properties, unfortunately his herbology skills weren’t matched by his people skills.

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The following morning we set off on a launch/ferry across the lake to see the villages of San Pedro and San Juan. We took a tuc-tuc ( a three wheeled motor bike with a canopy) from San Pedro to San Juan where we had been told about a women’s co-operative which made textile products by the old and natural methods. The co-operative was started by a woman whose husband died and she had to find a means to support her six children so she and a few others set up a business which flourishes today and now employs 22 local women. The taxi driver said the men don’t do any work! The process starts by growing cotton, picking the balls by hand, removing seeds and spinning these into a thread on a bobbin held by their feet. The dying process uses only natural plant dyes to produce rich vibrant colours which are collected by the women from the mountainside in order to preserve the delicate local ecology. To give an idea they use such plants as, avocado, carrot, ocre, indigo, lobelia, beetroot and many others handed down from their Indian ancestors. The colours are then fixed using banana stalk extract. The result is stunning colours in the skirts, aprons, blouses and bags they then make from the dyed cotton as you can see from the photos. Just to make the collar on one cotton blouse takes one woman 1 month and the blouse sells for around £60.00 equivalent!

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Still in San Juan we visited a business where they grew herbs for medicinal use and processed the products in-house. We bought some natural mosquito repellent (very necessary in this area) and some specialist teas.

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Then it was back to San Pedro by tuc-tuc for a spot of lunch. The driver took us to a place which was probably his sister’s but we had a nice lunch of local food overlooking the lake.

After lunch we took a launch to a village called San Marcos and walked into the town to explore a little. Apart from the school, some shops, a sports ground and a church there wasn’t much to see. The rain came on as we were waiting for our next boat connection so we huddled under the trees at the end of the pier with the locals until the local policeman came to tell us it was arriving. It took us down the lake in pouring rain with a tarpaulin over the passengers; the poor driver had to sit out in a sou’wester but wore the biggest of grins as though he didn’t have a care in the world.

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We went to eat in the main street after partaking of happy hour in the local bar which was offering two drinks for the price of one; well you couldn’t refuse could you! When we got back to the Posada we couldn’t get the key to work and no amount of hammering and ringing the bell for ten minutes raised anyone until I tried putting the key in upside down and hey presto we were in!

The following day we decided as a bit of an adventure to take a local “collectivo” which is the bus service there, so called because it stops anywhere for anyone and they really pack them in. It’s basically a pickup truck with two benches in the open back but they loaded 22 passengers in ours. It is after all is said and done, a car, albeit a Toyota made for eight at a push. Our load also included  cases, mail, boxes, baskets of fruit and kids but fortunately no animals or chickens. The luggage that doesn’t fit on the roof is piled on your lap if you’re lucky enough to have a seat.

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So off we went bumping our way over twisty mountain roads to Santa Caterina, a small village on the south side of the lake which has a few shops where Gill expertly haggled for a handbag which cost her less than £4.00 at the end and the village had a pretty quay side where interconnecting launches came in.

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We moved on to San Antonio, the next town around the lake in another collectivo. Here we were “picked up” as we got off the pickup by a young women who showed us around the town and with her we visited the local pottery business, had to buy a dish of course and then on to a lovely restaurant overlooking the bay where the owner (probably her Dad) persuaded me to try one of his litre bottles of beer, it’s very hard to resist offers like that, well for me anyway!

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We then took the collectivo back to Panajachel and for dinner and bed. In the morning we headed back to Guatemala city via Antigua, about a 3 hour drive in a minibus with a young Israeli couple. At Antigua we had to switch to a taxi because there were riots in Guatemala City and we needed a local driver to find the way around the problem areas.

Before we left Guatemala City to travel up to Antigua  the 1* hotel we were staying wanted 5$ a day to store Gills suitcase so we booked into the 4* Radisson for less overall cost as there was no charge for leaving the case, so we were delighted to come back to a luxurious suite and still for only $60. The bed was the comfiest we have had for months and we shopped and bought our own breakfast feast for another $5.00 all in all a good result!

We came back to the Rio Dulce by coach on a 6 hour trip and got off the air-conditioned bus to be met by a blast of heat after the cool highlands. You can understand why most of the population live up there in the cool. After 2 minutes we were drenched with sweat – aahh its good to be back!

So now we are installed back on the boat and sanding and varnishing and getting equipment added which we will need next year’s trip across the Pacific. Once the pressure of this work is off we intend to visit other parts of this beautiful, friendly and interesting country. This will be covered in Part 2 of Exploring Guatemala.

For a month now we have been trying to leave this beautiful and compelling country but so far without success.  We had set the date of 5th November as fortuitous for our departure – the tide was at its highest to allow us over the bar at Livingston and the hurricane season was coming to an end – but this plan didn’t take into account late deliveries of first the solar panels (from the US) and then the cable for the SSB which the shippers lost in transit.  And would you believe it, they also lost the replacement after which the original order turned up (US suppliers and customer service do not inspire confidence in us!)


Mike and Roger fitting the solar panels to the new gantry

Having reluctantly resigned ourselves to the extra two weeks’ wait, we were then anxious to go at the next high tide – but fate stepped in once more and two days prior to leaving (and following our farewell party) the fridge packed up – a new compressor followed, plus the brand new state of the art alternator went phut on first firing.  Obviously someone was trying to tell us something!!  Plus to cap it all we both went down with virulent tummy bugs (dose of both salmonella and amoeba for good measure), not good sailing companions;  so, another wait for yet another new alternator and the next high tide.    The second new alternator duly arrived, Roger the “electrical whizz” came to fit it – nothing straight forward of course and his “does this wire go here or there” didn’t inspire much confidence in the outcome – rightly so as it turned out.   Sure enough, we left the Rio Dulce (engine sounded good) and headed for Livingston where we checked out (Mike was only two weeks over the permitted 90 days, a mere trifle here after paying the fine of Q10 per day) and we psyched ourselves up at 6.0pm to hopefully sail unhindered over that dreaded bar – the engine had other ideas though and not a peep was to be heard.  Roger remained calm and reassuring when an ever so slightly irate Mike requested the pleasure of his company here in Livingston (an hour down the river by high speed lancha).  As I write this and following Roger’s visit today, we have everything crossed that the engine will perform when the time comes to set out this evening, just one more day late and exactly a month after we first tried to leave.

When we look back, the amount of work completed on Romano has been enormous and we have lived for months in a constant state of “work in progress”.  It was, at least some relief to be able to escape the endless workmen and their projects onto the adjoining palapa area (a thatch covered communual space frequented by adults in their hammocks or working on various boat projects and children playing or heads down with mum doing their school work.  This was the hub of our social centre and a great meeting place where there was always someone to talk to and Saturday evenings turned into the social event of the week with everyone bringing something to share.


One of our international Saturday night Palapa parties

Many new friendships were forged and the mix of French, Australian and us, which started somewhat hesitantly with some language difficulties, gradually evolved into a closeknit and interesting community.  Audrey (delightful young French mum) who arrived in May with virtually no English now speaks the language like a native and Ella (15 year old Australian with no background in languages) is becoming proficient in both English and Spanish.  The children who have all become firm friends prattle away together without any problems, of course.


Nanajuana Marina showing the palapa


Nanajuana was a beautiful place to weather out the hurricane season

I mentioned our farewell party which was held on a really grotty evening with heavy rain just before one of our planned departure dates.  All turned out to say goodbye to us, including some newcomers we hadn’t even met before and it was a sad evening with a few tears and even presents from the children.  One occurrence not to be forgotten is Mike’s unscheduled swim when he disappeared for a while and although he was vaguely noticed like some sort of large water rat climbing up the back of a boat out of the water right opposite the festivities, Nick the Australian owner remarked in his usual laidback way “well, yeh, I thought I saw you coming up out of the water onto my boat” but he obviously didn’t think that was anything remarkable or worth mentioning.  Mike had slipped off the plank which only reached halfway to our boat (a hazardous access at the best of times) and weighed down by waterproof jacket etc had problems finding an exit from the water – and nobody heard his cries for help!  Not only had he got a soaking but to crown it all nobody even noticed!!


Gill doing the washing as the men fixed up the boat!

The biggest projects on the boat were without doubt the adding of a new bimini and the gantry for the two huge solar panels (which so far are exceeding expectations and producing enough energy to keep up with the power hungry fridge and freezer).  Mike finally settled on Carlos the Welder as the manufacturer and installer of the metalwork (aluminium) despite Carlos’ rather dubious reputation as not the most reliable craftsman in town.  As it turned out, Carlos did a brilliant job and produced everything asked of him including some folding steps for me to be able to get back into the dinghy from the sea – not sure if he was amused or felt sorry for me when he heard that I had had to be dragged on a line for a mile or so because I couldn’t get back aboard after snorkelling.  Whatever, he certainly had a soft spot for us – we hear many stories of others who are still waiting but he either likes you or he doesn’t!!


The boat with new bimini and solar panels

The list continues with a new mainsail (the old one was scathingly condemned by Luigi the Italian sail expert), the new bimini and sprayhood in cream (not very practical but so light!), with many new projects in wood, both inside and out, including beautifully varnished boxes to hold the extra diesel containers on deck, a very useful box/extra seat which clips to the table and so the list goes on.


The new mainsail being fitted by Luigi Bellotti

The cockpit sparkles with its new varnish, two windscoops (they would be the dearest in existence if I calculated the amount of time taken to make them by hand!) funnel the breeze down into the boat and Mike successfully located a new gas regulator to give us a cooker temperature other than hand warm.


Gill proudly displaying her fantastic wind scoops

Now we can even make bread, and as discovered today, the pressure cooker makes very good cakes!  We’re in business!!


The proof and it was good – mmmm!

We did manage a day out in the dinghy up to Castillo San Felippe, about two miles up river from our marina. It was a glorious day as the photos show and the Castillo which had been built in 1500 by the Spanish to keep out pirates and of course the British who used to turn up regularly to steal the gold from the ships moored in the lake.


The Castillo as seen from the dinghy


The view from the ramparts over the river

During November we organised a few days away from the work site and headed north with Annie and Liam (Australian friends) to explore Tikal (one of the most important Mayan sites in this whole area).  We set off with expectation and a cheap ticket on the Publico bus, only to find that the bus was already full when we joined it in Fronteras – well, full by our standards!   45 Persons is just the beginning with more standing than sitting and just when you think you can’t be expected to cram anymore aboard, there’s another shove and another few are added – they don’t seem to turn anyone away!  The prospect of 4 and half hours standing  whilst the driver throws the vehicle around the bends and in and out of the potholes whilst conducting an ongoing mobile phone conversation and eating his lunch at the same time wasn’t one to fill us with happy anticipation.  I was the lucky one as a young woman offered me her seat after an hour of trying to perch on a narrow arm and I travelled in luxury – not so the others.  To our amazement the bus stopped at one point to allow a rather portly lady with her basket of food on her head and her sidekick with a bucket of drinks to board and move into the bus – how is still a mystery – to sell a mixture of hot food (sandwiches would have been too easy!) to the passengers – all passed from hand to hand to the back of the bus.


Meals on wheels

We spent an hour or so in Flores (a quaint little island on Lake Peten to explore the cobbled streets and were sorry we wouldn’t be able to return that evening to join in the festivities of the Christmas tree lighting.  We had booked ourselves into a little French run hotel further along the lake at El Remate – half way to Tikal.  The Mon Ami was certainly situated in the most picturesque spot right on the edge of Lake Peten and afforded us the most spectacular sunset as well as a wonderful swim in clear warm water surrounded by tiny fish.


Sunset over Lake Peten 

We had opted to take the very early morning tour to Tikal leaving at 4.00am with the idea of arriving to catch the dawn, hear the howler monkeys in full voice, enjoy the dawn chorus, as well as experience the rising sun as it emerged eerily out of the swirling early morning mists.  We did eventually see the sun and waited quite some time to catch sight of the various monuments floating out of the shrouding mists.


Temples appearing out of the mist at Tikal


A little bit closer and later


A little furry friend we met in the jungle at Tikal

The monuments were as impressive as any we have seen in this part of the world, more so than Mexico which has inevitably become overly commercialised and we were able to climb as many as we had the energy for!   I must say that by 10am we felt we had already done a day’s hard labour.


Amazing to think these were built over 1000 years ago

With the intention of spending two to three months in the San Blas islands, where we understand provisions are non-existent, we shopped to accommodate this with Mike declaring at every sortie that “there’s nowhere to put it”!  Ah, but there always is!  We had thought that we were to be joined by friends in the San Blas (not now coming) so we allowed for four including meat ready frozen for us in suitable four-sized packets.  Upon collection of the meat, we saw with horror what amounted to a mammoth stack of boxes, all for us.  I must admit this time I had rather overestimated the size of our freezer and we had to prevail on friends to take the surplus which we then cooked up for the farewell party, so it didn’t go to waste.  From tins of everything, to toilet paper, to the occasional box of wine, we’re set for the next few months.


The saloon table laden with provisions – but where to put them?

After six months in this part of the world, we have so many memories to draw on and so many new and valued friends, most of whom we hope to meet again in the San Blas Islands or when we congregate to go through the Panama Canal as most of us intend to.  As one of the young girls said to me with tears in her eyes as we left, “it’s like saying goodbye to family”.  We have lived next door to one another and been part of each other’s lives for a brief but intense period.   I shall miss the constant drone of the heavy traffic labouring its way over the bridge (the same bridge that a number of the younger crowd jumped from on the end of a rope and not entirely without incident either).


The not so low bridge – some folks are barking mad!

You soon forget to marvel at the beautiful scenery and area in which we have been living, the distant mountains, the lush vegetation, the river and its ongoing life of fishermen in their canoes, the myriad of birds.  We have been spoilt by the wonderful and abundant fruit and vegetables, the colourful and interesting local peoples and the opportunity to explore a little of this beautiful and dramatic country – thank you Guatemala, we have loved being here.   Honduras here we come!


Leaving the Rio at 45 degrees


Hector to the rescue!

Addendum:  Yes, we did get away finally but not without more dramas – Roger’s fixing wasn’t fixed and Mike had to jump start the engine (a loose connection is suspected) and the high tide wasn’t as high as we had thought!!  We spent the night rocking gently in the mud of the estuary after gunning through the first half of the sandbar.  Hector, the local fisherman who had dragged us in in May, was prevailed on for the fee of $50 to come to our rescue at 6 am after his night out fishing and we were dragged out sideways.  Sounds like another dose of gel coat to the keel.  We are now safely in Utila (Bay Islands, Honduras) and further news about this part of the world will follow in due course.

Legless in Honduras

We anchored off Utila Town on the 7th December in the south facing bay there, which we thought would be quite sheltered only to be proved wrong. Each morning the wind came off the mainland at F4 and the bay was a choppy place to be until the wind veered to the North in the afternoon, however our anchor held well but getting ashore in the dinghy was a real challenge with swell bashing us against the jetty.

Nevertheless we managed to get ashore unscathed to clear in which at a cost of $6 is the cheapest we have yet encountered.

Having cleared in we went off to explore the island on foot, it’s around a 40 minute walk from one end to the other so nothing very tiring. The main and only street was packed sand outside town and roughly tarmaced for a few hundred yards in the centre of town. The main traffic was beach buggies, scooters and tuk tuk’s ( the local taxis) with a handful of pick ups. Given the size of the Island it was surprisingly busy.


Main Street Utila

Only 2000 people live here and their main business is running dive holidays off the nearby spectacular reefs and that’s about it, lots of cheap accommodation and a wacky feel to the place with lots of hippie types and a rehab shack on the beach.

We had further problems with the boat, one of which could have been disastrous. I noticed a strange reading on the solar regulator so checked out the wiring to find the fuse block under our bunk had melted and was glowing red hot. I immediately cut the power and went in search of a bigger fuse and an electrician to check out the electrics. We found Andy through the local hardware store. It turned out Andy did pretty much everything, including running the local water company and being chief of police. He came out, checked the system, fitted a bigger fuse block and we were back in business, for a while anyway.

I was still jump starting the engine and fired up to leave on the morning 13th December to spend Christmas on the next island in the chain, Roatan, after having exhausted all the Utila had to offer. We left in light SW winds for a slow sail and after an hour or so the winds died and we resorted to engine for the rest of the journey but in glorious sunshine. Getting in to the Fantasy Island anchorage on Roatan proved to be quite a challenge we made several attempts ourselves but kept running into shallows until a couple of local boats showed us a narrow channel right alongside the reef. Even then we only had 0.2m under our keel at the lowest point. Once into the pool, depths increased to 4m and we anchored in this beautiful enclosed spot, protected by reefs and sandy islands.


The anchorage at Fantasy Island Roatan

Roatan is a much larger and more commercialised resort and a major holiday destination for Hondurans. The island is around 50km long and 5km wide with numerous sandy beaches and off lying islands. Once again the main attraction apart from the beaches is diving on the world class reefs. We were on the south side facing the Honduran mainland which was about 30 miles away.


Sunset over the anchorage

Here we met some old friends and made some new ones, spent time snorkelling on the surrounding reefs, shopping and preparing for Christmas on the beach on Fantasy Island. The marina there had a thatched palapa (veranda) with a small bar where we could all gather for our Christmas dinner.

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The beach on Fantasy Island.                                 Interesting guests at the hotel, capuchin monkeys

About twenty of us had signed up for roast turkey and ham, although Gill had to show the marina manager how to cook the ham. Everyone contributed a dish and we had a good spread considering the limited facilities. I was given the job of carving the roasts. All went well apart from the weather which decided to send a squall in the middle of dinner, accompanied by horizontal torrential rain.


Some rather damp revellers

One of the boats, Kanthaka, owned by Thierry, a retired French Doctor, started to drag its anchor around six o’clock so a rescue party was organised, they fouled their mooring which disabled the engine, and meant we had to get lines ashore to pull them in. It was high drama on a very wet and windy night.


Thierry supervising the rescue

We were all soaked and cold and had to remove table cloths to avoid the tables being cleared by the wind. There we all were huddled in a group laughing at the scene, telling jokes and sinking a few more tots of rum from a bottle kindly donated by Thierry, just as well we were all seasoned sailors.

The snorkelling on Roatan was absolutely superb and I have never seen so many fish and the colours of the coral are so vibrant as you can see from the photos. There was also a patch of the reef known as lobster city where the lobsters lie thick and fat, unfortunately the reef is protected and so are these desirable dinner guests.


Looks good enough to eat.                        A school of Blue Tangs


Beautiful coral

While we were snorkelling on the reef one day and Gill was cruising through the shallows when she came face to face with a 5 ft barracuda that just hung there eyeing her up (lunch!) and didn’t swim away. as Gill swam off it followed her, she looked around for me as I had the camera but I was too far away. We found out later that divers feed this fish which is a stupid thing to do as they then expect to be fed, apparently one diver lost a finger doing this! The lobsters also get fed to keep them on the reef in large numbers, this makes for a protected nursery and a good breeding ground. It’s still alarming when a 2 ft lobster comes straight at you expecting grub. They’re very tame and you can touch them without them swimming off.

