Never a dull moment in beautiful Norway

I left Kuala Lumpur at the end of August to head home for a few months in order to visit my family and friends. On the way home, I had a few European friends to visit though. My first stop was in Norway, where Karina had invited me to come spend a few days. Having never been to Norway, I jumped at the chance to visit her and her Husband, Svein, in the Norwegian capital of Oslo.

After an overnight in London, I boarded a Ryan Air jet to Oslo. It was a little bit of a shock for my tropic acclimated body to find itself at latitude of 60 degree north (a few hundred miles from the polar circle) on a cold rainy September day. I loved the change though, especially after one year of sweating under the equatorial sun.

Karina is the proud owner of a 32 foot modern Beneteau sailboat named “Flying Ace“. It was therefore fitting that I stay onboard since it was equipped with two cabins, hot water, shower and cooking stove. I am always amazed when I step aboard a modern boat at how the interior space is optimized and functional. It was no different this time and it almost made me wish that I had bought a newer boat instead of 30 year old Whistler. Maintenance cost would also have been lower due to age and the use of more plastic. Teak is beautiful but so much maintenance as it has been varnished at least once a year on the outside and every couple of years on the inside.

Karina had to work in Thursday, so I spent the day visiting beautiful Oslo and its many maritime museums. I had not realized the extent of Maritime history that Norway can claim. From being Viking descendants, to being the first to transit the Northwest passage and also the first to the South Pole, Norway has a rich and proud maritime history. I particularly liked the Viking Museum and the Fram museum. The Viking museum has on display two Viking vessels that are over 1000 years old. The Fram museum is home to the 1903 GJOA, the first ship to transit the NW passage, and the Fram, probably the strongest wooden boat ever built and used by Amundsen to reach the Antarctic continent on his way to the South Pole in 1910.

On Friday afternoon, Karina was able to get off work by lunch. By 2pm, Flying Ace was motoring down the fjords and heading south towards Son, where a huge regatta was to be held the next day. It was a wet and cold ride as thunderstorms after thunderstorms were determined to make us pay for every miles gained towards our destination. We finally got there right around sunset, which at this time of the year in that part of the world is around 8:30 pm. There were over 300 boats registered in that regatta, so the marina was full when we got here and we had to tie up on the outside of another boat. Not a very ideal spot should the wind pick up! The boat we were tied to happened to be a friend of Karina, Jan, an old seadog, with a lot of stories and easy to befriend.

Around 11 pm, Jan got a call from another boat that was trying to get there but whose engine had failed. With the wind on the nose, trying to tack to make some headway in the narrow fjords is not easy. So Jan volunteered to go help them in case they could not tack their way in. His crew had broken his foot a few hours before and had to be taken to a local hospital, so Jan was alone on his 50 foot sailboat and given the darkness and the wind, I decided to accompany him. We found the motorless yacht an hour later but they were doing so well under sail that we just shadowed them all the way back to the marina where we all tied on to Karina’s boat. We went to bed around 2am only to be awakened 2 hours later by the wind which was now blowing strongly from the wrong direction. The waves were building and Flying Ace was now in a precarious spot, sandwiched in between the dock and the other 3 boats. This reminded me of my experience in Tierra del Fuego, 4 years ago, when Whistler had almost been crushed in a similar situation between 4 boats and the dock. We got more lines out to take some of the tension away and more fenders to keep them from banging into each other. Finally the sun came up and the wind died down a little. Some of the boats started to leave for the regatta, so Karina slipped Flying Ace into one of the vacant spot, a welcome relief from the exposed position where we had spent the night.

We were supposed to race on another boat. However, the wind was blowing relatively hard and the somewhat inexperienced skipper decided not to participate in the regatta. Even though we were both tired, we felt it would be shameful to waste such a beautiful windy day. Earlier, I had spotted a beautiful 55 foot racing machine, an X-55. So that was my first try and luckily, they were short of their required crew complement of 15. So, Karina and I were hired for the day, welcomed aboard and outfitted with matching black Onyx foul weather gear. The crew looked sharp. I knew I was going to enjoy this day. This was no small budget operation. The owner, a well to do investment banker, had bought her a few years ago and had been a little disappointed in her performance so far. He was hoping for a better day today. His skipper for the day was just off from the Volvo round the world race. No fly by night operation indeed.

There were 300 boats in the regatta and we had the 2nd highest handicap because this X-55 was so fast. A handicap is given to each boat according to their speed in order to even out the race. A high handicap means that you not only have to win the race time wise but you have to win it by a good time margin in order to overcome the time handicap and win the regatta. It was apparent from the beginning that this was a professional crew. No shouting and no panicking. Orders were relayed up and down the boat via each crew person. There was a dozen or so different start depending in which category the boat was in. Slower boats started earlier and faster boats last. We had a good start and quickly pulled away from the rest of our group, catching up with the slower boats that had started earlier. It was a beautiful day, gloriously sunny and windy. The course was very long and took us to the ocean entrance to the Fjord. The waves increased as we neared the entrance but this racing machine was built for it. After jibing away at the entrance marker, we raced downwind, hoisted the huge spinnaker and lowered the Genoa. We were constantly surfing down the waves. It was exhilarating. I saw 18 knots (32 km/hr) on the speedometer. A little faster than Whistler maximum speed of 8.3 knots! A spinnaker is hard to handle in heavy gusty wind. This crew was professional though and handled it they did. What could not handle the stress after a while was the spinnaker halyard (the line used to hoist the spinnaker) which broke 30 minutes into our downwind run. The spinnaker fell in the water and the crew efficiently and quickly, without one swear word heard from anybody, retrieved it, stashed it inside and started hoisting the Genoa to keep up some speed. The spare spinnaker was then hoisted back and the Genoa taken down once more. This spare spinnaker, being a light air wind spinnaker, lasted a little more than 15 minutes before the top 2 feet sheared right off. Down it went in the water and again the retrieval procedure was repeated followed by the Genoa hoisting (again with no panic or swearing. I was truly impressed). We still had the original spinnaker which had been sorted out while the spare spinnaker was flying. However, we did not have any halyard to hoist it since the first one had broken and the second had gone all the way to the top of the mast when the light air spinnaker sheared off. One of the young and light bucks on our crew was rigged up with a harness, attached to a Genoa halyard and sent up the mast to retrieve the first spinnaker halyard. Easy to accomplish on flat water or at the dock, but on a racing and pitching boat (yes the boat is still racing while this is going on); going up a 100+ foot mast requires some nerves! Our young hero did it though and off we were, flying the spinnaker all the way to the finish line. We ended up finishing first time wise but after the handicap was factored in, a second place was what we got. Not bad considering the two spinnaker foul-ups!

A bad surprise awaited us though when we got back to the dock. Karina’s Flying Ace was missing. It had been towed away from the marina dock because it was not registered to race in the regatta. We had not had time to check with the authority given our hasty departure after a quasi-sleepless night and Flying Ace had been towed away on a buoy not far but was under padlock and chain. The Marina Authority was demanding a $1000 fine. Karina pleaded and begged them and with the help of a phone call from Svein, we were taken free of charge to her boat. Too much excitement for one day, especially for Karina, but that still did not prevent us from enjoying several adult beverages that night with my newfound Norwegian friends. A warm atmosphere reigned on that night a welcome contrast to the near freezing temperature.

