Merry Christmas 2013

Merry Christmas,

and a Happy New Year

from Dee and Pippa.

Here are a few  photos of us in, or on our way to New Zealand.Click on a photo to see an enlargement.

 On Watch

The last 100 miles

The Bay of Islands

 The Bay of Islands

Our secret skinny dip venue.

39th Post - Fiji and New Caledonia

The last week or so of June 2013 saw us sailing back towards Savusavu, the capital of Vanua Levu, the island forming the northern part of Fiji.

Hello Again

It often strikes me just how much easier and less stressful it is, to enter a harbour or anchorage for the second time. However, surprises can still catch you out. Nadi bay was such a place. The wind very light and we motored for much of the day. The entrance is narrow and fringed with reefs, but not difficult in the calm weather we were experiencing.

Just as I altered course to close on the pass, an engine alarm sounded! On examination I found that the fan belt had broken. Oh dear! There was a light off shore breeze so sailing into harbour was not an option. So while Pippa sailed gently away from land, I got stuck in and fitted a new fan belt. Not a problem but a reminder to keep on ones toes.

On the 10^th of July we set off from Vanua Levu to explore some of the islands to the south in the Koro Sea. 

Giant Clam seen at Makogai island

A long and tiring day sail, with head winds all the way, saw us anchored at Dere Bay on Koro Island. The bay was well sheltered and very pleasant. However we didn’t stay long, preferring to carry on the following day to Makogai Island. 

Makogai is a classic small Pacific island surrounded by a barrier reef, with just a narrow pass. It was also home to a leper colony until 1969! We enjoyed a full sevusevu ceremony there, in company with passengers and crew from a visiting commercial catamaran. 

We presented the chief with a bunch of Kava Roots, and in return were entertained with a colourful display of the Kava ceremony followed by much enthusiastic singing and dancing. 

The national park was reintroducing the Giant Clam in the islands waters, and I took the photo above of a clam in a rearing pen. 

Kava ceremony

The next day we had a cracking sail to Levuka, the capital of Ovalau island. We had just one tack all day, with a brisk wind  on the beam. Unfortunately, Levuka turned out to be large, smelly and noisy, especially when downwind of the Fish Processing Plant. We didn’t stay long. Despite the town’s World Heritage Status.

We were experiencing a series of head winds, so rather than fight them on our intended cruise south and then west towards Viti Levu, we exercised our prerogative and went anti clockwise around the island

On the 13^th of July, we rounded a feature marked on our chart as Cape Horn! On our way to Yarovudi. It turned out to be rather disappointing, more of a bump than a cape.

The next day saw us anchored at Nakesa, well protected from the swell by the reef, but no escape from the strong wind. This had become a pattern on this coast. We were perfectly safe at anchor, but the constant buffeting and noise of the wind was unsettling. The pattern was to continue during our visit to Cagalai and the nearby Leleuvia islands.

The anchorage at Leleuvia was a little tricky to enter, one had to take a rather circuitous route avoiding reefs and bommies (corral heads). The anchorage itself was secure.

We became stuck here for two days. Even swimming was a problem, with Sula surging forward, backwards and sideways to the severe gusts of wind. We were starting to detect cabin fever setting in.

The weather forecast promised a short lull, but only for a day. We were up before dawn, and as soon as there was enough light to see clearly we set off. The wind had dropped, but only a notch or two, so manoeuvring around the coral outcrops concentrated one’s mind wonderfully. Once clear however, we were rewarded by a cracking downwind sail of 50 miles to the wonderfully sheltered island of Nananu-T-Thake on the North side of Viti Levu.

The following day, the 19^th of July, it rained and it blew stronger than ever, just as it was forecast to do. But we were unaffected bystanders, safe and sound in the lee of this most attractive island. We rested on our laurels for a day or two here and waited for the weather to improve.

The next few days provided us with sheltered sailing inside the reef until we arrived at the capital, Lautoka. We looked at Lautoka, and didn’t much like what we saw. It was dominated by a smoky, smelly and unattractive cane sugar processing plant. So we continued on to anchor for the night at Sawini Bay.