On Boxing Day some of us went off to play volleyball and disaster struck, I snapped my Achilles’ tendon and had to be carried back to the boat. We had no ice so I defrosted that nights mince to reduce swelling. Everyone was amazing and rallied round, an appointment was made for me by friends John and Suzie, to see an orthopaedic surgeon friend who happened to have a clinic on the island. Unfortunately the clinic could not carry out surgery and he referred me to a top surgeon in San Pedro Sula, about 70 miles away on the mainland. He also organised flights and transport from the airport to the hospital and refused any payment for his normally expensive services, I was overwhelmed that he should go to such lengths to provide the help as he did. John then spent some time driving round the island looking for crutches for me which we eventually found in a junk shop of all places.


The next day John and Suzie kindly took me to the airport on Roatan for the flight to San Pedro Sula while Gill stayed to look after the boat, it would be a massive understatement to say that she was not pleased with me and delivered several lectures on the subject. This was entirely understandable however, as this had wrecked our plans to leave for Panama the next day.

I was admitted to the Cemesa Hospital on the 28th December and the operation was carried out the next day after extensive tests, an MRI scan and chest X-ray. During the operation I was awake having had a spinal anaesthetic and bizarrely the anaesthetist took photos of the operation on his mobile phone to provide a running progress report for me while I lay on my stomach. I ended up with a knee length cast on my left leg.

It was the hospitals intention to release me on the 31st after a few days of observation – yippee back for new year and Gill’s 70th birthday. Only, fate took a hand and I slipped off the Zimmer frame on my way to the loo and broke my other ankle, words cannot describe how frustrated I was!

The next day I had the second operation, by now I was an old hand at this and am now the proud owner of a titanium plate and a bunch of screws in my right ankle which should play havoc with airport scanners and of course, another cast. Unfortunately, I had my money stolen while I was in hospital which apart from the loss of cash really upset the hospital staff, all of whom were fantastic, I could not have received better care anywhere. The NHS could learn much about patient care and genuine concern for the patient, here you’re a person not a statistic!

This also meant that I missed Gill’s birthday and as I forgot it last year I was truly in the doghouse yet again. I had remembered this year and was fully prepared, I just wasn’t there! Fortunately, she had some good friends at Fantasy island who organised a cake and a party.


Birthday girl with her cake and champagne

The second injury meant, however, instead of being able to shuffle on crutches and return to the boat. I was going to be wheel chair bound for at least a month and would have to stay in San Pedro Sula for after care and physiotherapy – not funny! It also meant I needed someone to look after me and Gill bravely volunteered to fly in for the month.

San Pedro Sula by the way is the most dangerous city in the world outside of a war zone with an annual murder rate of 187 people per 100,000 of population. So this is not a sight seeing place and there is absolutely nothing to do.


The lovely grounds around the apartment.

I was discharged on the 6th January and arrangements were made for me to rent a very nice apartment. Thank goodness we have Internet in the apartment and we can keep in touch with friends and family and plan the next stage of our travels. The most difficult aspect of all this is washing, in hospital I had lots of nurses to scrub me up and just change the bedding. This was not an option in the apartment with Gill on her own so she devised a novel way for me to shower – push the wheel chair onto the balcony, tie big plastic bags around the leg casts and pour pans of water over me, hilarious but it works.


Showertime in the apartment.                                  Physio with Estella every day at the apartment.

We decided that a Pacific crossing was out of the question this year and we would spend the year resting in the San Blas archipelago in Panama for a couple of months more, explore Colombia, and take a trip to Canada where neither of us has been and; East coast USA. In December we will take the boat through the canal to explore the Pacific coasts of Panama and Columbia before setting off to the Galápagos Islands and beyond in March 2016. We have advertised on crew finder sites for extra crew to help us through my recuperative period. So a new member will be joining the boat in February.

Gill will also take the opportunity to go back to see her family in UK and Thailand in the summer holidays. I will stay with the boat and our new crew member until her return in September.

It’s also our intention to explore the islands off Honduras when we return to the boat to keep our hand in and give our new crew member some experience before setting off.

The Road to Recovery by Gill

Who would have thought that a simple game of volleyball would have changed all our plans for a whole year as well as placing us for seven weeks in the “World’s Most Dangerous City”! It just goes to show that you never know what’s “round the corner” and the “best laid plans”, and all that … But here we are at long last back on the boat and the last few weeks are already fading into the past. Mike is still wobbly on his two healing ankles but every day sees an improvement and a totter along the sandy beach and long daily swim is reaping great results.

A single out-of-action ankle was one thing but two was quite a different matter. With one, Mike could have returned to Roatan and the boat and with his crutches he would have managed, albeit we could foresee a number of logistic difficulties, but with no legs and in a wheelchair it was impossible. The surgeon was adamant, Mike had to remain in San Pedro Sula and be available every day for physio – no hardship as Estella, a young Colombian girl, was pretty, chatty and firmly insistent when she wanted results.


Estella cracking the whip – faster, harder, quicker.

Mike progressed from the wheelchair (didn’t quite make it to the wheelie stage), to crutches, to a walking frame and finally on the threat during the last few days that he wouldn’t be allowed to leave unless he could walk without any other aid, to just a cane and his “special” thick black hiking type socks and very sexy supportive matching boots.

The standard of care provided by the hospital was outstanding and would be hard to beat anywhere in the world. The scars on his legs have healed to pencil lines, no infections (and remember this is the tropics) and it would be difficult to tell he had ever had the operations. He has healed well and quickly due in part to the skill of the surgeon but also the post operative care given by Estella. When Mike was due to leave for the apartment and needed a wheel chair they went out and bought a new one and loaned it free of charge. When he needed to progress to a walking frame, Estella arrived with one, everything he needed they provided and offered in such a caring way, he could not have been in better hands.

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Progress from walking frame to cane in two weeks

During the last couple of weeks the therapy progressed to the swimming pool where he was cajoled, threatened and entreated to walk, swim, kick and generally exercise twice a day under water pressure. The tiny swimming pool, sometimes a little on the green side, was the saving grace of the apartment and was somewhere to not only exercise, but just to sit and be outside, although we were still enclosed by high padlocked gates with armed guards manning the premises day and night.

The apartment itself was large and airy with great views out to the nearby mountains and along the valley. Watching the large variety of birds, both domestic and wild was interesting. Trying to close our ears to the incessant crowing cocks (they are obviously oblivious to the fact that they are only supposed to greet the dawn) became irritating. And the pop, pop of gunfire, near and far was unnerving but we were on the fourth floor so we reckoned that any stray bullets wouldn’t reach us!

One very pleasant surprise in all this was the response from our travel health insurance company. Mike contacted them from hospital to let them know he had had an accident and from that moment on they were supportive and responsive. You hear lots of stories of stalling, indifference and taking a hard line by insurance companies but once they understood the situation they agreed to meet all out of pocket expenses including the apartment, all treatment expenses, marina charges for the boat an our flights to and from Roatan Island. They even offered him the opportunity to return to the UK but with everything here going so smoothly that was not necessary.

From our balcony we could look down into the adjoining property, a huge parklike area with a river, trees, paths and lots of birdlife but we were told that we couldn’t go for a walk there and with the ferocious barking at night we thought it better not to chance our luck. So, we were pretty much “under house arrest” except for our weekly outings with Luis, our regular taxi driver.

Luis was an affable, always helpful guy but he had failed to develop his muscles and he struggled manfully with the wheelchair and loading and unloading into his already crowded boot (he ran on LPG and the boot was already half full with the tank) was a two-man operation, but we managed and were always grateful for his ready smile and helping hands. His time keeping was another matter though and on a couple of occasions he just forgot us. Once when I was catching the coach to Copan and Luis himself had set the time, the appointed hour came and went and upon calling him, he made the excuse that his engine had failed to start, but miraculously it came to life again and he got me to the bus station in the nick of time.

When you have little to occupy your day, little things take on a much greater importance and breakfast which was provided by the apartment complex was one of the highlights of our day. The highlight wasn’t so much what we were actually given because that was usually greeted with a groan rather than pleasure, but just the guessing and looking under the cover. I might add that the cleaning ladies who also prepared the meal would enter the apartment and leave the plates on the table any time from about 6.00am onwards. Plates of long ago cooked scrambled egg, cold shrivelled up indescribable bits of sausage, black bean puree (served with everything on every occasion, or so it seems, in Latin America), cold, chewy tortilla and a piece of rubbery tasteless cheese is not something you feel inclined to leap out of bed for, let alone pour yourself at speed into a wheelchair. The other two variations were cold toasted sandwiches complete with limp lettuce or our favourites, pancakes with honey which we heated in the microwave. I did ask for more pancakes and they came for a while but then we reverted to their favourites – scrambled egg, etc. I gave up and Mike ate the reheated scrambled eggs and the rest ended up in the bin. Needless to say we didn’t rely entirely on the provided breakfasts.

One of our few pleasures after the confines of the boat was having a gigantic fridge so we happily shopped without having to think of space or lack of it. The fruit and vegetables in San Pedro were fantastic quality and on one occasion a large sweet melon was added to the shopping to supplement our breakfast fare. Half was plenty for one meal so the other half was left in a bowl in the fridge. Imagine our surprise when by lunchtime the half was down to a quarter and that without any sign of mice or cockroaches in the fridge. Not an important matter but a mystery never the less and one we thought we should raise with the manager as the only other people with access to the apartment were the cleaning ladies and we had trusted them around our belongings and valuables, etc. “No, not me” was the answer given by the lady of the day to me and to Hector, the manager. So who raided our fridge? It remained a mystery but the word had gone out that we were watchful and not to be trifled with! Hector returned later with another huge melon and his heartfelt apologies.

Another pleasure which we had imagined would be ours in the apartment was a long, hot shower. Disappointment again. If we waited a couple of minutes the hot water finally came – scalding – 30 seconds later it disappeared again and we ended a very quick shower in a freezing burst. If we cared to wait another few minutes, already wet and soaped up, more hot water repeated the process. Washing my hair was a lengthy matter turning the taps on and off with a lot of hanging around in between. Mike had to be even more adept with his tap control as he found the most convenient way to have a shower was to sit on the floor with plastic bags covering his feet, so he couldn’t leap out of the way when the water was either too hot or too cold and on occasion a few choice words were uttered!

When they first removed the plaster, we all reeled from the smell of his stinky feet with their thick crust of dying skin and Estella who was at the receiving end requested that he do something about the offending problem toute suite. With no access to shops and a good scraper needed promptly, I volunteered to go in search of a substitute, remembering some rough waste ground opposite the complex. I returned with a selection of small rough stones which served the purpose admirably and after a good hard scrub, two shiny, pink feet emerged. Not sure whether the plughole ever recovered though!

Knowing we were within striking distance of Copan, the Mayan ruins, we had talked about the possibility of both of us taking time at the end to visit for a few days. It soon became obvious that Mike, even on his feet, would not be up to the venture. So, it was decided that once he was self-sufficient, with everything within reach, I would go to Copan on my own. Also a few days out of the apartment might save my sanity!

Copan is only about three hours by coach from San Pedro Sula and I was excited to have the opportunity to see a little more of the countryside. Like Guatemala, it’s beautiful with its mountains, valleys and rolling lush countryside. Tiny villages along the way indicated a mixture of modern and traditional life with the ubiquitous mobile phones in evidence everywhere, smart modern cars parked alongside the rusting wrecks half hidden under covering vines and horse-drawn carts trotting along dusty tracks. Women still gather in the rivers to do their washing and lay their clothes out on the rocks to dry. It was amazing to see people planting their crops, plant by plant on near vertical slopes (or that’s how they appeared to me) and slashing at crops with only machete-type tools. The fields stretched into the distance – what a hard life.


The steep roads in Coban

Copan is a lovely little town set on the side of a hill with picturesque buildings and steep cobbled streets on three sides. The main square was only one block from where I was staying and I was very happy to spend the afternoon exploring the town and then sit on a wall nodding hello to the friendly passersby watching a kaleidoscope of surrounding activity. As always, there were women selling fruit and cooking unfathomable dishes – usually something including tortillas of some kind.

Pupusas turned out to be the popular dish of the day – soft tortillas which are slapped into shape with a meat or veg filling poked into the middle, flattened and then cooked on a griddle or pan – delicious. The sights were simple but fascinating and it was therapeutic to sit in the sunshine and observe the scene.


Making papusas in Coban

The jolly icecream man with his handcart attracting attention with a little bell, the orange man pushing his wheelbarrow full of wonderfully juicy, sweet oranges stopping upon request to quick peel an orange on his machine, the local men in their Panama cowboy hats and the children in their mini fashion outfits. Overlooking all of this was the usual pretty church with a poster at the entrance, requesting that gum should not be chewed in church and please do not stick it under the seats!


Coban fruit seller in the man square


Just passing the time of day


Orange seller at at work with his peeler

The following morning it was overcast and cool, not a bad thing for a day of ruin-climbing and exploring. I followed the road back to the nearby ruins, skirting the heavily policed roadblock (apparently drug runs are frequent and this morning was no exception) and was amused that the police in the midst of their duties still had time to wave to me – lone gringo women hikers are probably still a bit of a novelty. The national bird of Honduras is the red macaw and these magnificent birds welcome you to the site. Dozens of them fly freely through the trees, encouraged to remain by being well fed and they are obviously very used to tourists, swooping low over our heads.


Red Macaws at the Coban ruins site

I had come to Copan because it’s there and not with any real hope that I would find it much different from the other sites we have seen, but I was wrong and so pleasantly surprised and impressed by the incredible stelae – the carved columns with their intricately sculpted integral hieroglyphics which document so much history of the Mayan culture, most of it still to be deciphered. The hieroglyphic staircase must have been magnificent and the still visible relief on so many of the remaining buildings is remarkable.


Beautifully carved stellar


The heiroglyphic staircase

During my wander through the site, I talked to a number of fellow sightseers, including an American doing voluntary work in El Salvador and his companions, a Salvadorian priest and a young woman from his village (I learned later that her father was the current mayor). They invited me to join them and we later explored another smaller but none the less interesting site where the nobility and scribes (very important people in that day) had lived away from the hoy poloi, a couple of miles down the road. To finish off a great day I drove back to Copan with my new friends and enjoyed their company and a great dinner whilst also having to practise my limited Spanish with non English speakers.


Dinner with new friends

San Pedro Sula seemed to us like any other bustling, affluent city with busy malls, modern buildings, plenty of evidence of industry, billboard advertising, just about everything you would expect and no obvious signs of poverty. It was hard to believe that we were in the midst of gangland, but apparently that’s where we were. It was brought home to me when I had been to the dentist and was waiting outside in the street for Mike and Luis to return for me. I started talking to a lady in one of the “hole in the wall” type snack places and she insisted that I join her inside her “hole” as it wasn’t safe for me to remain on the outside especially carrying a bag, so I sat and chatted for half an hour or so being questioned on personal information that no European would ever dream of asking about!

We had thought, mistakenly, that San Pedro Sula might have something of interest in its centre and so for something different to do, we got Luis to drop us off at the museum. Mike was still very reliant on his wheelchair at the time but with some help from a kind passerby, we lifted him up the 3 steps into the entrance. We had been assured that everything was on the ground floor. Once inside and about to pay for our tickets it became obvious that the exhibits were on the first floor with a magnificent stone staircase being the only access. My shoulders are not that broad and a fireman’s lift was out of the question so unfortunately we had to abandon the whole idea. Getting him back down the three steps was bad enough, none of the women were strong enough to help me lift the chair with Mike in it, so he resorted to sliding out and shuffling down on his bottom and then being heaved back in again at the foot of the steps.


The lifting crew

He then endured the uneven pavements and difficult to mount kerbs, not without a little complaining I might add, back into the centre and we manoeuvred our way around the square and into the side streets to await Luis’ return. Sightseeing in San Pedro Sula was off the menu!


Shaken but not stirred

Shopping in the modern, well stocked and laid out malls was a different matter though and was our treat of the week. We had no trouble filling the trolley with Mike whizzing up and down the aisles in his wheelchair, returning with goodies. Despite its obscure position and very narrow access, he soon located the beer and wine department, of course, like a well trained sniffer dog and returned with a big grin on his face and the week’s supply on his lap!

The standard of care provided by the hospital was outstanding and would be hard to beat anywhere in the world. The scars on his legs have healed to pencil lines, no infections (and remember this is the tropics) and it would be difficult to tell he had ever had the operations. He has healed well and quickly due in part to the skill of the surgeon but also the post operative care given by Estella. When Mike was due to leave for the apartment and needed a wheel chair they went out and bought a new one and loaned it free of charge. When he needed to progress to a walking frame, Estella arrived with one, everything he needed they provided and offered in such a caring way, he could not have been in better hands.

Apart from a missing filling and a trip to the dentist, I thought I would take the opportunity to visit an acupuncturist to try and alleviate a problem in my wrist and lower arm (not greatly painful but causing some discomfort during the yoga exercises I had been doing to pass away the hours and keep the joints working). The doctor diagnosed tendonitis but I hadn’t banked on having deep massage as well as acupuncture and certainly not from a shot-putting, sadistic torturer who had thumbs of solid steel. “It’s OK, it’s suppose to hurt, I’m just moving the pain along and it will be better next time”. Huh … I didn’t feel the acupuncture and was happy to endure the relief of just the needles! I was told that I needed at least three sessions and despite the bruises and the fact that most of my upper body now hurt, I thought I’d better return as directed. The second session was a repeat of the first and my slight discomfort had been replaced by a large discomfort down the whole of my arm. To cut a long story short, I did return for the third session, but just for a session of acupuncture with electric needles – a walk in the park after the massage. I can’t say that I feel any better but the expensive cream, pills and wrist brace will hopefully do the trick in time!!

It’s good to be home and back in French Harbour although the place has changed in our absence, our friends have all left, the marina is even more of a shambles than before, although we are assured that the palapa is about to be rebuilt, there will shortly be wifi and the bar will be re-opened. We’ll believe it when we see it, if it happens before we leave.

Joce, our new Canadian crew member, arrives on 7th March and we hope to be able to leave here a week later, first a gentle initiation for Joce and for Mike’s newly mended ankles with a sail to the nearby Cayos Cochinos, tiny islands which are supposed to be well worth a visit and then on to Trujillo and finally Guanaja to check out and head south to Panama and the San Blas. Fingers crossed …. We understand that internet will be a problem once we are in the San Blas but watch this space and we will be on line again with the next episode, probably in May.

When Gill and I were staying at Nanuana Marina on the Rio Dulce we met a great Australian couple, Nick and Andrea who were cruising with their two teenage daughters Ella and Millie. They left the Rio a few weeks after we did and arrived in Roatan a couple of days after I left for hospital. Since Gill’s departure they have been checking on our boat and communicating regularly on what’s happening at Fantasy Island, French Harbour. On one of their emails they sent a dramatic account of a rescue on the reef outside French Harbour which I thought might be interesting to people following our blog. Rob, mentioned in the text is crewing with them for this part of the voyage.

