The Adventures of Nick and Blue

Friday, August 10, 2007

Impressions of the Vava’u Experience



by Christine Martin


Blue and Nick are both similarly fine bodied, golden skinned and fat free, clear eyed, energetic, and with an undiminished vitality. They are closely matching, a result no doubt of sharing the last two years sailing. However, there remains a spirit of competition, expressed most notably during a handstand contest, from which Nick was disqualified for unbecoming conduct.


Onboard lifestyle included devouring a huge ‘welcome’ fruitcake, restful nights in a comfortable bed and not-too-early rising, Nick’s breakfast porridge with raisins and sliced banana, Blue’s yellowfin tuna lunch and dinner (fried, sushied and curried), cups of tea and milo and little coconut bowls of nibblies in the evenings. Nick got stuck into the swag of mail, and the business stuff that it engendered, and Blue sought perfection in her culinary and her coconut arts. Blue took great care to ensure that her mother was comfortable, sunscreened, shod appropriately, sleeping soundly, replete foodwise, and well hydrated.








There were wonderful swathes of time talking, and talking and talking, some of it while Blue concentrated on creating her exquisite pieces of art. Nick appeased his need for robust activity by kite-surfing (with attendant wad-punch injuries), equipping himself with a wooden spear and enacting a wild boar hunt (with synchronized pig vocals from Blue), vanishing into the watery depths while snorkeling (henceforth known as deep-sea snorkeling), and waging war with the resident billygoat monarch of Hunga Island, who reared to his two-legged, fully-six-foot height before each charge. (Bluey, the previous day, had discouraged this aggressive, masculine behavour by soccering coconuts in very accurate shots at the goat, but Nick relished the encounter). As an aside, it is a pity really, about the existence of King Billy and his subjects; differences in the vegetation of islands that are goat-ed and those that are goat-less are stark. Blue and Nick are an integral part of the cruising fraternity, and love exchanging sailing-type anecdotes with other yachties when they happen across fellow-members in the town, on the mooring or on an otherwise deserted island.


The young people who live on Vava’u and the surrounding islets are beautiful. They have café latte skin, broad faces, plump smiling lips and big brown eyes. The women dress modestly, generally in long skirts, and some men wear a black wrap-around sarong. Older men and women have much more generous bodies, and sometimes overlay their clothing with a large woven ‘mat’ that extends from their ankles to their armpits and is tied securely at the waist.

There is nothing frenetic in Vava’u. Traffic in the harbour town of Neiafu is quite heavy, but drivers are mindful of pedestrians, dogs, pigs and other road users. People laugh a lot. I was introduced to this phenomenon before I even arrived in Vava’u, at the airport in Nuku Olofa, where baggage handlers lazed on the baggage cart, laughing among themselves; the cheerful woman at customs chuckled as she confiscated a kilo of pistachio nuts; and the rotund fellow in the colourful shirt maintained a happy disposition even as he told me the airline I had booked with for Vava’u hadn’t been in the air for over a week. The 3am airport departure crowd, comprising in part little kids and some really old people in wheelchairs, was a jolly lot as well. In Vava’u itself the tendency to joviality continued. Sellers in the marketplace happily encouraged us to buy a carved humpback whale tooth, unfazed and smiling still as Blue attempted to acquaint them with cetacean anatomy. Young men preparing for a Sunday morning session under the trees on woven mats encircling an ancient kava bowl, did so with great risibility.

On that same Sunday morning, as we emerged from a jungle track traversing the tiniest of islands, we came upon a picturesque weatherboard church set amid lush, well tended gardens. We were stopped dead by the sounds of glorious singing – men and women belting out hymns in their own language in rich, beautiful harmony. The atmosphere was magical and unworldly, so we lingered awhile to soak it up. The missionaries have left other legacies including beachside avenues of enormous ficus with gnarled roots, and ancient citrus trees along pathways. But by far the most startling, however, are the churches. There is one in every village, apparently regardless of size, and, unlike the dwellings, are meticulously maintained. In contrast to the surrounding buildings, the cathedral in Neiafu is freshly painted - brilliant white, with intricate red detailing.

There are a host of small islands in the Vava’u group. Many have steep limestone rims interspersed with beaches of finely ground coral. The shoreline is littered with plastic objects of all colours and sizes, with previous functions as diverse as protecting body parts, keeping food and drink contained, starting fires, tying things up, directing liquids or gases, and stabilizing structures. A fringe of coconut palms lines the beach, then you are immediately plunged into dense green jungle. Soft tracks lead to a village, a small cemetery, or through a village garden where vanilla vines, banana and coconut palms, citrus trees and root vegetables with huge leaves flourish. Along the track there are also creepers with brilliant red berries, and others with backward facing thorns, causing you to pause for an inspection or an extrication. In the coconut plantations, the ground is covered with nuts whose luscious interiors have been devoured via surgically precise holes by crabs. Nick masterfully decapitated green coconuts direct from the palm tops to provide us with milky drinks, and ingredients for a cake that lodged in our stomachs like Besser blocks.

Sows, piglets and boars roam at will, foraging on the exposed reefs at low tide and in the tiny local cemeteries. They look fat and healthy (see photo 040.jpg). They also look pretty good when their honey-brown, roasted bodies form the table centerpiece at feasts. Such was the fate of perhaps thirty or forty piglets at a celebration at the Neiafu cathedral. Before I was shooed away by an old woman, obviously affronted by my sticky-beaking, I saw that the trestles were creaking under the weight of the nose-to-tail pork, plus a huge variety of unidentifiable foodstuffs. No goat, however, in any recognizable form. We stuck with the knowable; that is, Bluey’s Yellowfin, fresh white bread (supplies ran out early in the day – same quaint convention as in my own village back home) and fruit and vegetables from the market. Although there was a limited range of fruit and salad vegetables, and those that were available were quite pricey, large piles of starchy-looking tubers and roots seemed to be the staple food. Here in the markets we observed locals tucking into a banana-leaf wrapped confection - thumb-sized lumps of greyish stuff drowned in a glaucous slime.



It was on the first of our bis in die excursions to the nearest island that we discovered the dinghy would only get up on the plane if we crouched with our weight forward, caught a wave, traveled over shallow water, and/or sang the chorus from Indiana Jones. From then on fishing, snorkeling, exploring and scavenging destinations were quickly and easily reached.