How the heck did that happen?

After a good night’s sleep and an unusual problem hoisting our anchor, we proceeded to the delightful Vuda marina. As we entered we were entranced by staff singing a traditional song of welcome. It proved to be a very friendly place, well designed, convenient and not at all expensive. As we left a few days later, the staff again gathered, to sing us a farewell send off.

Farewell

By the 29^th it was time to leave Viti Levu and indeed Fiji. But first it was necessary to clear out with customs. We motored back to the port anchorage at Latoka. It was very hot, smelly and humid as I rowed ashore to clear customs. 

There was a slight problem with the paperwork, I apologised, said I just didn’t have the clearance document from Savusavu he wanted. He considered this a moment, shrugged and dismissed the matter. “All I need to do now” he said, “is to inspect the boat”. I led the way to our ancient and well patched, three person Avon inflatable. He seemed rather taken aback. “Is that your dinghy?” Yes I concurred. “Don’t you have an engine?” No, I apologised. He considered the matter for a few moments. “In certain cases I am allowed to use my discretion.” He said. “It will not be necessary for me to visit your yacht.

As soon as I got back on board we embarked on our passage to New Caledonia. We passed through the passage of the outer reef as it was getting dark. The Pass was well marked with leading lights. Oh, these lights are surely the best navigational aid ever invented. Clear, unambiguous and low tech.

To clinch a good day we caught a lovely fish for supper.

8^th August. After a quiet and uneventful ten day passage we arrived in New Caledonia. We hove to until daylight and then entered the Boulari Pass. From there it was a ten mile sail to Noumea the country’s capital, where we found a berth in the excellent Port Moselle Marina.

Walking with Maria in the Riviere Bleue national park

We had just settled in, when an ex work colleague and good friend from my Prince’s Trust days, turned up in her usual bouncy manner. Maria had found us! It was just great to see her after so long.

She has been living in New Caledonia for a few years now and apart from speaking fluent French and acquiring a partner, Raphael, had not changed at all. In the next week or so she tried to kill us off by taking us sightseeing, walking in the Riviere Bleue National park, windsurfing and kayaking. We retaliated by taking Maria and Raphael sailing.

On the 19^th of August we left Noumea and sailed to Ilot Charron (Where Maria had taken us kayaking) as the first stop of our exploration of this strangely red and green country. We had a succession of gentle day sails, slowly traveling south and west. Bay Uie was followed by Baie de Prony. A large complex bay, with a variety of anchorages to suit the wind and our fancy. We found good snorkelling on Prony Reef. The water being both clear and warm. (Well, not too cold).

We walked up to Prony light house, and met a small group of people whale watching.  There was a public telescope welded to a stand, through which I may or may not have seen a whale. Let’s say I did.

A nifty little tender

At another of Prony’s anchorages, the Bai de la Somme.  We came across a fleet of commercial whale watching catamarans. One had a most unusual tender. Our final anchorage in this lovely bay was at the pretty little island of Ilot Casy.

The following morning, we saw the whale watching fleet go out, and decided on the spur of the moment to follow them, to see what we could see. Well, the only sea we saw, was the sea saw bobbing sea. Not a sniff of a cetacean. However, I did spot that the wind was just perfect, for a sail to the oft cited jewel in New Caledonia’s crown, the Iles de Pins.

The anchorage in Kuto felt rather roly after the recent calm anchorages. Never mind, the water was a beautiful turquoise, allowing us to see many patches of corral. The next day we dug our folding bikes out of their cockpit locker, rowed them ashore, and went off to climb Pic N’ga, the highest peak in the Iles de Pins. Though that isn’t saying much. The fact that we made it to the top was evidence of its modest elevation.

The Iles de Pins from Pic N’ga

The following day a cruise ship arrived, and disgorged hundreds of Australian tourists. We cycled off to the islands capital of Vao hoping to find the market. We eventually found it, but by that time it was it was 9AM and was completely sold out! We should have been there at 7AM!