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Nick and Andrea

“Last night there was meant to be a “pot luck” (bring your own meat to barbeque and a salad or side to share) on the beach but the easterly built steadily during the afternoon, blowing at about 35knots at dusk. We have protection from the open sea due to the barrier reef but no protection from the wind. The harbour became choppy and blinding rain blocked out other boats near us. Everyone (myself included) was batching their anchors, being on a lee shore. There is very little sunset/sunrise here so therefore no real dusk. Just on nightfall the topic of conversation on the VHF radio was the fact that a few boats had clocked 51knots – it was howling.

Then, a few minutes later a call came over the radio, “attention any boats in the anchorage, I have lost steering and am on the reef. My keel is pounding on the rocks. I am a 43 foot monohull, can anyone call a tug or assist in any way?” An American Lady who is sort of a permanent resident here took control and organised a sort of work/dive boat to assist. A smaller dive boat with an 85hp outboard also headed down. We were all listening to the radio as the two boats tried to drag the monohull off the reef. The breeze dropped to about 20knots so Rob and I took the opportunity to scoot to shore to pick up Robs bag which contained the meat for the barbeque which was not going to happen now. Still in our tender having arrived back at Muneera we heard a not so good conversation over the radio. A female voice was shrieking for a knife to cut a rope and then “we are tipping, we are tipping, we are over, the boat is over, the boat is up side down”. We grabbed a couple of buckets, told the kids (all four of them) to monitor the radio, Andrea jumped into our tender as well and the three of us zoomed off into the black.

It took us a little while to find the yacht which was still on the reef but just on the edge, mostly floating. I was surprised to see only one boat assisting, a sort of work boat with an inboard engine, about 20 feet long, with only one guy on board. There was a man and a woman on the yacht and the work boat was trying to get close enough to grab a tow line from the yacht but was having trouble. We gunned it to the yacht and asked what we could do. The couple were clearly flustered so Rob jumped onboard, headed to the bow and sorted the line out, passing the end to Andrea. We motored backwards in our tender (better steering under load) and managed to pull the bow of the yacht around and therefore creating enough length in the line to pass it to the work boat. I motored back to the yacht and asked the guy what else we could do. He asked me to check on the other boats that were helping him and pointed into the black. Rob stayed on the yacht to help with the tow as the yacht had no steering, Andrea and I headed toward a light against a black shore line.

Approaching at speed and I thought I noticed someone in the water beside the boat ahead of me and quickly slowed down. There was another work boat similar to the one we had just left and beside it was a narrow dive boat, about 18 feet long with three or four rows of seats, on its side, completely submerged, with three people on the work boat trying to right it with lines and two people in the water on the other side of the submerged dive boat. I drove around to the other side and jumped onto the work boat while Andrea did the same, tying our tender to the rear of the work boat. With Andrea’s and my help we managed to right the dive boat and hold it upright, beside the work boat, albeit submerged, while the work boat drove slowly to the Roatan Yacht Club which is situated on a sort of canal and is quite protected, a trip that took about 30 minutes. Once there the work boat guys used a barge with a crane to lift the dive boat by its transom while the bow was tethered to the dock. Once the dive boat was lifted above its gunwales it able to be bailed and float on it own. This is the only time during the operation that I became cold. Another squall his us while we were bailing the boat and because I was only stabilising the boat and not physically doing much, the wind and heavy rain made me quite cold. Sensible Andrea was wearing a wet weather jacket, I was not. The dive boat looked in ok condition, the outboard being a 85hp Yamaha two stroke which should flush easily enough.

Talking to the lady from the dive boat while it was being bailed I found out the following; The work boat was pulling the yacht forward off the reef while the dive boat was pulling the yacht over to the side with one of the yacht halyards, coming from the top of its mast. The dive boat pulled the yacht forward at speed which pulled the it backwards as it was attached to the yachts halyard by its transom. This drove the transom of the dive boat under the water and it flipped. Nobody on the dive boat had a knife which had the halyard been cut, the incident would have been avoided.

Andrea and I motored our tender back to the harbour with one of the guys that was on the dive boat. The yacht was being moored in front of the resort as we arrived. We picked up Rob and had a brief chat to the couple on the yacht. They had been entering the harbour having motored from Utila that morning. They said they had done this many times before and had their previous tracks on their plotter. There is a natural channel that dog legs through the reef, not something that you would attempt on a nice day without way points or a track. They said they were half way across the reef heading to the first dog leg when a large fishing trawler came barging through the natural channel and literally stopped in front of them, causing them to stop and loose way. Upon loosing way they were picked up by a wave and thrown onto the reef, smashing their rudder or breaking their steering mechanism. Don’t forget it was between 40 and 50 knots at the time. They have no idea why the trawler stopped in front of them. We headed back to Muneera for hot showers and a late dinner. The kids were all fine having fed themselves. ”

That was a very courageous thing for Nick and Andrea to have done, braving 55 knot winds and seas to go to the aid of a stricken yacht on a reef but typical of them. It’s a great example of cruisers helping other cruisers, we all share the same risks and you know one day it might be you. You find this spirit of selflessness and mutual support with many cruisers but this was a sterling effort.

Well done you two but I would have thought the girls could have had dinner waiting for you!

The Pirates of Providencia

After two months of frustrating delay caused by my broken ankles we finally left Roatan in the Bay Islands with Jocelyn our new French Canadian crew member on board and headed south about 30 miles to the islands of Cayos Cochinos for our first sail for a while. It was a glorious day with 15 knots of wind on the beam and we covered the distance quickly at 6.5 to 7 knots, a great introduction for Joce, or so we thought. We arrived at the islands and sought out an anchorage in the lee of Cochinos Grande, but couldn’t get our anchor to hold in the turtle grass bottom, so we tried around another point only to be met by a local in his canoe who told us that would be fined if we anchored there. It turned out that the military controlled the islands and only permitted mooring on their designated buoys at a cost of $30.00. We returned to the earlier bay but found it too shallow for us to reach some buoys inshore. At that point the military turned up and told us to anchor in the bay at a spot indicated by them, apparently the buoys had been destroyed in a storm.

We anchored as instructed and only found out later when we snorkelled out to check that the anchor had set that we were over a coral bed – not good. The soldiers wanted $30 per day of stay so we decided to leave the following morning and head for the island of Guanaja, about 45 miles to the North East. We intended to check out of Honduras here before going on to Providencia, a Colombian island some 400 miles away. The wind was right on our nose so unfortunately we had to motor the whole way, Joce was very subdued and kept himself apart.

Arriving at Guanaja we crept over the reef with only a couple of inches to spare and anchored in Sandy Bay. That night we went ashore to Manati, a restaurant which had been recommended to us, run by Annette and Claus, a German couple. Monday was their “kitchen closed night” but Annette took pity on us and we had a typical German dinner finished off with chocolate made by her son.


One of Guanaja’s stilted houses


Typical canal between the houses

The island has no roads so everyone travels around by boat and the only town is built on stilts on an off lying reef with canals between the houses like a Little Venice. In the morning we all went there by launch to check out and to add Joce to our crew list, however, this was the moment he chose to tell us he wasn’t coming with us but wanted to return home. We had hints before hand that he wasn’t a happy cruiser but we were disappointed in the way he broke the news in the immigration office and that we wouldn’t have his support to get us to Panama, especially with my freshly mended ankles.

Finding crew who fit into the boat’s routine, who are competent and trustworthy sailors and have personalities compatible with the existing crew is a notoriously tricky business. With Jocelyn we exchanged many emails, went through his and our expectations, talked on Skype and I thought from this that he would fit the bill. How wrong I was, he hadn’t been on the boat a day when he insisted on checking all our stores for “use by” dates, he wanted Gill to throw out the flour because it had weevils in it (standard on cruising boats in the tropics and we just sift them out), was fussy about what he would eat despite telling us he would eat anything, had no concept of sailing at sea, was nervous about doing night watches and proved to be a loner with poor social skills. It was as well he left the boat at that time but he did teach us a lesson in crew selection and interviewing, his expectations of cruising were completely unrealistic and I hadn’t realised, despite our extensive communications prior to his arrival. Many people think it’s a life of gin and tonics at sundown, swimming and snorkelling and visiting desert islands but in practice it’s mostly hard work with some time off for play.

Gill and I left the following morning in flat calm for the part of the trip we were least looking forward to, 180 miles straight into the trade winds. The forecast however was for light winds and that’s how it proved to be. We still had to motor for a day and a half but it wasn’t uncomfortable and our fears weren’t realised. Our friends Gordon and Gillian on “N-aimless” went a day ahead of us and said they would wait for us at a group of cays on the reef some sixty miles off the eastern most point of Honduras, “the corner”. After this we hoped to be able to sail with the easterly trade winds on our beam.

We radioed ahead and they gave us directions through the reef to where they were anchored, in the middle of the sea, just behind a small coral mound you could hardly call an island. We were well protected by the reef around us from waves but not wind. That afternoon we went ashore in Gordon and Gillian’s dinghy to find the island covered in hundreds of stacked lobster pots and the main inhabitants, nesting brown Boobies. Mum watched the chick while Dad went fishing and made the run back through marauding Frigate birds who can’t catch their own fish so steal it from other birds. They will also attack unprotected chicks and we even saw them trying to steal fish during the beak to beak transfer from parent to chick. It was back to our boat for sundowners and to watch a beautiful sunset in this bizarre anchorage in the middle of nowhere.


Lots of boobies nesting


Mother and chick on the Hobby Cays


Where’s my lunch, I hope its not fish again!

After another days resting we set off for the Colombian island of Providencia, 100 miles off the coast of Nigaragua and a 190 mile journey with 2 overnight sails, something we hadn’t tried before with only Gill and I, preferring to limit our sailing to one night only at sea, when we are able. The seas were kind to us although the wind taunted us until we cleared the large reef area off the east coast of Honduras, by playing just off the nose, not enough to sail, so we had to motor/sail for another 70 miles until we were clear of the reef and could turn 90 degrees south. Gordon and Gillian wanted to motor/ sail all the way to Providencia so they left at noon, 5 hours behind us. Around 2pm the following day we could see them catching us up and it was good to have someone as company.

We then had a good sail in variable winds but just right to make landfall at 9.00am on Providencia. We reefed sail when the wind increased to keep the speed right for this arrival. Suddenly, just after we had reefed around 11pm the radio burst into life, it was Gordon, they had moved ahead of us under power and he warned us that they had been hit by 30 knot winds from nowhere and that the squall was headed our way. Fortunately, we already had our sails reefed but even then our speed kicked up from 3 knots to 7 knots in a matter of seconds however we were well balanced to ride it out.

We arrived off Providencia at around 9am as planned and as we came in to the anchorage radioed to Gordon to let him know we were coming in, the local checking in agent (Mr Bush) picked up our transmission and we were instructed to come to his offices straight away to clear in to this Colombian Island. So we dropped the anchor in the lovely bay there and jumped into Gordon’s dinghy and were whisked off to check in with immigration and the port captain. Mr Bush ran the general hardware store in which he also had a desk and a few chairs for those checking in, so we sat among the shop hardware for the lengthy check in process. The other officials came to his store to check our passports and issue our cruising certificate. These check ins are always slightly weird when you have been up all night, slightly spaced out and you launch into formal immigration procedures with officials in a strange country and every country has its own process and forms and charges. Here we had to pay $150, whereas Honduras cost us nothing to check in and out and you always wonder how much is official and how much is for the back pocket when charges are high. Some countries insist you use agents (always more expensive) and some you don’t, Mr Bush was an agent so we guessed he took his cut from our fees. We will probably be the last generation who can do this sort of trip. It gets more and more expensive year on year and the game is on to see how much money the various countries can extract from cruising boats which is a shame because cruisers bring financial benefit especially to island communities and it will eventually prove a killing of the golden goose through greed by a few.


The lovely bay in Providencia

I called this chapter Pirates of Providencia because the island sits just off the Spanish Main and has a perfect horseshoe anchorage, safe for marauding pirates. It was home to Cap’n Morgan and his moll and many other Buccaneers and the family names in the local cemetery here show names on the graves like Hawkins (Jim lad!) Robinson, Hooker (lots of them), Archibold, Bryan and Black. The Island was also a main slave trading centre, they grew tobacco and traded this for slaves. The island is protected by a tricky reef and there are high points around the anchorage to mount canon, it was perfect for their purpose!


Harbour at Providencia

The island is very pretty with proper hills, trees and beaches and we hired a beach buggy for a day with Gordon and Gillian to tour the island. It takes 3 hours to drive all the way round but we spent a day exploring all the nooks and stopped off at South West Bay, a spectacularly beautiful bay and beach for a swim and a lovely lunch of lobster and fish at a restaurant where our table was set out under the palms, digging our toes into the soft sand we dined well.


The beach in Southwest Bay


Gordon and Gillian tucking into lunch

We continued travelling round the island to the east side which was protected by a long reef with an extraordinary array of colours in the water from the palest turquoise to the deepest blue. Gillian (as opposed to Gill) had a liking for visiting cemeteries and we visited yet another one behind a quaint old church, equally interesting, with plaques commemorating more British settlers from the 18th century. Before our return to the “city” with a little time still to spare on our rental, we decided to utilise our rented mini-moke to collect fuel in 5 gall jerry cans from the local petrol station. This was a lot of easier than previous trips where we had had to lug the cans 100 yards from the petrol station to the dinghy and ferry them over to the boat anchored half a mile away. It was too shallow to get the Romano any nearer


one of the old cemetries


Upon recommendation from Gillian, Gill and I then visited a shoreside restaurant to sample their famed homemade corn ice cream, an unusual flavour but very rich and creamy.


Colombian navy patrolling at sunset

The following day after checking the weather and getting a favourable forecast we cleared out with Mr Bush and left at the crack of dawn the following morning for a two and half day sail to Porvenir in the San Blas islands of Panama a journey of around 250 miles.

The weather forecast proved accurate and we had fair winds to carry us down to Panama which was a relief considering we were shorthanded and I was still very wobbly on my ankles.

As we left Providencia we were escorted from the island by a large school (fifty or more) dolphins who stayed with us for the best part of an hour, jumping and performing alongside the boat, each competing for attention. It was interesting to see their communication with each other and instructions being given by one of the larger members of the school with a slap of the tail. Each time this happened some of the smaller dolphins turned for home until we were left with ten and then finally one (who waved his flipper and wished us bon voyage!!!)


Our lovely send off with the dolphins

Mid-way we picked up an unusual radar target moving very slowly (3 knots), which as it came into view, it turned out to be a large ocean-going tug towing an old and partly dismantled aircraft carrier and heading for Houston, as indicated by the AIS, we guessed for scrapping.


Aircraft carrier under tow off Nicaragua

During the night we crossed the main shipping lanes into Panama and the Canal, which was a busy time watching the tracks of numerous ships crossing in front and behind us. This kept us awake playing dodgems until we had cleared the area.

Because of the many reefs around Porvenir, which alone sported two wrecks of recently grounded yachts, we had timed it to arrive in daylight hours and this worked to plan arriving off Porvenir at around 10.00 am.

We dinghied ashore to check in on this tiny sandy island where we discovered a 400 yard concrete airstrip which runs its entire length, together with a couple of shacks and a scruffy little hotel. There are regular flights coming in each day with charter crews. One of the shacks housed the Immigration, Customs and Port Captain’s offices where “piracy” was the name of the game. The fees demanded by the various offices amounted to almost $US400 which didn’t include an additional tax payable to the Kuna National Congresso of $US60 for one month’s cruising in the islands. This was the most expensive place we have yet visited and we were soon to discover that further charges were yet to be levied by the Kuna chiefs on each of their islands we visited.

After 800 miles of sailing from Guatemala we had finally arrived at our next cruising ground with the intention of staying here for a couple of months to explore the 300 or so desert islands that make up the San Blas archipelago.

Pottering in Panama

There are 300 or so islands off the coast of Panama which are known as the San Blas islands by us gringos and “Kuna Yala” by the indigenous Kuna indians whose way of life has changed little in the last 2000 years. They still live in little thatched huts with earthen floors and bamboo walls, go fishing in traditional dug out canoes, collect their water from the rivers, pick coconuts and wild mangoes from the jungle, and trade with passing Colombian boats.


Kuna canoeing home

The Darien peninsula and the off-lying islands were once part of Colombia but now come under Panamanian control, however the Kuna are given special privileges (government subsidies) to enable them to preserve their traditional way of life, although many have satellite TV’s, solar panels and mobile phones in their thatched huts, and big new Yamaha outboards on their boats, a curious mix!


Kuna women make and sell Molas

The mainland Darien Peninsula is mostly impenetrable jungle which is why the Kuna live on the coastal desert islands as fisher folk. Each inhabited island has its own set of Chiefs, or Sailas as they call them, who hold open meetings most days in the council hut to hear petitions and dispense wisdom and justice, the way it has been for the last thousand years. They are a happy go lucky people who are tolerant of the yachties who are the only outsiders they really see and who provide them with their major source of income, buying their crafts, fruit and vegetables and fish, lobster and crab.


Canoes selling local produce come by

Unfortunately this subsidy dependant people have become greedy over recent years and see us cruisers as fair game nowadays, trying to charge us for anchoring and visiting islands and anything else they can dream up, so there’s a cat and mouse game between the yachties trying to avoid paying and the Kuna trying to collect our dollars. I refused to pay on one occasion which didn’t go down well with the Kuna boatmen and we were ordered out of the anchorage, but we ignored them and stayed till morning when the sun had risen to show the surrounding reefs and our way out. We try to explain to them if they make it too expensive and unwelcoming, boats will stop coming and they’ll lose the revenue from selling goods and services. Some recognise this but most see us as a way of making easy money and don’t want to change. The cruise ships have already stopped visiting the islands because they overcharged, from our point of view that’s good news but for them its a financial disaster they killed the golden goose. It’s the fishermen and their wives who sew the beautiful Molas who will lose out if the yachts stop coming, Some work hard for a living and charge a fair price for their labour.


our guide taking us around his island

The Molas which are made from several layers of different coloured material are beautifully embroidered, pulling colours from the lower layers to build a traditional picture of fish, birds, or jungle flowers, or other things which form a part of their lives. The best of these sell for $50 but can take two to three months of painstaking work to make and are a real work of art. Some of the best of these Molas are made by transvestites who dress and live as women in the village communities quite accepted by their society. The most famous of these is Lisa and the photo below shows her sewing her name onto a Mola bought by Gill. These Mola makers and fishermen will paddle their dugouts from island to island looking for customers to buy their goods, often spending 6 hours a day travelling just on the off chance of finding a yacht crew who will buy from them.