The reefs are colourful with a fantastic array of coral types – fanlike structures, staghorns, solid bulky formations and fine, delicate lacy arrangements. Residing in the anemones are bold little clown fish that energetically guard their habitat against intrusive snorkellers. On the reef between our mooring at Port Maurelle and the beach, we saw metre-wide bouquets of peach-coloured coral rosebuds, ribboned with tiny leschenaultia-blue fish that sprouted out in a perfect frizz when they thought we were not looking. Colonies of black and white striped fish the size of a 20 cent piece, thrive within the sanctuary of miniature coral forests. There are fat, blimp-like starfish, pumped up and baby pink, together with their leaner, leggy, cobalt cousins. In the weed beds exposed during low tide, long, wormlike creatures with furry heads insinuate themselves between the rocks, and sea snakes with delicate ruffled collars swim by. Live shells, cowries and cones, numerous clam shells, dead and alive, large and small, litter the seabed and the beaches. By fortunate accident, we sailed close to a pod of whales, and even as we gaped, a marlin leapt into the air six or seven times. Although one or two shots at supplementing the Yellowfin failed, the irresistible impression is that the sea around the Vava’u islands is teeming with life.

Thursday, July 26, 2007

Sid and Pat meet us in Tahiti


Between Tahiti, and Tonga there lies Moorea, Huahine, Raiatea, Palmerston, Beverage Reef, Niue, Pina Colada’s turbulent wake and some great memories. We bypassed other stopping points which zigzag throughout this ruffled blue area, leapfrogging forward ahead of the major cruising fleet. The chilly reminder that we must be out of the South Pacific by November sometimes gatecrashes our consciousness.

We cruised out of the lagoon near Marina Tania after saying farewell to our good cruising mates anchored there (Coconuts, Love Zone, Dream weaver, Afriki, Avventura ….Tahiti is a real rendezvous point). Sid Richardson and Pat Vandervelden had flown to crew with us onto Raiatea where they had planned to fly back to NZ. Nick and I were swamped in gourmet delights and gifts all the way from NZ. The day faded with warm watercolours.

Nick lands a hooligan fish


When we sailed into Opunohu bay we had an 18kg Wahoo in tow, nicely timed to feed the four of us plus some other cruisers in the bay. Sid and Pat could not resist leaping off the boat, the water is so inviting plus the heat was not what they were accustomed to.

Swimming off the boat is one thing but hand feeding eager stingrays in chest deep water is quite another. Near the motu Tiahura the side of the boat channel broadens into flat white sand. This is where it has become popular to feed the rays. It’s popular with the rays too; they launch themselves up onto your chest, some of them weighing in at an estimated 40 kilos. There barbs are intact and there tails like 10 grit sandpaper. It’s terrifying - if other cruisers hadn’t expressed their delight at the experience there is no way we would have jumped in. We found that if you grabbed their flaps you could fend at least one of them off while another four or so jostled for a bite. Their skin is humanlike in its softness. Outside of the frenzied rays a constant merry-go-round of sharks circle. Sid was mawed on the chest when he lifted the fish morsel too high for the ray to gulp. That evening we organised a sun downer on the beach with the boats in the bay. Rick and Judith plus Vanessa, Dominique and wee Gaelle were there so we were able to say good health and goodbye to some of our longest cruising friends.

Stingray attack


Moorea is a beautiful island for walking with grand green vistas over the opal lagoon and protective outer reef. We strolled up the valley past friendly horses and picked fresh limes on the way to a hilltop planted with tall conifers.

Off the village Haapiti lies one of our favourite anchorages in Moorea. It’s great for swimming and offers some satisfying walks ashore where one can buy hand made sarongs, bread and ice-cream.. A day later we made an overnight passage to Hauhine and managed to get the kite up for seven hours. Pat found souvenirs in Fare and we over-nighted at our own private beach, plundered some fruit and drank green coconuts.

Raiatea is the second largest high island of French Polynesia. The main town is named Uturoa and is fairly typical of the Polynesian towns in that the population of cars and pedestrians have outgrown the main street and the other street behind that. We walked and hitched through the flower filled villages twice; once into Uturoa for an ice-cream then the other time to the marina to book a restaurant for Pat and Sid’s last night. We had had a fantastic time with them.

SV 'Dream Weaver' anchored at Opunohu bay, Moorea


Before leaving French Polynesia we hiked up the hills between Pufau and Uturoa through pine plantations, scrubby steep clay goat tracks and into the high grassy peaks. Weary and footsore in Uturoa we spent our last FPF’s on apples and checked the weather. We were in for a bit of mild rough stuff on the way west to Palmerston Atoll.

We had been sashaying slowing in the right direction, but when got to Palmerston Atoll (the one with 55 people all with the surname ‘Masters’) the weather was too rough to anchor or pick up a mooring so we just hove to in the relative still of the lee and did some sail changes (replaced the No1 headsail with the No3 and reefed and tucked the main). We showered, cooked, ate and generally cleaned up. As is the drill here, a little skiff came out with one or perhaps two people (two heads anyway) to "welcome us" and tell us where to anchor or not as the case may be. Whilst hove too in VHF range we gathered an appreciation of the lives of the people there anyway - they are wirehaired freaks living a make believe life of normality, one in which the wheels are back down the road but no one has noticed!! They have adopted a super bureaucratic framework where all persons are known by a call sign and have fancy ‘job titles’. The English they speak is almost unintelligible. Their farewell message to us was so rehearsed that they even thanked us for gifts, although we hadn’t been ashore.

Whales at Beverage Reef


We pushed onto Beverage reef with the likely outcome of not being able to stop due to weather. Not one patch of sand or hermit crab or blade of green lives within 150 miles of here. All that exists is a tidal pass into a broad (2 miles diameter) lagoon, rolling green seas thrashing at the reef about a choppy sanctum, which is charted about 2 miles off its accurate position. We arrived in a lull, saw the breakers, found the pass and safely entered the protection of the reef.

Nick celebrated his 34th birthday by opening gifts eating fruit cake with cream cheese icing and cranberries. We clambered around the wreck ‘Liberty’ and dived the pass and outer reef.

We had a life time experience on our last day at Beverage. Spear fishing at the northern point of Beverage reef we were hanging over the end of a 500m long spur of reef about 80 foot deep that ran out off the corner of the atoll. The current was gently pushing up on the end of the spur, there was bait fish, a big school of barracuda, a dozen small sharks cruising in mid water, it all looked perfect, Nick said to me ‘honey, we are in the zone now, lets do 3 or 4 good dives each and see what turns up’, then he did his first dive, leveling out at about 40 foot he looked around and instantly saw 2 humpback whales about 200 feet back toward the atoll at the same depth as him. He looked up at me and pointed then made his way back up. We lay on the surface and the smaller of the two whales turned and swam straight at us, like he was going to eat us, we thought for sure that he was going to surface and we would be left high and dry on his 10 foot wide, barnacled, back. We were both terrified, but at the last moment when he was somewhere between 10 and 20 feet from us he bent in the middle and cruised under us and continued on his way. Wow, we never landed a fish at Beverage, we lost two to sharks, but the whale made it a favorite.