We had read that the Baie de Gadji was the finest anchorage in this part of New Caledonia. However, it was difficult pilotage and the only charts available to us were out of date. The route seemed to cross several reefs with few passes. It sounded interesting. The weather was settled, the water was crystal clear, we decided to give it a go.

Ilot Moro was our first stop. It seemed to be sat on a reef 300 metres from navigable water. Pippa donned her polaroid sun glasses, and guided me to a lovely secluded island where we spent the night.

The following morning we motored gingerly to Baie de Uamaeo keeping a good watch for coral heads. Our charts were rather vague about this area so Pippa’s  mark one eye balls were called once again into service. 

Our third day was slightly easier, the chart was better, though unfortunately showed many very shallow patches. We soldiered (sailored) on to a lovely secluded anchorage, where at low water we had just 0.4 metres of water under our keel. Fortunately it was neep tides.

Sula at anchor in the Baie de Gadjii

1st September, at Baie de Gadjii. 

Dee forgot Pippa’s birthday. The Cad. But Pippa, bless her forgave him, she said his mind was completely on navigation. See why I love her?

At high water the next day we returned to Baie de Uamoe, and on the following day back into deep water. We were getting short on both food and beer so made our way back to Noumea via Baie Ire and Ilot Bailly. For the last leg we had two reefs in the main sail and still maintained six knots most of the way. Fabulous sailing.

Once we had topped up the dwindling food and beer stocks, we set off for the Canal Woodin. Head winds greeted us as we got clear of Noumea. A hasty crew meeting was called, and we unanimously elected to change course by 180° and go to Baie Maa, a lovely sheltered anchorage a few miles north of Noumea.

On the way we met the yacht ‘Super Ted’ crewed by Matt and Jean.  Matt is one of the net controllers for the Pacific Drifters Net. The Drifters Net is an entirely voluntary, amateur HF Radio service. It operates twice a day at a set time and radio frequency. Any ocean sailor can join, though its primary use is for yachts on passage. A yachts position, course and speed are recorded on a daily basis. If a yacht gets into trouble at sea, other yachts in the vicinity may be able to offer assistance. And/or pass on a distress message to the appropriate coastguard station.

By the 12^th of September the weather had settled down and we set off to the North West coast of New Caledonia enroute to the Loyalty Islands, fifty odd miles to the east. 

Nickel mining. New Caledonia

We found a secure anchorage in the well sheltered bay of Baie N’go. But there is a very large fly in the New Caledonian ointment. Vast areas of its land are the subject of open cast Nickel mining. New Caledonia is the world’s third biggest exporter of Nickel. It is the base for the country’s economy.

Our next anchorage was at Kuebuni, just outside of the Havannah pass. The pass has a bit of a reputation, but more of that anon. Today it was in a benign mood. We motored through in a flat calm and entered Kuebuni, anchoring in a pleasant bay protected by a huge reef.

The following day we sailed up the coast to Yate, and found a lovely anchorage, we were able to walk to a shop-cum-garage, and hitch a lift back to Sula with the can of fuel we had bought. That afternoon we paddled the dinghy up the river and were able to swim in the cool fresh water; lovely.

Next day we sailed overnight to Lifou, one of the Loyalty Islands, fifty odd miles to the North West of New Caledonia. Arriving in the dark, we hove to until dawn.

Baie de Doking

We sailed along the undercut cliffs leading to Baie de Chepenehe A lovely bay with clear water and interesting rock architecture. And we had it all to ourselves.

At Baie de Doking, we anchored in a sandy patch between large outcrops of coral. We found beautiful snorkelling along the reef. The next morning we went ashore and paid our respects to the head man of the village. Presenting him with the customary small gift of cloth, tobacco, and 500 francs. (About £3.50).

We departed for Ile Mouli, Ouvea at 0530. Once clear of land, I opened the (toilet) holding tank. It wouldn’t empty! So the next job was to unblock it. A hose pipe down the vent pipe did the trick. Only just got there in time though, the tank was full almost to the brim. Oh the delights of sailing.

