La Gazette du STEVE N°15
By Craig Castellanet , February/ March
2001
Welcome
to the English part of the web site for the Gazette de Steve. Although he's not
ready to write in English, the Captain is happy to have you sign his guest book
in English, as reading is much easier than the writing. To give the uninitiated
a little background about this part of the site, it is not about Pangaea, but
another boat called the "Steve". The French call boats by masculine
names, and this one was created from the names of the children of the builder -
the Steve is a home made wooden boat.
Laurent
is the 32-year-old captain who has taken now three years of extended leave from
his job as a professor of mechanics, and has been sailed from France on the boat
during that time. He has great energy for life and sailing, and has considerable
experience after living on the boat and now sailing half the way around the
world. He met Erika and Achim in Honolulu, and they graciously put his story up
here on their web site.
Also
coming along on part of the trip is Laurent's aunt Mireille, who has flown from
France to spend some time on the boat, and help take care of the wild boys like
any good aunt would. Laurent and Mireille are wonderful hosts and traveling
companions, and we're making a good crew together. The boat and the French crew
bring quite a bit of France along with them on the trip, so there were many
things for me to learn about that too during the crossings.
As for me, Craig, your English translator and narrator, I'm about the same
age as Laurent and quit my job and sold my (smaller) boats in Hawaii to go
sailing for a while. In my other life, I'm an advocate for affordable housing
and various other struggles of working people. Before I left Honolulu I had a
number of interviews for new jobs, which will eventually end my journey and my
English translation.
Since
I signed on in Honolulu, this log begins after we left Kauai, where we spent a
few days exploring that island, by now part of my adopted home. This leg of the
Steve's journey generally heads from Honolulu to New Caledonia, but the boat and
crew will take our time and stop in a number of placed in between like Palmyra,
Christmas Island, Tokelau, Samoa, Fiji, and Vanuatu. At least that was the
thinking at the outset, to find out more you have to read on.
South Pacific Journal
January 2001
Making
landfall in Palmyra was quite an experience for me, the first time I've crossed
such a distance to arrive on a remote coral atoll. We're about 1000 miles away
from the closest land in Hawaii, Samoa or Tahiti, so one of the most remote
places in the world. You can read a little more about Palmyra through a recent
National Geographic story at http://www.nationalgeographic.com/ngm/0103/feature2/index.html
, and the links from that page. Palmyra is a small coral atoll, a couple miles
long with a runway that was used quite extensively during WWII. The lagoon is
big, and the island is quite pretty. As we arrived we found that there are just
four people on the island besides our crew, a husband and wife couple working
for the Nature Conservancy and two Seattle guys about our age from a fishing
operation. The Nature Conservancy now owns the island and brings big donor
"guests" to the island by airplane. An Alaskan couple is keeping the
equipment going, as no one is visiting for a period of about a month. So with no
"guests" we enjoyed a nice dinner together, with all the inhabitants
of the island last night.
The fishing operation out of Seattle keeps supplies here for their operation
when fishing boats come, and they have a huge (about 60' by 60') freezer and
refrigerator, a big room of supplies and commercial fishing ropes, fuel, etc. So
there are quite a bit of facilities here with fresh water, power, and nice
bathroom facilities (better than Honolulu) that the caretakers here generously
offer to share. We're surprised to have such excellent accommodations, but we
especially appreciate the offer to top off our fresh water tanks before we
leave, so we've got lost of great water.
We've
been adventuring around the island, snorkeling, beach combing in places where
people don't walk for weeks or months at a time is a bit more interesting
because of things you find like fishing gear, a near-new life jacket, glass
bottles, and looking at the cement and iron ruins from the army. I climbed a
tree and pulled down some coconuts, and opened them up on some near-by rocks. We
found most of the reef here dead from the operations of the Army, but it is
slowly returning. The water was often quite warm in the still lagoon, and quite
a bit of coral in the water making it milky white. Then below in the deep of the
lagoon, the water was quite cool, and there was some limited reef life. There
are thousands of birds, sometimes tens of thousands when they lay eggs,
sometimes on the long 6000 ft runway.
We're quite friendly with the birds, as you run into them everywhere you go.
There are hermit crabs and large land crabs everywhere, but we haven't seen the
rare coconut crabs yet - they're supposed to be quite big. The snorkeling
yesterday wasn't too much to see because of the dead state of the reef, though
there is better swimming on the horizon.