Unbelievable hospitality at Niue


We arrived at Niue, one of the smallest self governing states in the world (Palmerston comes under NZ law) at lunchtime on the July 5. We picked up one of the yacht clubs 15 excellent moorings ($5) per night and used the complimentary electric crane to hoist the dinghy and ourselves out of the surging bay and onto the waiting dinghy trolley on the concrete wharf. We checked in with customs and the customs guy gave us a ride to immigration, we asked the immigration guy if it is possible to hire a scooter ... he gave us a ride to the scooter hire place where we hired a near new Suzuki 125 road bike ($25 for 24 hours) we then spent the afternoon riding around one half of the island (did about 40 kilometers - its actually quite a big island) then we lobbed at the Niue Yacht Club and found that on Thursday nights they have a BBQ so we got stuck in to that, $5 for the food, $2 a beer (Steinlager or Lion Red) (all prices in NZ dollars). It was our first English speaking country in 13 months, its soooo nice being able to talk to people!

The following morning we went to the market then watched the preschool kids marching. The presidential Friday flag raising ceremony was taking place in the main street; the president observed us wheeling in so gave us a special personal welcome. We were totally blown away by this island - the friendliest people we have met, super laid back and the island is beautiful and still in good condition environmentally. The sights around the island were spectacular and the water crystal clear. When we’d run out of money to pay our departure tax the customs man covered the difference. How’s that!


Over the Capricorn seamount we landed a 22 kilo Yellow fin and sailed over the date line at midnight on the 7th effectively skipping the 8th – Mum’s birthday, whoops!

Happy Birthday Mum


Christine arrived on July 11. Nick thought Mum and I set a new world record for tea drinking, cake eating and chatting., he said we went extremely hard from the start and thought there is no way we could keep that pace up, but we never missed a beat!

Sunday, June 10, 2007

GUEST BLOG - By Louise and Garry as they kick back in Tahiti and Moorea


We have kept our time busy, doing what we wanted to do, without chasing little beach breaks, we needed a holiday; we had been working long hours the last few weeks. Now we have Tahiti sand between our toes and some of cupid’s dust with it. Ah the simple life, simple for us knowing that the navigation and negotiation of the narrow reef passes surrounding the idyllic mountainous Tahiti iti, Tahiti Nui and Moorea are being competently dealt with by the very brave and smart duo, Blue and Nick.


We did surf a little reef break at Haapiti, and we had great fun scurfing on Garry’s bundy-bear mini mal, before heading up to Opunohu and Cook Bays. We hired a scooter and circumnavigated Morea, experiencing unrivalled views and the most delicious vanilla, and gardenia ice-cream at the Agricultural School. We dropped in to so many pearl outlets, and were lucky enough to have them all to ourselves and the full attention of the proprietors, and got to handle and try on many of the beautiful gems ranging through white, gold, caramel, brown, iridescent silvery blues, in countless settings before settling on a very masculine boar tusk set with two greeny black pearls on a leather thong, for Garry, which was very island chieftain and for me a huge forest green drop in a setting with golden Tahiti sand in it. It was a lot of fun having a thorough search for the beautiful souvenirs we finally found, and it was a very pleasant sales environment, many of the outlets were right on the shore among coconut groves.



The snorkelling was wonderful, warm water and friendly fish, one very friendly frilly and spotty little box fish took quite a shine to Garry in Opanahu bay. The dolphins were also magnificent, in great pods of 20 or so they sliced alongside as we sailed the west coast of Moorea, with light markings in sweeps on their glistening sides. Wee flying fish looking like delicate toys or aquatic dragonflies glittered across our path. The scenery, well, as our dinner host on ‘Blue Stocking’, retired/reformed lawyer Paul put it,” everywhere you look, your mouth drops open…”. Jungle, fluorescent aqua waves on reefs fringing lagoons scattered with blooms floating on their limpid, darkly mysterious waters.



We frolicked in crystal clear springs, with friendly little fresh water crayfish nibbling our toes, and had our own day spas with scubs and face masks while Nick was off chasing big waves. The smoothed volcanic boulders on the bottom of the pools were magnified to hyper real effect under a dappling verdant canopy.

We hiked through jungle trails to a grotto, an underground fresh lake that features in Polynesian mythology. What with the consistently warm and friendly greetings of the locals, Patti’s culinary delights. salmon patties, and for breakfast, cranberry and brandy crepes, the laughter, enjoyable sojourns with other cruisers, walking the isthmus bisecting Tahit, attending a drag racing competition where very macho Tahitians battled it out over an eighth of a mile on the latest jap bikes, gaining a greater understanding of Gauguin and his quest to preserve a plundered culture, visiting the legendary Teahupoo, the heaviest wave in the world and watching Nick master it on his new board, and riding the undulations as Pina Colada forged ahead under sail, every day was beautiful and fun and we are so lucky and privileged to have the opportunity to join in for part of this dream voyage. Thank you both so much, another trip to remember and hoping there may be more spent with you both is very inspiring.

Guest Blog! Marg and Warren – April 2007


Our family has always provided us with exciting and exotic destinations to holiday at during the limited time we have away from our commitments in New Zealand, but this one was exceptional.

Imagine the excitement at being asked by our loved ones if we could meet them in the Marquises, French Polynesia, and sail with them on a leisurely three week cruise to the Tuamoto's, something that most people only get to dream about.

The rising excitement as we left our home in Picton in the south Island of New Zealand was matched with rising temperature and humidity as we took the total of 11 hours of flights in ever decreasing size aircraft!

The last of these flights from Nuku Hiva to Hiva oa was a scenic special as we threaded through mountain chain and ocean with sometimes less that 200 meters away from 2000 foot cliffs that define so many of the Marquises Islands.

Atuona airport was a mountain top strip of tarmac with the smiling, friendly, non English speaking taxi driver who was to take us on an "all over the road in the face of oncoming traffic" ride to the anchorage where Nick and Patti were waiting.

To add to the pressure of sailing 3000 miles from the Galapagos Islands to meet us on time Nick and Blue had faced a challenging night prior to our arrival as a huge south easterly swell had turned the normally peaceful anchorage into a surf spot with a decent beach break. (Nick had actually caught some waves early that morning!

Hurried greetings and hugs were quickly exchanged for stories of yachts damaged the night before and "do you mind if we get out of here right now?"

Pina Colada was as we expected and has a warm and inviting interior with a bonus of fore and aft en suite cabins. The large main hatch opening into the cockpit makes living aboard in the tropical breeze, literally. We had been concerned that coming from 42 degrees south to less than 10 degrees, the equatorial climate, with out air conditioning may be too much for cold climate creatures like us, but the fore hatch air scoop and small portable fans, not to mention the briney swimming pool always only a step or two away, made for comfortable living.

The Marquises Islands, of which we visited four, had mostly rolly anchorages and deep valleys where we could often find the ruins of an earlier pre missionary civilization with stone constructions such as walls and courtyards and sometimes even sacrifice platforms. The fruit trees that were found in these areas were constantly filling the larder. We soon developed a taste for Patti's Guava jelly which saw us on long searches for the delicious fruit so that we could make large quantities of this yummy stuff (so nearly our undoing - read on!).