I probably wouldn’t go the Loyalty Islands again, unless I happened to be passing. Rather unlikely! It was a nice enough place, but a lot of work for just a couple of high lights.

Back on the main land we anchored in the superb Baie Laugier. Quiet, attractive, with a few shacks that seemed not to be occupied. The high hills provided a much missed twilight as the sun set behind them. As we sat drinking a cold beer we watched as literally thousands of Shearwaters flew round and round and eventually formed an enormous raft on the edge of our bay!  

Baie Laugier.

6^th October. A lovely day’s coastal cruising. We woke up early and made a good start, arriving off Baie du Ugue at lunch time. The contrast between the rape of the open cast Nickel mine and the lush growth and colonial pine trees surrounding the bay was remarkable.

We anchored off the Ilot Ague, a mile or two from the mainland shore. There we snorkelled along the island’s superb coral reef before lunch. After lunch we motored across to Baie Ugue and anchored for the night. I set too and repaired a small tear in the main sail. It’s looking as though it has crossed a couple of oceans.

8^th No wind this morning so we motored the twenty miles to Hienghene. The cruise along the coast was delightful and the arrival at Hienghene quite spectacular. Large black sea cliffs of sedimentary rock dominated our approach. The climax was rounding Les Tours, otherwise known as ‘La Poule de Hienghene’. Though, with the sun overhead, it didn’t look at all like a chicken to me! More like a splendid mythological gate. Nevertheless, we found a sheltered bay and set the anchor deep and secure into the mud and sand bottom. It is noteworthy, that these days, such simple things provide us with a seemingly disproportionate amount of pleasure. 

Dawn over La Poule de Hienghene

We watched the quite spectacular sun rise over the ‘La Poule’ as we prepared Sula for today’s cruise. We had a light to moderate headwind all day, so motored the 20 odd miles to the Baie de Touho. A yacht we saw as we approached turned out to be Victory, crewed by the Dutch couple Monique & Jan Bart. We had met in Savusavu and again in Viani, Fiji. We joined them for a glass of wine at sunset.

Our departure this morning got off to a bad start. I hit a sand bank just in front of our anchoring position. Fortunately, no harm done, except to my ego. Sula is a tough old bird. We continued without delay and had a fine sail on a beam reach at up to six knots. Lunch time had to be postponed as it coincided with our return visit to Kauaoua.

We topped up with water on the quay, and returned to what may well transpire to be our favourite anchorage, Baie Laugier. The thing we liked best was watching the sun go down behind a hill and providing us with a period of dusk. We don’t get much of that in the Pacific. For the second time here we were treated to the sight of thousands of Shearwaters forming a raft for the night in our bay.

Another pleasant day cruising along the coast, on our way back to Noumea. We gently beat our way south to Ile Nemou in Port Bouquet. Here we had pleasant snorkelling in the clear warm water and saw many beautifully coloured clams embedded in the coral.    

It was damp with a light breeze as we left last night’s anchorage. But the wind and sea soon picked up. Before long we were beating into a force 4 to 5 with a pocket handkerchief of jib and two reefs in the main. It was hard work and the wind didn’t let up until we were just a couple of miles from Yate. The 25 mile passage became 50 with the beating to windward. We arrived safe and sound if a little ragged at tea time. There was a little bounce finding its way into the anchorage, but we were well enough protected. Best of all, the anchor was well dug in to thick gooey mud. We would be able to sleep easy tonight.

It was necessary for us to arrive at the Havannah pass at slack water. We didn’t have tide tables, so had to rely on the observation of a stick I planted on the beach. A great Idea, but unfortunately it didn’t work.

As we approached the pass our speed steadily decreased, not a good sign! In no time at all we found ourselves in a tide race. We were going in the right direction, so that was OK. Unfortunately we were surfing down steep waves, and were surrounded by breaking water. We couldn’t go back, the tide was much too fast. So we secured the wash boards, gritted our teeth and held on.