In a few minutes we're heading out to the east end of the island on fast
skiffs to where we know there is quite good snorkeling. Unfortunately I didn't
bring an underwater camera to show later, but from what I hear the snorkeling
out there is great. So I'd better wrap up and sign off this rambling, stream of
consciousness note. Next, we're likely heading towards Samoa from here, and will
spend some time there when we arrive. We're planning some stops along the way,
but there are about 4-5 options, and we lean towards different ones on different
days, but it's nice to entertain the possibilities of visiting such remote and
different places.
----
[Later addition from Samoa 5 March 2001]
Although
I didn't capture it in this first note, written briefly on the fishing company's
computer, we had quite a few activities around Palmyra over the next few days.
We went with the caretakers to a motu off the northern end of the atoll that had
great snorkeling among coral gardens. We saw rays, huge sea turtles and of
course plenty of sharks around here. We caught lobsters in the middle of the
night on the North shore of the island - one was really big and the other was
small, but together they made three good meals for three of us. We used some
very nice dive equipment loaned to us to have a look around the outer reef of
the island and saw all types of coral, fish and sharks again, as Laurent decided
to feed the sharks with some fish he speared.
I didn't mention that we had a fairly good passage to Palmyra from Kauai.
Nothing particularly interesting happened on the crossing. We had basically beam
reach to broad reach conditions (wind on the side of the boat), making the
crossing basically comfortable but not excellent down wind conditions either.
After a couple of harder days just after leaving Kauai the winds came down some,
and we were able to cook and read in relative comfort. Mireille was a wonder,
cooking and cleaning all the way. She and I had a bit seasickness on the way - I
think she had it a bit worse than I did as she was skipping more meals along
that way. It took about 9-10 days, depending on how you count the night we spent
waiting off shore to enter Palmyra, and our failed attempt at a stop in Niihau
which was aborted due to the large surf we encountered off shore from the town,
which also lacked any decent anchorage.
Our crossing from Palmyra to Kanton was a shorter journey of about 6-7 days,
again depending on how you count our night off shore. We had another rough
start, where we actually had watches all through the night to helm the boat down
wind, as the autopilot could not prevent the boat from jibing as we raced down
wind in the driving rain. (Normally, Laurent does not keep watch all night in
such an isolated area, accepting the small risk that we come too near another
boat.) After that night though, we had a good crossing to Kanton, with all of us
knowing each other much better and moving along quite efficiently.
17 February 2001
A month and a half out of Honolulu, I'm really getting into the swing of boat
living. Days are spent meeting new people in new cultures, foraging for all
types of new food from spear fishing a variety of fish, to collecting coconuts,
clams, crabs, lobsters and coconut crabs, going to local feasts and dances, and
all the while practicing my French and sailing on the boat. After a great week
in Palmyra, I've been out of touch for about a month, and have sailed to Kanton
Island (sometimes spelled Canton) in the Republic of Kiribati, and then on to
two of Tokelau's atolls, Fakaofo and Nukunonu where I am now. Going to these
remote places I have really seen what is meant by Pacific culture's hospitality.
Just walking in the streets of this remote village brings invitations of
coconuts, food, a place to stay, shell necklaces are given - all in the space of
a one or two hour visit. A knowledgeable Tokelauan explained to me yesterday we
are like the "tama manu" or "little birds" far away from
home who need to be fed and cared for.
After six days at sea from Palmyra we arrived in Kanton, not sure what we
would find. There was only a note in my Lonely Planet guide that only 30 people
lived on the Island and otherwise the whole island chain is unpopulated. We
thought there might be no one on the island, because when we dropped anchor near
the pass in the reef we could see buildings but no people. The reef pass had
fast flowing water, and we did not want to take the boat in right away, so I
went with the dinghy, and found a brown skinned tattooed man waving at me to
come ashore. To my amazement, he told me in relatively good English that there
was a mooring ball inside the pass and that the police or rather immigration man
was on his way to see us. This man turned out to be a great fisherman named
Tamiano, who leads quite a life with his wife, 6-7 kids and 3-4 grand children
on those distant shores.
On
Kanton the policeman/immigration man "Eketi" also turned out to be the
treasurer, customs official, clerk and generally, the "Officer in
Charge" for the island. He didn't look so young at first, but he was 31,
just like me and Laurent (well he's 32 now). After some protest from Laurent we
paid the $90 US for entry fees for the three of us and the boat, and Eketi then
took off his official air, and became more friendly with us, inviting us on a
tour of the town the next day. Although he put on a uniform to meet us, Eketi
showed up thereafter in a lava lava and T-shirt to take us in the Island's one
vehicle to tour us around the ruins of a Large American military operation there
which started about the time of the second world war and stopped about 1979.