Lisa sewing her name into her Molas for Gill

The islands which are mostly uninhabited are everyone’s dream of desert islands with white sandy beaches, crystal clear water, gorgeous surrounding reefs and coconut palm trees swaying over the warm water. So we pick our way through the reefs, drop anchor in sandy bays, swim ashore in clear waters and go exploring. Sometimes it’s like that but there’s always a downside in paradise – some of the beaches are fringed by razor sharp coral making it difficult to land; some of the islands are owned by biting sand flies and mosquitoes and; the windward side of most islands is littered with rubbish washed up on the shore. When you find a good one it’s great and we have found a few! You do need bright sunshine however to show up the reefs as you move around so we tend to sail from island to island between 10.00 am and 2.00 pm when the sun is high. Twelve boats have been wrecked on the surrounding reefs between January and April of this year and many of them are still lying as a reminder to us all that these are difficult waters to navigate.


A quiet anchorage


Otherwise this is very relaxed cruising, in the mornings after breakfast of fresh fruit, cornflakes and home baked bread we either clean the boat (at least Gill does) or do maintenance jobs from the never ending list or make bread or cakes and in the afternoons we swim, explore the island where we’ve anchored, talk to the Kuna who come by to sell fish, vegetables and fruit from their dugout canoes in our pigeon Spanish, we read ( I’ve been reading War and Peace for the last 6 weeks and nearly half way through!), snorkel on the reefs or go ashore to burn our rubbish (there isn’t any other way to dispose of it, if you give it to the Kuna they tip it in the water on the way home) which is an excuse for a bonfire and we flatten all our cans in our can squasher and give them to the Kuna who can claim back money for recycling them. I gave up fishing as a pastime and source of food as I don’t think there are any fish left and its a complete waste of time. The Kuna hunt them with spearguns and now you hardly see any eating fish on the reefs anymore. It’s easier to buy the fish off the Kuna for a couple of dollars. We also have to shop on the inhabited islands for fresh fruit and veg and when our fridge packed in we could only keep it edible for a couple of days. There is also the social life and mixing with other cruisers and by listening to the radio net each morning you can find out what’s going on and it’s a useful source of information and advice. So all this keeps us pretty busy and out of mischief.


The runway at Nargana


The terminal building, very terminal!

Of course life is never that straightforward, there are our resources to manage on the boat to enable us to survive away from civilisation, fuel, electrical power, water all of which are difficult to come by normally but especially here. Fuel has to be transported by Jerry cans in the dinghy and siphoned into our tanks, a lengthy and laborious job. Our main source of electricity is our solar panels which I had fitted in Guatemala; they’re brilliant but they do need the sun to shine. If it doesn’t then we have a wind generator but this is the calm season so most days there is little wind and if that’s the case we have to run the engine but at 5 litres an hour this is an expensive way to generate power and puts hours on the engine, reducing the service life. We have to check the battery state several times a day as it is a crucial resource for us with so many electronics on the boat and fridge and freezer to keep going and iPads and Kindles and phones to charge.

Water comes to us from the sky and when we do get a tropical downpour it doesn’t take long to fill the tanks and we can have a “free” shower at the same time. The problem however is that this is now 6 weeks into the rainy season and it hasn’t rained much so we had to make for a village at the mouth of one of the rivers and fill up with river water. Fortunately we have dosing chemicals and a good filtration system on board. The tanks hold 700 litres of water and we have a water maker which is electrically driven but we use a lot of fresh water despite having a sea water tap for washing dishes and cooking. We need to shower everyday partly because of the heat but also to wash off the salt when we have been swimming, so a shower each evening is a regular event to prevent sores and keep clean.


Taking on water in Aquadup

Washing clothes probably uses the next most water, we only wear shorts and a bikini on the boat and tee shirts ashore which isn’t much but bedding once a week uses a lot. On one occasion we took our washing up the Rio Diablo in the dinghy and washed it in the river much to the amusement of the Kuna Indians who were doing the same (this wasn’t the same river where we got our drinking water). So all you folk back home with your automatic front loaders, think yourselves lucky, it took us four hours to paddle up and down the river, do our washing in the heart of the jungle waist deep in water keeping a weather eye out for crocodiles but you’ll be glad to know we never saw any.


Gill working hard as we paddle up river


A very different laundrette


The rinse cycle

The other issue we always have to be careful with is weather so we pick up daily area forecasts each day on our long range SSB radio from the US or the local net which also gives us the opportunity to stay in touch with friends who are also cruising the San Blas and exchange weather reports. This season is characterised by light variable winds with squalls and thunder storms. In the squalls wind speeds can reach 50 miles an hour or more and come from any direction. If you’re in an anchorage surrounded by reef as most of them are and the wind reverses it can easily pull out the anchor and off you go! This means we sleep lightly and get up to check regularly. If the wind is light then the bugs can fly in sorties out to your boat in search of fresh meat and although we are well protected with mosquito nets they still manage to squeeze in sometimes through the smallest of holes if we are not careful. The other problem with light wind is the heat, especially at night. We have wind scoops to pick up the slightest breeze but if there really is no wind we stew or put on the fans and consume more of our precious electricity.


Storm approaching

If stuff breaks down out here and you can’t fix it yourself it stays broken, there are no mechanics or electricians and no spares for 500 miles. Two weeks ago our new fridge unit packed in with a gas leak so we only have a freezer (fingers crossed) but nowhere to keep fruit and veg or milk etc. Gill freezes the milk in small containers otherwise it goes off in a day and we have discovered the novelty of snow milk on our cornflakes. We can only keep fruit and veg for a few days but fortunately the Kuna boats come around with mangoes, banana and avocado which seems to be the only available produce. They are fishermen rather than farmers and a number of attempts to get them to grow produce on a commercial scale have all failed? The Colombian boats bring in fresh produce but you have to know which day or you make a long journey to a village only to find the boats arrive tomorrow and they have nothing. The only meat you can buy is chicken but fortunately we stocked our freezer with meat in Guatemala and still have plenty left. it’s not all bad news though, the one thing in plentiful supply is beer! You can’t buy milk but you can buy beer but without a fridge it’s warm, warm lager beer!

The other two things that broke were the toilet pump in the aft heads and one of the rings on the gas hob, fortunately we have two more rings and another toilet up forward but it’s getting tight now because the second one has started to leak and we don’t relish the old bucket and chuck it toilet routine. We are also getting low on gas and our nearest supply is 70 miles away or a day’s sailing.


Just another desert island

Despite all of these problems in paradise we are enjoying ourselves and meeting up with old friends and relaxing in the sun. It’s still an interesting cruising ground and with 300 islands in the archipelago we are never short of somewhere to go and it’s not very far to the next island, yet another with white sandy beaches, coconut palms, warm seas and reefs.

Gill showing the way

You would think with so many islands you would never see anyone but we were anchored in Snug Harbour, a lovely well protected anchorage between three islands when a shout rang out one afternoon while we were reading in the cockpit. It was some Australian friends Nick and Andrea and daughter Millie on Muneera who had just sailed up from Carthagena in Columbia and randomly stopped for a rest at our anchorage, after their 200 mile journey. We sank a few beers while we exchanged news and experiences. They were en route to pick up their other daughter Ella who had been staying in France with other cruising friends and was due to arrive back in Panama before they transited the canal en-route to Australia to complete the girls’ education. It was great to see them again and a fluky coincidence they happened to stop where they did.


The Disney Family leaving on their way to Australia

It happened again while we were anchored in the Coco Bandero islands and some friends we last met in a cafe on Tortola in the British Virgin Islands sailed into the anchorage and dropped the hook next to us. Another occasion for catching up and we spent the next couple of weeks cruising off and on, in company with Hella and David.


David and Hella from Barra, Scotland

As we were coming to the end of our stay here in San Blas we decided to position the boat ready to head off west to Colon and the canal. We had decided to leave the boat in Shelter Bay Marina at the entrance to the canal while we went off to the US and Canada in June. The marina did a 6 month low season deal which suited us especially since they had credible repair facilities or so we have been told. A convenient place for us to head off from was the West Lemmon Cays, a group of islands with a nice central anchorage which unfortunately was difficult to get into, through narrow passages in the reefs and a winding channel. We had tried to get in on an earlier occasion but the seas had been quite rough, the light was poor for spotting reefs and the entrance very tight and convoluted, so we went elsewhere. This time the sun was high, the seas had calmed and we made for the waypoint (latitude and longitude) marking the entrance. I turned and went to go in but wasn’t happy with one of the waypoints so I pulled back and re-programmed the plotter and we went back to the entrance point and headed in through the tight channel. This took the entire concentration of us both until we reached the anchorage pool where we breathed a sigh of relief and dropped anchor and had lunch. I should have mentioned that this was on my birthday and one of the surrounding islands had a restaurant which we thought we would dinghy ashore to and check out. I went to the stern to get ready but the dinghy was no longer tied to the aft rail, we had both seen the dinghy when we stopped to reprogram the plotter just outside the entrance so we thought it couldn’t have gone far in the intervening three hours and weighed anchor to go off in search. We scanned the surrounding islands with binoculars and followed the wind direction for two hours without luck. Light was failing so we headed back to the anchorage in the Lemmon Cays to wait for morning and report our loss. We had no way of getting ashore now other than swimming so dinner ashore was out of the question. It put a real damper on my birthday, replacing it and the outboard would cost around $4,000 not to mention the inconvenience in the meantime. The following morning I put out a call on our radio reporting on the Panama Net to alert other cruisers. I also swam to the nearby island with the restaurant and talked to the ferry boat guys asking them to spread the word and offering a reward and telephoned some of the Kuna people we knew on downwind islands and we reported it to the Port Captain in Porvenir.


The Lemmons where we lost our dinghy

Our friends Hella and David immediately came to our rescue sailing up from a nearby anchorage. David took me around the surrounding islands in their dinghy but we saw nothing. I plotted the wind direction and mapped an area out where it might have gone, drifting towards the mainland and Gill and I decided to search this area, David and Hella kindly loaned us their kayak so we could go ashore when required and the following morning we headed south towards the mainland. On the first island we drew a blank but asked them to keep a look out and I distributed cards with our local telephone number on.


Coming back with good news

As we were approaching the second island, Carti we sailed in alongside some other cruisers on “Blue Sky” who suggested by radio that we follow them and advised we spoke to a man called Elojio who had his finger in lots of pies. As we dropped anchor they told us they already had his father John on board and he had told them they had our dinghy. We had already met John on a previous visit to Carti and I had already telephoned his other son Germain to explain our predicament and he had offered to keep a lookout. Fantastic, the father then came over to our boat in his dugout and we welcomed him on board, sat him down and gave him a beer. His conversation went all round the houses but no mention of a dinghy, so we asked him directly if he had it, in our limited Spanish, he looked puzzled and said no, it was clear by now that he was very drunk, he suggested we phone his other son Elejio which I then did.

Elejio was on a nearby island ferrying tourists and explained he would be back at 5.00pm, so we waited. I went ashore on time and he was waiting by the jetty off their house. He told me he didn’t have the dinghy but that he knew where it was. He had visited this island the day before and had seen our dinghy in a fisherman’s hut. He had offered to take it off them to return it to us but the fishermen wouldn’t let him. The dinghy was on an Island 400 yards from where we had been anchored in the Lemmon Cays, at the side of the entrance channel. He showed me a photo he had taken of it on his mobile phone which confirmed it was mine. The fishermen had seen the dinghy come adrift from Romano and paddled out to get it, stowing it out of sight and hoping to sell it.

They told him they believed they could get a reward of $2000 for returning it to its rightful owner, he laughed and told them they were dreaming so they asked how about $500 as this was the usual fee for returning a lost dinghy (a fortune to a Kuna fisherman). Elejio asked me what I was prepared to pay, I explained the dinghy was 20 years old and the outboard 10 years old and asked him what he thought a fair finder’s fee would be. He suggested I start at $50 and negotiate. I gave him $20 for his help and set off back to the boat to tell Gill the good news.

We set off the following morning dropped anchor and Gill and I kayaked across to the island, to be met by one of the fishermen on the shore. I asked if he had my dinghy, which I described and he took us to see the head man there. Chairs were brought out from the thatched huts and we started a circuitous conversation. Eventually getting fed up with this I asked if he had my dinghy he asked for a description to ensure I was the rightful owner, the cheek of him, but I wanted my dinghy back and had to bite my tongue. When I had satisfied him and told him the age of the kit, he asked for $100 reward for “saving it”, a far cry from his original ideas and a better place to start negotiations. I asked to see it before agreeing to anything and he took us into his hut and there at the back were the outboard, oars and anchor but no dinghy. His dragon of a wife asked repeatedly for the money but I asked to see the dinghy as well. It was locked in another thatched hut but sitting on a trestle in apparently unharmed condition. Much to his wife’s disgust we eventually settled on $70 which was a lot really to get my own dinghy back from these thieves.

When I related the story to other cruisers on the radio net the following day they said I was “really lucky” as most paid $500 to get their dinghies back. Now I tie it on properly with a second line, it may be 20 years old but it’s a Tinker and a first class dinghy in pretty good condition for its age. The outboard Gill would happily have given to the Kuna, it’s very temperamental and needs a lot of coaxing, but I can operate it!


Gill paddling her own canoe

After returning the kayak with our heartfelt thanks to Hella and David we set off back to the Lemmon Cays ready to sail to Colon at the entrance to the canal where we were going to leave the boat for the rest of the rainy season. We had been invited by other British cruisers we had met on and Island called Aridup to visit their house in a village on the way to Colon called Jose Pobre. They were taking their pet iguana to shore on Aridup which means Iguana Island, for some hibiscus flowers, which they like. In fact they decided it would be happier there than on the boat and left it happily munching on its own island. We said we would drop in to see Philip on our way through, Linda his partner would be back in the UK by then. We had a great 45 mile sail to Isla Linton, 6 miles from Jose Pobre, in fair winds and sunshine and dropped anchor in a lovely sheltered bay. Sadly however, our freezer gave up the ghost at this point so we had neither fridge or freezer and in the tropics that’s not good! I managed to fit a spare water pump to the freezer and we managed by switching it on and off manually to use it as a fridge until we reached Shelter Bay Marina in Colon where we could buy produce on a daily basis.

Next day we sailed to Jose Poble bay and anchored off the village in 4 metres of water. The bay was exposed to the North and we spent a rather rolly first night. Philip came out to the boat for dinner in his kayak armed with a bottle of red wine and four mangos from his garden. After dinner Philip set off back ashore in the dark, a brave venture for a man who professes not to swim. The following morning we rowed ashore through the reef to find Philip and go for a walk around the next point for a swim in a nearby sandy bay. We spotted his catamaran berthed at the bottom of his garden and went up to the his extraordinary house built into the jungle covered hillside.

Philips house in Jose Pobre

Philip built this house by carrying thousands of tons of sand and cement and all the wood he needed for its construction, by boat from Portobello 8 miles away by sea and lugging it up the hill to the site, a monumental task by a very resourceful man.


Gill and Philip on the veranda

When Philip bought the plot 12 years ago for a very modest sum there was only a wooden shack there where he lived while he was building the current house. There is a well in the garden and electricity but that’s it.


A hand built staircase from driftwood

The view from the property is spectacular over the bay and we sat on the veranda watching a torrential downpour which scotched our plans for a walk. We met some of Philips neighbours, sank a few beers and had a magnificent dinner which included his famed dauphinoise potatoes.

The next day we tried again to have our walk but Philip had a badly infected leg from insect bites and was unable to make it and the heavens opened again so we couldn’t make it on our own. Philip furnished us with bananas, lemon grass and mangoes from garden and told us where we could find more mangoes in the village. We found the spot and collected pounds of mangoes which Gill planned to serve up for breakfast and turn into mango chutney. Back to the boat, ready for our 6 mile trip to Portobelo the following morning.

We entered Portobelo’s large protected harbour passing Drake’s Island where sir Francis is buried in a lead lined coffin and dropped anchor at the head of the bay, off the village. This was the main port for shipping Spanish gold back to Europe and as a result was heavily defended by forts. We went ashore by dinghy to shop and explore, we visited the Fort and went off to walk up the steep hill behind the village where there was a spectacular view of the bay.

As we started our ascent through some fallen leaves there was a commotion, Gill leapt backwards shouting “run, run” and fell into a ditch. I was in front and at first at first didn’t see what was happening and then I saw a brown snake about 3 ft long about 2 ft from me wriggling away through the leaves with a mouse in its jaws. It had struck at the mouse just as we had started to walk through the leaves which was fortunate for us, otherwise we might have been the target. I have never seen a snake in the open that close before and to see it make its kill was quite special but sobering.

Back on the boat we prepared dinner from our dwindling stocks of food and settled down for the night when a cockroach ambled through the cockpit. Always a signal to grab sprays and flatteners. After this I went off in search of some large ants I had spotted on deck and in the process of spraying them noticed that a catamaran which had been anchored some distance away was now 15 feet from our boat. 10 o’clock at night is not the best time to have to re-anchor but we had no choice and moved further out into the bay under a full moon which helped illuminate the scene.

The following morning we set off on our final leg of this phase to Colon and Shelter Bay Marina at the head of the Panama Canal. As we approached we passed through a number of ships at anchor waiting to transit and called up Canal Control at San Cristobal to get permission to pass through the breakwater. They gave us clearance, although we still had to dodge the ships exiting the canal. They should really have held all traffic for us, yeah right!

We followed the buoys into Shelter Bay and moored up with a perfect docking, even although we had had no Marina practice for several months, what a crew! This was the end of another phase of our travels. In a weeks time after we have put the boat to bed we are heading up to New York for 4 days and then on to Canada, but that’s the next episode.

Many of you must be wondering what has happened to us as we haven’t posted a blog for a while, but Internet is very limited here and works off the very variable mobile phone system. Weeks go by without word from home or from us, twenty years ago no one would have thought anything of it but in this day of instant communications friends and family start to worry if they don’t hear from us on a regular basis. We have spent 2 months without Internet except for two days in Nargana, an island near the mainland and even there the signal was so weak it took hours to download and send emails. So for those of you we haven’t responded to, apologies but we weren’t ignoring you.

The next blog will be New York and Canada in a few weeks time, now we have Internet again.