On Sunday, we took it easy and with a nice downwind sunny day, I really had time to enjoy beautiful Norway, as we sailed the Fjords back to Oslo. Another surprise awaited us though just as we were about to take down the mainsail and start the engine to cover the last few feet into the marina: The mainsail had gotten caught in between the spreader and the mast, ripping the sail a few inches. To take it down would mean a much longer rip. This had never happened to Karina and she was a little dismayed by this new turn of even after all that had happened. This had happened to me though! In the middle of a bumpy ocean and at night! The only thing to do was to go up the mast. Easy when you have mast steps as Whistler do, but a little more complicated on most boats since a harness has to be rigged and somebody has to be hoisted up the mast by somebody else while the boat is kept on a heading away from the rocks. Karina rigged up and I hoisted her up halfway up the mast. The sail would not come free on the first try, so down she came, got her some scissor and up she went again, this time armed with the lethal instrument to free the offending sail. We finally made it in without further incidents. For those of you who are wondering how this kind of main sail event can be prevented, I will let you in on the secret: Duct tape (or any other kind of tape) applied around the base of the spreader in order to close the gap.

Svein, joined us that night for a nice dinner of delicious seafood at the Marina club. As we left the restaurant, we thought a nice rest from the week-end’s adventures was our due, but it was not meant to be yet. Located in a few feet of water, 100 feet away from the southern edge of the marina, is a red beacon. The red color is to indicate to the various mariners plying the fjord to leave the marker between them and the shore. It is tempting to cut the corner, but only grief and shallow water awaits if you do so. As were walking away from the marina that night, one such foolish mariner had indeed cut the corner and was aground. We watched for a while to see if his efforts at getting himself off the shallows would pay out. No luck! Svein asked to borrow the marina motor launch and we went out to help him. After a few minutes, our hapless sailor was back in deeper water. Never a Dull moment in Norway!!

Well, you might think that was the end of the Norwegian adventures. It was not to be. The electrical current was off at the marina dock, so an electric heater could not be used to keep Flying Ace warm for this tropic bum that I have become. Before heading back to their heated town home, Karina started Flying Ace diesel heater. However after a few minutes, there was a burning smell. Luckily, Flying Ace is equipped with the same brand of heater that Whistler has, giving me a head start in finding the cause of the smell. The heater has a separated combustion chamber with an exhaust pipe leading outside. The exhaust pipe gets very hot and if not properly insulated can be a hazard. I knew that fact from burning a few t-shirts that were next to the exhaust pipe before I insulated it properly. The same thing had happened here. The heating unit was located under the seat locker and a flammable rag had come in contact with it. The start of a fire was quickly put out and everything was moved away from the dangerous pipe. Karina could not believe that the manufacturer had not only omitted to tell her about the danger to the mainsail from the spreader but also about such an important thing as a hot exhaust pipe. After all, she had bought that boat brand new. All I could think of was: Never a dull moment…!

The remaining two days of my stay in Norway were a little less eventful. I participated in Karina’s marina week-day regatta, this time on a 24 foot boat. It was a lot of fun. I was amazed at how much sailing is a part of Norway. I think that the concentration of sailboats in Oslo is even higher than in Auckland, New Zealand which is supposed to be the world sailing capital. Over the course of my stay I met so many good sailors.

I left Norway with one nagging question though. Given that I have survived 5 years on the water without such a high concentration of exciting events over such a short period of time, I did not think that I had such bad luck charisma. I was selfishly hoping that it was Karina. The answer came in a few days later when I received an email from Karina. Here is the email from Karina: “Guess what... My sailing season has ended. I'm definitely the one with the bad luck! I fell flat on my face last Saturday and got an ambulance ride to the emergency room. 6 stitches on my chin. 3 sprained fingers. And a broken tooth!”

Don’t tell her that even though I was sad to hear about her misfortune, I was a little relieved!!

A tribute to Silvia

My dear readers and friends,

I learned some very sad news last month. One of my cruising friend Silvia, died from medical complications after taking a malaria medicine in Vanuatu. I had met Silvia and Doug one year ago in Fiji. Silvia was so full of life and so sweet. Always ready to lend a hand, invite you over for dinner or just chat about life. She was full of wisdom and so much fun. I will always remember her. As a small tribute to her, I have posted the email from her husband Doug, about what happened to Silvia on that fateful day. I have also included the pictures I had of her when she sailed with me in the Treasure Island Regatta in Fiji last September 2008. Please take a moment to read the following and to view her pictures. I am pretty sure she would have have liked that small tribute.

Port Vila, Vanuatu (an island country in the Western Pacific, ~1000 miles NE of Australia)

Dear friend of Silvia Fink (who was cruising around the world with husband Doug Nash on their sailboat Windcastle),

Thanks so much for your expression of sorrow and sadness over the death of Silvia. Please forgive my delay in responding to your email.

My life during the past five weeks has been a nightmare, and I'm just now beginning to settle down from a grinding whirlwind of heart-crunching activity so that I can catch my breath and begin to think straight. I'm now starting the sad task of answering all the many, many emails I've received expressing shock and dismay, and offering condolences to me over Silvie's death. I have been supported by many people in the cruising community here and abroad, plus all her friends and relatives back home in Mexico and in the States. The outpouring of grief has been overwhelming.

But no one else can answer all the questions people have been asking about what happened to Silvie. So I must do that. And please forgive the group mailing, there's no other way under my circumstances here that I can answer so many people all at once. Eventually I will get back to each of you with a personal message. Meanwhile, here's a summary of what happened.

As I mentioned in my original email about her death, she decided to try an alternative medical remedy she'd heard about -- and eventually purchased -- in Port Vila from another pair of cruisers (a guy from Belgium and his wife from California). The stuff is called MMS; I suppose, you may have learned something about it by now because of Syl's tragic experience. I was not happy about her wanting to try the stuff, but didn't interfere because I knew nothing about it at the time, and after all, she's a grown and savvy women with a lot of experience with all kinds of good and bad medicines, and she'd even done a little Internet research on MMS over several weeks before trying it -- and we did not believe at the time there was any danger to her trying it. How dreadfully wrong we were.

We had left Port Vila on Aug 4 and sailed 90 miles north to another island in the Vanuatu group called Epi. We were anchored at Lamen Bay on Epi, and it was the day after their annual canoe-race festival. We'd decided to stay an extra day at the nice anchorage, so she decided to try the MMS because its proponents had argued for its benefits as a defense or remedy against Malaria, which is prevalent in this part of the world.

It went bad from the beginning. From almost the moment she drank the mixture of MMS with lime juice that she'd brewed up according to the instructions (promulgated by the principal proponent of the stuff, a guy named Jim Humble), she began to be nauseated, and soon was vomiting and on the toilet having diarrhea. But she thought, because the literature that came with the MMS kit emphasized that these were normal symptoms, that one just had to grin and bear it when first using the substance. So she thought these symptoms would soon pass.

How wrong we were. It turned into torture the whole day, with her getting gradually worse and worse, having incredible abdominal pains, then urinary pains. I'd been helping her all day, bathing her, emptying the bucket, comforting her, trying to get liquids down her, all to no avail because she could not keep anything down. Eventually, about the time it was getting dark, she started having feelings that she was going to feint. That's when I became fully alarmed. I got on the VHF radio and called for assistance. At that moment she suddenly went into a coma. Then I put out another radio call, this time an emergency one for immediate medical help. Fellow cruisers rushed to our boat within minutes to aid me, and for over an hour we conducted emergency CPR and administered oxygen, but it, and an adrenalin shot administered by a physician who finally arrived from the village, failed to revive her. And she died on Windcastle around 9 pm, just 12 hours after she'd taken that fatal drink of MMS. Her body was flown back to Port Vila the next day and put in the hospital morgue. And I brought our boat back there the following day.