There were large amounts of ruins, but in the best of the ruins are where the
Kiribati people still live, but only small improvements. The Kiribati school was
quite a sight with English being a large focus of the education, but everyone
spoke only Kiribati except with the "yachties" who showed up there
every 3-4 months. We toured a communication center which looked quite expensive,
especially to Eketi, but was just left in ruins after 1979.
On later days we were treated to a great meal at Eketi's house where Laurent
and I watched as Mireille learned from Tiata, Eketi's wife, how to make the
shell necklaces which were given to us the day before, and how to make rope from
coconut husks. There was a sharp division of labor as Eketi could not make the
rope very well, but then again his wife would not thing of going to "cut
toddy" or extract juice from coconut trees, as Eketi demonstrated to us
that day. A few days later we were invited to the town hall, or maneaba, where
we were honored along with Tamiano's wife Kantarawa who was leaving the village
to a night of dancing, song, food. After we ate, every man as leader of his
family gave a speech in praise of Kantarawa who was the medical assistant of the
island, and described how she served their families well when they were sick. We
also gave speeches, and it was fun to for me to talk in that remote context and
get reaction. After a day of fishing with the fisherman Tamiano, we had a final
dinner with Eketi who said our 6 day stay was unusually short and we should stay
longer. The last diner was made even more strange by the video screening of
Urban Cowboy with John Travolta, way out there on one of the islands three TVs
corresponding to one of three generators on the island.
We had a relatively short three day crossing to Tokelau, arriving at the
atoll of Fakaofo at 5 am. We've missed the doldrums so far and have had only
strong wind for sailing. We had something of an adventure on this crossing as we
ran out of water with two days left in the crossing, as Laurent thought we had a
full second tank, but it actually had drained to the other. Even though he
spurned my suggestion to retain some "emergency" water, this was not
serious situation as we had plenty of milk, juice, beer and coconuts on the boat
so that I was actually better hydrated, and I think we all enjoyed luxuries of
consuming some things like juice which we were otherwise using sparingly.
Laurent has never felt obligated making arrangements in advance to visit a
country, and this caused some problems upon arrival in Tokelau, where you are
supposed to get advance permission to visit in Apia, Samoa. Upon going to shore
we here taken to the traditional council of elders, or taupulega, who wanted to
know "why we were there." I was fascinated that the village council
system was being employed for this decision. We were treated with a great deal
of formality, in a somewhat somber proceeding of which we understood very little
because it was only sparsely translated from Tokelauan. The outcome of the
meeting was that we could have all the water we wanted but would have to leave
the island that day. We made it a jam packed day, meeting quite a few people who
thought the council's decision was wrong, and wanted us to stay at least for the
dance that evening, and were ready to present our case in an appeal. But the
policeman, who also disagreed with the decision, said he would call to the next
atoll of Nukunonu where we could probably stay. I thought this the best course,
to go with the flow and it is what we eventually did. But first we traveled to a
neighboring motu in the Fakaofo group in an effort to make a much needed
telephone call to France as Mireille's daughter was expecting her home, and we
met a Canadian/Scotch doctor and a New Zealander nurse at the hospital who
treated us to beer by the sea and diner. We then danced the night away back at
the main village, but not before Laurent blew out his back when we carried the
dinghy in a portage across the village made necessary by a wild surfing ride
across the reef in the dinghy.
---
18 February 2001
I expected to have more time to write yesterday, but plans change quickly,
and we had to move along. I have leisure time today, as it's a rainy day and I
can sit here at the Nukunonu school and type. Here is the rest of the
"short version" of my Tokelauan experience so far.
After
our exile from Fakaofo went into effect, the weather didn't cooperate for our
departure, as there was no wind. This combined with Laurent's back caused us to
stay an extra day at anchor off Fakaofo, somewhat thumbing our nose at the
decision of the taupulega because we didn't move from our anchorage in front of
the village. After waiting the day though, we decided to go ahead and motor to
Nukunonu, and I had fun playing captain as Laurent stayed on his back not moving
much. Our arrival in Nukunonu started by meeting our host here Luciano Perez at
his "Hotel Luana". He's the principle of the school on the island, mai
tai (or elder) of his family, is an old musician and fisherman, runs the hotel
and informal community "bar", and sometimes even video rental. On the
balcony in the trade breeze Mireille and I enjoyed tea with Luciano and met some
of the delegation of government officials working on the reorganization of the
Tokelauan government called the "Modern House" project. After a day or
two we were able straightened out our immigration issues, and I think it didn't
hurt that we were now friends with the highest government officials in Tokelau
(who knew details about our passports the day we arrived - a very small island).
