We had serious rain last night and plugged up the scuppers to catch some for laundry. Today we also made drinking water using our reverse osmosis system (based on pushing sea water at 800 psi through a special membrane that allows only H20 through). This takes a lot of power (14+ amps), so we did this while motoring to a new anchorage inside the atoll and we recharged our batteries at the same time. The old Balmar alternator that we had rebuilt in Mexico is working well and was putting out a nice solid 55 amps. We needed this because our batteries were quite low after a couple of gray days. Normally (on reasonably sunny days) our solar panels keep things topped up.
The new anchorage is much quieter than the one near the pass - well sheltered from the north east winds that have been blowing all day. Three related families live near the beach off which we are anchored, on a small island set in the coral rim of the atoll. We met one woman who spends most of her time on this motu, but also visits the main village about 25 miles away each week for blood tests and to buy supplies and visit her relatives. She gave us a bag of eggplants from her garden this afternoon, which we shared with the other cruisers here and we will visit her with a gift of dried bananas tomorrow.
By the way, the banana drying worked really well and we have a few pounds of them wrapped up in individual cellophane packets. The only issue is that each banana piece bears a striking resemblance to a mummified human finger because I split each banana and then cut the split section in half.
We watched the transit of Venus today from a vantage point quite near to where Captain Cook made his observations in 1769. The first voyage of Cook was funded by the Royal Society for the purpose of witnessing this transit from a suitable mid-Pacific location. This was done to enable an accurate calculation of the distance from the earth to the Sun, a baseline number upon which many astronomical calculations could then be based. We saw Venus enter the sun on the lower right side around noon and arc across the lower half until clouds obscured things near sunset. Through the sextant, Venus appeared as a black dot on the sun.
Yesterday we were swimming in a small sandy lagoon off the south pass at Fakarava when a dive boat came in with some fish, which they cleaned to make cerviche (raw fish marinated in lime juice). The bits they threw in the water attracted more than 2 dozen sharks and the feeding frenzy was quite amazing to see from our vantage point at the same level as the sharks and maybe 30 feet away. There were so many sharks in the almost enclosed pool that there were several at any time cruising a few feet from us. They were mostly smaller black tipped reef sharks but even so, there is something cold and fierce about them that strikes a primal chord. I have never been closer to so many large predators than at this time and I must give Rani cudos, for she had arrived a half hour earlier and been the only swimmer in the water here for a while, despite her fear of sharks.
We are gradually making our way north through the lagoon and had planned to stop at a couple more anchorages. However stronger south east winds may push us out the north pass and over to the atoll of Toau earlier than we had intended.
Corrections: to my last blog post - the open water PADI course here is 3 days and includes 6 dives, not 2 days/3 dives as I had stated. the shorter course is a 'Scuba Diver' course. Also - in an earlier post I mentioned that Rani dropped a flashlight overboard in 40 feet. From reading the PADI manual, I have learned that this would have put it at more than two atmospheres of pressure rather than the one atmosphere I stated...
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Monday, June 4, 2012
A trial dive and trip ashore
We are still at the south pass on Fakarava. Each day we snorkel the pass and see new species of fish and corals. The clarity is fantastic and we are getting used to having 1 to 2 meter sharks swimming as close as a couple of meters from us. Rani will look into doing a dive today so she can experience the deeper waters and see the great numbers of sharks that gather at the mouth of the pass about 30 meters down.
I had my first diving experience a couple of days ago when Mike from 'Chapter Two' took me over into the shallows and lent me Karen's BCD and tank to see what diving is about. He explained how to use the BCD so as to achieve neutral buoyancy and then had me practice using my breathing to ascend and descend (how much you fill your lungs will raise and lower you). We then swam around some coral heads and descended to 26 feet. I was surprised at how different it felt from snorkeling - you are no longer a creature of the surface but now move in a new world. I looked into PADI certification here but the cost is steep at over $700 for a 2 day/3 dive course. So maybe I will do this in Tonga or the Cook islands...
We finally visited the main motu here, on which the primary village of the Tuamotus once stood. All that remains to indicate this are wide coral roads, two graveyards, a few old coral block structures, and a lovely church with a mother of pearl alter and chandeliers made of thousands of tiny shells strung together. There is a resort here with cottages on stilts over the water and a restaurant that is built on stilts right in the pass. There is a small beach/lagoon area ideal for children to play in as it is full of corals and fish yet is out of the currents in the pass. The only downside for nervous Mums is the presence of three of four (harmless) sharks at most times of the day!