What's happened since then has been a 3-week long police investigation involving local Vanuatu criminal investigators, this because her death was not due to natural causes and the substance MMS she had ingested was deemed illegal for promotion and sale as a medical remedy by the person she bought it from. Australian joint command investigators, who aid in law enforcement in Vanuatu, also became involved. That led to a court order, and eventually to a senior pathologist being flown from Melbourne (Australia) to Port Vila (Vanuatu) to conduct a post mortem autopsy. That occurred two weeks ago. Then -- with her son and daughter's agreement -- we arranged to fly her body from Vanuatu to New Zealand for cremation because it could not be done in Vanuatu. Last week I accompanied her body to Auckland by plane, was present for the cremation, and arranged to have her ashes sent to her daughter Aretha in Mexico City. The ashes arrived in Mexico City on Tuesday this week. I'm now back on Windcastle in Port Vila. And we await the results of the autopsy which will come from Australia's Victorian Institute for Forensic Medicine in Melbourne, sometime in the weeks to come. I'm also dealing with the need to secure our boat against the approaching cyclone season, which may mean sailing it to another country.

My heart is absolutely crushed by the sudden loss of my dear wife Silvia. It's so shocking I can hardly believe it. I miss her immensely. Windcastle is empty without her presence. And I know for sure that all of her relatives, friends, and acquaintances, are equally if not more shocked to know that she is gone, and will never be with us again.

But like we all know, she will live on forever in our hearts and memories, for she brought so much joy and happiness into the world -- and for us who knew her well, and virtually everybody else who came in contact with her, her bright smile and hearty laughter will be remembered forever. The night before her death she had made a big hit with the local Vanuatu villagers in Lamen Bay (Epi Island) where we were at the time, because they found her to be such a charming, outgoing, and loving women, especially to their little children -- she was even busy in the village that evening teaching those little girls and boys how to dance. I've been told that the villagers have already made a little shrine there to remember Silvia by. As her daughter said to me in an email two days after her death, her mom is now with her God, in Heaven, "Teaching the angels how to dance." That is one of the many ways I'll remember Sylvie, who had become the love of my life.

When her son Joaquin was in Port Vila helping me, and he and I were going through Sylvie's things for him to take back to the States and Mexico, I told him how important one special dress was to her. It is a dress she bought here and loved wearing on the streets, because it is exactly the kind that the local Vanuatu women (so-called "ni-Vans") wear in their everyday life about town. It's a colorful, loose-fitting, flowing mother-hubbard-type dress that she referred to as her "Island Dress". I know that Sylvie would want all of her girl friends to have one.

As to MMS, I wish in retrospect I'd done a better job of protecting her, and had prevented Sylvie from messing with the MMS. I know now that as a medical remedy, it is a quack substance. It is a dangerous, toxic chemical, and potentially a lethal poison if ingested. And that is exactly what killed my wife, Silvia.

I'll be trying hard to get my life back into some sort of order. I wish you all the best,

Doug
sv Windcastle

Welcome to Malaysia

We finally got our weather window after waiting out strong southwest wind in Puerto Princesa, Palawan. Since we wanted to go in a southwest direction and this was southwest monsoon season, patience was required. We finally got our and a nice unusual one at that. Winds dropped to nothing and even reversed to the east for the last day of our 2 day crossing. The passage was uneventful as Joergen and I relayed each other for the 4 hour watch system we followed. In order to transit the Balabac straight, which is fairly shallow, during daylight hours, we left Puerto Princesa an hour before sunset. Even with the late departure, we still had to slow down the last night before reaching the straight. Even with the seemingly accurate electronic charts of the region, I try not to transit shallow spots at night. I have found in my travel that some charts can be off my 3-4 miles. Since the passage we were transiting in the Balabac straight is less than 1 mile wide, a 3 mile discrepancy could prove devastating. The charts were very accurate though and we transited without any difficulty.

We arrived in the town of Kudat, on the northern tip of Borneo Malaysia around lunch and found a spot in protected harbor in front of the Kudat golf and hotel resort. We spent the rest of the day bicycling from custom office to immigration office to quarantine office and even to port authority office in order to fill out the necessary paperwork. Contrary to the Philippines, there was no fee and more importantly no corruption from the part of the various officials.

Kudat is a fairly small town, is hot and is predominantly Muslim as is the country. This was my first visit to a Muslim country and I was not sure what to expect. Would shorts and tank tops be ok when biking? I could not imagine wearing long pants and t-shirts given the horrific heat that instantly made my Canadian sweating glands go into overdrive. I could see that most people were in long pants and sleeve shirts but nobody made any comments or signs pointing that it was unacceptable as once happened to me in Tonga, a Christian island country. On the contrary, everybody was very friendly waving at me and Joergen as we pedaled by them. There were many women wearing the Muslim head covering which was a new sight for me. Less than 60% of the country is Muslim, so not all the dresses were Muslims. In fact, a large proportion of the population is Christian, especially among the largest minority, that of the Chinese.

People were somewhat shyer than in the Philippines but once you approached them, an utmost courtesy was extended to these traveling infidels! One day After Joergen left to go back to the Philippines, I went to eat lunch at a small eatery in the center of town. The eatery was filled with mostly Muslim men and women. I still had not mastered many words of Malaysian, so I pointed to the items I wanted to eat. A proper looking Muslim gentleman started to speak to me in English and took my order. I gathered that he was the owner. After I wolfed down my meal, I went to the cash register to pay. What a surprise to be told that the meal was on the house. This had never happened to me in any of the 30+ countries I have visited so far.

The main purpose of coming to Kudat was to take the boat out of the water so I could go visit my family in Canada. I had promised my niece and nephew, Melodie and Maxime, that I would visit them this summer. I was hoping to make it earlier, but my search of a safe place to leave Whistler had not turned up anything in the Philippines. Care had to be taken in selecting a spot since all of the Philippines lie within the Typhoon zone. Malaysia does not. So after 4 days waiting for a spot to open up at the boat, Whistler went up on the hard without any mishap. I wanted to leave right away, but one cannot leave a boat like Whistler for a few months without prep work if one wants to find the boat in working order upon returning. Sails were taken off and put inside, Engine oil was changed, dinghy outboard motor was flushed with fresh water, electrical connections were sprayed with WD-40 and Thru-hull were cleaned. After 4 days of nonstop work, I was ready to leave. I first made my way to Kota Kinabalu, the capital of Sabah, one of the two province of Borneo Malaysia. This took 4 hours on a bus and it was a very scenic trip. Palm oil plantation, jungle views and rice fields dotted the landscape. To my surprise, the capital proved to be a modern city of half a million with many white faced tourists. The next day I got on a flight to the Malaysian capital of Kuala Lumpur, located on Peninsular Malaysia.

Before my arrival in the capital city, the first picture that would pop into my mind when thinking about Kuala Lumpur, was a picture of the twin Petronas towers. As luck would have it, my accommodation for my 4 day stay in KL, as the locals call it, had a superb view on the architectural and engineering masterpiece. How could a traveling bum like me afford such a view, you might wonder ? If some of you have read my February and March logs of this year, you might remember that I had picked up a crew by the name of Jeff Trueman, on the shore of Chuuk Lagoon and given him a lift to Guam. Well come to find out, Jeff, an Englishmen, has a place in KL and a place in Windsor, England. Since my travel to Canada would take me to both places, he had kindly offered the use of both. He was not in KL at the time of my visit but nonetheless provided a key and instructions to the guards to let me in his gorgeous residence located on the thirteen floor of a 30 story condominium tower, and endowed with a Gym, a pool and a sauna. It is nice to have friends in high places. Thanks Jeff!