It didn’t last long, maybe half an hour, and we were never in any real danger. Just as long as we didn’t panic. I estimated that we had arrived at the pass only an hour too soon. It must really be something at the height of the flood. The rest of the passage to Baie Ire was pleasant and thankfully uneventful.

An easy sail the next day in an increasing wind, took us to Ile Ngea, just five miles easy sailing from Noumea. The anchorage was sheltered from the waves and swell but not from the ever increasing wind. Nevertheless it was a good place to stop for Sunday lunch (tinned mackerel, salad and biscuits). We were entertained by kite surfers, wind surfers, dinghy sailors and the French equivalent of Hobi cats, as we dined in the cockpit.

It was not a comfortable anchorage, however, as we swung violently to the wind. We elected to sail on to Baie Maa, the anchorage ten miles to the north that we had used before, and knew to offer near perfect respite from the trade winds. And so it proved.

After breakfast the next day we took our rather sad mainsail off. It was suffering from UV degradation, tears were appearing vertically along the leach. Fortunately, our old mainsail was still in good working order, so we bent it on as a replacement. I think we will go back to Willis sail makers in Opua and treat Sula to a new mainsail.

The next day we motor sailed in a rising wind to Port Moselle. The marina was chock ablock, with yachts preparing for their passage to New Zealand or Australia. The visitors pontoon was full, but they found us a berth in the company of smaller resident boats. It’s quite novel to be one of the larger yachts on a pontoon.

Fairwell New Caledonia

So now it’s time for us to prepare for our passage to Opua, in the North Island of New Zealand. This will be our second visit but more of that anon…

38th Post Fiji

Though we are in Fiji now, I think I should bring the blog up to date by completing the tale of our time in New Zealand.

The 37^th Post covered our travels from our arrival in New Zealand to our departure from Great Barrier Island. This Post starts as we leave Great Barrier Island and enter the Hauraki Gulf.

We motor sailed through the Man of War Passage, and began a fabulous twenty four mile beam reach, to Kawau island in the North Channel of the Hauraki Gulf. We sailed at 6 knots most of the way sometimes reaching 6.5 knots. The scrub off at Smoke House Bay had really produced dividends.

As we approached land the wind backed and we ended up on a rather uncomfortable run through lumpy seas before anchoring in Shark Bay, Bon accord Harbour. 

Cormorants off Great Barrier Island

Bring back fond memories of canoeing in Pembrokeshire.

By way of contrast, our next port of call was Warkworth’s Town Wharf.

Getting there involved intricate pilotage up the tidal Mahurangi river.

We set off three hours before high tide and proceeded slowly and with great care over the low water mud flats. We often had less than a metre under our keel. Having safely tied up alongside the town quay half an hour or so before high tide, we still couldn’t relax because Sula needed constant attention and adjusting of lines until sufficient water had gone for her to sink her keel into the mud and lie gently against the quay. 

At low tide, the only water in the river was from a fresh water stream that was mere inches deep.

Warkworth is a pleasant town and we enjoyed our stay. Apparently few boats come this far up river. Perhaps our home cruising ground of the Afon Cleddau with its extensive low tide mud flats made us appreciate the Mahurangi River.

During the following week we visited the following :-

Otarawao Bay, Motuketekati Island, Oneroa Bay, and Opopoto Bay.

Where, to my shame, I had to repair a small tear in the mainsail, caused by not pulling the tack down tight enough while reefing.

On the 7^th March we sailed to Garden Cove on Waiheki Island.

The tiny entrance to this anchorage lay between land to starboard and a large rock to port. It had just about enough room for us to anchor. However, we felt we were invading the space of a group of people on the beach, so, stopping only long enough for a cup of coffee, we sailed back a short way to a pleasant anchorage at Woodlands Bay. Here we found a secluded rock pool to skinny dip. Lovely.

The next day we sailed along the coast to the northern tip of Waiheki Island. I had spotted a likely looking cove with rocks on either side, not mentioned in our pilot book, but marked on the chart as Ruruwhangro Bay. It proved to be an excellent anchorage with some superb rock scenery.