We plan one more snorkel/dive today and will then sail north through the lagoon to the main village.
I had my first diving experience a couple of days ago when Mike from 'Chapter Two' took me over into the shallows and lent me Karen's BCD and tank to see what diving is about. He explained how to use the BCD so as to achieve neutral buoyancy and then had me practice using my breathing to ascend and descend (how much you fill your lungs will raise and lower you). We then swam around some coral heads and descended to 26 feet. I was surprised at how different it felt from snorkeling - you are no longer a creature of the surface but now move in a new world. I looked into PADI certification here but the cost is steep at over $700 for a 2 day/3 dive course. So maybe I will do this in Tonga or the Cook islands...
We finally visited the main motu here, on which the primary village of the Tuamotus once stood. All that remains to indicate this are wide coral roads, two graveyards, a few old coral block structures, and a lovely church with a mother of pearl alter and chandeliers made of thousands of tiny shells strung together. There is a resort here with cottages on stilts over the water and a restaurant that is built on stilts right in the pass. There is a small beach/lagoon area ideal for children to play in as it is full of corals and fish yet is out of the currents in the pass. The only downside for nervous Mums is the presence of three of four (harmless) sharks at most times of the day!
We plan one more snorkel/dive today and will then sail north through the lagoon to the main village.
Friday, June 1, 2012
Sharks, sharks, and more sharks
Fakarava is well known for great diving and snorkeling. We have been here a couple of days now, anchored inside the south pass, off a dive resort. The anchorage is quite full of coral heads and most boats have caught their chain in coral despite buoying the chain to keep most of it off the bottom.
We snorkeled the pass twice today while our friends Mike and Karen dived it below us once and then snorkeled it after their air ran out. There were hundreds of black tipped, grey, and white tipped reef sharks in the pass, which the divers were able to view close up. On the surface, we had to content ourselves with 20 to 30 at a time and I was able to view some larger groups by free diving to 40 feet, watching the sharks swimming gracefully in the current 10 feet deeper.
At one point, we drifted in the flooding current past a restaurant that was built on pilings out into the pass. In the shallow waters adjacent to this, over a coral ledge, were dozens of small sharks and a huge bump head Wrasse that was as big as Rani, with an eyeball the size of a baseball - AMAZING! The corals here are very lovely, too, with lots of colours and shapes and we saw dozens of varieties of colourful reef fish, which Rani is currently trying to identify. Our friends on Southern Cross are here and have taken pictures underwater while on their dives. We hope to post some of these when we reach Internet access in a couple of weeks.
We plan to stay here a few more days and then sail north through the 35 mile lagoon to the north pass where there is a large village. From there we will visit one more atoll before we leave for Tahiti where there is a rendezvous on June 22 of various cruisers who sailed here from Mexico.
Our current location is roughly 16 30 S 145 28 W
We snorkeled the pass twice today while our friends Mike and Karen dived it below us once and then snorkeled it after their air ran out. There were hundreds of black tipped, grey, and white tipped reef sharks in the pass, which the divers were able to view close up. On the surface, we had to content ourselves with 20 to 30 at a time and I was able to view some larger groups by free diving to 40 feet, watching the sharks swimming gracefully in the current 10 feet deeper.
At one point, we drifted in the flooding current past a restaurant that was built on pilings out into the pass. In the shallow waters adjacent to this, over a coral ledge, were dozens of small sharks and a huge bump head Wrasse that was as big as Rani, with an eyeball the size of a baseball - AMAZING! The corals here are very lovely, too, with lots of colours and shapes and we saw dozens of varieties of colourful reef fish, which Rani is currently trying to identify. Our friends on Southern Cross are here and have taken pictures underwater while on their dives. We hope to post some of these when we reach Internet access in a couple of weeks.
We plan to stay here a few more days and then sail north through the 35 mile lagoon to the north pass where there is a large village. From there we will visit one more atoll before we leave for Tahiti where there is a rendezvous on June 22 of various cruisers who sailed here from Mexico.
Our current location is roughly 16 30 S 145 28 W
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Pickles and Preserves
Pickling vegetables, fruits and chilies was part of the cooking routine for my mother and older sister while I was growing up in England. My father does not like spicy curries but loves hot pickle and chutney on the side so we always had a large jar of limes, chilies and ginger sunning on the kitchen window ledge. I think mum placed it there to accelerate the softening of the limes and to keep the mold in check.