Come to think of it, I don't think I mentioned that there are about 500 people
on each of three atolls, spaced 30 and 60 miles apart, which comprise Tokelau; I
probably neglected to mention these facts because here that's more than obvious
- the world is these three atolls, and everything else is quite far away.
As soon as Laurent was feeling well enough to come to shore, Luciano took us
on his big fast aluminum dinghy to Tokelau Island, and uninhabited motu about
6-7 miles away on the other side of the Lagoon. It was a bit of rush to travel
fast for the first time in months, especially speeding along the beautiful
lagoon. His son had gone head on another boat, and when we arrived there were
coconuts and coconut crabs waiting for us. The coconut crab is a great treat of
tropical atolls; though through all the others Laurent has traveled he has not
seen any because they have been over-harvested and are widely considered an
endangered species. Not so for the Tokelauans who don't take too many. The crabs
are large and, no surprise here, eat coconuts which are rich and oily, so the
meat of the coconut crab is light and tender but rich with concentrated coconut
oil. There is even pockets of coconut butter inside, and the tail is just filled
with a strong fatty substance.
While waiting for his son to catch up with us as we toured around the small
motu, circling a mini-lagoon in the center of the motu with an eerie statue of
the Virgin Mary on a post in the center of it. On shore, Luciano showed us how
to make fire from the Pua Pua wood, but rubbing the wood together - just like
the boy scouts but this worked, and we actually had no lighter. After the crabs
were cooked for us, Luciano started expertly opening coconuts, selecting the
proper ones to drink, and showing us a new kind to us, the "apple
coconut" of the sprouting nut which is soft and fibrous inside like bread
to eat with the crab. He made a hat for Mireille from the palm fronds, as she
had forgotten to bring one. We had a fine complete meal there on the beach,
though we had brought nothing but a machete, the island provides everything. In
fact, as we were leaving we mentioned we don't get enough fresh food or green
vegetables, and Luciano pointed out a plant that can be eaten like lettuce or
cooked like cabbage. The plant is a bit like the ti plants in Hawaii, and we
took a while walking about and gathering up just the right small sprout in the
center of the plant which is good to eat.
Upon our return we had to get ready to meet the Modern House delegation for
the professionally cooked dinner to which they invited us. Two of the team are
New Zealand lawyers, so here I am talking shop with them but on very different
subjects. The leader of the delegation, Tony Johns, worked for the legal
services organization in the Marshall Islands and stayed on to become the
Secretary of the government after independence from the US was established. The
lawyers listened with some interest to my account of the problem with the
compact of free association for the Marshalls and Federated States of Micronesia
which functioned to prevent the extension of housing assistance to the citizens
of those former territories living in Hawaii. This even though they often are
there seeking medical treatment for illnesses which resulted from US nuclear
testing in their home lands. I was fascinated to hear first hand of the
Tokelauan relationship with New Zealand, which my guidebook told me was
"hands off" and thereby rather an enlightened "colonization"
of some mutual benefit. Tony later told me that New Zealand is no more
independent than Tokelau as there are no independent countries except the US,
because the rest of the world must exist in a global environment. I learned
about the "Modern House" project, which transition more authority back
to the village councils, and clearly define the responsibilities of the
Tokelauan "national" government. It turns out this project is
generously funded by United Nations (about $1 mil US - a quarter of their annual
aid from New Zealand), and the New Zealand government helps it along because,
according to Johns, they are asked each year to account to the UN why Tokelau is
not yet independent. I also suspect that some in the New Zealand government
would prefer independence because Tokelau costs New Zealand a few million US
dollars each year, as there is little Tokelauan export industry. The islands
seem relatively well off though with a good electricity supply, water, clean
streets, and a relatively strong education system. All this while dining on
fantastic food, and as the evening came to an end, we were invited to
participate with the delegation the next day in a meeting with the people of the
town to get their guidance on the evolving "Modern House" project. The
meeting was also quite interesting for me, but it is another story, and perhaps
too much politics for the general journal reader.
