Navire's blog

Viti Levu coast Sept 2 (posted March 31, Majuro) Day 1 We left Bakana Island, near Lautoka, on a grey flat calm sea, the prospect of a day's motoring in front of us. Farewelling our friends on Acrux was hard, we were going northeast and they west to Vanuatu. However I know from our Tonga trip in 2010 that cruising friends do have a habit of popping up again in our lives.
The trip got off to a slow start after David dropped our trusty white scrubbing brush overboard, while cleaning anchor mud off the deck. You'd think it would be easy to see it on the flat grey water but I was too slow disengaging the autopilot and turning the boat, and it was lost at sea. Better get quicker at that maneuver in case its man overboard next time.
We carefully followed our route through invisible narrow coral channels and five hours later anchored at Vatia Point. Not a resort in sight to watch the rugby at so we Googled the results of the New Zealand Argentina game, a win but not a good performance it seems.
A more barren and dry place to anchor would be hard to find in the tropics.
Western Fiji was suffering from prolonged drought. We saw little sign of occupation in the scrubby dry bush around us. We hunkered down and wound up the stereo to drown out the sound of the wind.
*** "Can you hear a ticking sound?" David asked, as he came in from using the pee bottle in the cockpit.
We walked around the boat in silence trying to detect the dripping sound. David took the engine cover off and we could hear it in there. We never did figure out what it was but while shining the torch on the engine David spotted a frayed fan belt.
"Imagine that breaking when we are navigating the coral passages in no wind tomorrow," I said. Didn't bear dwelling on for long.
At the crack of dawn David was head down, bum up, changing the fan belt. Not an easy task in the cramped space around the engine.
"I need a third hand," David mutters, as he tries to maneuver three separate tools. My hands are already engaged, holding pressure on a large screwdriver while David levers the alternator.
*** I think I live with a mechanic. First was the fan belt, then next day David changed the engine oil, then the gearbox oil, all in just his undies. It's hot down there and its easier to clean the grease off skin than clothes. And tomorrow he will be working on the outboard. He's a versatile man this one.
Emerging from the engine area a little smudged, he told me, "While I was down there I found the electrical connection between the engine and the shaft has broken." This wire is connected to a zinc anode on the hull, and if not connected electrolysis caused by salt water and metal interacting will pit and corrode the shaft.
He had to disassemble drive shaft to fix it. A fiddly lengthy operation in cascading humidity carried out in a cramped space better suited to a four year old child. All before breakfast.
*** Day 2 A two fish day, a two fish day, a two fish day.
"From dearth to dinner," said David.
Another day of weaving through invisible coral under grey skies. Thank goodness for the track and mast steps. As our boat follows a course we've set on the electronic chart it leaves a visible track in its wake. Very useful, for example, for exiting a reef. It makes sense that the track created going in is safe to follow back out.
Covering new ground, especially when entering coral reefs there is this constant level of anxiety. We use strategies such as climbing the mast, wearing polarized lenses, checking and rechecking the charts. But untill we are have actually covered the ground we just aren't 100% confident. Back on our first visit to Suva another boat gave us a set of existing tracks which we downloaded into our chart software.
You would think we'd just set a course on our chart and follow that. But the charts we have for here are not very reliable. We also have satellite photographic images that sit inside our electronic Open CPN chart programme. These usually show the coral quite well as you would see it from a height, and often show it where it is not indicated on Open CPN. However sometimes the pictures don't have enough resolution, or there is a cloud covering the area, so if we have an existing track we know that someone found their way safely and we can follow their path. Unless of course they are a catamaran. (They have much shorter keels) Nonetheless even with other people's tracks we never completely relax until we have actually covered the ground.
*** David is getting more relaxed by the day, playing card games on his phone, whereas I just anxious about jobs to be done. Will I ever really completely unwind on this trip? I wonder to myself.
Tues 21 Blue sky in the distance. Fingers crossed. It doesn't come to anything, the wind picks up but finally we see Nananui I Ra, the topmost point of Vitu Levu, our stopping place for the next few days. We drop anchor in 18 metres putting all of our 50 metres of chain out. We go through our now very familiar shut down routine.
"Here's to a two fish day," I toast David with a watermelon margarita.
We are half way east, the easy half though. There's lot more coral around the corner and we have no existing tracks for that area.

Bakana Island More catch up posts from Fiji. We are still alive and well in Majuro. Will post an update soon.