Sadly I was too wrapped up in reading and watching television to take any real notice of these activities. However, last year on my visit to the U.K., I quizzed my sister about pickles and watched mum blending her scrumptious mint chutney. Knowing I would have lots of time on my hands on this voyage, I bought some spices in Vancouver and limes and chilies in Mexico. In Los Frailes, I canned a couple of jars of lime and chili pickle before our passage to the Marquesas. We opened the first jar a couple of days ago while entertaining friends and I received very positive feedback. In the Marquesas where fruits were abundant, I cooked and canned some mango and sour apple (pomme citrine) chutney and have been experimenting with coconut chutney. I am truly enjoying the experience and Chris is the perfect guinea pig as he has no authentic Indian reference to judge the results.
It would have been fun making marmalade as citrus fruits were plentiful in the Marquesas but we could not afford to use up so much propane.
Here is my recipe for coconut/mint chutney:
Grated or minced fresh coconut meat from one small coconut
1 heaped teaspoon of crushed dry mint or one tablespoon of fresh chopped mint
1/4 teaspoon of salt (or less if you have high blood pressure)
1 hot green or red chili (crushed)
juice from half a lime
1/2 teaspoon cumin powder
1 teaspoon sugar
Blend all by hand and allow to sit for half an hour before serving. Keep the remainder in the fridge or the coolest place on the boat.
Sadly I was too wrapped up in reading and watching television to take any real notice of these activities. However, last year on my visit to the U.K., I quizzed my sister about pickles and watched mum blending her scrumptious mint chutney. Knowing I would have lots of time on my hands on this voyage, I bought some spices in Vancouver and limes and chilies in Mexico. In Los Frailes, I canned a couple of jars of lime and chili pickle before our passage to the Marquesas. We opened the first jar a couple of days ago while entertaining friends and I received very positive feedback. In the Marquesas where fruits were abundant, I cooked and canned some mango and sour apple (pomme citrine) chutney and have been experimenting with coconut chutney. I am truly enjoying the experience and Chris is the perfect guinea pig as he has no authentic Indian reference to judge the results.
It would have been fun making marmalade as citrus fruits were plentiful in the Marquesas but we could not afford to use up so much propane.
Here is my recipe for coconut/mint chutney:
Grated or minced fresh coconut meat from one small coconut
1 heaped teaspoon of crushed dry mint or one tablespoon of fresh chopped mint
1/4 teaspoon of salt (or less if you have high blood pressure)
1 hot green or red chili (crushed)
juice from half a lime
1/2 teaspoon cumin powder
1 teaspoon sugar
Blend all by hand and allow to sit for half an hour before serving. Keep the remainder in the fridge or the coolest place on the boat.
Snorkeling at Kauehi
We are still anchored in Kauehi, though on the way out, so to speak. Anchored by the pass just off the palm lined beach, which is unfortunately a lee shore most of the time. The thing is, we are near the pass where the best snorkeling can be found (on the south east side of the atoll). With the current north easterlies, this is at the end of an 8 mile fetch and we had a pretty bouncy night last night.
You need a whole set of new skills in these atolls, due to the coral heads and deep water, particularly when anchoring. Sailing in the atoll should be very pleasant because of the shelter from swell and the steady winds. However, someone must always be either perched on a ratline halfway up the mast or at least standing on the cabin top, to keep an eye out for uncharted coral heads. These can come up out of great depths (at least 100 feet).
When we anchor now, we use floats to lift the chain off the bottom about half way along from the anchor to the boat. The theory is that this helps prevent wraps around a coral head. The floats are salvaged oyster farm buoys we found on the beach and we have 4 now - 2 large and 2 small. They are hard plastic spheres - 12 inches in diameter for the smaller ones and 20 inches for the larger. The only feasible anchorage on this side of the pass is on a spur of shallower water that pokes out a few hundred feet from the beach, where we are anchored in about 50 feet. We are still quite close to the shore, but just a few hundred feet away from our spur, the bottom drops immediately off to 80 or 100 feet.