On the down side of the trip, we lost the dinghy from the back of the boat a
couple days ago. Laurent awoke at 5 am and finding it gone, we immediately
pulled up anchor and went out looking for it. We searched all day, tacking back
and forth 15 miles down wind and back up again, but we found nothing. I had my
first experience going up the mast (only half way thanks!) in an open sea with
the waves tossing the mast back and forth. It took some getting used to,
especially since my nerves are a bit frayed after my falling accident a few
years ago. On reflection, we probably should have alerted the village and
obtained local knowledge of currents before heading off. We have a second
(leaking) dinghy, but the greater loss is the engine, because its not always
possible to paddle through the small pass in the reef when the current is
strong, the waves are too big, or the wind is too strong. But our swim through
the pass in the waves and against current was a good work out, and good fun too.
When I was able to get my e-mail yesterday I got news that I have an
excellent job awaiting me when I return to California at the National Housing
Law Project. This means I need to figure out where to end this Pacific
adventure, and I'm not of one mind about staying or going. From here the boat
goes to Samoa, where I either have to catch a plane, or stay through Wallis and
Futuna (French Territories) and fly back from Fiji. For now, the traveling is
just about cost-free, and I can continue to learn more by moving through more
foreign lands, but I've also been out (of work) 4 months and would like to get
back to my work which is also satisfying and rewarding. We do need to be in
Samoa within about a week so Mireille can fly back to France. I'll know more
soon after I reach Samoa.
Hope all is well back home, I haven't heard any news about anything for more
than two months now. I look forward to reading my mail in Samoa, so write to my
Castellanet@yahoo.com account.
26 February 2001
The Steve remained in Nukunonu, Tokelau for about 10 days, reluctant to leave
the wonderful people, their unique cultural outlook, and the good life we
enjoyed there. Just about every day there we were learning more about how
Tokelauans fish, how they use the coconuts to make strong cord (different than
Kiribati people) or heart of coconut for a salad, or the history of the islands.
Laurent took our host Luciano out fishing on the Steve, and this was his first
time actually sailing on a boat, so that was quite an experience for him. We
also found that everything about us was news: when we lost our dinghy, the
entire village knew about it, were concerned at our loss, and were ready to help
us. I guess part of the reason for this is that there are only 3-4 yachts which
visit each year, though on a few occasions large cruise ships with 200 or 600
people have visited for a day or two. While we were there though, another yacht
named Optimum Trust did come through for just one day, on its way up to Kanton.
From this yacht we learned about how to obtain permission to visit Swain's
Island, a privately owned island right on our route to Pago Pago. I sent a fax
to the family who owns the island and we were granted permission to visit, and
we were asked to bring cigarettes and eggs. So we said our good byes to all the
great people we met in Tokelau and headed off for Swain's Island on February 21.
Just
after leaving Nukunonu, we ran out of wind. We were entering the
"doldrums", a zone near the equator where the wind can refuse to blow
for some time. Without the wind, it took us two hot days, instead of the planned
one-day trip, to reach Swain's Island. When we arrived, the seas were quite
rough, and the anchorage was too dangerous to stop. To explain a little, when we
were in Tokelau we anchored on a reef which very quickly dropped from the reef
at the surface to hundreds of feet deep. There was only a narrow shelf where we
can drop the anchor in about 40-60 feet of water, but even there it was
difficult. If we drop the anchor in a shallow spot, too close to the reef, the
wind can blow the boat right on to the reef with near the crashing waves,
wrecking the boat. If we drop anchor too deep the wind can drag the anchor just
a few feet where it is too deep for the anchor to hold and then the boat will
drift into the open ocean and we will lose everything, just like the dinghy. In
Swain's island the reef dropped off very sharply, the waves and ocean surge were
strong, and the wind was blowing the boat right on to the reef.
Since we could not land, we tried calling the people on shore on our VHF
radio, but we got no response. We could see a few people on shore, and after we
waited for a few minutes they started to make preparations to come out to meet
us. The other problem with Swain's Island was that the passage through the reef
was extremely rough - not very deep and only 6-7 feet wide at one point, just
enough for the dingy only. With the high surf running, it would be impossible in
our dinghy and a dangerous while swimming or on the surfboard. After launching
in the waves near shore, a man and a woman came out in the small aluminum boat,
and asked the captain to come to shore. Laurent was unwilling to go, we handed
over the cigarettes we brought for them (they were out of eggs in Nukunonu), and
Laurent was preparing to leave. The couple in the boat was a bit concerned that
we would leave without visiting, so I agreed to go ashore.