At a lovely bay called Hannu Menu on Hiva Oa we actually shared ripe mangoes with the wild horses. We waited with them only five or six meters away to pick up the falling ripe fruit and although we had our fill we could not compete with the speed they would eat, juice streaming from their mouths with finally the stone ejected almost as an afterthought at the sound of yet another morsel falling.

The northern most Island, Nuku Hiva, was perhaps the highlight of the area as we anchored in Daniels Bay and walked a few hours of steamy valley floor to the most majestic 1100 foot waterfall and pool complete with the resident Monsuir Aguile (eel) who waited at the pool's edge for food from any source (fingers, toes!) Of course Nick and Patti did dive in but didn't stay for long! A pool a few hundred meters down the track seemed much more inviting even with the attaching fresh water crawlies (cheribin).

On the way back down the valley we tried trading some hot chilly sauce with a local family for one or two Pawpaw and with only Marg's school girl French and Patti's Spanish could not describe our embarrassment when we received 8 Pawpaw and 2 huge stems of bananas ( all for a small bottle of sauce from Ecuador - value 80c US !).

Marg and Patti returned with another gift of perfume to try and even the trade only to receive a plate of freshly cooked bananas. It was a great experience for them as they were invited to sit and talk with the two woman for about 20 minutes. It was amazing the amount of information they managed to share even though no English was spoken.

Guest Blog by Warren – Part 2





Fishing had been a little on the slow side on Pina Colada and we all were anxious to break the drought. We landed a few small Bonito and then during the trip up to Nuku Hiva we hooked and lost a rather large Yellow fin Tuna.

I'm not sure if it really was my turn on the next hook-up but at the sound of the reel screaming again it was me who got the big prize. Both Nick and Patti helped me into the gimble and harness that was to be so necessary in the time I was to fight this fish.

He tore off line in 100 meter lots and with Nick and Patti's skill at quickly getting rid of sail and turning the boat around to chase we settled into a pattern of run and retrieve with me mostly loosing. After about half an hour we were stunned to see a huge Black Marlin launch itself from the water about 200 meters away, almost walking on its tail as it tried desperately to throw the hook.

During the next hour or so it tried to stay deep and it was to be almost two hours before we saw it up close through the clear water.

Nicks past experience with Marlin (Caribbean injuries) made us all concerned about landing it, but after 2 hours 45 minutes and a great team effort, Nick hanging head first over the side of Pina Colada, with Marg and Patti holding his feet, had this magnificent creature by the bill and was untangling and retrieving the lure and hook.

Now that we had succeeded in catching and landing this great animal we were all struck with the overwhelming desire not too do it any more harm. Unfortunately the fight had taken its toll on the Marlin and it was so exhausted that it looked like it might not survive.

Patti knew that swimming it along might help to bring it back to life, so Nick was to hang over the side with a little of my help for about 15 minutes while we breathed some life back into the shiny sleek creature. During this time we photographed (only 80 shots!) and measured and estimated its weight with the help of game fishing records online.

To our delight we watched this beautiful, graceful 8 ft 220lb Black Marlin swim away to the depths leaving us, and it, with an experience of a lifetime. My thanks to Karen and Boyd for having the gear on board. What a buzz.

We slipped quietly to sea from Ua Pau at about 8am heading south west with a 10 knot nor easterly and began our 525 nautical mile passage to the Tuamotu's. This trip was always going to be a highlight as it had been many years since we had spent nights at sea with our family, now this time with quite some roll reversals. The pride and pleasure of seeing loved ones at one with each other, the boat and the sea, is quite an emotional experience and their ability to make life comfortable for us in all sorts of conditions made the 4 day trip most memorable.

Patti is an amazing person, not only does she have all the skills in sail and boat handling, but at sea can produce the most mouth watering culinary delights. Evening meals on deck as we ran along under full mainsail and spinnaker while George (recently installed gyro controlled auto pilot) kept us on course, warning only if the wind angle changed a few degrees and we may want to re trim the sails.

Our fruit supply was fantastic and we only just kept up with the ripening mangoes, paw paws and bananas. We had to empty the last of a half gallon jar of rum before we left to make room for the huge amount of guava jelly that we had now made and during the voyage it was strained and nearly filled the rum jar.

Coconut trees appeared on the horizon during the morning of the fourth day at sea and we made our way to the pass into the lagoon of Tahanea, a southern atoll in the Tuamotu chain. This atoll, now uninhabited, had the remains of a village and probably one of the remotest yacht clubs in the world. Some past visitors had made the sign "Blue Peters Yacht Club" by a shack in the abandoned village.

We anchored in the lagoon and were instantly met by a welcoming party of nine quite large Black Tip Reef sharks. They were to become our companions during our stay at Tahanea and became known as "The Bruce's" or the "The Tight Nine."

Nick announced that if we want to swim here we will have to get over it and so it wasn't too long before we were swimming with our friends only a few feet away!

It was some sight to see Patti laying on the bottom at 40 feet with two sharks almost two thirds her length doing 10 foot circles around her!

The fish life in this atoll was untouched and it was a real thrill to see huge Bass, Corol Trout and Trevally up close.

Guest Blog by Warren – Part 3


Nick surfed the pass and we walked the circumference of two islands in the string that made up part of the atoll, examining the amazing collection of flotsam that had washed upon the seaward side of the island. We found a bamboo raft that had washed up and decided to rig it with a mast and yard and coconut frond square sail using the miles of gear washed up on the beach. We lugged the raft to the lagoon and at the last minute before launching voted Patti skipper and crew of this fine craft. We all wished her a fond farewell and set her off across the 10 mile lagoon.

All went well for the first few hundred meters and then an old sun bleached line parted and the mast came down. In true shipwreck style she had to fight off the sharks by untying the makeshift rudder and using it as a spear! Much fun and laughter!

We watched Patti and Nick kite surfing ( I even had a go and didn't break anything!) We joined some other visiting yachties for a bonfire ashore and swapped stories of passages made, experiences had and the inevitable questions about New Zealand from skippers who plan on visiting. However, we had the best story to tell - Just before we came ashore Marg and I had been swimming and arrived back to Pina Colada to see the now round (plastic) rum jar hanging from the stern of the boat. It seems that our precious store of Guava Jelly had fermented and built up such enormous pressure that it was in real danger of bursting. Nick and I sat in the dingy and discussed how we should dispose of the potential bomb. I suggested that we loosen the cap a little and Nick managed a small turn and there was a sort of fizz forming around the cap. "Hold it under water and loosen it some more" I said.