There are still have plenty of veggies and fruit on board from the Marquesas, which is a good thing as we would otherwise be on a steady coconut diet. Apparently some vegetables are grown on Fakarava - a large atoll to the south east where we intend to sail next. We will leave here this afternoon about an hour before dusk and sail overnight so as to arrive mid-morning. The passage is only 35 miles, so you would think we could sail it in daylight. However, if we left in the early morning at slack water, we would arrive a bit late in the day to safely navigate the coral lined pass into the lagoon.
While we wait, we will snorkel off the boat and toward the pass. There is a coral forest that runs along the shore here, with yellow, dun, and black corals in grotesque forms. Packs of brilliant parrot fish swim along the reef and great ugly groupers peer out at us from most of the coral heads. Rani now swims with a short pole ready to prod any curious shark. We have seen many black tipped reef sharks in the shallows here, though none have come closer than about 15 feet. The visibility here is quite good - 40 to 50 feet anyway, but varies with the tide, clarity improving an hour or two after the tide begins to flood into the lagoon.
You need a whole set of new skills in these atolls, due to the coral heads and deep water, particularly when anchoring. Sailing in the atoll should be very pleasant because of the shelter from swell and the steady winds. However, someone must always be either perched on a ratline halfway up the mast or at least standing on the cabin top, to keep an eye out for uncharted coral heads. These can come up out of great depths (at least 100 feet).
When we anchor now, we use floats to lift the chain off the bottom about half way along from the anchor to the boat. The theory is that this helps prevent wraps around a coral head. The floats are salvaged oyster farm buoys we found on the beach and we have 4 now - 2 large and 2 small. They are hard plastic spheres - 12 inches in diameter for the smaller ones and 20 inches for the larger. The only feasible anchorage on this side of the pass is on a spur of shallower water that pokes out a few hundred feet from the beach, where we are anchored in about 50 feet. We are still quite close to the shore, but just a few hundred feet away from our spur, the bottom drops immediately off to 80 or 100 feet.
There are still have plenty of veggies and fruit on board from the Marquesas, which is a good thing as we would otherwise be on a steady coconut diet. Apparently some vegetables are grown on Fakarava - a large atoll to the south east where we intend to sail next. We will leave here this afternoon about an hour before dusk and sail overnight so as to arrive mid-morning. The passage is only 35 miles, so you would think we could sail it in daylight. However, if we left in the early morning at slack water, we would arrive a bit late in the day to safely navigate the coral lined pass into the lagoon.
While we wait, we will snorkel off the boat and toward the pass. There is a coral forest that runs along the shore here, with yellow, dun, and black corals in grotesque forms. Packs of brilliant parrot fish swim along the reef and great ugly groupers peer out at us from most of the coral heads. Rani now swims with a short pole ready to prod any curious shark. We have seen many black tipped reef sharks in the shallows here, though none have come closer than about 15 feet. The visibility here is quite good - 40 to 50 feet anyway, but varies with the tide, clarity improving an hour or two after the tide begins to flood into the lagoon.
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Night Diving
Rani woke me at 1 am with a shout, "Where is the dinghy! It's gone!"
False alarm - Because we had had guests on board, I had moved our dinghy to the stern from its usual position and I told Rani so. Going aft, Rani noticed that the dinghy had its painter wrapped around our wind vane. While trying to free the line, she dropped my precious waterproof flashlight over the side. A few choice words were spoken as we leaned over the transom watching the light disappear into 40 feet of water. The visibility was quite good here and I could see it as it reached the bottom, batteries first, and stuck in the coral sand facing up at us.
While 40 feet is deeper than the 30 I normally dive to, I was not sure how long the flashlight would continue to keep the water out at one atmosphere. It would also be easier to locate it now from its beam as it shone out in the dark. So against Rani's advice, I put on flippers and mask, and jumped into the inky water. Taking several deep breathes, I kicked for the light, clearing my ears as I descended. About half way down, I had a strong urge to turn back for the surface, uncertain I could hold my breathe long enough. But I kept swimming and was surprised at how quickly the light came up at me. I grabbed it and swam for the surface taking care to swim away from Ladybug to avoid an unpleasant bump on the head. I surfaced with plenty of breathe to spare.
No harm done and as a bonus, we now know that the flashlight is really waterproof.
False alarm - Because we had had guests on board, I had moved our dinghy to the stern from its usual position and I told Rani so. Going aft, Rani noticed that the dinghy had its painter wrapped around our wind vane. While trying to free the line, she dropped my precious waterproof flashlight over the side. A few choice words were spoken as we leaned over the transom watching the light disappear into 40 feet of water. The visibility was quite good here and I could see it as it reached the bottom, batteries first, and stuck in the coral sand facing up at us.