We were keen to move round to the west coast of the island because of a strong wind warning, so after lunch we handed the anchor and sailed round to Hooks Bay on the Eastern side.  A pleasant bay with sand cliffs aplenty. Interestingly, hundreds of native hard wood trees have been planted on this sheep and cattle grazing land.

One of Pippa’s other loves

It blew a fresh breeze overnight and we were glad to be in a secure and sheltered anchorage.

We set off after breakfast with a reefed main and jib but shook them out after a couple of hours. Then had a cracking sail round the north of Waiheke Island and down the Waiheke Channel to anchor in a fine bay next to Chamberlin’s Bay on Ponui Island.

On the way down the channel we met a racing fleet coming up. 
Unfortunately we were on the port tack and they were on starboard. (ie. they had right of way) There was plenty of room however, so it was not a problem, though I had to concentrate hard as we crossed the bow of the leading yacht, decked out in his finest Kevlar sails. 

Further down channel we were treated to the sight of a racing Trimaran. The crew rode on the windward hull that was a metre or more out of the water. The leeward hull was scarcely visible above the water. We kept well clear.

That evening we witnessed a common phenomenon that puzzles me.  As we sat in our cockpit enjoying a cold beer, yacht after yacht in a neighbouring bay up anchored and moved into a crowded, but bigger bay. (Fortunately not ours) The forecast was for settled weather, the holding in both bays was reported as being good. Why did they move? Do they feel safer crowded together like sheep? Perhaps they see one yacht move and think “He’s moved, perhaps this bay isn't secure! I had better follow him.” The Lemming principal I suppose.

Waitamata Harbour. Auckland

Our fabulous cruise of the Hauraki Gulf ended with our arrival at Auckland’s Waitamata Harbour. What a brilliant entrance to a wonderful city.

It easily lives up to its other name, The City of Sails. As a bonus the

Queen Mary 2^nd was in harbour.

We booked ourselves into the giant Westhaven Marina. It’s really a huge parking lot for boats, with 2,000 odd berths! Still it was just what we now needed. We could leave Sula safe and sound while we explored some more of  South Island.

  

On the 14^th March we flew to Christchurch, it was only a 1½ hour flight, and well worth the money. It would have cost us nearly as much to take two days over the journey and go by coach and ferry.

We drove to Hanmer Springs to take up Steve and Lynne Brodie’s kind offer to make use of their Bach while they were away completing the Te Araroa Walk.

You can read all about that at:- Te Araroa Walk.

Hanmer Springs

Monday 18^th March

My sister Celia came to visit us in Hanmer. She sandwiched us in between a cycling holiday in Vietnam and a cultural visit to Japan. Boats don’t do much for her, I probably put her off by one too many duckings in the days of my first sailing boat a GP14 I named James Caird.

Celia was with us for ten days or so. On the agenda was lots of catching up and storytelling, over scrumptious grub cooked in the luxury of a kitchen rather than a galley.

Other activities included Mountain biking on a system of tracks around Hanmer, followed by a relaxing visit to the famous hot springs.

One of Hanmer’s cold springs

We did some gentle sea kayaking, and on the way back visited a fresh water mountain stream, where a hundred odd seal cubs played in a natural nursery.  A DOC poster informed us that they were honing their social and swimming skills in preparation for the day their mother would lead them out to sea.

It was a lovely visit and we are indebted to Celia, and to Steve and Lynne Brodie. Thanks all three of you.

Gorge walking on a hot day – Just the ticket

On the 30^th of March we flew back to Auckland and re-joined Sula.

Just like a loyal spaniel, she welcomed us back without the slightest hint of recrimination for having abandoned her for so long. If the truth be known, I  tend to fret while away from her. After years of sailing I still fail to be convinced that she will cope in my absence.

Next on our agenda was to make our way to Whangarei Town Basin for two weeks, where we would have Sula hauled out, scrubbed and antifouled.

We have heard Whangarei described as a muddy hole. This is just not true.