So as he lent over the dingy side we all watched intently. There was a bubble or two and then a flash of some sort and the rum jar disappeared...! Apparently from between Nicks hands and under his arm, over my left shoulder and gone at 45 degrees with such violence that by the time we turned to look it could no longer be seen.

Patti, who was on the stern deck tried to follow it with her eyes, but in less than a second, just a dot, it disappeared still traveling at 45 degrees. The exhaust trail of ever expanding guava jelly covering Nick and I and the dingy told the story and slowly the physics of the situation dawned on us all. The jelly was by far the largest mass in the projectile and it was being propelled out by enormous pressure sending the Mount Gay rum jug to the moon. Staggering!

How far did it go? Who knows. The mathematician's amongst our readers may be able to work it out and leave a comment. Here are the rockets statistics;
Weight of Guava Jelly - 1.5 kg.
Weight of plastic rum jug (without lid) - 100 gms.
Diameter of the exhaust - 20 mm.
Pressure - judging by the misshapen jug, well in excess of 100 lbs per sq inch.

The laughter was of coursed tinged with relief as we could have had a serious accident. We lamented over the loss of our precious guava jelly but we did have other supplies of it that had not fermented.

We dived and unhooked our anchor from the entangling coral and left Tahanea with fond memories. A short day sail to Faaiti, a small atoll to the north and discovered a great surf break at the pass. My memories of arriving at ski fields many years ago with Nick as a young teenager, so focused on the fun to be had, was revisited as he was suddenly prepared to forgo all to get into the water and catch some waves. Its great to see someone who doesn't let go of the teenage delights. (I wonder who he gets that from????......I'm so proud of him!)

Unfortunately the coral reef did a small peeling job on Nicks arm and shoulders that was to sadly keep him out of the water for the next few days.

Patti, Marg and I walked through he little village that was so typical of these remote areas of French Polynesia, where the only work was generated by the local government which in turn relies on the franc from the motherland. Everyone has satellite TV, digital cell phones and all the trappings of modern life so the traditional ways of life were somewhat redundant, more's the pity.

Guest Blog by Warren – Part 4



We arrived at the southern pass into the atoll of Fakarava quite late in the following afternoon and anchored only a few miles across the lagoon. With our arrival came the depressing acceptance that our time with Nick and Patti was all but over as we were to fly out after one more night. We sailed 25 miles to the township at the north end of the atoll the next morning and topped off another great day with baguettes and ice cream! We found a nice restaurant that we could ride the dingy literally right to the table, a couple of bottles of French wine, a really nice meal, the stars of the night sky now so familiar to us, and most of all some favorite company.

Le merci tous les deux pour le temps le plus fantastique vous avez partagé
avec nous, pour nous laisser dans votre monde de la vie croisant. Nous vous
aimons et sommes si fiers de vous tous les deux. Vous êtes stupéfiants!

Friday, April 13, 2007


Gaugan died in Hiva Oa at the age of 55 from syphylis despite the attentions of his 14 year old mistress.

Iles Marquesas

Land was sighted in the dawn rays on the 27th of March, the craggy steep towering mountains of Fatu Hiva. We had just made our best noon to noon run ever: 189 miles over the ground. We caught a bonita as we trolled past Thomosett rock checking for diving potential but the wind was blowing 20 knots, something for the BBQ that night to be accompanied with the first cold beer in 20 days.

Just for the hell of it we sailed the scenic way around to our destination anchorage; what was another couple of hours on twenty days after all? The southern tip of Fatu Hiva has plummeting cliffs, over 600 metres falling into the heavy swells below. Reef doesn't form here because of the cold south equatorial current. The absence of protective reef has prevented the formation of coastal plains. There are two inhabited narrow river valleys on Fatu Hiva, named Omoa and Hanavave bay. Some people feel that Hanavave bay, “the Bay of Virgins” is the most beautiful in Polynesia; numerous huge rounded rock protuberances garrison the verdant steep flanks. Three catamarans were at anchor when we arrived. The holding is very poor and we made three attempts at anchoring. We set about the routine tidy up, putting sail covers on, sheets away etc before diving overboard for a swim. It felt anti-intuitive to let go of the boat. Kids were playing in the surf at the river mouth and a few tin dinghies returned to the small concrete fishing wharf in the evening. It was difficult to sleep for longer than four hours that night.

The following day we dinghied ashore to check in with the Gendarme and use our legs. He wasn’t there so we walked up the valley, up and up through the twisting forest trees to a 200 foot waterfall. We stopped frequently to devour wild mangoes, collect limes and chillies and observe the profusion of flowering plants. We climbed to 600 metres above sea level and took in the amazing views, stopping on the way back to wash the grime off in a crystal clear river lined with clean smooth volcanic boulders before wandering back into the village. We met a lady called Angel who wanted to trade for fruit so we returned with a small half used bottle of perfume, some hair styling product and some crayons. In return we received 3 paw paws, twelve limes, 8 mandarins, a husked coconut and a loaf and a half of fresh bread. That night we paid for not having walked more than 43 feet in the last three weeks.

A new routine is emerging. The morning is set aside for jobs such as scrubbing the hull, mending the spinnaker, replenishing the water supplies etc then the afternoon is spent recreating. On Thursday 29th we took the dinghy the 3.5 miles back to Omoa to check out the bay up close, then around the corner into the face of the south westerly swell. Incredibly, an offshore breeze was spinning the tops back on the big blue walls of water pounding into the rocky shore; Nick was able to surf the fast heavy breakers for a couple of hours before the wind swung and strengthened. On our return we found that a hand-line had been thieved off the deck. Obviously we will have to become a bit wily in these parts.

Day three in French Polynesia we pulled anchor at dawn, sailed past the next nearest island, Mohotani in search of surf (nothing with potential seen) then onto Hiva Oa where we anchored in the rolly harbour of Atuana with seven other yachts, including two of our crossing compatriots. We were promptly invited for drinks by the very sociable and friendly Capitan of 'Blue Stocking', Paul, as were Amanda and Rob from 'Riff Raff' and that evening we shared crossing stories and generally made up for not having anyone new to talk to for so long.

Marg and Warren arrive in 5 more sleeps and in the mean time we have been conducting reconnaissance missions on good anchorages. We have aborted trying to find an outlet for cheap food and drinks as everything is outrageously expensive, e.g a dozen eggs US$7, Case of beer US$75, a flagon of wine US$70. Our afternoon walks have ensured that we are not going hungry. So clever that the French planted mangoes as street trees.


3144 nautical miles (5823 km) in 20 days

Eventually we had no further reason for delay in setting off on the longest and possibly most significant passage on our itinerary, and in the late afternoon on the 7th of March we pulled anchor and headed towards the setting sun harnessing every joule we could from the light easterly wind. We kept four hour watches, turn and turn about. We never stopped. Either Nick or I were always watching out and keeping a track of navigation. George, the autopilot did 99% of the steering for the trip. Legend.