While 40 feet is deeper than the 30 I normally dive to, I was not sure how long the flashlight would continue to keep the water out at one atmosphere. It would also be easier to locate it now from its beam as it shone out in the dark. So against Rani's advice, I put on flippers and mask, and jumped into the inky water. Taking several deep breathes, I kicked for the light, clearing my ears as I descended. About half way down, I had a strong urge to turn back for the surface, uncertain I could hold my breathe long enough. But I kept swimming and was surprised at how quickly the light came up at me. I grabbed it and swam for the surface taking care to swim away from Ladybug to avoid an unpleasant bump on the head. I surfaced with plenty of breathe to spare.
No harm done and as a bonus, we now know that the flashlight is really waterproof.
Friday, May 25, 2012
Cheshire Clams
Our life here is a placid blend of boat maintenance, peeling, drying, cooking, and eating bananas, and the occasional trip about the lagoon or on the reef. I tried to find the leak we noticed on the last crossing, but at rest in flat waters, nothing was obvious beyond a little seepage in a cockpit drain through hull and obvious water ingress around the rudder stuffing box. I tightened the rudder stuffing box and the engine shaft stuffing box, but we will have to check for leaks while under way in a heavier sea.
Ashore we walked across the atoll to the reef. A palm-tree lined road runs along the inside of the lagoon with occasional side roads that branch to the reef. The roads are made of coral plowed flat and suitable for trucks or 4WD vehicles. The coral soil produces vegetation that is neither as as lush nor as varied as that in the Marquesas. Even the coconut palms seem less productive, the nuts smaller and fewer than those we saw in the volcanic islands. The reef reminded us of the tide pool shelf at Botanical Beach, back on Vancouver Island. A two meter easterly swell pounded the outer edge, which dropped off quickly into deep water. We saw a dozen turquoise coloured foot-long parrot fish and a one meter white tipped reef shark cruising in water barely enough to cover its tough hide.
Our English friends on 'Chapter Two' had us over yesterday for tea. Karen had baked a banana cake that was superb, so we used her recipe today to make our own version, which ended up tasting quite different. Not sure how this happened, but maybe their Panamanian flour is different from the Mexican flour we used - or perhaps it was that they used baking soda and baking powder, where we just used poweder? Whatever the cause, I have lost my title of 'Master Baker'.
The dinghy continues to fall apart, with a new crack in the hull by the mast partner. I 'welded' this with the soldering iron and riveted an aluminum patch to reinforce this highly stressed location. Today I sailed a couple of miles along the lagoon beaches to test the repair. The lagoon is like a large lake - 8 miles across ad 12 long. The land on the opposite shore is so low that you cannot see anything on the horizon except the top of an occasional palm tree. You have to be a bit careful to avoid coral heads, which are sometimes hard to see when lounging in bottom of the dinghy.
I stopped along the way to retrieve a pearl farm float that had washed up on the shore. As I waded ashore, a white tipped reef shark swam hurriedly away - no threat to humans I would guess. I was startled to see what looked like brightly coloured pouting mouths apparently embedded in the coral heads. On closer inspection, these belonged to clams about 15 to 20 cms wide. Each mouth was green or turquoise or blue (this is apparently caused by algae growing on the mouth lining). The effect was comical because the lips look like they were covered in a brilliant lipstick. Because the shells were completely encased in coral, the 'smile' was disembodied, like the Cheshire Cat's smile in "Alice in Wonderland", and appeared to come right out of rock.
Salvaged pearl farm floats are useful for lifting the boat's chain to keep it clear of coral heads. I have collected 3 so far and will try to buoy the chain the next time we anchor. The wind is supposed to build to 20 knots tomorrow, so we will stay here at least one more day.
Ashore we walked across the atoll to the reef. A palm-tree lined road runs along the inside of the lagoon with occasional side roads that branch to the reef. The roads are made of coral plowed flat and suitable for trucks or 4WD vehicles. The coral soil produces vegetation that is neither as as lush nor as varied as that in the Marquesas. Even the coconut palms seem less productive, the nuts smaller and fewer than those we saw in the volcanic islands. The reef reminded us of the tide pool shelf at Botanical Beach, back on Vancouver Island. A two meter easterly swell pounded the outer edge, which dropped off quickly into deep water. We saw a dozen turquoise coloured foot-long parrot fish and a one meter white tipped reef shark cruising in water barely enough to cover its tough hide.