So I spent 4 days relaxing and visiting KL before flying to Norway via London. But that story will be for another log. See you in two weeks!

On to Palawan

We would have left earlier from the province of Negros but the weather was not cooperating. Although it was only a 2 day run to the western province of Palawan, I was playing safe since we were right in the middle of Typhoon season. We finally left on a clear sunny day and had an easy passage to Palawan. We arrived early on the 21st of July in the provincial capital of Puerto Princesa. Palawan is the Philippines most sparsely populated region and is considered the most eco-friendly. Probably due to the fact that a large portion of the economy depends on tourism! Although the traffic is very heavy and chaotic in the capital city, it is also a lot cleaner than other Philippines cities given that there is a heavy fine if caught littering. We anchored in front of the Abanico Yacht club a few miles from town. The club is run by a most interesting couple, John, an expat Englishmen and his Filipino wife Cissy. Although it is named a yacht club, it is a very basic one with a dock for dinghies, a basic restaurant and one shower for each sex. The shower part comes in handy since it allows us to save on our onboard water supply.

Joergen and I, once again, rented motorcycles and use the club as a base to stage our exploring of this beautiful island. We were especially keen on visiting the famous underground river, one of the finalists for the seven new wonders of the natural world contest. The limestone cave that the river passes through is one of the longest navigable river traversed tunnel in the world. There are only two other similar river in the world. The unmapped 154 km long river in Mexico’s Yucatan and the Phong Nha-Ke Bank River on the Vietnam-Laos border. The Palawan underground river is 8.2 km long but only navigable for 4.3 km.

Conie, Joergen and I left on a sunny Monday morning from Puerto Princesa. Unfortunately, the weather turned on us and we finish the 2 hour bike ride in pouring down rain. A good thing, I had rain gear for all of us. Once we reached the town of Sabang, we had two choices to reach the mouth of the cave. Hike the 5 km monkey or hire an outrigger boat to take us there. We opted for the boat for the way there and the trail for the way back. We were given a construction helmet and a life jacket by the entrance guides and ushered into a small human powered outrigger. The helmet, come to find out, was more a protection against bat guano (excrement) than falling rocks. Our guide had brought a powerful spotlight hooked to a car battery and in we went. The first thing that struck us was the guano stench. It took a few minutes to get accustomed to the awful smell and then a magical world opened out to us. I had imagined the passage to be low and narrow, but it was quite the opposite. The waterway was wide, as much as 10 meters wide and the ceiling was incredibly high as places, making one think of a cathedral ceiling. It was incredibly beautiful and eerie. Our guide, while paddling would ask Conie to point the spotlight at various stalactite formations, and would proceed to tell us their folklore name. Some resembled animals, some insects and other fish.

After an hour or so, we were out of the cave and on our way up the first part of the Monkey Jungle Trail. It was obvious from the beginning why the trail was thus named as we spotted several Palawan monkeys. The first part of the trail was all uphill but was well maintained with wooden staircase leading us up over the limestone karsts. We had just reached the top when Conie alerted me that she was not feeling well at all. I then realized that Joergen and I had been setting too fast of a pace. I told her to sit down and regain her breath. A few minutes later, she was feeling worse and had troubled seeing. We laid out one of our raincoat for her to lie down on. She lost consciousness at that point. We let her sleep for a while. Fortunately, she came out of it five minutes later. We had not brought any water since Joergen and I had figured we could walk the trail in under an hour. We realized our mistake when we figured out that Conie was probably suffering from overexertion and dehydration. Since we were not even half through the trail, Joergen volunteered to run the rest of the way to get some water or to get some help. He took off while I helped Conie get under way after she felt strong enough to continue. Fortunately, most of the trail was now downhill and it started raining, making it cooler for us. The thought of catching some rainwater entered my mind but Conie seemed fine now and did not want to stop. So we walked on. After 30 minutes, Joergen was back and told us a boat would pick us up on one of the beaches we had just passed before heading back in the jungle. So we turned around and went back to the beach to wait for the boat. It showed up 10 minutes later. A very relieved Conie was helped on board by three very attentive Filipinos.

The motorcycle trip back to Puerto Princesa was even worse weather-wise as thunderstorm after thunderstorm pounded us, making the road very slick and the visibility very limited. But we made it in one piece, tired but happy to have seen one of the potential seven wonders of the natural world.

After 2 months in Cebu, it was time to get on the road again. I did not feel like navigating alone; especially since coastal navigation requires a constant look-out for fishing boats and fishing nets. Fortunately, I had met a Danish guy named Joergen in Cebu and he was interested in cruising with me for a few weeks. So, on July 5th, we set out from Cebu and headed first to Tagbiliaran, the capital of the province of Bohol. I also invited Conie and her friend Heidi to come with us part of the way. They were a little leery at first, having some fear of the ocean and of Typhoons. One year ago, a ferry overloaded with hundreds of people, had gone down when it crossed path with one of the many typhoons plying Philippines waters. Only 60 out of 900 survived. This catastrophic event was very much on Conie and Heidi’s mind. What is more, Heidi does not know how to swim. After explaining the difference in seaworthiness of an ocean going sailboat such as Whistler and an overloaded ferry plying the interior waters of the Philippines and promising them that we would get a good weather forecast, they agreed to come along.

We stayed 2 days in Bohol, giving us enough time to visit the beautiful chocolate hills. This interesting geological feature of Bohol is comprised of 1268 near identical hills, with size ranging from 40 meters to 120 meters, and is the result of ancient coral reef deposits being uplifted, eroded and weathered. After Bohol, we set our course for Apo Island, a tiny island off the southern coast of Negros. Apo Island is the site of one of the few marine reserves and fish sanctuaries in the Philippines. Environmental protection is not yet a priority in the Philippines and overfishing has reduced the fish population quite drastically. So it is somewhat comforting to see that a few protected areas have been set aside.

This overfishing can be observed just by visiting any fish markets. Most of the fish being sold are less than 6 inches in length. When compared to most of the Pacific islands I visited in the last two years, the contrast is shocking. They catch and eat fish that I would not even consider suitable for bait when trailing a line in the deep ocean. What is more, the Philippines waters are filled with plastic garbage of many kinds. Even when far away from large population center such as Cebu City, floating plastic items can be observed almost hourly. It is easy for us, rich westerners to criticize their lack of environmental awareness. However when one consider that surviving and feeding your family is quite challenging here, you understand why environmental protection is not at the top of the list, even though that same environment is definitively important to the long term survival of our species.

Consider this: the Philippines’ population, at 90 millions, is the 12th largest in the world and among the fastest growing in Asia at 2.06% annually. While the growth rate is down from a high of 2.36% in the late 1990’s, this growth rate is not sustainable ecologically and economically. Since the Philippines economy rarely grows as fast as the population in real terms, per capita income has remained stagnant for years and poverty remains endemic. The percentage of people living on less than $2 a day has remained around 40%, even though GDP has exhibited strong growth through the 2000’s. With economic and environmental consequences such as the aforementioned, it is utter stupidity from the Catholic Church to still reject all forms of artificial contraception and to successfully lobby against instituting a national family planning programme. The environment and the people can not endure this kind of population growth!!!. I know so many Filipino people that come from large family (6+) and in which only one or two members of the family are working, earning on average $5 a day. With that $5 a day, they have to house and feed themselves as well as their parents and/or siblings. I also know many of them who can not afford to go to high school or college due to a lack of money. This education shortfall further impedes the economic future of the country.