The passage was intended to be, as the mighty weather guru, Don Anderson, puts it “the easiest passage we could ever make”. Ha, that’s if you don’t get cabin fever! By the time we sailed past the half way mark on day 9 I was champing for steak and exercise, a plan to catch and eat Nick was forming. No wonder the Marquesans were cannibals. A 14 kg wahoo was gratefully landed and it kept us sated for a good few miles. Actually we ate like royalty, there being little else to do other than create regular work ups in the galley, read, and make the necessary sail changes to keep us ahead of the pack. We left at a similar time to three other yachts, Riff Raff, Blue Stocking and Storm. Alimac was a couple of days in front and Dream Weaver and Gato Go are a week or so behind. Nicks savvy weather routing and our regular sail changes put miles between us and the pack on most days.

We changed a spinnaker halyard after the original one kept chaffing which meant Nick had to go to the top of the mast twice, and at one stage a fender went over the side so we circled back and Nick dived in to retrieve it, but apart from those incidents all was well. I lost Nicks four favourite pairs of underpants whilst trying to wash them in a rain storm on deck (however this will be the last time that is mentioned).

Tuesday, March 06, 2007

THE MAIN GAME (by Nick)

In many ways visiting the Pacific Islands has been the whole focus of our trip, OK so we have taken nearly 2 years to get here and we have had a ball so far but the next 9 months of cruising from the Galapagos to Fiji is the MAIN GAME! Hundreds of remote reefs and islands just begging us to go spearfishing, surfing, sports fishing and kitesurfing in their clear waters. All those years we spent on the mine in the Kimberley of North West Australia we were motivated by a dream of once again exploring those pacific spots but this time on a bigger, faster, more comfortable boat ….. with more toys! Coming to the Galapagos for me (Nick) marked the start of the voyage across the Pacific and the islands so far haven’t disappointed

GAME ON!


The Galapagos have been on the world surfing map for a couple of years now following a few magazine articles in 2005 & 2006, but a few people have been in the know for longer. One of those is our new mate Eddie. He owns and runs the Wavehunters surfing resort on the island of San Cristobal. Eddie’s not a big bloke but he charges whatever he is doing like a bull. He surfs damn well and is generally the life of the party, not only has he given us a few late night salsa lessons but he also slid me in on a boat trip to a secret surf spot with his clients from Oregon and Hawaii ……. and took these photos of me surfing. He really is a good fella.

A great day - with a great bunch of guys




It was an awesome day, the paying surfers were a bunch of good guys and they didn’t mind having me along, even when I caught the first wave of the day .... but that might have been because when I fell of on that first wave my leash snapped and I spent the next quarter of an hour swimming to get my board back. We surfed this spot on our own for four hours in the morning till the tide got too high then had lunch, checked a couple of other spots and returned for another 3 hour session in the afternoon on the dropping tide. Everyone had some epic waves. I have never seen sets like the ones that hit San Cristobal that day, It would be dead flat for 10 minutes, then a set of 12-18 super clean, solid double overhead waves would appear. I guess it was because the waves had been generated in the North Pacific Ocean, up near the coast of Russia – over 10,000 kilometres away and during the 8 day trip south the waves had bunched up a bit.

A bueaty goes unridden


The surfers we have met who have been coming here for years reckon this is the worst they have ever seen the waves here, They say that normally there is a lot more big days. I would have liked to surf some of the spots on a big day but have been really happy getting to surf pretty much every day we have been here.

Blue´s surfin too


As you can see Blue is surfing pretty good now days, this is at Punta Carola a world class wave on its day (not quite this day) and only 300 meters from where Pina Colada has been anchored for the last month.

Sea Lion Action




We have had a lot of interaction with the sea lions here. I have had them tugging on my leash when I am surfing, we have been chased around by them on the dock and we have had to kick them out of the dinghy a few times. The most fun we have had with them occurred a few days ago when I was trying to scrub the hull of the boat to get a bit of extra speed for the long sail to the Marquises. This young female turned up and started buzzing me at first then she propped under the hull and we eyeballed each other through the gap between the prop shaft and the hull for ages, we would stare at each other then my nose would get too close to hers (about 8 inches) and she would release a cough of bubbles at me, I’d pull back a bit, she would creep forward, I’d blow some bubbles of air and she’s back of a bit … it was classic. Blue got in the water with the camera and we got a few shots of her swimming with us. I got some amazing video of her catching a small fish from around our rudder and then playing with it like a kitten and a half mauled mouse. Eventually we got too cold and had to get out but she probably would have played with us all day if we had stayed in.


By the time you read this we should be on our way to French Polynesia, it’s our longest leg of over 3,000 miles and it promises to be a long, slow, light wind trip, where ever you are try and whistle up a bit of a breeze for us…… don’t whistle too much though, we don’t want a late season cyclone!

Monday, March 05, 2007

The Galapagos Islands

These famous islands pop up on their own volcanic platform right on the equator about 600 miles from the Ecuadorian mainland, hence the winds during our passage from Bahia de Caraquez (17th to 21st Jan) were very light. Raquel (aka Mag) took watches too. In the sloshing hours of night she saw tidal waves looming in front of the moonless galaxy, heard whales’ guttural groans and took us on some exiting tours of inky waves, topped with phosphorescence and flashing foam. It has been hard to steer straight without an autopilot. We caught whatever we dialled up, Mag got a 20lb Dorado (which Nick dove into retrieve after it slipped its noose), I caught a 25 lb Tuna and Nick landed a 18 lb Wahoo, each fish one day (of eating) apart. The tawny outline of Punta pit became visible on the morning of the fifth day and we sailed down the east coast of San Christobal before rocking through some severe tidal streams around the corner to Wreck bay, the provincial capital. We passed a huge white waterfall falling off the black rugged cliffs into the heaving sea below. This was a special sighting for these otherwise dry islands, caused by the tail end of El nino. It’s been a wet wet season here and the gently climbing slopes shone bottle green then disappeared into blurred grey clouds at the top of the island at 730 m asl.

Eddie, cousin of our Bahia friend Mario, unexpectedly called us on VHF as we entered Wreck bay to welcome us and invite us to his house/luxurious shorefront hotel for a cold drink. We felt so special and lucky to know locals before even setting foot ashore. Eddie runs the Wave Hunters operation in the Galapagos, actually he pretty much runs the Galapagos. Two sailing boats, ‘Gato Go’ and ‘Little Swan’ were anchored along with twenty or so wooden, rust streaked, fishing boats. A pong drifted through the air, not of fish, not directly, but of sea-lion poo. Brown languid sasages, barking and snorting, weighed the side decks and dinghies of all the boats despite various barriers and barbed wire strung up in defence against the inevitable collection of foulness that resulted from the sea lions resting there. Amusing for us – they can’t quite lurch from the sea onto Pina Colada’s high decks.