It is a fine town with an excellent marina, slap in the middle of town. Everything a yachtsman might need can be found within walking distance.

Unlike many marinas, this one has soul. 

On the 18^th of April we sailed via Whangaruru back to Opua in the Bay of Islands. The weather was definitely becoming autumnal by now, and it was time to return to the tropics.

The passage from New Zealand to Fiji is easy enough if you get it right. The trouble only begins if you get it wrong! Autumn is the time to go, but that isn’t the end of the story. As the New Zealand winter approaches a series of gales come storming in from the Tasman sea. But if you go too early there is the risk of meeting a late cyclone in the tropics. The trick is to study the weather forecast carefully, wait until a weather front has passed through, and then set sail with alacrity. Unless of course there is a second front close behind the first.

This little hitchhiker joined us for part of the way

  

So, following the above criteria, we set sail from Opua on the 8^th of May.

The first few days were rather uncomfortable because of a confused sea following the latest Tasman sea blow. Then on the sixth day out we caught some brisk winds as expected. It was still a bit bouncy, but at least we were sailing well and making good progress. On the 8^th day the sun came out, it was warm and we could dry out our foul weather clothes. On the 9th day we were drifting along at one knot. Ho Hum!

Our only paper chart of the approaches to Fiji was a photocopy of an old Admiralty chart. A good modern paper chart just couldn't be found.

While idly studying the notices to mariners on the chart’s margin, I was perturbed to note that though it claimed to be WGS compatible, and that positions obtained from GPS could be plotted directly on to the chart,

a second note informed mariners that Thakau, Momo and Nairai islands had been reported as being ½ a mile ESE of their charted position.

Never mind. If we were only doing one knot we wouldn’t hit them very hard!

On the 21^st of May 2013 we made landfall at Savusavu in Fiji (without bumping into anything).

The charming Copra Shed Marina provided us with a convenient mooring, just a few boat lengths from their office complex.  The weather was warm and often hot, but became very humid between fairly frequent rain showers.

Customs, immigration and port health officers came aboard and helped us with a large wad of paperwork. Many of the forms referred to the ships master, crew and passengers. One asked the ships surgeon to report any  contagious diseases. Inspite of the fact that the forms were rather over the top, the officials were most helpful, sympathetic and efficient and the whole process was over before too long.

Fijian Blossom

Savusava is a small but bustling multi ethnic town. Many of the shops are owned and operated by Indian immigrants. I say immigrants, but the truth is that most of them are third generation immigrants. For many complex reasons integration just isn’t working in Fiji. What a shame.

Now, it’s not often I get the chance to talk about spelling. (That’s Pippa’s prerogative). But here goes.

Suva is the capital of Fiji.

Savusavu is the town of our arrival in Fiji.

Somosomo is the capital of the nearby Taveuni Island

Sevusevu  is the ceremony of welcome to visitors of a village.

Sulu is the skirt worn by men on formal occasions.

Sula is the name of our yacht. Though perhaps we should refer to her as Sulasula to avoid any confusion.

The weekend got in the way, so we had to wait until the Monday to collect our cruising permit. There was a short delay at the customs office concerning some technical matter which I never did grasp. But it says so much about the Fiji people. It was a hot and very humid day. Rather than being left standing at the custom officers window, we were ushered into an air conditioned office where comfortable seats were found for us while we waited. 

Palm trees are just magic aren’t they?

(The white speck in the background is Sula)

On the 28^th May we sailed from Savusavu and in the early afternoon and dropped anchor in Naidi Bay. A south facing anchorage with a small village on one side and a small tourist resort on the other.

A smartly dressed young man quietly and unexpectedly arrived along side.

Astonishingly, he was driving a Jet Bike! Our first thought was that he was going to tell us we had to move on. But no, he was here to invite us to his village, once he had finished his day’s work at the resort.

We met up as arranged later in the afternoon and he took us to his brother’s house where he bought a bunch of Kava roots. Pippa and I immediately realised that we were going to be taken to see the head man of the village, for the welcoming ceremony of Sevusevu.