Ok, ok, I will get off my soapbox. After Apo, we headed to Tombobo bay, which is located on the south side of the island province of Negros. This bay is one of the few typhoon proof anchorages and I was glad to be there as the typhoon season was getting in full swing now. Unfortunately, the anchorage was far from the main town of Dumaguete. 10 km of dirt road and 30 km of semi-paved road separated us from supermarkets and civilization. So we decided to rent two Honda XR200 off-road motorcycles. At $12 a day, it was a good way to get around and it allowed us to visit beautiful Negros in a more time efficient way. Over the course of 2 weeks, we toured the Twin Lakes National Park, the Banian falls, the Casoro falls as well as the quaint village of Valencia, located in the hills above the provincial capital of Dumaguete.

Riding a motorcycle in the Philippines is quite a dangerous experience. Traffic lights are very few, road laws are pretty much ignored and the various gasoline powered contraptions such as buses, jeepney, tricycles and motorcycles travel at very different speeds. Tri-cycles are definitely the slowest, traveling as slow as 20 km/hr, followed closely by jeepneys. Furthermore, these last two make frequent stops to take on and off passengers. The speed disparity between the various types of vehicles and the frequent stops of the latter two require a lot of passing as well as a lot of collision avoidance skills. This can very trying for the nerves of someone who is used to traveling at 10 km/hr on the quasi deserted ocean lanes. The lack of helmets and protection clothing also added to my discomfort of course. Let’s just say that I felt it would be safer to be sailing in the middle of the Pacific in a gale than driving a motorcycle, without a helmet, in the Philippines. But, the human being is quite adaptable and after a few days I started to relax and greatly enjoyed this new traveling experience!

After Pepe left, I chilled out and got a few more jobs done on the boat. Summer had come to the Philippines and Typhoon activity had to be closely monitored. Around the solstice, a tropical storm, not quite a hurricane was supposed to stay off the coast of the Philippines, but decided to veer west northwest. The center passed less than 50 miles north of here, but luckily, did not become a typhoon. The only effect we felt in Cebu city was rain, a lot of it, for 30 consecutive hours. Cebu City is on the southern edge of the Typhoon belt and does not get hit very often. What’s more, almost all typhoons go north of Cebu producing winds at Cebu City from the west and southwest, a very good direction since that direction is protected from the waves. Still there are always exceptions, and should a Typhoon hit directly Cebu City or pass south of here, I would have to take some measures such as seek a more protected anchorage, to keep Whistler safe.

On the week-end of the 26th, I was invited to go to a local Baptism party for the first born son of one of Conie’s friend. Since meeting Conie, a few weeks ago, I had learned much more about the language and Filipino customs. Conie is originally from Mindanao, the southernmost province of the Philippine, a region half Muslim and half Catholic. The region has been plagued for several decades now by Muslim insurgent groups such Abu Sayyaf and the Moro-Islamic Liberation Front (MILF) who operate mainly in the south of Mindanao and the Sulu Archipelago. Muslims comprise less than 10% of the population of 90 million but are concentrated in that region. Connie is from the northern Catholic part, although I keep teasing her that she is a secret Abu Sayyaf agent sent out to kidnap unsuspecting white tourists like me. I am still not sure if she finds it funny!

Muslim dissent emanating out of Mindanao has been the one constant in the Philippines 450 years of modern history as a united territory. After the Spanish Legazpi landed in Cebu in 1565, he discovered that Muslim missionaries from Malacca had been living in Mindoro and Luzon (the northern part of the Philippines) for decades. Legazpi managed to dislodge the Muslim chiefs from these central settlements with relative ease, but the southern territories would prove far more difficult to conquer, in part due to their proximity to centres of Arab influence. At first, the Spaniards were only able to establish outposts in Northern Mindanao and Zamboanga. It was only in the middle of the 19th century that with the advantages of superior firearms and steam power, were they able to make substantial inroads and assert their sovereignty. From the beginning, the rights of the tribal minority groups and traditional property rights were violated. Armed resistance developed in the late 1960s as a response to what some claimed was the occupation and annexation of their homeland. In 1976, an agreement was struck between one of the rebel groups, the Moro Islamic National Liberation Front (MNLF) and the Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao (ARMM) was established. Other groups such as MILF and Abu Sayyaf did not agree and continue to call for a separate Islamic State in the Southern Philippines. They continually resort to kidnapping and attacks against transportation and commercial targets such as buses, ferries, shopping malls. After peace talks that would have expanded the ARMM collapsed in 2008, the conflict has been reenergized and Mindanao has seen some of its worst violence in the last decade. Since the late 1960s, more than 120,000 people have died as a result of the conflict between government troops and rebel groups.

Ok, let’s get back to a happier subject, the celebration of life instead of the taking of lives. The Baptism Party, in honor of the first born son of Ariel and Sheryl, was just getting started when we got there and a delicious looking buffet was laid out in the main salon of Ariel parent’s house. The centerpiece of the buffet was a roasted pig, which in Filipino is called Lechon. This Filipino delicacy is slowly cooked over a coal fire for 3 hours and served on a platter with legs, body and head. It was indeed delicious and I must admit I ate more than my fair share. One of the best parts was the skin, which was crispy from the cooking process. Other typically Filipino foods, which were served by the generous hosts, included rice mixed with coconut milk and cooked in banana leaves, curry shrimps and last but not least, small electric eels which are reputed for their aphrodisiac properties. I was a little shy at first since I was the only white person there, but Filipino friendliness and hospitality quickly put an end to that. Conie introduced me to two of her friends, Elsie and Veronica, while Ariel introduced me to three of his cousins. We quickly became friends aided by small amounts of the local brew called Red Horse and they all chipped in towards my Filipino continuing education by teaching me new words and expressions. This was an entertaining and enriching evening that I will never forget!

It has been a pretty laid back two weeks. Pepe and I did some diving and touring of Cebu Island and Whistler stayed mainly docked at the Cebu Yacht Club. I took advantage of good quality workmanship as well as inexpensive prices by North American Standard to have a few projects done on the boat. For instance I had a large vinyl rain catcher made so that I could collect rain water in great quantity. This should make Whistler quasi independent of shore side water supply, provided it rains at least once a month. I also had my Bimini (the canvas roof over the cockpit which protects the crew from the sun and rain) modified so that it could also catch some rain water for the shower tank. This should result in a better smell aboard Whistler since we will be able to take more showers. Ha ha!!

The same canvas shop which made my rain catcher also made me a new sun resistant main sail cover and some water proof cover for the bicycle wheels so that I could store them outside, freeing some space in the V-Berth for my crew. Pepe was particularly happy about that one. Finally, I had the wire lifelines, which goes around the deck, replaced with a 1” Stainless tube making for a safer environment when on an Ocean passage.

On the 17th, my good friend and crewmate Pepe had to go back to his home in the Canaries Islands. This was our 4th trip together in 3 years and it seems to be getting harder and harder to say goodbye. So many memories and stories had been created in these 4 trips. I will miss the old bugger and hopefully he can get away again in a few months so that I can continue his English education and he can further enlighten me with Spanish wisdom.