Eddy showed us around the colourful shore side settlement; where the Port captains office was, the immigration, police, etc, then left us to wash, relax and settle in. Within the first couple of days the three of us had sussed out the surf breaks around the island and we had wandered through the new and beautifully constructed interpretive centre that displays all sorts of interesting information about the islands natural environment and history. We explored the various walking trails constructed through the rocky dry forest to vantage points with old military cannon installations, huge fibreglass statues of Darwin surrounded by his subject animals, and some tidy wooden balconies overlooking cliffs where frigate birds breed above bays coloured blue and green.

We hung out at the Wave Hunters Hotel on a number of occasions, dining on delicious Galapagos slipper lobster, pork steaks, chicken, salads etc then going out dancing and drinking with the guests and staff. One night, after going ashore with Eddie and his surfy guests to one of the two local bars we entertained 6 or 7 people on Pina Colada until the eastern sky turned apricot above the town - great night!

On another day, Raq and I rode the mountain bikes up the road to the top of the island. The ride was relentlessly steep, steamy and testing. Mag was going to rip my head off for suggesting the whole idea but her legs were too wobbly for her to stand up from the verge where she had collapsed (fortunately, as I was feeling it too).

Raquel, Nick and I met Dad in the hot open foyer of the airport on the 28th of Jan and immediately set off to pack in as much sightseeing with Raq there as we could before she flew out the following day. We hired a taxi and visited a tortoise enclosure 14 miles north. The tortoises were spread throughout the 30 acres due to the recent rains, and not congregated at the man made watering holes. However along the trail we encountered two or three large ones (150 kilos +) and various other individuals of smaller sizes including some fist sized ones just a few weeks old that were being fed in a pen. A tortoise would make a nice pet on board, you don’t have to feed or water the bigger ones and they can live for up to one year in the hold of a ship. Approximately 100,000 tortoises were harvested by sailing fleets since the Galapagos were discovered in 1535, causing the extinction of four subspecies.

In the highlands the four of us followed a path to the top of a volcano to look at a crater lake ‘El Junco’ which is about as big as a footy oval. Mosses and liverworts dangled off the branches of a solitary orange tree on the crater rim. The regular rain gauge was empty but the horizontal rain gauge bucket was overflowing due to the clouds. We had sunset coldies and dinner on board before everyone crashed out.

Mag commenced her gigantic leg home


The water temperature is fairly cold which moderates the air temperature; the mild climate is influenced by the Humboldt current which drags arctic waters up the side of South America where they mix with equatorial currents and counter-currents to make a rich soup that supports a magical and diverse sea life. The morning of Mag’s departure we added to the diversity by having an early morning swim at Playa Mann. In the moments of saying goodbye to Mag, I was lost on how to express the thanks and fitting farewells to our adventure, there had just been so many different sites, people, and experiences across hundreds of brilliantly beautiful and sadly awakening miles. We have many amazing memories from our trip together.

Sea lizard

Dad and I sat on the beach at La Loberia whilst Nick surfed. Some locals were harassing the sea lions on the rocks. Dad and I both jumped to our feet and shouted for them to stop. Dad then approached them and gave them some pointers on respectful behaviour: who else was going to teach them when their parents were illegally fishing from the rocks at this ‘visitor site’. The signage was pretty explicit on both these points.

It seems that there are rules for the tourists then those for the locals. Development here is happening full bore, there are inadequate facilities for waste management, recycling, sewerage, policing of harm to wildlife, dog and cat registration and pest inspection. For example I saw some tourists photos of a licensed fishing charter, run by a big fat local guy, where they were catching and killing sharks in a protected ‘visitor site’ for fun. Dad and I had paid $US30 a piece to dive with the sharks in this very place just a week before. Whilst we had been there we saw people trawling at the site. I didn’t see any hammerheads though! On another occasion I was speaking with the same big fat guy saying that I understood that he, being local was allowed to catch slipper lobster whenever he wanted and the spiny lobsters were out of season. He misunderstood me and replied ‘ yes but just don’t let the Parks Rangers catch you’! Lately we have learned of two tourists paying a local for the fuel to go out daily, catch 100’s of kilos of fish then selling them. Bloody typical exploitative, short sighted, greed driven bastards. We are the same everywhere.

The following day we prepared for a few days in the islands by buying up at the municipal market. This typical market is roofed and screened in by iron bars. The concrete benches and coves were set about with fresh produce behind which the proud growers stationed themselves. We bought a watermelon and other fruits and vegetables. When options are lacking I console my self with the idea that if the bugs won’t bite it then neither should I. Dad and I explored the town and visited the interpretation centre as Nick tackled the jobs list on board before scribing his mark on a few waves at Cannons. For dinner Dad shouted us at the Flamingo bar. This restaurant is situated on the site of the original soda bar in the township. By process of elimination we eventually discovered that the restaurant only had enough food for a single serving of three different dishes which took forever to arrive. A noisy protest march went by, apparently the new President, Corrello, has disbanded the congress to save money.

A tour with Gustavo


Bright and early Dad and Nick took a dinghy tour to capture the sea lions on the fishing boats. Dad and I had arranged to go snorkelling and were picked up off the boat after breakfast. Two other couples joined us on the tour that went firstly to Isla Lobos. Here we cruised close to the rocky shore to observe marine iguanas, seals, boobies, nesting frigate birds and the vast untouched green flanks of the island. Outside the settled areas, there are few marks made by man on these islands. 98% of the land area is protected for the native animals as well as the feral ones (goats, donkeys, pigs, dogs & cats). We coursed across the blue ocean to Leon Domingo and snorkelled with the sharks. Everyone saw lots of Galapagos sharks, black tips, white tips but Dad was the only one to see a hammerhead. My highlight was a school of burley ~40kg yellow tail tuna than moved through the deep blue below, their silver finlets shinning like little diamonds down their backs. We moved to snorkel with the sea lions at Isla Lobos. The pups followed Dad like a bunch of rats in Hamelin snaking and whirling through the bright blue water just out of arms reach. We landed at Playa Ochoa to warm up and Dad lay in the sand amongst a group of sun bathing sea lions, he was approached by a curious pair of youngsters and took it as an invitation to start tickling bellies and flipperpits. It shows just how relaxed these animals are.

Boobies everywhere


We set sail for Santa Maria at 0300hrs and made landfall at the anchorage near the Devils Crown just after lunch. This visitor site is a small partly submerged crater with a gentle drop off to seaward of more than 100 feet. Because the current was quite strong we drift snorkelled with the dinghy getting into the deep water upstream where numerous Galapagos sharks were swimming about us in mid water, drifting through the shallow crater, then getting out again on the other side. We saw bombies surrounded by dense schools of baitfish. You could form a virtual cave inside the schools that would block out most the light and close in behind you. We moved to the famous Post Office Bay for the night, although unfortunately we could not go ashore because we did not have a qualified guide on board. Large tour boats left in the night and new ones were there at dawn.