Vuda Point and northward Sept 21 Back to land to prepare for the next leg of our journey, westward around the top of Viti Levu. After a night anchored at Sawene Bay, we sailed for Vuda Point Marina. We navigated the now familiar narrow shallow coral pass and tied up to the fuel jetty. Diesel topped up, we got a berth in the inner harbour. This was a big round pond, a former mining pit, now filled with seawater and several dozen yachts, some tightly packed around the sides and some tied up in the middle.
This was tricky to maneuver in and avoid getting the prop snagged on a line.
With only two nights there we worked hard, doing laundry, shopping, watering up and purchasing an industrial sewing machine, very useful tool on a boat. We can now do our own sail repairs and canvas work. Unfortunately we can't use it till we get a 110 to 240V converter which we can't get till we reach Majuro.
*** September 18th was my 58th birthday. I still feel so much younger than that. My father died at 58 when I was only 25. I thought that was old then, not old enough to die, but back then I didn't really realise there was so much more life to be lived after 58.
We invited Wayne and Christine, who you may remember we met in Suva, (and bought the sewing machine from) for drinks and cake to celebrate the day. I made the cake, my favourite Molten chocolate cake, and David iced it. We sat on the shore watching the sunset and toasted me, then went back to the boat and ate sushi, a rare treat in Fiji, before blowing out the candles.
Ever keen, we squeezed in two more Rugby World Cup games, a New Zealand one, and Japan spectacularly beating South Africa. It was so much fun watching with other boaties.
Sunday we had Mala and David over for lunch. Mala is sister-in-law, and secretary to Raghu Reddy who we toured with last month, and was just delightful. She is on our list to visit when we return to Fiji. We'd like to have taken them out sailing but the weather was bad. Mala, Indo-Fijian, made a fish curry - just divine.
*** Next day we headed to Bakana Island just off Lautoka. It was lovely being in a marina - showers, rugby, company, no weather worries - but its great getting out again too, having some breeze, enjoying the openness. It was 25 degrees in there and the humidity 85%. (I laugh to myself as I'm editing this five months later sitting in Majuro where the temperature drops to a mere 28, at night. 25 would be bliss).
When I read this out to David he asked me to say: EDIT "I almost always feel, 'Oh, ocean, sailing how do you do this?' when we leave a marina. Its almost embarrassing." I know how he feels.
At Bakana we met up with Vanille, a French Canadian boat, who we'd met at Kadavu, and NZ boat Acrux, who we'd met at Malolo. So lovely to see our 'old friends'. We shared the remainders of the birthday cake and talked boat with them.
*** Mon 21 We walked to Lautoka in the sweltering heat to renew our Fijian visas for two more months. I licked my arm, it was salty, I'm always salty.
"You know I'm glad we are going to live in a small town when we get back," I said to David as a fire engine screamed past us. Nine months out of Wellington and now even small towns are too much for me.
The immigration man was very curt and officious till I asked him about rugby, then a smile lit his face. They are all into it here.
Heading back out to the boat the poor dinghy was nearly swamped with all our groceries and a box of beer, but we were set for a few weeks now till we got the next shops on the other side of Viti Levu.

Posted from Majuro six months later Yasawas 2 September 9 Blue Lagoon Janet We are anchored in Blue Lagoon, ostensibly the scene of the original Blue Lagoon movie, and it certainly was an iconic South Pacific island scene. In front of the boat was a typical resort, bures, loungers on the white sand, and beachside bar. About ten yachts rocked gently in the anchorage backed by a classic Pacific sunset framed by silhouettes of palm trees. *** When Lynnis offered me a night on shore I jumped at the opportunity. I was packed in five minutes. We piled into the dinghy and David delivered us to shore. I reveled in that moment of shore life. Flush toilet, running water, long hot showers several times a day. And beds already made, towels folded neatly on the vanity in the bathroom. Lynnis and I sat on the deck of our bure looking over a coral passage, soaking up the spaciousness. We adjourned to the restaurant for dinner. The food was nothing flash, and as usual, no gourmet interpretations of local food. But I basked in the knowledge there would be no dishes to do tonight. We slept the night away on crisp white non-salty sheets.
After fish and chips and pina coladas for lunch we farewelled Lynnis, leaving her to catch the ferry back to Viti Levu, and started to plan our return journey.
A fibre came by and Sammy, who lived next to the resort, invited us for a lovo. $20 a head for a Fijian meal cooked in the ground, and most of the other boats in the anchorage were going. Always into local food and yachties' company I was on.
*** The sun was low when we tied our dinghy to a coconut palm. We followed wafting smoke along a path through the trees just in time to see our dinner being lifted out of a hollow in the ground. It was decanted onto trays and laid out on a long table. About 20 of us from the boats lined up for a smorgasbord of fish, chicken, wild pork, pumpkin, a delicious radish salad, and cassava. Not as delicious as the village food at Kavala but pretty good all the same, and definitely better than the resort where there was no local cuisine to be seen.