Fabulous Fiji

Our journey from Tonga to Fiji was complicated by the treacherous reefs through the Lau Islands group which runs down the east side of Fiji. You can’t visit there officially until you have checked into a recognised port of entry to Fiji which are all to the west of the Lau group which would mean beating back into the prevailing wind to get there after checking in. To avoid the hazards of passing through reefs and islands with inaccurate charts meant we had to head due west for 200 miles and then north up through a reef clear passage to Savusavu on the island of Vanua Levu. The detour added a further 100 miles to our journey but meant we would have a much safer and easier passage. The journey proved uneventful apart from a very windy start until we arrived at Savusavu early in the morning and started the engine. I could tell immediately by the sound of the exhaust that there was no cooling water coming through. I’m now so attuned to the sound of everything on board even a slight change is quite noticeable. I turned off the engine and went below to inspect the most likely cause, the impeller in the seawater pump. I stripped it out only to find it in perfect working order, next I checked the seawater filter which was dry, not normally so. I suspected air in the cooling water system or a blocked sea water inlet and so poured a couple of gallons of seawater into the filter to prime it.
We were sailing quite fast towards the port with and tacking to get as close as possible in case my fix didn’t work. I radioed the Waitui marina where we planned to stay to explain that we may need assistance. Joelene the manager responded but explained their launch only had a 5hp outboard, not powerful enough to tow our 18 ton boat but she said she could ask other cruisers to come out with their dinghies in the event we needed help. I said I would start the engine when we were half a mile out and see what happened. This would give us 15 minutes of engine running before it overheated, hopefully enough to get into the mooring area, if I kept the revs low. We reefed the genoa and fired up the engine just outside the anchorage and lo and behold we had cooling water, I radioed Joelene with the good news and we motored in to pick up a mooring buoy with the help of the marina launch. I suspected the problem had been the strong winds at the start of our trip and with the boat well heeled over the waves forced air into the pipework and broken the suction. Anyway it all worked out well but it was not the sort of problem you want at the end of a long journey and after a night on watch.
The anchorage in Savusavu on the island of Vanua Levu
The anchorage in Savusavu is just off the town and in a very pretty area with green hills and sandy beaches, some with hot springs steaming away, we just had to clear in and then we could relax. Joelene organised the authorities and brought out immigration, customs and health officials to the boat in the marina launch. Before leaving Tonga we had had to email details of our arrival to the Fijian authorities and we had been warned they would be strict on any fresh fruit, meat and vegetables we were carrying so we had limited the amount we bought before leaving Tonga to avoid confiscation. As it turned out they were mostly concerned with mosquitos and fruit flies so the health official came on board first and sprayed the boat which we then had to seal and once he was satisfied that we looked healthy enough told the other four officials they could come on board. All these officials have to be paid for and guess who pays? In all it cost us $250 Tongan, about £100 to check in which was a bit of a rigmarole. We had first to go to the bank to draw the funds and then find the right government building to pay the money over. After following instructions and trying four different government buildings we eventually found “Bio security” paid our money over and then went in search of Health Administration, paid again and then ended up at Customs a few days later to get our cruising permit for the various islands.The cruising permit tells you where you can and can’t sail to. In practice the only place we couldn’t go on our permit was a small island which had very rare crested iguanas which is now the only place in the world where they are found, so it has been turned into a nature reserve. However, that left over 300 other islands we could visit.
Sunset in Savusavu anchorage
After spending three relaxing days in Savusavu we decided to explore Vanua Levu a bit further and took the bus to Labasa, the island capital, a three hour journey east. The route wound up through spectacular mountain scenery, sugar plantations and small villages. The local people in Fiji are very friendly and curious about foreigners and the people sitting behind us started to ask us questions about where we were from and why we were here, when they got off others moved into the seats and the questions started again. Throughout that day we were the only white people (pajadi) we saw so we stood out from the local crowd. Labasa is a bustling commercial town with a large market, factories and a main street with numerous shops and restaurants.

The huge market in Labasa
In Fiji it is mainly the Indian population who run the businesses, in Tonga it had been the Chinese. The Indians were brought to Fiji by the British to work on the sugar plantations in the 1800’s, not as slaves but as volunteers who paid for their passage and were guaranteed work. Today around 40% of the population are Indian and because of their work ethic they control most of the countries wealth. This caused racial riots a few years ago as the indigenous Fijians felt their country was being overrun. The government today has made it clear that the Indians are Fijian as well and with some sensible power sharing today everyone lives in harmony. The president is an indigenous Fijian but his Prime Minister is Indian and both communities are looked after equally. Inter marrying is common and the more this happens the more tensions ease as understanding grows. There wasn’t much for us to do in Labasa which is definitely not a tourist town so apart from visiting the local market, having an Chinese stir fry lunch, and visiting a few shops we hopped on the afternoon bus to return to Savusavu.
On the way back the bus made a stop at a mountain stream and the driver got out to fill his water bottle as did some other passengers so I followed suit. The driver explained he did this journey twice a day and twice a day he stopped to get water from this stream.
The filling station

He was the same driver who had taken us out so I asked if he finished work when he got back. He laughed and said he had another route and wouldn’t finish until 11 o’clock. He drove from 6 in the morning till 11 at night and said the money was good, but I did wonder about the safety aspect especially on the night run. As we came over the mountains there were some spectacular views so I swapped sides to take a photo at which point the driver stopped the bus. He indicated I should go ahead and take my photos and the bus duly waited while I took a my shots. When I had finished and back in my seat off we went again and the crowded bus seemed to take this quite naturally. I was amazed I can’t imagine the same thing happening on a scheduled service anywhere else.
Waitui Marina proved to be a slightly shabby building but was very cruiser friendly epitomised by the lovely Jolene who couldn’t do enough for us. Savusavu had been badly hit by hurricane Winston early in the year and the banana plantations destroyed so bananas were at a premium. When we were in Labasa we found plenty of cheap bananas as this side of the island had been relatively unaffected, so we bought a plentiful supply and gave some to Jolene as a thank you when we returned. She was really pleased as the family had been unable to afford bananas since the hurricane in January.
One thing Jolene couldn’t provide us with was a map so we went in search of one in the town. I tried the Tourist office and Fiji Airways but no luck next i went into an estate agency thinking they must have maps and was greeted by Elayne (sic) from Manchester, escaping the rain and cold. She didn’t have a map but she recommended we visit an eco village on the east side of the island which we could reach by bus. She had visited twice and been hosted by a local family, a real experience of native Fiji. We jumped at the idea and Jolene rang them to book us in for two nights. The bus reportedly left the depot at 08.30, we got there early just to be safe which was just as well as it actually left at 08.15 for the three hour journey to Naqaravutu village. Once again the scenery was spectacular, eventually after an hour and a half we ran out of tarmac and the open sided bus lurched along a dirt track throwing up dust through far flung villages whose only means of reaching the outside world was on this bus.


People regularly got on and off as we stopped at farms and villages along the way so the bus remained fairly full, some were field workers and some were visiting relatives, some going home after a visit to Savusavu . Again we had several conversations with these friendly fellow passengers and the three hour journey passed quite quickly.

When we arrived we were met by a smartly dressed lady who took us through the village to meet our host family who were waiting for us in the shade of a huge rain tree. They had set out a blanket on the ground for us to sit on and dishes of fruit to enjoy for lunch.


The rain-tree where we were greetewd by our host family

The host couple, Simeone and Dorica, were in there early thirties and with them were three young and curious children. Dorica gave us each beautiful garlands of frangipani with their heavenly scent and we sat cross legged to eat lunch and talk.
Part of our welcome committee, not all could stand the pace!
After lunch we were taken to the chiefs house where Simeone presented our Kava gift of roots, a tradition when visiting a village. Simeone explained who we were and where we came from and that we had sailed from England to Fiji in our boat, all in Fijian and the chief thanked us for our gift of Kava root and welcomed us and offered us the freedom of the village, again all in Fijian but translated by Simeone. We left the Chiefs house and were taken to the house we would be staying in which was also the office for the Eco project.
The inside of our hut
The corrugated iron house was 20 ft square and had a toilet and shower room, a living room, part of which was set aside for office space and a bedroom where we slept on a mat on the floor. Unfortunately the water supply pipe was blocked so we had no water in the house. Here we met Ravu who acted as our “butler” during our stay. Anything we needed, Ravu fixed it, he was a lovely gentle guy and he arranged for us to use the showers and toilet facilities in a neighbours property and brought in a large bucket of water in case we needed the loo in the night. Nothing was too much trouble. Each mealtime a different family in the village would prepare a meal for us and bring it to the house. Ravu would set the table, introduce the family and our meal would be proudly set out. The families were paid for the food from the monies we paid to Ravu which for them was a way of earning currency in an otherwise barter economy.
Some of the village houses.
On our first night in the village they held a fund raising event for emergency situations, like Tsunamis and we were invited to participate. Almost all of the 100 villagers turned up, one group set about mixing a huge bowl of Kava which held about 2 gallons of the concoction.
Mixing the kava for the fund raising ceremony
Kava is made by pounding the dried root of the kava bush and the amount of water mixed with the powdered Kava determines the strength. For these family occasions it was relatively weak and to be honest I didn’t feel any effect apart maybe from feeling quite relaxed. At full strength it can numb your lips, freeze your legs, and put you to sleep and it’s a mild hallucinogenic.
Gill didn’t partake and to be honest it tasted like muddy water. We noticed all the locals winced as they drank it, but for them it’s free as they grow and sell it and its cheaper than beer. Me, I’ll stick to beer! The event raised a staggering $600 for the village emergency fund, used in particular for any emergency which hits the village.
Chopping and bagging kava for sale in Savusavu market.
The following morning we could hear the village people about us from first light but managed a lay in till 8am. Ravu was champing at the bit as breakfast of fruit and pancakes had been cooked and the pancakes were going cold so we washed in cold water and got stuck in. Simeone had agreed to take us up into the forest to see the waterfall and their ancestors bones located in a cave. We climbed the hill behind the village through mighty trees on a well trodden path, past special places of worship marked out by stones set around “special” trees.
Gill and Simeone in the forest – these huge tree roots form pens for the village pigs
Eventually we arrived at a small cave and there lay a pile of human bones. Simeone had no idea how old they were only that they were the village ancestors. We suggested he get the university in Suva to carbon date them but they may be disappointed with the result, better to leave as is.
Simeone showing us the ancestors bones.
We climbed on up to a large pool and waterfall and passing field workers coming down the hill from where they had been working in the kava plantation. We were interested to know what the different trees and plants were and which were used for medicine,tools or food. Simeone didn’t know but the next day Dorica who did know about the medical benefits pointed out lots of different plants to Gill, explaining their use. Apparently learning about medicine plants is a female thing!
That afternoon we were joined by Petero who was the Project Manager for the ECO village and we talked about ways of promoting the village to get more people visiting. We agreed to circulate their brochures in Savusavu and put out a radio report on the Cruiser’s net. Peters wanted to publish a new brochure which would include their achievements in reef regeneration but they had no underwater camera. I willingly agreed to go with Simeone and use my camera to take some shots. Gill in the meantime went to church, I was excused and a prayer apparently was said for Simeone and me as absentees.
Three years ago this reef was dead and the photo shows the amazing recovery made.
That evening after another delicious dinner several villagers gathered in our little house for a “sevu sevu” session of drinking kava which involves sitting on the floor around the bowl while one of the senior villagers acts as MC and dispenser via the communal cup. I haven’t contracted anything nasty since so all was well. Gill abstained as she really found kava quite revolting but in the interest of maintaining diplomatic relations I joined in but somewhat reluctantly. At least I had the choice of measure size, small tide or high tide so I opted for low tide although I noticed the small tides grew to mid tides and mid tides to high tides as the evening wore on and the conversation ranged far and wide. As the honoured guest in the village I was served first and as I “downed in one” the group clapped three times. It then moved on to the next ranking person and the clapping was repeated as the kava went down. I’ve tasted nicer cough medicine. There would be a pause of 15 minutes for conversation and story telling until the next round was repeated, this to allow the kava to take its gradual effect. I just felt increasingly more relaxed and eventually sleepy, our guests left around 11 pm to carry on elsewhere and there were a few sore heads the next day from the stalwarts.


Gill washing her hair in the village stream, chilly but refreshing.
The bus back to Savusavu left on Sunday at 1pm and a number of villagers had gathered to say farewell. We felt we had been there a lot longer than two and a half days and we had made some good friends in that short time. Lots of hugs and kisses and we boarded the bus for Savusavu and our return to the boat.
When we got back we circulated the brochures and I did a pitch on the radio net to promote interest in the village. Gill later wrote and article and sent it on spec to the publishers of an excellent island magazine for cruisers in Fiji which is published every year. They wrote back to say they would be delighted to do a special article on the village for the 2017 publication, a real result and well done Gill. We hope to go back next year and see how they are getting on, this was the most memorable aspect of our visit to Fiji and we felt quite privileged to have been so warmly welcomed and to have shared some great times with these wonderful people.
Back in Savusavu we met up with Karen and Cheryl, two Canadian sailors who had spent three years sailing around the Islands of Fiji, we wanted to visit the Yasawa Islands on the western side of Fiji and they were able to give us advice on places to visit. They also told us about their experience in January when cyclone Winston hit Savusavu with winds of 165 knots. They thought the storm had passed them by as it headed north up towards Samoa but it turned and came back and Savusavu was right in its path. They prepared their boat as best they could running out two more anchors to support the hurricane mooring they were on. They stripped the boat of sails and anything that would increase windage and as the storm struck started the engine to ease the pressure on the lines. The main risk was other boats in the anchorage several of which had broken free of their moorings and were being driven before the wind. One boat hit them and the combined weight of the two boats was too much for the mooring and they started to drag the mooring towards shore. Fortunately the other boat eventually broke free of them and they were able to hang on. The spray was horizontal and both wore diving masks as protection, others on a nearby boat didn’t use anything and the force of the spray took the skin from their faces. The peak of the storm lasted 30 minutes and they knew then as the wind eased they had come through with only minor damage to their boat. My insurance company won’t provide cover for named storms and as a result we have to be in New Zealand safely out of the cyclone zone by the end of November but lots of boats take the risk and stay on. Its not a risk free option the crossing is 1200 miles of tricky weather to get down to New Zealand. In one of the marinas in Fiji as an alternative they offer pits where the boat is lowered into a hole in the ground filled with old tyres andthe boaat then roped to steel stakes driven deep. None of the boats in these pits suffered any damage from Winston.
A not so lucky boat wrecked by Cyclone Winston in January
Before leaving for our next port of call, Mokagia a now defunct leper colony about 50 miles away to the southwest we stocked up on provisions and several packages of kava roots to give to the village chiefs we would meet along the way. It’s a traditional gift in Fiji if strangers visit a village or anchor off the village. They see their bay as we would regard our garden. On arriving at the island of Mokagai we anchored off the leper colony and a badly damaged jetty which had been badly hit by hurricane Winston. We kayaked ashore and met up with a gang of workers building holding tanks for clams. One of them took us up to a nearby house to meet with his boss. Apparently there wasn’t a chief here as the village was on the other side of the island. This part of the island was going to be a hatchery for clams and turtles, a project funded by the Fijian government. The boss man took our kava gift and promised to take it to the village chief when they returned there in the evening, welcomed us and offered us the freedom of the island. He showed us around the ex colony which had once been a significant undertaking and comprised a school, houses for the families, a hospital, a butchery, a church and the cemetery which contains over 1200 graves and even a jail. The colony housed over 4500 lepers from across the Pacific from its inception by the French in 1911 until its decommissioning in 1969. It’s now heavily overgrown as the jungle creeps back but the Fijian government has plans to conserve it.
After our tour of the colony the boss man showed us the work that was going on to create a hatchery for giant clams. These clams have been taken over the years for food by the islanders and are still highly prized resulting in them becoming a threatened species. The seawater tanks are used to hold the baby clams until they grow to a size where they can be introduced on reefs around the islands. Any village will be able to request clams on the basis that they are used to regenerate clam life. The boss showed us where we could dive and see the protected clams that would provide the eggs for future generations. These specimens are huge, measuring close to a metre across and can live for over 100 years. The stories of divers being caught by these massive shellfish are not true, they take some time to close and even then they don’t close completely although I have to say I didn’t stick my leg in to check it out.
Me diving to inspect the giant clams
After leaving Mokagai we made our way to the Yasawa islands, Fiji’s riviera, a more commercialised and touristy part of Fiji. Every island has its resorts and you can see why people flock here, mainly from Australia and New Zealand, beautiful bays, unspoiled villages, great snorkelling and diving. We anchored off the village of Savi-I-Lau in the northern Yasawas after squeezing through the narrow pass between the islands under full sail, very exhilarating but scary with nasty rocks close on either side. The village is famed for its limestone caves and has a good safe anchorage. We went ashore to meet the chief, forgetting it was Sunday, he was in church when we arrived and one of the village boys went to fetch him out. He briefly welcomed us, took our kava and apologised about having to return to church. We went with him but had to enter by the “tradesmen ‘s door” and sit in a pew on our own under the gaze of the minister. Unfortunately for us the whole service and very long sermon was in Fijian but the singing was lovely.
One of the congregation came to the front of the church and welcomed us in English and asked the congregation to pray for us. The minister then welcomed us again in Fijian and led the prayers. Neither of us is at all religious but it was a bit special being welcomed in this way. After church Gill was surrounded by village children, asking questions and showing off while the chief and I walked ahead. He came to the kayak to see us off and we paddled our way back to the boat.
The next day we visited a nearby bay in the kayak on a scorching morning to see the extraordinary forms of the limestone rocks, eroded by wind and sea. We didn’t visit the caves however as they wanted to charge us $55 each and only the first cave was easily accessible, to reach the rest you had to dive through underwater passages and neither of us were that keen. After a couple of restful days we sailed around to the next island, Nacula, only 5 miles away under blue skies and good wind making 7 knots.
We anchored in the sandy bay off the village of Makalati, here our kava was taken by the chiefs wife who with her all female entourage who were resting from the midday sun under a large thatch covered platform where they slept and were cooled by the sea breezes.
The beautiful sandy bay at Makaliti
One of the ladies asked if we had any reading glasses as she had broken hers and had no easy way of replacing them so we promised to come back the next day with a spare pair Gill had on the boat. It turned out she was the village nurse, Renee and she asked if we would be coming back to Fiji and if so could we bring lots more as she could dispense them to needy villagers. We agreed to try and remember.
The village at Makaliti
The next day was another delightful sail to the Blue Lagoon where the film of the same name starring Brooke Shiels was made. There is an extensive resort which was still undergoing expansion and climbing the hill above the resort we met the very hot and dusty Australian owner driving a mechanical digger. He had invested over $20 million in building up the business and looked like he’d just come off the film set of Crocodile Dundee.
Tourists arriving at Blue Lagoon Resort
Our friends Jessie and Neil off The Red Thread joined us here with some friends from back home in Utah. Jessie had applied for a job at Melbourne University as a clinical psychologist and had been granted a Skype interview so Neil, their friends and Gill and I left her in peace and dinghied over to a nearby reef to snorkel. When we got back Jessie felt it had gone well but they said they would contact her in a few days to let her know the result.
At a Fijian feast for cruisers on an island near Blue Lagoon, in a villagers home
Neil and Jessie had to return their friends to the airport at Nadi and we moved our boat to Somosomo bay on the next island and had another good ten mile sail. I like these short island to island hops especially when the wind is right, the seas quiet and there’s a new place to explore at the end of the day. We anchored in a spot surrounded by reefs at the head of the bay and went snorkelling. The map shows a WWII plane wreck in the shallows on the other side of the island so the next morning we set off through the jungle on a narrow track which was going roughly in the right direction.
Lost in the jungle!
In a coconut grove I stopped to take a drink of water and when I looked round Gill had disappeared without a sound. I searched for a track and any sign she had passed that way but found nothing. I shouted but only silence, it was quite eerie. I set off through the jungle with the sun as my guide and soon came upon a track which eventually led me to a deserted village. The houses were either locked up or empty and no signs of recent habitation. On the other side of this village I came out onto the beach on the other side of the island and there sitting on a log was Gill asking “what kept you!” We had no idea where we were in relation to the map, there were no landmarks and the completely deserted beach stretched for miles in either direction. We had no way of finding the plane so there was nothing for it but to head back. It had taken us two hot hours of foot slog to get here loaded with our snorkelling gear and back packs. We lost the trail a couple of times on the return but eventually we came out at exactly the place we started from and were very pleased to see the kayak where we’d left it.
The weather forecast for the next day was storm force winds from the north which would sweep straight into the bay and be very dangerous for us on a lee shore so we moved the boat another 10 miles around the island to Natuvalu Bay which faced south west which I thought would give us good shelter. We anchored off a resort 100 metres from the beach in 15m of water with almost all 60m of our chain out. As predicted the winds picked up in the morning, but more NW than N and them to our horror the wind swung through west to southwest and increased to gale force whipping up steep waves in the shallow bay. We were now at anchor on a lee shore in a full blown gale and then the anchor started to drag as the boat pitched violently, the reef only 20 metres away. I started the engine and motored up wind to ease the strain on the chain. We couldn’t lift the anchor and motor out of the bay because we couldn’t see where the numerous reefs and bommies were in the spray and driving rain. The wind was so strong it kept pushing the bow round and forcing us back towards the beach, even at full throttle. At this point I thought we were going to lose the boat. We would be swept ashore but over rough coral which to put it mildly would not be very nice! I managed to turn the boat again and again to seaward over the near vertical waves and on one of my forays out the chain wrapped around a coral head known as “bommies”. These heads rise up vertically from the seabed and this one was only a few metres below the surface. The anchor chain snagged hard and jerked the boat into wind, the motion was very nasty but at least we weren’t going anywhere. The waves spun us around again and shortened the scope of chain to a few feet, if the violent jerking continued I knew it would pull the windlass out of the deck and all would be lost. I had to try and lengthen the scope by motoring around the bommie but not free us completely, a bit tricky! However, it worked and the jerking on the chain lessened. I put nylon lines on the anchor chain and led them back to our main and mast winches to act as shock absorbers and we sat and waited for the storm to pass, relieved that we were safe for the moment. After 12 hours of storm force winds from the south west the wind started to ease and shift to the south. We went to bed exhausted but happy to have survived.
The next morning I dived under the boat to see if we could recover the anchor chain. It was wound around a double headed bommie and jammed in several crevices. Gill helmed and I guided from the water and we used the boat weight to pull the chain out. We had to be careful because the bommie was close to keel depth but between us we gradually over an hour unwound the chain and freed the boat. That was the scariest moment I have had on the boat, we were very lucky and it was the bommie that saved us.
I then had to go ashore to recover the things washed over the side in the storm. The resort workers had stashed them safely away but with the help of a very bossy lady I got them all back and we were free to leave. The wind was light so we motored out of the bay and I set course for the island of Waya. Half an hour out and we hit an uncharted reef. The sky was overcast so nothing could be seen but then neither of us was looking as according to the chart we were in a clear channel, another lesson learned. I backed off the reef which was about keel depth with relative ease but the wheel wouldn’t move, the rudder was jammed! I dived over the side to see what the damage was and was pleasantly surprised to find only superficial scrapes on the bottom of the keel. I kicked the rudder several times until it came free and it seemed non the worse for the grounding. I checked the bilges to make sure there was no leak around he rudder post but all was well and we set off again, keeping a better watch this time.
Then about 10 miles out of Waya a second storm hit us, it just wasn’t our lucky day. The wind was right on the nose and torrential rain reduced visibility to a few yards. I ran the engine at 2500 revs which would normally give us 6 to 7 knots of speed. In the gusts we slowed to less than a knot and never made more than 2 knots. Gradually we crept towards Waya and once in the lee of the island the seas flattened out, the wind eased and the speed picked up. We anchored off a river mouth in good holding perfectly protected by high mountains on three sides. It was great to be able to relax in the quiet, cook dinner and go to bed for a peaceful nights sleep. These were pay days for all the other lovely days we’ve had.
We left Rururugu Bay on Waya in the morning to go Navadra, about another 10 miles to the south east which we had to enter through a narrow pass in the reef on the east side of the horseshoe bay. All went well and we anchored 50 yards off a lovely sandy beach, well sheltered from all but the south and went ashore by kayak to explore.
Navadra Bay
The wind shifted to the southeast and we had a very restful stay.
The next morning we set off early for the famous resort of Musket Cove where we were due to meet up with Jessie and Neil. It was a beautiful day but no wind so we motored the 24 miles in flat calm seas threading our way through the many reefs on the way. With the sun high in the sky they were quite visible and Gill was able to snooze most of the way. We anchored off Musket Cove resort in a crowded anchorage that had little to offer.
A google chart showing our track through the reefs on the way to Musket Cove
When Red Thread arrived we asked Jessie how the job application had gone and she was delighted to tell us they had offered her the post in Melbourne. Cause for celebration! (Since then Neil has got an interview with Microsoft in Sydney and if successful would be based in Melbourne, fantastic, good luck to you both you deserve it)
After a couple of days with Jessie and Neil eating Romano pizza and playing Mexican train dominoes in the evening we left for Vuda Point Marina on Fiji’s main island where we were due to check out to set off for New Zealand. Jessie and Neil were leaving for Vanuatu in a couple of days so we hugged goodbye, promising to meet up again in OZ.