Getting around the islands in taxis



We left Santa Maria after a hearty cooked breakfast bound for Isla Isabella and motor sailed past Isla Tortuga on route. This is the huge broken semi circular rim of a sunken volcano. Inside the rim, schools of tuna were turning the deep blue ocean the colour of a shallow lagoon by tilting their silvery sides to the sun. Boobies soared and dived on bait near the surging cliffs and frigate birds pursued them for their quarry. On Isabella, Porto Villamil is a beautiful anchorage protected from the south-east by a curved rocky spur that harbours a large shallow lagoon with fishing boats and, for once, no other tourist boats. The Port Capitan came out to us in his panga for the signing-in formalities. We dinned ashore on delicious seafood in a restaurant where a BBC film crew were having a debriefing dinner after there time here filming a nature series. A 12yo had won the presenters part. We also got talking to a couple of vetenary assistants who were working for Nature Balance’s spaying and neutering program in the islands. We arranged to accompany them on a boat tour the next day to Cabo Rosa.

Penguins on Isla Isabella


Cabo Rosa


To get to the convoluted and spectacular waterways pooled around the pillars and bridges of black vesicular rock, our boat driver had to time the powerful breakers and charge inshore between waves. The sharp black basaltic lava is now vegetated by cacti and occasional tufts of grass. Turtles cruised through the emerald green waters, Galapagos penguins stood on rock islands pecking out there moulting feathers and schools of surgeon fish clung to the watery shadows. It was absolutely beautiful. Dad discovered a very old miden of turtle bones and the largest most ancient cactus I have ever seen. We snorkelled after wandering around on the lava and explored a little a labyrinth of submerged arches over white sand. Planning home in the fiberglass panga we saw hundreds of green sea turtles on the surface in an annual breeding gathering and great flocks of Audbons shearwaters paddling and feeding on a tide line. A lady screeched as she saw a manta ray leap out of the water and we circled a rocky islet to take photos of masked and blue footed boobies.

Fate had it that at the little bar with the scraggy tree decorated in coloured bottles we met up again with Tim, the resident kiwi from San Christobal and he invited us to join his tour group up Cerra Negra the following day. Couldn’t have worked out better. Dad took us to dinner again and Buffy, the vet assistant joined us. She was able to give us the gossip on conflict between the National Park Service and the local Shire. One wants uncurbed development and wealth and the other wants to keep the island sacrosanct. Giant tortoises have been kidnapped over the issue! The vets had to leave the island because the Mayor had withdrawn their funding despite past events where wild dogs had killed hundred of marine iguanas. Sad.

"änd into town rode the Magnificent three"


Cerro Negra


The morning dawned bright and we dinghied ashore, then taxied to meet Tim and his multinational tour group before taking positions on the back of an old cattel truck fitted with bench seats. Tim really had to gun it up the steeper dirt roads. We got a great look at the changing vegetation from coastal to arid, through the transition into the Scalesia zone up to the highland Pampa zone where mosses and liverworts clumped at the pale twisted branches of the trees and wild guava and blackberry choked the roadsides. After a brief and amusing riding lesson from Tim (Dad told him he’d never ridden in his life) Dad rode Radish along side a bloke from Texas and the local horse handler to the top of the volcano and Nick and I walked in pursuit with about 8 or 9 other friendly people. The volcanic crater is the worlds second largest, Norongorro in Tanzania being the first. The floor stretched to the distant rim with an unbroken charcoal carpet of crusted lava. The regular eruptions, the last of which was in 2005 ensure that no vegetation intrudes on this bleak expanse. We were lucky the day was so clear and from the high cinder covered slopes we could see for miles. A Parks guide gave a tour of the lava field to a steaming vent another 1.5km on foot. Every conceivable form of basalt lava could be seen. Hair like shards, silvery chunks, bubbly glass, rusty, dense, pumice, pink , globular, tubes, driblet cones, you name it. Nicks uni days came rattling to the front of his mind. We were dusty, dirty, hungry and tired. We ate a late lunch at a restaurant on the square and returned to PC.

This guava really appealed to the tortoise


Sunday, March 04, 2007

Santa Cruz


The next day was spent motor sailing to Porto Ayora on Santa Cruz. The bay was open to the prevailing south easterly chop and the numerous tour boats were all anchored fore and aft. We found a little gap, dove on our anchors and taxied ashore for a delicious meal amongst the bustling souvenir shops and tour outlets.

In the morning Nick cleared in with the Port Capitan while Dad did some souvenir shopping. We flagged a taxi and visited the Darwin research station where a young American volunteer failed to answer most of our questions but was very kind in showing us around the tortoise and land iguana enclosures. From there we taxied to ‘El Rancho’, a fallow fruit orchard on the edge of the National Park where giant tortoises roam about eating the windfalls and other specially planted grasses. It’s the best way to see Galapagos tortoises – in the wild! On the same property there is a 600m long lava tunnel, big enough to drive a train through apart from one low constriction that required my emergency poncho (EP) to be laid out so that we didn’t get too muddy slithering through. I’m sure we surprised our taxi driver with our cleanliness; he was waiting at the other end with a bucket and rag. Another 1.2 km lava tunnel had been recommended in my Galapagos book and rather than miss out Dad and I sent Nick through to give us a vicarious account. He just about beat us to the other end, and we were riding in a cab. To finish our island tour we were driven up the smooth sealed roads to La Gemelos. These two deep craters are up in the moist Scalesia forest and are the result of surface layers of lava subsiding into a subsurface magma chamber, or as our taxi described it, a big bubble bursting. For Dads last night we dined in a lovely sidewalk restaurant where a gecko popped out from the folds in the table cloth to take our orders. The gecko then decided to join us for the remainder of the evening taking his place on my shoulder. Tim spied us and also joined us for a time as we quenched our thirsts with cold Brahma beer. We drank to Dad’s safe return to Australia.

It had been great having Dad join us for ten days in the Galapagos. The three of us took a scenic bus and boat ride to Baltra island. The old American WWII strip was busy with planes coming and going and Dad snuck through the gates at about 11 am after another quick skirt around the souvenir shops. Nick and I spent the night at Santa Cruz before returning to San Christobal. I slumped lazily about PC with no one to talk to for a couple of days - it was weird getting used to it being just Nick and I, and most the time it was only me because Nick was surfing three times a day. Eventually I forced myself to look at the boat list. For the next two weeks Nick and I sweated our butts off sanding and varnishing the doghouse, cleaning inside and catching up with business. We installed the new autopilot drive unit, George, who will help us get to the Marquesas in early March all things going to plan. At the moment Pina Colada, Nick and myself feel ready for the next adventure.

Peru by Mag – details comming soon!