We were rather embarrassed that we had not thought to bring the traditional gift. I tried to pay for the Kava but our Jet biking friend wouldn’t hear of it.

At the head man’s house we were seated cross legged on a mat while our guide presented the Kava. Much chanting and loud clapping of hands took place while Pippa and I clapped when prompted by our guide. It was rather uncomfortable on the floor and we tried hard not to fidget. More importantly, we had to be most careful not to allow our feet to point towards the head man. That would have been very rude indeed!

Not long after we had returned on board, the wind shifted to the South and steadily increased all night long. Our anchorage faced south and quickly became uncomfortable; by dawn it was clearly untenable. We hoisted a well reefed main sail, started the engine and let it warm up for a few minutes. Then, as soon as the anchor was out of the mud, I put the engine at full speed ahead and crashed through the waves towards the narrow, reef lined entrance. Once clear of the reef we were in deep water and things became more comfortable. However we were still on a lee shore, The jib was set and the faithful engine was stopped and we sailed back the six miles to the security of Suvasuva bay.

I’m happy to report that we have had no more epics. Though it does rain!

As we were approaching a pass through the reef into Dawn Harbour, Pippa looked up and said “It looks like rain”. And so it was. Before we knew, there was a flash of lightning followed immediately by a deafening clap of thunder. Then the heavens opened their flood gates. The rain was hitting the deck and bouncing up again. Visibility was about a boats length. Having long ago decided that discretion is the better part of valour, we hove to and postponed our entrance while the deluge lasted.

We have been anchored in some stunning bays, often having one all to ourselves. Coral reefs are everywhere, causing headaches for the navigator and difficult anchoring. The rewards though are well worth the effort. Marvellous snorkelling and scenery to match.

One evening I was a little concerned that while at anchor overnight, we might swing round with a wind shift and hit a reef. So I set the echo sounder in alarm mode to wake me up if the water level dropped too low.

Later that evening I heard, not an alarm, but a whale. It blew very close alongside Sula. Pippa and I rushed on deck. It was very dark, with the moon providing some light in a cloudy sky.

We heard several more blows. Some close by, but others further off. It was rather frightening at first, but then exciting.

It seems that two small whales had found their way through the pass and into the lagoon. But presumably couldn’t find their way out again.

It occurred to me that they may have become confused because of the ultra sonic pinging of Sula’s echo sounder. I switched it off and soon after they were gone. Perhaps it was just coincidence?

Ropate and Sio

Our social life has also hit a peak. We visited the small and remote fishing village of Karoko, a little off the yachting trade routes.

Ropate, a young fisherman, led us to the village head man, for us to make our Sevusevu.  We presented him with a gift of Kava root, and he welcomed us to his village, and offered us his protection.

That evening we were invited to attend a fund raising dance.  $1 entrance fee plus $1 per litre of Kava. 

We went to the dance after visiting the brother of our guide, where we sat chatting and drinking Kava and eating fish in coconut milk (lolo) and taro (a starchy root vegetable).

Kava is the local substitute for alcohol. It’s a mild narcotic, very relaxing and made my tongue and lips tingle a little. I treated it with caution!

The highlight of our stay was being visited by the villagers, and especially the children. At one point we had sixteen guests on board.

They came in a variety of craft, including two short sections of a broken surf board.

Our Avon three man dinghy being put to good use

Ropate, Luisa, and Sio.

Later we took Ropate, Luisa, Sio and the village head man, for a short sail. All, apart from the baby, thoroughly enjoyed themselves.

“This is the first time I have sailed in a yacht” was heard from the excited head man on more than one occasion.

Sula takes on extra crew.

Fiji is certainly living up to its reputation amongst the yachting fraternity.

Our plan now is to visit some of the Lomaiviti islands to the south of Vanua Levu. I will try not to leave it so long before the next blog update.

Luisa’s presents to Pippa

She had made them all herself. What kindness.

Sula of Llangwm

We had told Luisa that Sula is Latin for Gannet.