On board The Red Thread in Musket Cove
On Thursday 20th October we set out for the 1250 mile journey to New Zealand in company with two other boats; Moonraker, a British boat with Chris, Laurie and son Stuart on board and Melipal, a Maltese boat with single hander Peter on board. We kept daily radio contact throughout the passage to Opua where we were due to clear customs and immigration. A group of Fijians gathered on the dockside to sing us a farewell song and asked us to come back soon,which was lovely
Will ye no come back again in Fijian!!
The first day we were headed west by the wind which then swung south and on days two and three we made reasonably good progress of 160 and 130 miles. A high pressure system gradually moved over us and so the wind dropped. On day four we put on the engine and had to motor for the next 4 days. Our weather forecasting station at Gulf Harbour radio gave no hope of wind so with 700 miles to go we had little choice, no one likes motoring, its bliss when it stops. Fortunately we had topped up the tank and on deck jerry cans, even so we only had just enough to reach Opua in Northern New Zealand. Poor Peter on Melipal fared far worse and ran out of fuel several hundred miles out and had a really tough time beating into head winds to make it to Opua, three days behind us and four behind Moonraker.
On the third day outfrom Fiji Gill noticed a hole in the flour bin which had been chewed through so we guessed we had picked up a rat passenger in Vuda Point where the boat had been very close to the dockside. When I radioed in to the Opua authorities advising them of our impending arrival one of the questions they asked was about animals on board so I owned up to the rat. When we arrived and immigration and Bio Security came on board they said “Ah! your the rat boat, you can’t stay in the marina and will have to go out to anchor until the rat is caught.” So I went ashore and bought rat traps and poison but wouldn’t you know this was a very smart rat who could take the bait off the trap without triggering it. After 3 days at anchor and no further sign of the rat I persuaded the authorities to let us sail to Whangarei where I was basing the boat during our stay in NZ. This was on the basis that I reported if the rat was caught or killed. The customs ladies brought dogs on board to try and find it but there was no way they could catch a rat on a boat, too many places to hide. The girl handlers were really pleased though as they thought it was excellent training for the dogs. We were left with a lot of dog hairs on board from a moulting Labrador.
Off we went eventually, sailing through the lovely Bay of Islands, anchoring overnight on our way south but with no further sign of the rat. I reset the traps on a very light setting in the forward heads with tomato which I knew he liked and one night in Whangarei the trap fired. I got up to have a look there was lots of blood about but no rat so I guess he’d wriggled free. By now everyone knew the story of the rat with the authorities relating the tale to all the cruisers checking in to Opua. So when I met up with David and Ghitta on Aros Mear in Whangarei, Ghitta presented me with this card.
Roger rat had been hiding in the heating ducts so if he died there it would be difficult to find him. No bait was taken over the next few days and then the smell started I knew I had an ex rat. I started taking the cabin sole boards up and eventually found him. I triple bagged him and rang the Bio Security people to ask how I should dispose of him. They sent a man in a van out to the boat and took him away for incineration. It took two days of scrubbing with bleach and a whole can of air freshener to get rid of the smell but at last I’m rat free and the authorities are happy to have their body!
A cheeky but very appropriate card given to me by Gitta on Aros Mear in Whangarei
Gill left the boat to return to the UK which brings to an end our 3 years of cruising together through thick and thin, definitely the end of an era on the boat. Next year my eldest son David is coming out to crew with me for our trip back up to the Pacific islands and next cyclone season we will sit out in Australia. The boat is now in Town Basin, Whangarei with all the facilities I need around to bring her back up to scratch after 20,000 miles of sailing across the world. It’s been a fantastic journey and more to come!

The Kingdom of Tonga

The wind died and we had to motor the last few hours to the Vava-u group of islands just as the dawn came up. We slipped quietly into the main port of Neiafu to tie up to the customs jetty for clearing in to the country. We managed to find the customs/immigration man fairly quickly but health and quarantine were out at the airport checking in a plane, this was Friday so we were told it might be Saturday morning or more likely Monday before we could complete clearance. Mooring on the jetty was free provided you still had the yellow quarantine flag flying and lucky for us it was only 100 yards from the local fruit and vegetable market so on Saturday morning we replenished our supplies. The nearest bank ATM was only 5 minutes walk away so we could get local currency quite easily. 

A view over the harbour at Neiafu.

The next day was Sunday when everything closes in Tonga, here people are deeply religious and work is not allowed. People go to church, eat and rest, not even the planes fly on a Sunday and you’re not even supposed to work on your boat, its that strict, so we used the day to explore the small town on foot. It was like walking through a ghost town with the only sign of life the sound of hymn singing from the local church. 

The Cathedral in Neiafu

Tonga was a big step down from the Cook Islands and French Polynesia. This is definitely third world, dirty streets, abandoned and scruffy houses, pigs roaming everywhere and poorly stocked shops. The people however were friendly and welcoming.

The only folks out and about

On Monday morning we finally completed clearance and moved onto a mooring buoy in the harbour at a cost of 10$T about £3.50 per night which wasn’t going to break the bank and from here we could get Internet and catch up on some of our emails and get the weeks weather reports. The expat community in Neiafu operates a VHF network on channel 26 which covers the whole of the island group providing weather, events, marine services, items for sale etc. We stayed for a couple of days enjoying the rest.

The islands in the Vava-u group are a renowned cruising ground offering many sheltered anchorages and nice beaches so we said goodbye to Neifau and headed off to explore the outlying islands.

We decided to go first to Vaka’eitu and had a terrific sail through the picturesque islands in flat seas, Gill helmed and I worked the sails, it was like sailing a dinghy again and something we had never done with Romano. Normally our sailing is long distances in straight lines for 100’s of miles, it was great fun and exhilarating to work the boat hard. The scenery reminded me of the west coast of Scotland between the islands of the west coast, except it wasn’t raining!

When we arrived in the bay and anchored of the sandy beach we went ashore by kayak to do our usual exploration. While walking along the beach we noticed a number of 8ft poles leaning up against trees or stuck in the sand, bleached white by the sun. It puzzled us why they were there. We came across a house at the far end of the beach hidden back in the trees where we were waved in by the owner. This was the home of David and Hika who had lived here for four years. David’s grandfather was buried in a large plot on a hill overlooking the bay which gave them the right to settle here. Property is handed down the male side of the family and each male can theoretically claim up to 8 acres of land from the crown for a small fee, few do, most preferring to live in the towns. The island and sweeping bay made a lovely sheltered anchorage and right in the middle of the beach was a huge Banyan tree with its extraordinary roots that drop from branches as they grow enabling the tree to spread far from the trunk. 

The mighty Banyan tree

A view beneath the Banyan showing the supporting root structure.

Hika explained that the poles we had seen are cut from the Fau tree (Beach Hibiscus) which grows long straight blemish fee branches. The branches are then tied together and left in the sea for a while before drying. The bark is stripped from the pole and beaten into thin fibres which are used in basket and hat making. Hika showed us a grass skirt she was making.

David and Hika off to catch dinner

Tongans are famous for their feasts which typically include roast suckling pig, fish, clams, crab, chicken, a range of vegetables etc which is cooked over an open fire or wrapped in taro leaves and baked in an omu where stones are heated by fire and the food placed on them to cook and then covered with sand. David and Hika offer feasts to passing yachts if there is a minimum of 8 people to make it worthwhile and they asked us to stay for the following Saturday. We were tempted however we had decided to move on and see more of the islands. We learned later that Neil and Jesse, off Red Thread, did go and said it was a great night with 18 people turning up, so we missed a good bash. Our next stop was Tapana island where we kayaked ashore on the Saturday morning. 

Gill dropping the anchor

A track ran along the back of the beach so we decided to see where it led, after walking for 20 minutes on what was now a paved road a truck stopped and the driver asked if we wanted a lift to his village so we hopped on board and his five year old son climbed on to the flatbed to make room for us in the cab.. Stupidly we hadn’t asked how far this village was and after a while we realised we were going to be in for a long walk back. The driver asked if we wanted to come to his church the following morning, he would come and pick us up but we declined as gracefully as we could and he lost interest after that. He dropped us in the middle of the village where Gill put on her all terrain walking shoes she had thoughtfully packed (smarty pants). I had a thin pair of flip flops so this wasn’t going to be fun. Having taken in the village at a glance we headed off back down the road in the hot sunshine. We had covered three quarters of the return distance back when a tiny pick up truck with a family crowded in the back stopped and we managed to squeeze in gratefully. By then my feet were complaining loudly and we were hot and sweaty. The family were going to the beach where we had left our kayak, for a picnic with a group of friends. Gill and I relaxed on the beach and noticed everyone gathering in a circle under the shade of large trees behind the beach and then they started singing. We were wondering what this was all about when a lady came over and explained that this was a Baha’i faith group who took groups of teenage children to teach them about the transition to adulthood. This was a group picnic outing to the beach with their families with hymn singing and lessons included. We listened for a while then paddled back to the boat for lunch on board.

The next day we moved to Lisa Beach around the corner of the island and had only been anchored for about an hour when in motored Red Thread. Jessie and Neil were keen to visit Kenutu island right out on the eastern reef which was reputed to be a beautiful anchorage. We had considered it but decided it was too risky with our 7ft draft through several narrow and shallow passages. Neil suggested that they could go ahead of us to test the way. If we left that afternoon this at high water with their lesser draft boat leading and Neil talking me through the depths on the VHF. We followed them without problem. 

A vain attempt to capture the beauty of Kenutu anchorage

The anchorage behind Kenutu island certainly lived up to it’s reputation it was stunningly beautiful. The lagoon was every shade of blue and green and the surf pounded the reef either side of the island sending great bursts of spray high in the air, giving off that wonderfully soporific roar in the distance, which lulled us to sleep each night. We both thought this was one of the most attractive anchorages we had seen on our travels. 

Waves breaking on Kenutu

A lookout we came across in exploring the island

Gill having a rest after a hot climb

During our three day stay the four of us walked the island, explored the reef and its rock pools, dug, not very successfully, for clams which we ate for appetisers, held reciprocal dinner parties on our respective boats and played Mexican train dominoes in the evening, perfect days in great company!

We all wanted to visit a place called Hunga lagoon which also ‘had a very challenging entry so we sailed in company again for the 22 miles from the far east to the far west side of the Vava’u group of islands. The plan was the same, Red Thread would enter ahead of us and sound the way through a very narrow dog leg pass into what was the crater of an extinct volcano. We got through with only 0.5m to spare beneath our keel and the tide pushing us through at speed, scary stuff, I had no idea what nasties lay beneath so it’s hold your breath and hope for the best, it certainly got the adrenalin pumping. We anchored just off Hunga Haven, the home of two Canadians, Cindy and Barry who had built their own house in the woods above a small sandy beach. In the morning I called up Cindy on channel 26 and asked where their house was so we could come and say hello. I dropped a real clanger by saying I could only see a little wooden shack in the woods, from the boat. There was a shriek from the radio followed by “that little wooden shack is the beautiful home we spent four years building, come and have a closer look”. Oops! 

The sun setting over the crater entrance to Hunga Lagoon

We kayaked ashore to be met by larger than life Cindy who pulled my leg mercilessly over my faut pas. Husband Barry was in the capital Nukualofa buying a boat which would be their car to get to town and back. Cindy had only been to town twice in the last year however they grew their own fruit and vegetables, had a plentiful supply of fish which Barry caught from his kayak and in the woods behind them were lots of wild pigs which Barry trapped, catching around 30 a year. They were pretty well self sufficient only needing to buy flour, rice, sugar and pasta.

They offered mooring buoys to passing yachties and an Internet service which provided them with a small income but as Cindy said they had little need for money, their largest expense was the small rental paid to a local Tongan for the 4 acres of land they occupied. Barry had been a solar electric installer in his previous life and he installed a system for them which provided all their electrical needs, as long as the sun shone. A small petrol generator provided stand by power. Cindy said they could live on around 300 Pangas a month, around £100, in relative comfort and in a beautiful location. 

Before we left Barry arrived back in his new secondhand aluminium boat and did a lap of honour at full speed around the crater lagoon in front of the watching Cindy, This was a big day for them which was evident from the big cheesy grins they both wore when they came back from Cindy’s first ride. They now had their own transport off the island and a much better fishing boat. 

That afternoon Gill and I took the kayak out through the pass and snorkelled our way back in on the incoming tide, me tied to the kayak, to have a better look at the pass for our outward journey. We left the happy couple the following morning and this time passed through at 7.06 exactly on high water with 1.4 metres under our keel this time, no problem. Our plan was to move on to Port Maurelle 10 miles away which isn’t really a port at all. It’s a very pretty bay on Kapa island where we dropped anchor to join three other boats. Red Thread arrived about an hour later and Neil came over in the dinghy to ask if we would like to go ashore for sundowners a bonfire and taking something to eat that evening. We agreed and he went around the other boats to invite others, in all 17 people turned up as more and more boats came in, presumably word had got out on the VHF! I went ashore to collect firewood from the forest while Gill had cooked a large rice dish which as it happened meant we were able to feed a few others as well as ourselves. It was a nice relaxed evening sitting on the beach chewing the fat as the sun went down and the fire helped to keep the mozzies away.