In between getting these jobs priced, fabricated and installed, I got to know a lot more about Filipino and their history. The first half of the 20th century was particularly interesting. After several years of Guerilla revolution against the Spanish, the Filipinos, aided by American Fleet commodore George Dewey, declared independence in 1898. This all happened during the Spanish American war over Cuba and Sugar. The Commodore help was part of a strategy to weaken Spain. With the signing of the Treaty of Paris in 1898, the war ended and the US effectively bought the Philippines along with Guam and Puerto Rico for $20 Million. Filipino independence would be short lived when US President William J McKinley caved in to hawks in his Republican party and agreed to take over the islands. McKinley, echoing imperialists of years past, added insult to injury, when he said that Filipinos were unfit for self-government and he had no choice but to take over the islands and civilize them. Drunk with their first small taste of independence, the Filipinos had other ideas and set up a makeshift capital in Malolos, outside Manila, in open defiance of the Americans. War broke out in February 1899.

The expected swift American victory did not materialize, as the guerilla campaign launched by the rebels proved remarkably effective at neutralizing American military superiority. On July 4th 1902, the US finally declared victory although pockets of guerilla resistance continued for several more years. Some 200,000 Filipino civilians, 20,000 Filipino soldiers and more than 4000 American soldiers died in the war from combat or disease.

The Americans quickly set about healing the significant wounds their victory had brought by instituting reforms aimed at improving Filipino life. The most important was a complete overhaul of the education system. While the Spanish had tried to keep the locals illiterate and ignorant of Spanish, America imported hundreds of teachers. Within 35 years, the literacy rate rose from a miniscule percentage to 50% with 27% of the population being able to speak English. Open promises of independence culminated with the 1935 commonwealth of the Philippines along with a drafting of a US style constitution and the first national election. Unfortunately, WWII and the Japanese would make the enterprise short lived. When Japan bombed Pearl Harbor in 1941, other forces attacked Clark Fields, where General MacArthur was caught napping, despite many hours’ warning. Before fleeing to Australia, MacArthur made his famous promise to return. From 1942 to 1945, the Filipinos endured a brutal Japanese military regime. In 1944 MacArthur landed on the island of Leyte and in February 1945, Manila was taken but not before an atrocious shelling of the city would kill 150,000 Filipino civilians. To this day, a debate rages about who was to blame for the destruction of the capital city. Whatever the truth, Manila belongs in a category with Warsaw, Hiroshima and Hamburg as cities that suffered the most during WWII.

The Filipinos, after paying a heavy price, finally got their independence wish, and Manual Roxas was installed as the president of the Republic.

Cebu : Gateway to the Visayas

We made it to Cebu city without any more incidents. Cebu city located on the island of Cebu is the gateway to the Visayas islands of Central Philippines. With a population of 800,000 people, it is a smaller version of Manilla, the capital. It can be at times, energetic, exciting and fast paced or loud, dirty and ruthless depending on your perspective. For me, it is all of the above.

Julie had to leave us to go back to work in Canada and it was with some sadness that we took her to the airport a few days after our arrival. She had proved to be a very good crewmate. Although lacking in sailing skills at the beginning, she more than made up for that shortcoming with her cooking and entertaining skills. We kept teasing her with the fact that she talked a lot and that when she would be gone, it would be eerily quiet. It was indeed quiet but we did miss her cheerful banter.

It is often said that 400 years of Spanish and later American colonization are what made the Philippines different from the rest of Asia. If you arrived here 500 years ago, you would have encountered disparate communities roaming around, hunting, gathering, fishing and growing a few basics crops like rice. The country, if you could call it that, was and is a mix of small and large islands. There were no centralized government, no common culture and nor had it adopted any mainstream religion like the other Southeast Asian countries. Into this diverse jumble strode the Spanish, with the singular mission of uniting the Philippines islands around Christianity. Remarkably, they would largely succeed, and over the next several centuries, a semblance of a unified Filipino identity, bearing traces of both Spanish and traditional cultures began to emerge. The Spanish influence began in 1521 when Ferdinand Magellan landed at Samar and claimed the islands for Spain. Magellan set about giving the islanders a crash course in Catholicism and had managed to curry favor with all the most powerful chiefs of the region with the single exception of Lapu-Lapu, the chief of Mactan Island which is located in front of what is now Cebu city. So, with 60 of his best soldiers, Magellan sailed to the island to teach Lapu-Lapu a lesson in gun diplomacy. But Lapu-Lapu and his men defended their island with unimagined ferocity, and Magellan was soon back on his boat, fatally wounded by a spear to his head and a poisoned arrow in his leg. This happened less than I km from the yacht club where Whistler is moored.

Unfortunately for the Filipinos, Spain, determined to press their claim sent four more expeditions to the islands and renamed them after the heir to the Spanish throne, Philip, Charles I‘s son. In 1565, Miguel Lopez de Legazpi returned to the scene of Magellan’s death at Cebu and overran the local tribe. Legazpi and his soldiers wasted no time in establishing a settlement where Cebu City now stands. Fort San Pedro, which Pepe and I visited, is a relic from that era.

Chinese immigration and later American occupation continued to mould the country until finally it became independent in 1946. Today, the Republic of the Philippines, with a population of around 90 millions, is the only predominantly Christian country in Southeast Asia. Of that 90 millions, 10 millions reside outside the country. Apparently, the Philippines’ biggest export is people. With most Filipinos earning less than $1 an hour, almost everybody I have met here is dreaming of leaving the country for the USA, Canada or Europe in order to have a financially richer life. The Catholic Church being a strong influence, contraception is discouraged and large poor families are the norm. It is not uncommon for only one or two members of a large family to have a job (which pays less than $1/hour, let me remind you) and to support brothers, sisters, parents and grand-parents. Yes, life is cheap by our standard but for the locals it is not so.

Here are some examples of prices in Cebu. One hour taxi ride: $4. Three hour bus ride: $2. Meal in a good restaurant with one glass of wine: $7. Three star hotel room: $20. Basic one bedroom modern apartment: $100/month. 1 hour massage: $4.

Another thing that struck me is the education problem. Putting themselves or their family members through school seems to be a national worry. For instance, college tuition is $600 per semester for Information Technology and $1000 for nursing. At $1 an hour, it takes a long time to save that much money. With life being so hard and getting ahead even harder, Filipinos are an incredibly friendly people. They treat foreigners, on the surface anyway, with underserved respect and are always extremely polite. It is a little unnerving to being called Sir Eric by people who work in the service industry. I always ask them to simply call me Eric and it usually takes 4 or 5 times of me asking before they finally call me by my name without the Sir in front of it.

Welcome to Asia

Our 5-day passage from Palau to the Philippines was filled with encounters with fishing boats and giant buoys. 200 miles out of the Philippines’ east coast we had to be on the look out for giant steel buoys anchored in 10000 feet of water, something I had never seen so far out. Fortunately, we were accompanied on our journey by a full moon. So at night, the person on watch, sat on the bow and made course adjustment if one of these sailboat killers was spotted. I guess these giants’ buoys are used to anchor the multitude of fishing boats we encountered within the 200 miles Philippines territorial limits. At one point, I thought we were going to be attacked by pirates when 3 boats of a fleet of 6 headed straight towards us. Come to find out, they just wanted to trade some fish for some canned food. At first I was dubious to let them come alongside, but since they could always out-motor us and board us if they intended to, I relented and we made a quick pass within 2 meters of one of them. We threw them about 6 or 7 cans. I did not bother asking for fish in return since we had all the food we needed. They were very thankful and kept chatting with us on the VHF radio, even asking us for our email, as we continued on our way. I guess after so many months at sea, they were happy to see somebody else than their crewmates and to eat something other than fish.