Our English friends on 'Chapter Two' had us over yesterday for tea. Karen had baked a banana cake that was superb, so we used her recipe today to make our own version, which ended up tasting quite different. Not sure how this happened, but maybe their Panamanian flour is different from the Mexican flour we used - or perhaps it was that they used baking soda and baking powder, where we just used poweder? Whatever the cause, I have lost my title of 'Master Baker'.
The dinghy continues to fall apart, with a new crack in the hull by the mast partner. I 'welded' this with the soldering iron and riveted an aluminum patch to reinforce this highly stressed location. Today I sailed a couple of miles along the lagoon beaches to test the repair. The lagoon is like a large lake - 8 miles across ad 12 long. The land on the opposite shore is so low that you cannot see anything on the horizon except the top of an occasional palm tree. You have to be a bit careful to avoid coral heads, which are sometimes hard to see when lounging in bottom of the dinghy.
I stopped along the way to retrieve a pearl farm float that had washed up on the shore. As I waded ashore, a white tipped reef shark swam hurriedly away - no threat to humans I would guess. I was startled to see what looked like brightly coloured pouting mouths apparently embedded in the coral heads. On closer inspection, these belonged to clams about 15 to 20 cms wide. Each mouth was green or turquoise or blue (this is apparently caused by algae growing on the mouth lining). The effect was comical because the lips look like they were covered in a brilliant lipstick. Because the shells were completely encased in coral, the 'smile' was disembodied, like the Cheshire Cat's smile in "Alice in Wonderland", and appeared to come right out of rock.
Salvaged pearl farm floats are useful for lifting the boat's chain to keep it clear of coral heads. I have collected 3 so far and will try to buoy the chain the next time we anchor. The wind is supposed to build to 20 knots tomorrow, so we will stay here at least one more day.
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Anchored in an Atoll
After 9 weeks of rolling passages and swell-wracked anchorages, it feels like we are anchored in a palm fringed lake. And what a lovely feeling that is! Only the most gentle lapping of wavelets and caressing our hull to tell us we are on water.
We saw our first atoll around supper time two days ago. Barely visible at 10 miles, a blur of stubble on the horizon, like a 13 year old boy's moustache. Tikei proved to be a-typical of the atolls we will be visiting, for it was very small (3 kms long) with no lagoon and quite heavily forested in palms. We had altered course to visit this atoll so that we should not arrive too early the next morning at our destination of Kauehi. It felt strange to rein in Ladybug, but the consistent stronger winds (15-20 knots) gave us daily runs of over 130 nautical miles and our best day's run yet of well over 150. This meant we would arrive near midnight at the pass into Kauehi unless we reduced sail.
Before the advent of GPS and radar, the Tuammotus were less visited by yachtsmen. We were very thankful to have good electronic charts as well as a working GPS, and radar, for approaching these low lying islands on a night when there is no moon would be dangerous without an awareness of one's exact position. Our friends on 'Chapter Two' had arrived earlier and heaved to off the north end of he atoll. They reported that a current of about one knot from the south east had set them to the west of the island in the night. Currents and invisible coral reefs make for little sleep. However the charts here are very accurate and on the radar Kauehi and Raraka atoll to the south showed up as thin crescents when we were still about 10 miles off. We sailed through the wide pass between these atolls until about 6:30 when we turned our bows toward Kauehi.
'Chapter Two' led the way into the pass around 10 am. Mike and Karen had bought their boat in the Caribbean and had spent a couple of years cruising in areas of coral. We were grateful to have them lead the way on our first foray into coral infested waters. A tide was still ebbing quite strongly, but we decided not to wait for slack. We saw about 3 knots against us with a few overfalls, but no standing waves. We motored against this and across the lagoon toward an anchorage 7 miles distant that we had learned of in the "Tuamotus Compendium" - an online guide compiled by sailors who have recently visited these isles. Coral can rise instantly from 100 feet, so while Rani steered, I climbed up the rat lines to get a better view down into the water.