The entrance to Swallows Cave

Neil and Jessie gave us a lift the next day to explore Swallows Cave not far from our anchorage. A large ball of fish inhabited this cave and it was incredible diving through the morass.

Neil free diving in the cave.

Gill and I hiked over to a village on the other side of Kapa Island, had a chat with the village children and came back

They were quite fluent in English and are taught it from an early age. They were also quite relaxed with us and completely unfazed by these whitish people turning up on their door step. Their parents were much shyer.

These were some boys we met gathering coconut for the village pigs.

The following morning we set off back to Neiafu to enjoy a Tongan feast out on the eastern side of the island. We joined about 50 others and got stuck into fish, suckling pig, seafood, bread fruit, taro , curry, and many other dishes. The next day we returned to immigration to check out of the Vava-u group and obtain permission to sail to the next island group, the Ha’apai’s. This is a chain of lower lying limestone islands almost due south of the Vava-u islands around 60 miles away to the south. We set off in the afternoon to anchor in the Lee of an island called Ovaka, one of the most southern in the Vava-u group, which would give us an early morning launch pad for a day sail to the Ha’apais. Unfortunately Murphy was working well that day and the wind swung to the north east at 20 knots as we approached Ovaka and whistled straight into the bay where we intended to anchor. There was no way we could anchor in those winds on a lee shore so we turned south and hove to around the corner. In the Lee of the island we were protected from the wind but no anchorage however we were able to winch the dinghy on board and had a quick bite to eat before setting off for an unexpected overnight sail. We were much too early in setting off for a 60 mile journey to the reef strewn Ha’apai’s where we didn’t want to arrive in the dark so I reefed the boat down heavily and we sailed off slowly at 3 knots, arriving in perfect time at daybreak off Pangai, the main village where we anchored in 10 metres of water in front of the jetty. We went ashore by kayak, handed over our clearance papers to customs, got our clearing out papers at the same time, did a bit of shopping and headed back to the boat. There was nothing to keep us so we upped anchor to move 5 miles south to Uoleva Island. The first of many beautiful islands in this group, we approached a long swooping near deserted bay lined with a perfect white sandy beach backed by palm trees, we decided to stay here for a few days to enjoy it. There was a small bar come restaurant directly in front of our boat and of course after a long thirsty walk along the beach we popped in to see what was on offer. The place had been built by the owners Kirsten and Craig, she was a Kiwi and he South African. It had taken them four years to build it by themselves and the result was impressive. They also offered accommodation in a couple of adjacent huts for a modest fee to any passing backpackers. Kirsten was a vet and had a practice which she tended for 6 months a year and the rest of the year was spent in this beautiful spot with Craig. They had decided though that the business bureaucracy of Tonga had reached such ridiculous levels that they no longer wanted to continue and had sold out and were heading back to New Zealand at the end of the season. Even paradise has its problems!

In common with many south sea islands there are numerous reefs to deal with. In good light most of the reefs are easily spotted some way off and you can see small breaking waves on them known as “blind rollers”, the hidden coral heads (so-called “bommies”) that glow green and yellow in the water are much harder to spot and can rise 20m from the bottom to a pinnacle that will easily remove your rudder. You sail along thinking plenty of depth and then suddenly bang there is only 2m under the keel, or less. Not a recommended experience to lose your rudder in some deserted island. Polaroid sunglasses help in spotting bommies but even they don’t pick them all out so we have to keep a good lookout for any change of colour in the water ahead.

Something we hadn’t expected to meet in the tropics was the colder water in Tonga, admittedly we had come several degrees south and certainly sleeping at night was a lot more comfortable but a wet suit was beneficial if you wanted to spend any time in the water. We have been spoiled with the higher temperatures of other countries.

One of the ornate graves in a village in the Ha’apai’s islands

After the Ha-apai islands we intended to sail to Kelefesia half way down to Tongatapu but on arrival in strong winds and heavy surf it was clear there was no way we could anchor here. This would have broken our journey into two day sails but now we were faced with an overnight sail in reef strewn waters, not something we relished and we were bound to arrive in our final Tongan destination of Nukualofa well before dawn. In fact we arrived off the coast at 03.00 and I tried heaving to but the boat was still sailing at 2.5kts offshore. I motored back to our starting point off the pass through the reef at around 5pm and tried bare poles this time. Our drift slowed to1kt which was more acceptable so we drifted until we had enough light to see the reef. At about 09.00 when we motored in through a convoluted pass.

We arrived off Nukualofa on Tongatapu island, which is the capital of Tonga, around midday and tried to raise the port authority on the VHF radio, channel 16. Nothing, complete silence, I tried four or five times and at last a friendly Kiwi voice came on and told us how to enter the harbour and tie up for clearance opposite a restaurant. Just as well a yachtie with local knowledge was listening. We came in to what proved to be quite a shallow harbour for us with the depth alarm sounding every 2 minutes but after cruising the length of the harbour we couldn’t see the restaurant he mentioned. I made to come alongside the fisherman’s wharf and was waved off by a guy waiting for his fishing boat to come in to its parking space.

We met a French family mid harbour in a dinghy who offered to help. A number of the boats had tied stern to the harbour wall by dropping anchor and backing up, then putting stern lines ashore. I was dubious, there was a strong cross wind blowing down the harbour which would mean precision timing. The Frenchman was adamant they could do it so hey ho! The two women went ashore to a pontoon, we dropped anchor and motored back, handing our lines to the Frenchman in the dingy who took them ashore and handed them to the two females. We were shouting instructions to hurry them up as the boat slid slowly downwind, whether it was language or inexperience or lack of strength on their part but it all went wrong, we hit the pontoon, with no ropes attached to check us and as I tried to pull out by motoring ahead, calling to the women to drop our lines they hung on like grim death. There was no way they could hold a 20 ton boat in that wind and eventually either it dawned on them or our shouting got through and they dropped the lines but by then the rudder was caught up in the pontoon mooring lines. A quick burst of power I couldn’t apply before without pulling both women into the harbour, broke us free. Lesson learned, don’t trust people you don’t know in a critical situation we escaped without damage but it could have been really nasty. We motored back out into the centre of the harbour and eventually we saw a local man waving us into a small inner boat harbour we had seen before but written off as too shallow. It only had very small boats moored inside, we crept in with 0.2m under our keel. The man waving proved to be Inoki, a very cruiser friendly taxi driver who took our lines and tied us up without problem. Inoki offered to drive us around during our stay so we suggested perhaps an island tour the following day.

We didn’t like the Nukualofa harbour which was definitely not yacht friendly and decided to anchor off Pangaimotu island which was about 3 miles across the bay and hosted “Big Mamas Yacht Club”, a real cruiser’s joint. Here we met Russ and Gwen off A-train and Russ announced he was the friendly yachtie who had responded to our calls for guidance. It was also he who gave us lots of good advice on sailing to New Zealand through the reputedly difficult waters and which weather patterns were good and which bad. 

The next day we took the daily water taxi from Big Mamas back to Nukualofa the next morning and met with Inoki for our guided tour of the island. There isn’t a huge amount to see on Tongatapu but we visited Fiji’s equivalent of Stonehenge at Ha’amonga. 

The Maui at Ha’amonga.

We saw the shallow muddy bay where Captain Cook landed, why he didn’t pick a better spot I don’t know there are lots of of nice sandy beaches.

I don’t think the steps were there in Cook’s day maybe they thought he would come back.!

The plaque commemorating Cook’s arrival in the islands.

The irony is Cook called these the friendly isles but the locals say they couldn’t agree on which day to attack and then Cook left before any action took place.

We also saw the dramatic blowholes at Mapu’a’a Vaea and the new parliament buildings being built by the Chinese. They had also built the harbour and were in the process of constructing a new marina, all for unnamed concessions.

Inoki adopted us and we found out he earned his living off driving cruisers around town to sort out clearance, fuel collection, shopping etc. He was a real gem and not expensive. His wife did laundry for the yachting community so one had to be patient on a journey with him while he delivered and picked up laundry. I think he expected a big tip at the end of our stay but I had blown all our Tongan dollars on fuel. Sorry Inoki!

Our duty free fuel arrived at the appointed time on the dock in a 200 litre drum on the back of a pick up truck and was hand pumped by the driver into our tank. This took the best part of an hour which gave Gill the opportunity for a last minute food shop before we set off for Neiafu in Fiji, our next port of call. We sailed a leisurely 10 miles across the lagoon before exiting through the pass where we had come in. Our view of Tonga was mixed, great sailing in Vava’u pretty islands in the Ha’apai’s but a very poor country, run down and dirty, run by Chinese and the local indigenous people were, in general, uninterested in making anything of their lives. Not a place I would go back to. Next stop Fiji 480 miles to the west.

The Societies and a dash of Tuamotos

French Polynesia is as you might expect has benefited from its relationship with France and now we could find good cheese and wine, Carrefour supermarkets stocked like back home, French language which we could cope with OK but the beer was still rubbish, oh for a decent pint! I know, you can’t have everything and the volcanic islands here are gorgeous and the climate sublime.On arrival in Raiatea, the second largest of the Society Islands, we had Romano hauled out by Raiatea Carenage who set about immediately fixing our damaged keel and checklng the alignment of the prop shaft after our rope wrap. The keel damage, fortunately, as it turned out was superficial and easily repaired. The yard lifted the engine which is necessary to withdraw the propellor shaft and fitted new seals and Joseph the fridge man ordered spare parts needed for our fridge and freezer repair. I ordered a new slightly larger 5hp Mercury outboard motor from the chandlers which was delivered four days later from Papeete and now pushes the dinghy along at pace. It replaced our old 3.3hp motor which had reached the end of its natural life.

Romano in the slings at Raiatea Carenage

The damage from hitting the reef in Ravavae.

We had decided we didn’t want to stay on board in the boat yard, there was one basic toilet and one cold shower and the prospect of clambering down a ladder in the middle of the night if we needed a pee didn’t appeal. So, we took the advice of an English lady on another boat who knew the island well and booked into the Sunset Beach Motel half a mile down the road from the yard. We rented a beachside bungalow there for the first week where we could moor our kayak (transport to and from the yard) and then moved for the second week to what was billed as shared accommodation in “La Grande Maison” . It was bliss, no rolling bed, endless hot water for showers, a lovely veranda to view the sunsets, a barbecue, plenty of wood on hand and our own private beach. As it turned out for the second week we had La Grande Maison to ourselves for half the price of the bungalow, it was huge, a large kitchen diner, a vast lounge, a veranda and our own ensuite rooms, it was a very welcome respite from being at sea for months. 

Luxury after weeks at sea

The motel had been a coconut plantation in earlier times and there were hundreds of coconut trees with the bungalows dotted between so Gill and I set to work collecting coconuts. I have had several attempts at husking coconuts and it has always been a half hour task hacking away with a machete until Nicola at the boat yard laughing at my efforts went off and came back with a steel spike about 6ft long which he rammed down a crab hole and did the job in 2 minutes. So when it came to husking these I went in search of a suitable spike which I “borrowed” from a nearby shed we then shaved the coconut into slivers with a knife and dryer them in the oven in our kitchen. We prepared 11 coconuts in this way for our curries and Gill’s home build delicious muesli, our regular breakfast cereal. Free coconuts, it was just too good an opportunity to miss. 

Look, someone who now knows how to husk coconuts!

One down side of the coconut trees was the imminent risk of death! We had a few days of really strong wind which brought down heavy frond branches and lots of coconuts so you had to plot a zig-zag path from our place to reception in driving rain and hope you didn’t get hit, apparently more people are killed by falling coconuts than are attacked by sharks, something to remember while you’re basking under your next palm tree listening to the surf rolling in and wondering if you should go for a swim or stay where you are!

Sunset from our veranda

Meanwhile back in the yard work proceeded at pace and five days before we were due to leave to pick up Gill’s Australian friend Ros, the boat was ready for me to apply the coppercoat anti-fouling to the repaired areas. This is a water based epoxy antifouling loaded with copper powder which needs 4 dry days to cure and of course the weather turned against us and I had no choice but to apply it in order to meet our schedule. An hour after I had applied this very expensive product the heavens opened and washed much of it away. I could have cried, but found swearing at the heavens much more cathartic. I patched up the missing bits with conventional antifouling once the rain had stopped. The next few days were dry and on the last day the yard guys were still fixing bits as the hoist carried us to the water for the re-launch. I paid the bill which was very reasonable and for good quality work and we were set to leave for Huahine fifty miles to the east to collect Ros who had been spending some time with her friend Jen. Just as we left our membrane arrived from the UK and Vairea handed on board, I was helping to re-rig the forestay and put it aside on deck, unfortunately that was the last we saw of our £300 membrane which must have gone overboard on our way to Huahine. Now we had to be more careful with water consumption.

Unfortunately the wind was right on our nose to Huahine so we motored for 10 hours into lumpy seas and several rain squalls. When we finally arrived after an uncomfortable ride we anchored off the beach at the east end of the island’s one street town, watched the sunset over a couple of drinks, cooked dinner and went to bed. The next day we launched the dinghy to go ashore, a first real test of my new Mercury outboard which worked well with a noticeable increase in power. We had arranged by phone to meet up with Ros and her friend Jen on the quay, they arrived on a couple of ram shackled old bikes, which everyone seems to use on these islands. They have no gears, no springs and back peddling brakes, they’re very heavy but the islands roads go around the edges of the islands at sea level so there are no hills to pedal up, so no problem! Jen showed us where the supermarket was and we went in for a recce. It was well stocked by many standards and we were happy we could get sufficient provisions for Ros’s 2 weeks on the boat. One of the nice things about French islands is you get decent cheese, something we haven’t found since leaving Europe. We have so missed good cheese, throughout the Caribbean, Central and South America, we had to put up with American rubbish. They have no idea how to make a decent cheese, it is tasteless, rubbery and oily. I suppose if you stick it in hamburgers you can’t tell it from a decent cheese. We were also able to buy good pate, again something we hadn’t seen since The Canary Islands. One of the good things to come out of South America was the wine and in Panama we stocked up with a lot of boxed Clos Wine, it cost $3 for a litre of really good Cabernet Sauvingnon and we are still drinking it in Tahiti with lots more to come. Sadly, beer is expensive here by anyone’s standards it’s £2.20 for a 33cl can for mediocre slosh whereas in Panama it was 45p a can, however it’s beer so I don’t grumble too much! In general, food is very expensive in Polynesia, around twice the price of the same products in the U.K./U.S. There is no income tax here so taxes are raised on consumption, a car here is twice the price of a car in France.

The islands of Polynesia are beautiful and Huahine is no exception, soaring mountain peaks to 1500m, lush tropical vegetation and small sandy beaches in coves. All the islands are surrounded by reefs with passes to enter the surrounding lagoons, some of which can be only metres wide with strong current flows unless you enter at slack water. The entrances are well buoyed and lit and we had no problem getting in and out. 

It’s much more humid here in the Societies than the southern islands of the Gambier or Australes where we needed a blanket at nights, here we’re back to sweaty coverless nights again. Showering off the back of the boat at night however, is a lot more pleasant without those cool southern winds. The water is also warmer so we can snorkel for longer without chilling down.

The following day Jen had invited us to join Ros she and some friends for a tour of the island so we met up in town to find out our transport was a minibus owned by Sophie, a friend of Jen who was accompanied by another friend Trish so I was seated in the bus with 5 very lively women for our tour of the island. The island which is called “the wild one” is beautiful, unspoilt and the people charming. We stopped off at a Polynesia Museum the “Tiki” started by a local woman and which gave a full account of how the islands had developed. We stopped for lunch around 1 o’clock at the south end of the island at a lovely restaurant where we had the most fantastic fish and sea food meal right on the beach with our feet in the soft sand. As a thank you for showing us around Ros, Gill and I treated Jen and her two friends.

From left to right Jen, Sophia, Trish and me enjoying a great lunch.

After lunch Sophie took us to a gallery where a painter friend of hers, Melanie from Rhode Island, had a display of her work in oil, water colours, and lithograph. We were tempted to buy one for the boat and hoped we could return with sufficient funds in a few days but we never made it back again.

One of Melanie’s paintings

The following morning we arranged to pick Ros up at 11.30 and she duly arrived on the quay complete with one very large suitcase and a couple of smaller bags. There was no way we could all get in the dinghy with the baggage so I made a run out to the boat first with the bags, returning for Gill and Ros. I should explain at this point that Ros has suffered for many years with rheumatoid arthritis and is severely disabled, more so than I imagined but she has gamely refused to give in to her condition and runs a cattle farm when she is not on accounting consultancy projects. Gill met her when she was working in Papua New Guinee with Deloittes and Ros was engaged to do accounting consultancy work.

Ros cracking a crossword!

Well we managed to get Ros in the dinghy somehow but getting her out of a bouncy dinghy into a rolling boat proved to be a bigger challenge but eventually we did it with a lot of heaving and pushing and laughter. Once on board she was able to cope better and Gill saw that she was well installed in the forecabin. We had decided to sail 300 miles east to the Tuamotu Islands, a group of around 80 atolls which would be very different from the high peaks of the Societies so we aimed for an island called Fakarava a large atoll about 30 miles long by 15 miles across with a huge lagoon in the centre where apparently the snorkelling and diving was world class. We set off in lively but not rough conditions and it quickly became apparent that Ros was going to have difficulties moving around the boat and even worse was becoming seasick. With the prospect of 3 more days of this I suggested turning back for a more benign sail but Gill and Ros thought that she would manage and so we soldiered on. Ros was amazingly cheerful throughout what must have been a horrible ordeal for her which she talked of later as a lifetime experience. We moved her to a mid ships berth where she was tucked in better and not likely to be thrown out. On the last day the wind dropped, the seas calmed down and we were obliged to motor the last 60 miles to Fakarava. This made life much easier for Ros and she was able to move around and even better stopped feeling ill.

Jen, Ros and Gill on tour on Huahine

The atolls are rings of reef based on sunken volcanoes with deep lagoons in the crater centre. The village of Fakarava was situated on a strip of sand 200 metres across with one main road passing through it. We dinghied ashore to a safe landing beach and went off to explore. Ros bought us ice creams and we sat outside the shop and tucked into would you believe it, “Magnums”, hundreds of miles from anywhere. Gill found a tiny shore side shop selling black pearls for which the Tuamotus are famous and bought some which she had set as pendants in Tahiti.

Each night we ate on the boat, the alternatives were limited and during the day we swam and snorkelled. The fish life was interesting in the lagoon but not unusually so and the visibility only a few yards given the strength of the wind, the main attraction of Fakarava was the drift dive through the pass which was rated as world class in diving terms but this was beyond us in these strong winds so we contented ourselves with snorkelling in the lagoon. On the third day the wind got up from its usual 20 knot trade wind strength and the 30 mile fetch in the lagoon meant we experienced quite a rolling night. This helped our decision to set off back to Moorea in the Societies despite the lively weather and influenced by our newly installed freezer braking down again. What was so annoying was, it was packed with meat for our time away with Ros. 