Once we reached the coast, we anchored in the first protected bay we found in front of a small fishing village called Consolacion. We were visited right away by a band of small children and some older ones. One of them, a 16-year-old named Ralph, was very sympathetic and spoke good English. He offered to take us around the village. We took him up on the offer and got to meet his grandparents as well as cousins. The village seemed poor by North American Standard but nobody was starving. Ralph and his Grandfather offered to take us to a cockfight at a nearby village. It so happened that the Grandfather had a prized rooster to enter into the fight and that this rooster had already won 4 times. Pepe and I had never seen one so we agreed. Julie, on the other hand, was reluctant at first but curiosity got the better of her and she came along. Pepe and Julie piled into the Grandfather pirogue powered by a 6 hp engine and Ralph and I went into my dinghy. 45 minutes later we arrived at a small village and disembarked with our entourage from Consolacion. I think that at first we were as much an attraction as the various cockfights. We were of course the only white folks there and drew many curious glances.

Before I go on, I must warn animal lovers and sensitive souls not to read on.

Ok you have been warned, read on at your own perils. After the Consolacion rooster had found an opponent, we watched the experts rigged a curved razor blade on the left foot of the rooster. Then the betting was on. We each put 1000 pesos (about 20 dollars) on the Consolacion Rooster. This brought the total bet on that rooster to 5000 pesos. However, the opponent rooster could only muster 3500 pesos, so the odds were 70 cents on the dollar. The rink was about 20 feet by 20 feet and crowded by two rows of people wanting to see the bloody action. We were given VIP treatment and offered a seat inside the rink. The Roosters were released and they went at each other, jumping on top of each other and swinging that left leg with the razor blade. It was as if they knew that there was a razor blade attached. Meanwhile, Julie who had been so reluctant to come at first got into the spirit of it and was yelling for blood and victory. After about 10 minutes, the opponent rooster fell over, dead from its bleeding injury. Our rooster did not look too good either, with several severe gashes in its neck and belly, but it was alive and declared the winner. It was at this moment that I realized that we had skewed the betting with our relatively rich bet. If we had not bet, the Grandfather, who had bet about a 1000 pesos also, would have won half of the 3500 pesos. Since Pepe, Julie and I had bet 3000 pesos, he would only take home 700 pesos. We had paid for the gasoline to get there but still I felt bad about it. I explained my reasoning to Pepe and Julie and they also agreed to hand over half our winning to Ralph’s grandfather, while asking Ralph to explain why. He refused at first but I insisted.

We spent 3 wonderful days in that village. Pepe and I got quite close to Ralph even inviting him and his cousins aboard for a meal. It was with a little sadness from both us and Ralph’s family that we left Consolacion. I would have stayed longer, but we needed to get to Cebu so Julie could fly home. Her stay was coming to an end and she needed to go back to Quebec and back to work.

We made it through the two straights of the Hinatuan passage in one day, which is unheard of for sailboats. There is a ripping current through that passage and usually it has to be timed with the tides. The first straight we were traveling with the tide but later in the day, coming to the second straight, we were fighting against the current. However by hugging the south shore we were able to stay out of the 6+ knots current, taking advantages of countercurrents. We made it through that second straight in less than 2 hours and anchored that night in front of Surigao city.

So far, the wind had not been in our favor and too much motoring was required. However, the next morning, on that second day through the Philippines islands, we had a beautiful tail wind and covered 70 miles in 10 hours until disaster struck. Exhausted from the previous 2 long days of navigating through the challenging islands of the Philippines, I tried to get to close to shore to anchor for the night when all of the sudden we hit a reef that had not been visible through the murky water until we were on top of it. Although I had been motoring slowly (about 2.5 knots or 3 MPH) that was enough for Whistler’s 16 ton to get jammed on top of that coral head. I tried full reverse for a few minutes but to no avail. At that time, the tide was going down fast and before we could set an anchor behind us to winch us back, the boat was already heeling over.

The sun had disappeared below the horizon and it was starting to look scary. Running aground on sand is not too dangerous but running aground on coral is another matter. The keel is strong, that is not the problem. The problem is when the tide goes down, the boat heels over and two things can happen. First, if it heels enough, water will start coming in the boat through the hatches. Second, if there is any protruding coral heads next to the keel, the hull might be in contact with them and could possibly be punctured. That second danger was my main worry. I had some tide information from a program I had on my computer, but that information is renowned to be unreliable. We tried to ask a few of the local fishermen who came by about the tide but none of them spoke English and even with hand signs, their answers could not be relied upon. After diving around the boat with a flashlight, I discovered that there were indeed two coral heads that were prime candidates to puncture the hull. From what I could gather from my computer and local conditions, I guessed that we had hit the reef at mid tide. Full tide being 1.3 meter (about 5 feet), it would be a close call if I was right. We tried to rig an anchor off the side of the boat and tied it to a halyard going to the top of the mast in order to keep Whistler upright but the ground was hard as rock and the anchor would not hold. All we could do was wait, pray and prepare something to put in between the coral heads and the hull. Keeping that something jammed between the hull and the coral head would be a difficult task since there was a little bit of chop which was lifting the boat up and down a few inches each time. I was praying it would not come to that. The tide went down for 5 hours, the 5 longest hours of my life. The boat heeled down to 35 degree. It was very difficult to walk inside the boat. The coral heads came within 11 inches of the hull. At 10 pm, the tide started going back up. The boat straightened up. 11 pm, 25 degree of heel! Midnight, 15 degree! I started to breathe a little easier. 1 am, 5 degree! 2 am, 2 degree! As you can see, the rate at which the tide was rising was slowing down. I started to fear that it would peak before we could get off and we would go back down to 35 degree or maybe worse. For 30 minutes, we tried to get off with the engine in full reverse and an anchor behind us tied to my biggest winch with no success.

I had two choices. Either rig my second anchor to one side of the boat, tie her up to the top of the mast using the main sail halyard and winch the boat down, effectively heeling her back to about 20 degree to clear the keel from the reef. My other option was to lighten up the boat and maybe gain a few inches of flotation. Pepe voted for that option and suggested we start by taking out that second anchor and its 200 feet of chain (about 350 pounds of weight) and unload it in the dinghy. I was skeptic that it would be enough but since it required less time than rigging the anchor to the side, I decided to try it first. To my relief it worked. We got off, pull the back anchor inside the boat and slowly very slowly retraced our steps out of that hellhole using my main GPS (Global Positioning Satellite), which had recorded our previous track. Remember that it was 2:30 am and very dark. We could not see where we were going and without that GPS track it would have been tricky to get out of that dangerous zone and retrace our steps. By 4 am, we were anchored in 30 feet of water. I was thankful that we got off without too much damage. My crew, Julie and Pepe had performed admirably. Nobody had panicked and they had offered many helpful suggestions. We collapsed that night relieved and happy but exhausted by a full day of sailing and a full night of trying to get 16 ton off a coral head. .

The next morning, I inspected the hull and keel. Fortunately, only the keel was missing some fiberglass. Nothing life threatening that could not be repaired the next time I hauled the boat out for some needed maintenance. I did not feel too good about running aground. It had been 4 years since the last time I had run aground unintentionally and it was the first time I could not get off before the tide went down.