We had our first view of an isolated coral patch about half way across the lagoon. Disturbed water - white and frothy - and then an area of light green with a brown patch in the middle. All of this in nearby depths of 80 to 100 feet. We saw one more coral head, this one buoyed, before reaching our anchorage off a large 'motu' or island lying within the lagoon. The waves died down as we approached its palm lined shores, dropping our anchor in about 40 feet over sand. We are anchored at 15 56 S 145 03 W
We saw our first atoll around supper time two days ago. Barely visible at 10 miles, a blur of stubble on the horizon, like a 13 year old boy's moustache. Tikei proved to be a-typical of the atolls we will be visiting, for it was very small (3 kms long) with no lagoon and quite heavily forested in palms. We had altered course to visit this atoll so that we should not arrive too early the next morning at our destination of Kauehi. It felt strange to rein in Ladybug, but the consistent stronger winds (15-20 knots) gave us daily runs of over 130 nautical miles and our best day's run yet of well over 150. This meant we would arrive near midnight at the pass into Kauehi unless we reduced sail.
Before the advent of GPS and radar, the Tuammotus were less visited by yachtsmen. We were very thankful to have good electronic charts as well as a working GPS, and radar, for approaching these low lying islands on a night when there is no moon would be dangerous without an awareness of one's exact position. Our friends on 'Chapter Two' had arrived earlier and heaved to off the north end of he atoll. They reported that a current of about one knot from the south east had set them to the west of the island in the night. Currents and invisible coral reefs make for little sleep. However the charts here are very accurate and on the radar Kauehi and Raraka atoll to the south showed up as thin crescents when we were still about 10 miles off. We sailed through the wide pass between these atolls until about 6:30 when we turned our bows toward Kauehi.
'Chapter Two' led the way into the pass around 10 am. Mike and Karen had bought their boat in the Caribbean and had spent a couple of years cruising in areas of coral. We were grateful to have them lead the way on our first foray into coral infested waters. A tide was still ebbing quite strongly, but we decided not to wait for slack. We saw about 3 knots against us with a few overfalls, but no standing waves. We motored against this and across the lagoon toward an anchorage 7 miles distant that we had learned of in the "Tuamotus Compendium" - an online guide compiled by sailors who have recently visited these isles. Coral can rise instantly from 100 feet, so while Rani steered, I climbed up the rat lines to get a better view down into the water.
We had our first view of an isolated coral patch about half way across the lagoon. Disturbed water - white and frothy - and then an area of light green with a brown patch in the middle. All of this in nearby depths of 80 to 100 feet. We saw one more coral head, this one buoyed, before reaching our anchorage off a large 'motu' or island lying within the lagoon. The waves died down as we approached its palm lined shores, dropping our anchor in about 40 feet over sand. We are anchored at 15 56 S 145 03 W
Monday, May 21, 2012
Maggie Goes To Sea
This is a true story of an innocent little stow-away - told in her own words...
My name is Maggie - at least that is what my brothers and sisters call me, for I have never known my parents. I grew up in the warm tropical jungle of Nuku Hiva in a small but cozy lemon-coloured home. My life was idyllic - plenty to eat, no school work, and lots of little friends to play with. At night the gentle breezes would rock us to sleep. Sometimes I felt there must be more to life than eating, playing, and sleeping, but none of my playmates seemed to worry about such things.
One day there was terrific tremor that shook our house from top to bottom. We all snuggled together in our soft squishy bed. It was a long time before things stopped moving. I noticed after this that our home did not rock us to sleep. Maybe something had broken? Life continued - eat, play, sleep.
Later, we felt another tremor and many aftershocks. It was as if our home was moving of it's own accord, like a living creature. The light dimmed and our home tilted at a crazy angle. We adjusted our bed to the new angle and tried to get used to the motion, but many of my brothers and sisters were ill.
This morning, a final tremor shook our home and the roof came right off. A bright light shone in and I saw a huge creature standing over me. In a panic, I climbed along a wall and saying good by to my brothers and sisters, curled myself into a ball and leapt clear.
As I spiralled through the air I heard the creature yell - "Ewwww, a Maggot!" and barely had time to yell back - "No - My name is Maggie" - before I hit the ground. I saw the creature reach down apparently trying to find me, so I moved quickly and hid myself in a crack.
I miss my family and my home and wonder where my next meal will come from, but I am excited by all the possibilities of this new world.
My name is Maggie - at least that is what my brothers and sisters call me, for I have never known my parents. I grew up in the warm tropical jungle of Nuku Hiva in a small but cozy lemon-coloured home. My life was idyllic - plenty to eat, no school work, and lots of little friends to play with. At night the gentle breezes would rock us to sleep. Sometimes I felt there must be more to life than eating, playing, and sleeping, but none of my playmates seemed to worry about such things.