Why do the resorts cook mostly European food? Surely when you visit another culture you want to eat the food, it is such a huge part of people's lives. I need to taste my way into a place. It's easy to think that there wouldn't be that many local dishes to furnish a menu but when you look deeper into local cuisine there are all sorts of fine dishes as evidenced in my Pacific cookbook Mea Kai. You could also put a local twist on a European dish. *** It was ten days since we last got fresh provisions so we enquired about 'The Farm' a produce place other yachties had told us about. Late in the afternoon a sailboat came alongside. It was a sweet little thing, no engine, painted bright blues and orange.
I looked into the bilge and it was littered with bright red tomatoes, white spicy radishes, piles of pawpaws, and hands of bananas. We just pointed and said how much a kilo for this and that, and loaded it into the boat.
*** Waya I sighed with relief as we sailed into the lee of the top bay of Waya Island, the ne and a half, speed down to four knots, back to two hours. Were we ever going to get there? Eventually we sailed into the topmost bay of Waya and dropped the anchor in eight metres of crystal calm clear water. Eight meters being very nice after most of our recent anchorages being closer to 20. We have 50 metres of chain and then rope, not enough chain for our liking in the deeper anchorages. If the books are to be believed the recommended minimum is 3 to 1, that is three times the depth of scope, but preferably five or more. In 20 meters we only have 50 metres of chain and we feel vulnerable. Time for a swim, the salt water still drying on my skin I settled into the cockpit with a cooling drink and gazed out at the view. This wasn't right. The boat was facing the other way from which we anchored, with the stern facing the bloody shore. A north easterly had come up, completely unpredicted. Maybe it was the land effect, where the warm land sucks the air from the sea. This has happened a few times before but it usually eases after sunset, in this case leaving an uncomfortable swell.
"What if I shout at it?" said David and wandered out to the cockpit to check the compass again.
"I'm sleeping out here in the cabin," I said after investigating our bunk in the forward cabin. "Far too much pitch." (roll) We planned our next day.
"We'll sail out east of this island and if it's too windy we'll just go to the other end of Waya for the night." said David.
We were concerned that the forecast for the next few days was southeast, on the nose. We needed to get back to a main town to renew our visas and had heard that process could take several days.
**** I felt seasick , and we were at anchor. We woke to too much headwind so we were stuck at Waya for another day. I'd just been up the top of mast to lubricate the mast track and clean the stays. The roll at cabin level is magnified about five times up at the top of the mast and it doesn't take much to upset my stomach.
*** We resigned ourselves to having to motor in to Lautoka, probably with a headwind. That last night at Waya was awful, the wind blew east and the swell came from the north leaving us side on to it. Navire rolled all night like she was dancing at a disco. I got up several times, securing empty wine bottles clinking in the back of the cockpit, stuffing a tea-towel into a draw, even putting the dishes away at midnight so they wouldn't fall off the bench. I tossed and turned worrying about whether we'd get away in the morning.
But now we sit in the cockpit, me typing, David repairing the green shining lure that has just caught the second fish of our trip. Its dead calm, so we still have to motor but no headwind, no waves to pound into. I'm grateful for small mercies.
I'm excited about the prospect of a social life back on the mainland. We've just heard back from one of the Reddy families who are bringing a duck curry to the boat later this week when we take them out for a sail. It is my birthday on Saturday and the first game of the Rugby World Cup, Fiji vs England.

Posted from Majuro 6 months later Fish of the day August 31, 2015 Janet "We got a fish, we got a fish!" David high-fived me for the fifth time in a row. The drought was broken. Ten minutes earlier, David idly pulled the fishing line in. Just to have a look. Just in case. This line that we had towed for thousands of luckless miles. "We've got a fish! Get me the gaff!" he yelled. I fumbled in the cockpit locker and eventually got the right one. David drove the hook into the fish and hefted it into the cockpit. What a beast, a beautiful beast. 1.2 metres of thrashing muscle and tail. David deftly stuck a knife in its head to slow it down, blood spurting over the walls and floor of the cockpit. He quickly transformed the fish into steaks, reserving the head to freeze and to give to someone at the next village. The heads are savoured here. Butchering complete, it took several bucket loads of seawater to sluice the cockpit free of blood and guts. For the next few miles I planned the menu; Kokoda (Fijian marinated fish) for an entree, and walu steaks for mains that night.