When I arrived on shore I met Elizabeth Jennings Thompson, the matriarch of
the family that owned the island. She greeted me rather formally, and explained
that the couple who came out and their two children are from Tuvalu and are the
only other people beside herself who are living on the island. Elizabeth is
elderly and moved slowly in the path back to their village, talking all the
while about the island, Hawaii where she lived, and about her family. She wanted
us to stay for a while, but understood that we could not stay. While we talked,
I was treated to a coconut and papaya while the Tuvaluan couple worked quickly
to ready supplies that they would send with us back to Samoa. They brought
dozens of frozen fish, 8 large coconut crabs, about 40 lbs of papaya, maybe 60
lbs of coconuts, and a large loaf of sweet bread. Elizabeth also insisted that I
take a very large can of pineapple, even though I said we had plenty on the
boat. After some anxious calls on the radio from Laurent (they were getting sick
in the rough seas), I said a difficult good bye after my short visit, and we
loaded up the boat for the rough ride out to the Steve.
Once
back on board, we feasted on the excellent food given to us (once we put it all
away). We felt a bit like the first ships which visited these islands, bringing
a small amount of manufactured goods and taking away the riches of the islands.
We barely visited but hauled away a feast, eating better than kings because as
the captain remarked "even a king cannot get a coconut crab." To be
accurate, we were bringing part of our haul back to give to the Thompson family
in Samoa, but we were moving so slowly we weren't sure how it the food would
fare. Although we had brief periods of wind, occasionally strong, we motored
most of the way to Samoa. This made for a quite hot and boring trip. The up side
for the fish and crab, which filled the small refrigeration area on the Steve,
is that when we run the engine it also cools the refrigerator. So when we did
motor into Pago Pago yesterday, we were able to deliver our goods in reasonably
good condition.
There was one interesting part of the Swain's - Samoa crossing though. Up
until Tokelau we were out of the general hurricane zone, but South of Swain's is
where it starts. We knew there hasn't been a hurricane yet this season, but that
doesn't mean much as far as a likelihood of another. I thought we would get some
weather news in Swain's, before making the trip to Samoa. Not only did we have
no news (we have no longer range SSB radio) but the winds were blowing
occasionally strongly directly from the West - indicating a hurricane wind
according to the locals. Of course this was compounded by the fact that the
doldrums stretched out our 36 hour crossing into about a 54 hour one. But there
were never large swell, so I doubted a hurricane was near, and the concern only
lasted a day, as later we were within striking distance of Samoa. It was just
enough risk to keep things interesting.
5 March 2001
Our days in American Samoa have been filled with visiting ex-patriot sailors
and artists, going to sparsely peopled bars, looking for boat parts, and hiding
out from the near constant rain and dull weather. The crew was a bit
disappointed to return to civilization where our arrival was no news to anyone
here, and our reception was not warm and local but official and bureaucratic. No
more swimming, spear fishing, picking coconuts, or crab or lobster; no more
diner with locals showing Polynesian hospitality; no more completely foreign
culture and attitudes. American Samoa is a bit taken by the American ways, but
in a colonized fashion. But none of it is as bad as people had warned it would
be. On the up side we have met fascinating characters like Louie the Fish, an
excellent bone carver of hooks (see www.louiethefish.com), and Hans and Jan who
are 70 year old cruisers who are 25 years on their boat and going strong. All in
all, we are still having a tolerably good time, as well as being productive.
The day after we arrived I traveled with Mireille to the airport on the
colorful local bus system, which consists of privately owned pickup trucks
converted with hand made wooden mini-bus bodies that thump the heavy bass of the
latest island style music on strong home made sound systems. At the airport I
acted as interpreter, we found that the plane leaving that very evening had
space without costing any more, and Mireille was ready to go. It was too bad to
be losing her, but it saved a long good bye. We had nice dinner out, and then
she was off to have a short visit Pangaea in Hawaii on her way back to Paris.
To
help us on our way back to having a working dingy, our Nukunonu host Luciano
gave us an old outboard engine that had been left by another yacht but seized
with rust (we did insist on giving him some money for it). So one of our main
missions here has been to find the parts we need to fix it. That mission is
about accomplished, and we are looking at a weather window to leave to Apia. We
have been rained on virtually the whole time so beach exploring or mountain
hiking hasn't been a real option. In fact we went to a beach bar in the rain,
and our hosts' jeep broke down, so we walked the last mile or so and arrived in
the semi-deserted bar soaked to the bone. But that's all part of the fun of
cruising, always a new adventure of one sort or another.