Cook Bay in Moorea, a lovely anchorage.

We had a fast sail, covering the 300 mile journey in just over two days, arriving in Cook Bay on Moorea at midnight. It’s always a bit scary going through a narrow pass in the reef at night hoping the charts are accurate, the lights are in the right place, there is enough depth of water to pass through and there are no nasty currents to put you on the reef. All went well and we dropped anchor at the head of of a long bay. I was first up in the morning and went out on deck to check our position, my jaw dropped, it was the most spectacular anchorage, soaring jagged peaks on both sides, verdant green treed hillsides, bright blue sky with the sun just peeking over the sheer mountains to the east, deep blue water in the bay without a ripple on it and reflecting the mountains above. It was breathtaking, I just sat for several minutes and soaked it all in. There are very few times in your life you are lucky enough to find moments like that.

We decided to hire a car and tour the Moorea which was only 60 km around. Of all the Society Islands I liked Moorea the best, it had it all, lovely beaches, deep rivers and waterfalls, spectacular mountains, every shade of blue to turquoise you could imagine in the lagoon and lovely Motus (reef islands) with pure white sandy beaches. This is as close to paradise as it gets!

Lush tropical vegetation

At the end of our drive we visited a Tropical Gardens up a very steep road where our little car kept bottoming out and it was so steep at one point Gill and Ros had to get out so I could crest the rise without burning the tyres out. In the garden we found many fruit trees, a waterfall in a woodland, a shaded area where vanilla was grown and numerous wonderful tropical flowers and shrubs growing on the hillside. There was no charge for entering the gardens but they had a shop selling home made jams and ice creams and of course vanilla essence where we were clearly expected to loiter. We tried the unusual purple taro ice cream but opted for their lovely vanilla, Ros had a pineapple smoothie and we all bought some delicious tropical jam.

On our return we walked past some fisherman who had been gutting there catch of fish and the water around them was thick with grey sharks and sting rays

You wouldn’t want to swim here!

On our last night back in Cook Bay the local Bali Hai hotel was putting on a show of traditional Tahitian dance so we decided to go and asked if we could book dinner and watch the show but the receptionist told us insufficient people had booked so we were welcome to come ashore to watch the show but the restaurant would be closed. We piled into the dinghy in the dark and landed on the hotel beach. Not only was the restaurant closed, so was the bar so we watched a superb display of male and female dancing with the girls giving us a show of their incredibly sexy fast bottom wiggling. The men are equally impressive stamping and vibrating their legs in a show of strength and stamina, it was quite a sight. From a commercial point of view the hotel lost the opportunity of serving drinks and meals to the watching crowd. We saw the whole show for free!

Ros was flying out from Papeete back to Auckland and then on to Sydney in a couple of days time so we moved the boat twenty miles to Papeete Marina on Tahiti. We were met by our friends David and Gitta on Aros Mear from Dundee (last seen in Panama) and Sven and Lisa on Randivag from Sweden (last seen on Mangareva in the Gambier) it was great to meet up with these old friends again and swap sailing stories. 

In Papeete it was the time of year for the world famous Heiva Festival for all of Polynesia to compete on an island against island basis which is held every July on Tahiti. The islands of Polynesia compete in drumming, dancing, rock lifting, canoe racing and singing. It’s a bit like a Highland games except there are heats during the early part of the month followed by finals. We had already seen some of the canoe racing while at anchor and saw more later in Bora Bora so we decided to watch the singing and dancing in the main arena in Papeete. The stadium held around 5000 people which is large by Polynesian standards and it was probably two thirds full. There was a large stage which held the drummers, guitarists and ukulele players, the orchestra. and in front was a large arena for the players, dancers and singers. The dancing was unforgettable with both men and women throwing themselves enthusiastically into the dance. The costumes were spectacular and each dancer had many hand made headdresses of flowers and grasses each different for each dance. The girls had several grass skirts but always danced with the half coconut bras, each sized as required. There were hundreds of dancers in the arena, furiously wiggling bottoms and vibrating male legs accompanied by some very skilled drumming to give pace and rhythm to the dance, it was a wonderful experience. The singing was not so much to our taste, we expected gently swaying music and song in the Tahitian style but as it turned out it was aggressive, repetitive and of course in the Polynesian tongue.

Ros left us the following morning at 5am to catch her plane back to Auckland, leaving us a lovely card and present which was really kind considering her ordeal on board. After seeing her off we went back to bed until a more reasonable hour, in the morning, I shopped for provisions walking 3 miles to the nearest Carrefour supermarket while Gill washed our clothes and bedding in the unlimited water supply from the marina, a rare luxury. That evening we were invited for sundowners on Aros Mear and spent a very pleasant two hours chatting and watching the sun go down over a few drinks.

Our next port of call was Moorea again but this time we anchored in Oponohu bay where we hoped to swim with manta rays. We anchored off the beach and went in search of them but failed miserably. One of our American friends Ciro set off on a bay wide tour on his paddle board but saw nothing so we gave up and had a swim instead.

Rupert Murdock’s modest little yacht in Moorea

We had to get back to Raiatea to have the freezer fixed by Joseph, a remarkable guy who, as we found out, worked by day as a fridge repair man and ran his Chinese restaurant by night, cooking till 1 or 2 in the morning. I discovered a large hole in the dinghy which was letting in water so we launched the kayak to go and pick up Joseph from the yard. He was a little sniffy at having to paddle out but he was a true Polynesian and he powered the kayak as never before, setting a new standard for Gill. As suspected our new compressor had died and I had to buy another one, no such thing as warranty in Polynesia. Joseph’s repair work was disrupted by Bastille Day and a long weekend, in true French tradition, so we took the boat the 25 miles over to Bora Bora to see if we could find our friends Jessie and Neil on Red Thread, promising to be back first thing on Monday morning alongside at Marina Apooiti, as Joseph refused to transport his expensive tools by kayak.

Arriving in Bora Bora we set about looking for our friends and calling them on the radio but without luck so we anchored off the Bora Bora yacht club and went for a swim in the lagoon. Later we got a radio call from Jessie, they were on the other side of the island. In the morning we set off for the southern end to see if we could meet up but when it came time to haul up the anchor we found it was fouled on old mooring lines. We managed to haul the offending ropes to within 10 feet of the surface and I dived down with my trusty titanium dive knife and cut the boat free. We then motored down south and picked up a mooring buoy belonging to “Bloody Mary’s Restaurant” which is world famous having fed the great and the famous from Goldie Hawn to Rod Stewart, Michael Heseltine and Prince Rainier. The restaurant had a couple of boards outside covered in over 200 famous names from around the world. We booked in for what we knew would be an expensive dinner justifying it on the basis we hadn’t had a posh meal out for months. Having secured the table we went off to snorkel the reef in the kayak. The dinghy had a large hole in it which I patched but it needed days to cure so Gill in all her finery that evening paddled to the restaurant jetty in the kayak. We arrived safely and her posh dress was fortunately still dry. The meal that night was fantastic and the restaurant unusual, it has a sand floor and a place to leave your shoes as you come in so you can wriggle your toes in the sand while you eat. You’re greeted by the hostess who shows you to a display table laden with fish, steak and shellfish where you choose what you want to eat. We had a couple of drinks at the bar and were then taken to our table where we sat on upended logs which were difficult to balance on but it was very relaxing wriggling our feet in the fine sand and sipping our wine. It was one of those few memorable meals!

A veritable feast

We met up with Jessie and Neil the next day and moved our boats to a spot where they knew we could swim with rays. In the morning we swam off the boat and saw whole schools of spotted eagle rays, I followed a turtle for a while but he swam faster than I could even with my fins on. In the afternoon we went out to the reef in the kayak and I saw another eagle ray feeding and a stingray who closely crossed his path with neither getting upset. We were hoping to see manta rays the following morning but they didn’t turn up and we had to bid our friends goodby and head back to Marina Apooiti on Raiatea so Joseph could fix our freezer and fit a new compressor and so I could fix our Duogen water/air generator with the spares which had arrived from the UK.

Once we were operational again we sailed 5 miles to visit the “Coral Garden” off the neighbouring island of Tahaa. I dived in to check the anchor and a reef shark with a shark sucker attached to one of its fins casually cruised by. Next I saw my second turtle browsing off the coral heads. Our anchor was well set for the forecasted strong winds although there were a number of bombies (coral heads) around the boat but only one would have given us a problem and only then in the unlikely event the wind swung 180 degrees  

How about this for your holiday home? 

So many fish

Gill in the coral garden

The Coral Garden is a shallow, clear water area between two Motus or islands on the reef where the tide rushes through and you can drift snorkel on the tide through this most beautiful coral garden with fish life, the best we have ever seen. It’s a regular spot to take tourists but not overdone, we saw only a dozen people on our two visits. The fish are used to people and come really close making for some great photo opportunities.
After a couple of days there we sailed 25 miles back to Bora Bora to check out of French Polynesia and provision at the well stocked Super U supermarket. Just as we were leaving some old French friends from our Guatemala days, Audrey and Adrian with sons Axel and Arsen, sailed by in their catamaran Quatra. Unfortunately we were about to leave so we only had a few minutes to chat but it was great to see them again. They were staying in Raiatea to complete the boy’s education and hoping to find work there to top up funds. 

We dropped our mooring buoy at 14.30 and headed west for the Cook Islands 500 miles away and then on to Tonga, 1200 miles away. We felt we had done justice to the Society Islands, we had enjoyed our stay in “paradise” and we’re now happy to move on.

Nuie and it’s Whales

The island of Nuie is roughly midway between The Cook Islands and Tonga and is one of the smallest countries in the world with a pollution of only 1400 people on a land mass 10 miles by 5 miles. It is a raised atoll sitting on top of a volcano with sheer limestone cliffs riddled with caves and chasms to give a dramatic look to the landscape as seen from the sea. As we came into the bay of Alofi a whale breached ahead of us, jumping out of the water to land with a mighty splash. It repeated this breaching several times across the bay towards us and eventually passed by us a matter of 100 yards away. An amazing sight and a great welcome to Nuie, home of the humpback whale. 

One of the many whale sightings off Nuie

We picked up one of a dozen mooring buoys just off the concrete wharf in the capital village of Alofi. We decided to try to get ashore by kayak to check in that afternoon, if we had used the dinghy it would have to be craned out of the heavy swell onto the jetty but I had no lifting eyes fitted so the kayak seemed a better option. It proved a difficult process however, getting out of a kayak in a 3ft swell onto a landing which is above you is not easy. A rope had been suspended to steady people from boat to shore but they were already standing up in their boats we had to get there first so we could use the rope. I managed to stand up in the bucking kayak with more than a little difficulty and then time our swing ashore on the rope, monkey style off the”bucking kayak”. I made it without a ducking but only just and then it was Gills turn, she doesn’t have much strength in her knees and it proved quite a challenge but with the aid of two ropes and a heave from me she made it. All I had to do was pulled the kayak up behind us and between us we hauled it up the steps out of the surge.

One of Nuie’s many limestone caves

We checked in with the officials there on the quayside health first of all, I answered a few questions , have you been sick recently, of course we answered no but I wonder if you were ill would they send you back yo sea to die there. Next was immigration and customs, only 4 double sided forms to fill in, they must have big filing cabinets, then customs and more forms. When it comes to declaring the booze we wonder if we declared it all if they would confiscate it or bond it so I always err on the light side just in case. In practice no officer has ever been interested, they don’t even read the forms except the bit about firearms. We don’t carry any because I don’t know when and if I would ever use it if I had one. Lots of fisherman have approached our boat during our travels, any of them could have been pirates but how would you know they no longer fly the Jolly Roger, if they ever did. All of our visitors have been trying to sell or give us fish/crabs/lobster and in these cases shooting them would have been a bit over the top. Even out at sea we have been approached but most want a bottle of water or just to say hello and ask where you’re from. The only time you could use a gun would be if you were boarded at night at anchor so we have alarms and big kitchen knives.

Back to the wharf and our check in process, there are no checking in fees for landing in Nuie but strangely we had to pay $34NZ each to leave. It took about an hour to check in by the time all the forms had been completed. When we had finished were greeted on the quay by Neil from The Red Thread, they had arrived the day before and were sorting out a trip with the whale research team. We had registered our interest by email when in Papeete but heard no more. The Nuie Whale Research organisation is an NGO with very limited funding and they were asking yacht owners to take researchers out to sea to track and photograph the humpback whales which migrate here every year during the months from late July to September and to record this year’s hit whale song. The whales travel up from Antartica to the warmer waters of the tropics around Nuie and Tonga to mate, calf and return to the Antartica there to feed on the tons of krill they find down there. Neil asked if we would like to come with them and we jumped at the chance.

The following morning we joined Jessie and Neil on Red Thread and researcher Fiaa and her volunteer helper, Leni who also had a full time job at the local supermarket and was a waitress at a restaurant at night, a busy girl with a big personality. We hadn’t travelled a mile before we saw our first humpback, they grow to around 20 metres and weigh up to 45 tons so you don’t want to get too close and Fiaa was quick to get Neil to change course if she thought the boat was obstructing the whale’s path. This was to be the first of many we saw that day, we saw some in groups or pods, some loners, probably hopeful males and some mothers with calves. Fiaa had brought a hydrophone with her on a 10 metre cable which she dropped over the side to listen to the whale song, it was amazing to hear. The songs change each year and are sung by males looking for females, there are several verses to each song and these are repeated by every male with the same verses. Neil and I jumped in over the stern of the boat with our snorkels to listen to the whale song underwater. It had a cathedral quality to it and at its height it can reach 180 decibels, loud enough to travel for 100 miles. We looked around underwater to see if we could spot a whale and although the visibility was 100 metres we couldn’t see anything. While they are singing they are suspended head down in the water waiting hopefully for a female to come by. I was sorry not to see one from below but the sound of the song was something quite amazing, so sole full and haunting sounding through the depths. When we travel around the world we come across many special situations, each different and we never get tired or blasé about these. It’s always such a privilege to be there and be able to participate and quite humbling.

The next day we found a quayside ladder we could access from the kayak which had been hidden by a couple of patrol boats tied up to the jetty over the previous day’s and this made getting ashore much easier. We then used the self operated dockside crane to lift the kayak out of the sea and deposit it on the top of the quay while we went ashore. We found we could get internet at the “biggest little yacht club in the world”, Nuie Yacht Club, so it was an opportunity to catch up with a few weeks worth of backlog emails. We also met up there with Sue and John on Marilyn, David and Ghitta on Aros Mear, old friends from past ports. There were around 10 or so other boats on moorings in Nuie and we met some new folks that night at a get together at the yacht club who kindly stayed open beyond there normal 6 o’clock closing so we could party. Afterwards everyone headed to the local Indian restaurant for a curry, just like back home!

Gill and I decided to go snorkelling along the reef the following day, which fringed the coast line inshore of our mooring. We dived in off the boat and were suitably amazed, the visibility was the best we had ever seen at around 100 yards. The boat was tied to a mooring buoy in about 15 metres of water and you could see all around the boat to the bottom with its deep chasms and coral beds disappearing off into the blue. We could see fish swimming on the bottom around coral heads as clear as day it was a marvellous and quite unusual sight. We swam towards the reef face where we could swim up gullies and over the top of the reef where the waves broke, here were hundreds of fish feeding. Gill saw a group of about 100 going mad over some tasty food in a feeding frenzy. Deeper down were larger fish, parrot fish, grouper, box fish, needle fish and reef sharks, which just cruised by looking for a more fishy meal, I still kept a wary eye on these 8ft carnivores but they never bothered us, they probably thought we were too old and grisly for them to eat. For the first time in our travels we saw sea snakes, small ones at around 18 inches and the largest at 5ft, they seemed to prefer Gill to me and she had a few scary moments when they mobbed her. These are some of the deadliest creatures in the sea, one bite and it’s good bye Columbus, your history! The good thing about them is they only have small mouths and backward facing fangs to hold their prey so they can only bite the flesh between your fingers. Fisherman are sometimes victims as they pull in their nets by hand and the snake comes up unnoticed. Their black and white banded bodies are quite easy to see in the water unless they swim just under the reflective surface and one or two crept up on me unseen in this way. A quick flick with a fin sent them off, they’re not aggressive however just curious and fearless but I didn’t want them too close to me just in case. This was one of the best snorkelling experiences we have had on our travels, the visibility was incredible and the variety and range in size of fish probably the best we have seen from small and pretty to large and menacing, I half expected a whale to come cruising by but it never happened although they, reportedly, do come close to the reef from time to time.

The next day was August 15th and our friend Neil’s 35th birthday. A group of us yachties had decided to hire a car and a people carrier to transport 11 of us around the island for a bit of exploring along some of the “sea tracks” as they are called here. These are coastal paths leading to great views, caves, swimming pools, whale watching etc. Our timing was good as it was low water which allowed us to walk along the exposed reef and visit some of the incredible limestone caves with their beautifully sculpted stalagmites. Next we walked a couple of miles along a rough coral track through the woods to a cove which had some fantastic arches. We stopped here for lunch and a rest and then it was back down the trail and on to the Kings Pool where the kings of Nuie in times gone by bathed in this private place. The pool is in a chasm about 6 metres deep and 100 metres long with a blowhole link to the sea. The blowhole creates a groaning and puffing sound as the sea rushes in and out, creating an eerie atmosphere to the place. 

The King’s Swimming Pool

Our next stop was at Luna pool which had a couple of pretty coves for swimming, the water was a mix of fresh from underground streams and salt from over the reef making the water shimmer which distorted our vision through our diving masks as the layers of salt and fresh separated and created an unusual lens effect. 

A beautiful arch carved out of the limestone by the sea.

 By now everyone was getting thirsty so we decided to stop at the Sail bar on our way back to the harbour. The bar is perched on the cliff top and gives a superb view over the sea below where we could watch whales making their way north. Once back in town we inflicted ourselves on the local Indian restaurant for dinner and a few more beers, well we had to celebrate Neil’s birthday in style!

Gill had made a cake for the occasion so Neil and Jessie came back to the boat for a slice or two.

We decided to leave the following morning as there was a two day weather window forecast with favourable winds for Tonga. This meant going to the customs office at the airport some 4 miles away to get our clearing out papers and pay our dues but fortunately the family off the Israeli boat moored next to us went by in a hire car and gave me a lift. The customs officer then drove me back to the boat so my legs were spared a long walk.

The following morning we set sail for Tonga about 340 miles due west. On our second day out I was sitting in the cockpit watching the waves role by when I saw a whale surface and blow. It was a big one and about 100 yards behind us. We were right in its path, I called Gill and we waited with bated breath for it to surface again. This it did but now 50 yards behind so I changed course 30 degrees but the whale followed us. I changed course again and so did the whale, it was as long as the boat and a lot heavier it then surfaced 20 yards behind us and we were getting alarmed, if he hit the rudder it would just snap off. I