One day there was terrific tremor that shook our house from top to bottom. We all snuggled together in our soft squishy bed. It was a long time before things stopped moving. I noticed after this that our home did not rock us to sleep. Maybe something had broken? Life continued - eat, play, sleep.
Later, we felt another tremor and many aftershocks. It was as if our home was moving of it's own accord, like a living creature. The light dimmed and our home tilted at a crazy angle. We adjusted our bed to the new angle and tried to get used to the motion, but many of my brothers and sisters were ill.
This morning, a final tremor shook our home and the roof came right off. A bright light shone in and I saw a huge creature standing over me. In a panic, I climbed along a wall and saying good by to my brothers and sisters, curled myself into a ball and leapt clear.
As I spiralled through the air I heard the creature yell - "Ewwww, a Maggot!" and barely had time to yell back - "No - My name is Maggie" - before I hit the ground. I saw the creature reach down apparently trying to find me, so I moved quickly and hid myself in a crack.
I miss my family and my home and wonder where my next meal will come from, but I am excited by all the possibilities of this new world.
An embarassment of bananas
Yes - we have bananas. Just before leaving Uo Pou, we bought a stalk of bananas that was delivered to us in the back of a pickup by Norbert, the carver, along with the carved paddle Rani had selected earlier in the day. The stalk (or regime as it is called en Francais) arrived split into bunches, which completely filled two cardboard boxes, both of which were as heavy as I could comfortably lift. We felt like smugglers as we loaded the boxes off a rock breakwater into our tippy dinghy, in the dark. Rowing across the harbour, we tapped on Chapter Two's hull and transferred a box to their deck. The remainder we brought on board Ladybug in bunches, hanging some outside on the stern rail and washing others to stow below.
We have learned that heat, light, and salt water all conspire to ripen a banana. Some we placed in hammocks, which we made up from fish netting purchased in Mexico. We covered these with cloth hoping to delay their ripening. Others we placed in the long term veggie storage area - dark and hopefully cool. Unlike Mike & Karen on Chapter Two, our fridge is too small to make this a viable option. Rani estimated the number of bananas on the stalk at about 170 - quite a haul for $10 - but a problem if they ripen at once. What to do...
We could bake banana bread and muffins every day, but this would heat up the already toasty boat and would use lots of butane. We had tried dried bananas in Atuona and seen them for sale in some of the stores, so this seemed like a better solution.
We saw banana drying racks on Ua Pou - plastic covered frames with screened sides - and would like to make a smaller version for the boat. For now, however we are using broiling trays with slotted bottoms that allow air flow. Placing the trays on a rolling sea-swept boat can be tricky and only in harbour have we been able to put the trays in full sun on the deck. Under way we place them under the dodger where they are kept mostly dry and get slightly filtered sunlight. We were told it takes 3 or 4 days for the drying process and this has been our experience with our first batch, which we have just finished drying. They taste like candy!
It would be fun to try drying pineapple or mango and we may try this when we find some of these fruit in quantity.
We have learned that heat, light, and salt water all conspire to ripen a banana. Some we placed in hammocks, which we made up from fish netting purchased in Mexico. We covered these with cloth hoping to delay their ripening. Others we placed in the long term veggie storage area - dark and hopefully cool. Unlike Mike & Karen on Chapter Two, our fridge is too small to make this a viable option. Rani estimated the number of bananas on the stalk at about 170 - quite a haul for $10 - but a problem if they ripen at once. What to do...
We could bake banana bread and muffins every day, but this would heat up the already toasty boat and would use lots of butane. We had tried dried bananas in Atuona and seen them for sale in some of the stores, so this seemed like a better solution.
We saw banana drying racks on Ua Pou - plastic covered frames with screened sides - and would like to make a smaller version for the boat. For now, however we are using broiling trays with slotted bottoms that allow air flow. Placing the trays on a rolling sea-swept boat can be tricky and only in harbour have we been able to put the trays in full sun on the deck. Under way we place them under the dodger where they are kept mostly dry and get slightly filtered sunlight. We were told it takes 3 or 4 days for the drying process and this has been our experience with our first batch, which we have just finished drying. They taste like candy!
It would be fun to try drying pineapple or mango and we may try this when we find some of these fruit in quantity.
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