We continued on towards Cebu. We had a few close calls again about running aground since the water was shallow, murky and the charts not very accurate. I had never seen such a bad combinations of factors. Usually, you can spot the reefs several hundreds feet away, especially with polarized sunglasses. Not in this case! Even with the sun overhead, you could not see the bottom in 15 feet of waters. Fortunately we stayed afloat and did not touch bottom again although we had to apply full reverse on two separate occasions in order not to hit another reef. We anchored behind a low lying island on that second night in these treacherous waters north of Bohol, one of the island provinces of the Philippines. Still recovering from all our adventures, we slept like the dead that night.

Palau, Micronesia and United States Influence

It is 3 in the morning as I am writing these lines. I am on watch while Julie and Pepe are catching a few zzz’s. The sea is flat, the moon is out, we have just passed one fishing boat on our starboard side and there is two more on our port side. We are definitely getting close to Asia and it multitude of people, customs and languages. 4 boats in less than 6 hours! In these 6 hours I have seen more boat traffic than in the last 6 months.

We have left Palau 2 days ago and are 250 miles east of the Philippines. We have been motoring for the last 24 hours. I dare not wait for the wind as it is a little late in the season to make this crossing as far as hurricanes are concerned. In fact there is a hurricane, called a typhoon in this part of the world, just 400 miles north of us. Luckily it is heading in an east-north-east direction and, let’s keep our fingers cross and touch some wood (No I am not superstitious!!!), should keep heading that way. We will know in 24 hours. If you are reading these lines, all is well, so don’t worry Mom!! Oh and before you call me irresponsible, there is no completely safe month in this part of the world. Typhoons have developed and wreaked havoc in every single month of the year in the last 100 years. Of course, the winter months are a little quieter and as in North America, August and the fall months are the most dangerous.

Before I take you along with us to the first country of South East Asia that we will be visiting, let’s close the parenthesis on Palau and Micronesia. Palau is a beautiful and unique country. Whistler spent 5 wonderful weeks in the Palauan waters and it was hard to leave. The diving was the best in the world, the rock islands were deserted and beautiful and well, it was paradise. Just check out some of the pictures Lisa has posted for us on the website and tell yourself it does not do the real thing justice.

Palau officially became an independent nation in 1994. In that same year Palau signed a compact of free association (COFA) with the United States similar to the compacts signed with the Republic of the Marshall Islands and the Federated States of Micronesia in 1988. These three freely-associated states were formerly part of the Trust Territory of the Pacific Islands, a United Nations trusteeship administered by the United States Navy from 1947 to 1951 and by the United States Department of the Interior from 1951 to 1986 (to 1994 for Palau).

What is COFA? Under the COFA relationship, the United States provides guaranteed financial assistance over a 15-year period administered through the Office of Insular Affairs in exchange for certain defense rights. The freely-associated states actively participate in all Office of Insular Affairs technical assistance activities. The U.S. treats these nations uniquely by giving them access to many U.S. domestic programs, including disaster response and recovery and hazard mitigation programs under the Federal Emergency Management Agency.

In 2003, the Compacts between the RMI and FSM were renewed for 20 years. These new Compacts provided US$3.5 billion in funding for both nations. The new Compacts changed certain immigration rules. RMI and FSM citizens traveling to the U.S. are now required to have passports. The renewed Compact (commonly called “Compact II”) for FSM took effect on May 1, 2004, and for RMI on June 30, 2004.

The Compact of Free Association between the Republic of Palau and the United States entered into force on October 1, 1994, with the U.S. interest of promoting Palau’s self-sufficiency and economic advancement. The compact and its related subsidiary agreements provide for a 15-year term of economic assistance. In fiscal year 2009, the two governments must review the terms of the compact and related agreements and agree on any modifications. The Department of the Interior (DOI) has primary responsibility for oversight of Palau’s use of compact funds.

For fiscal years 1995-2009, U.S. aid to Palau will have exceeded $852 million. Compact direct assistance will account for 48 percent of U.S. assistance; this assistance provides general budgetary support for Palau’s government operations, including initial investment in a trust fund intended to provide annual distributions of $5 million in 1999-2009 and $15 million in 2010-2044. Compact federal services such as postal, aviation, and weather services will account for about 3 percent of assistance, and construction of a road, finished in 2007, will account for 17 percent of assistance. Palau’s receipt of federal programs, providing services such as education grants and community health care, will account for approximately 31 percent of assistance.

With a population of 21,000 people, that represents over $40,000 per person in US aid to the country over a period of 15 years. A little excessive for my tastes considering the increasing debt burden the American people have been saddle with since the Bush administration. In contrast, the combined population of RMI and FSM is 173,000, which works out to a per capita aid of $20,000 over 20 years for the new COFA signed in 2003 (the old COFA provided approximately $10000 per capita over I5 years) And what do the USA gain from these 3 COFA’s? Mainly military rights in the event of war!! 3.5 Billion for RMI and FSM and probably over 1 Billion for Palau if it is renewed!! Surely, there are cheaper ways to secure future military advantages. With deficit forecasted to hit a record high of 12% of Gross Domestic Product, can we afford to renew the COFA with Palau? There are rumors that Taiwan and Japan are pushing hard to be the next Mother Goose to the Palauans. What would they gain? Rumors say more fishing rights within the 200 miles Palauan territorial waters as well as tourism considerations. As much as I love Palau, I say: “Let them have it. It is time we live within our means”.

At least, the Palauan officials were a little smarter than the Micronesian in managing COFA money. The Palauans invested part of the money in a trust which should pay out $5-15 million annually over 45 years provided it earns a compounded annual return of at least 8.1 percent, a rate lower than the average earned thus far. However, market volatility could lead to the trust fund’s depletion after 2016. Moreover, corruption seemed less a problem in Palau than in FSM as I observed first hand in the state of Chuuk, one of FSM four states. Horrible infrastructure such as roads and garbage collection were the norm in Chuuk while Palau prides itself with well maintained roads and bridges as well as protecting their marine environment.

A final comment, more like an anecdote, on Palau and its previous rulers/benefactors: Japan occupied Palau from 1914 until the end of WWII. As mentioned earlier, after the war, Palau was administered by the USA until independence in 1994. When asked about the difference in Japanese rule and American rule, an old timer said: “Japanese treated us like slaves but showed us how to work and how to exploit our natural resources to be self sufficient while the Americans came with canned food and bags of money”. Not much seemed to have changed about the latter and it seems to me to be a recurring problem with the way we, North Americans, dole out our aid money. As someone once said, the most dangerous people are the ones with good intentions. In our desire to help developing nations, we create a dependence which stifles hard work and creativity while encouraging corruption. What works for us, most of the time, does not work for them. I have seen countless examples of this in the last year in the Solomons, Papua New Guinea, FSM and now Palau. I am no expert on foreign aid, but we seem to be going at it the wrong way!

Palau: Paradise Found

Besides a 6-hour period of very strong wind, the crossing from Yap to Palau was uneventful. Since we were going to arrive on a Sunday and possibly be charged overtime by the custom and immigration officials, I decided to anchor inside the reef encircling the islands of Palau and wait until Monday morning to travel the few last miles to the city of Koror. This delaying maneuver is sometimes frowned upon by the officials but as long as you do not go ashore, it is technically legal. After hooking our anchor to the bottom, we went for a swim on the reef. I had noticed a fishing boat close by but did not pay it further attention when it motored away. As the sun was setting, the fishing boat came back and docked with us. As luck would have it, one of the passengers was a custom official and asked me what I was doing here and why I had not gone on to Koror to check in. I told him my motor was overheating and that I needed to let it cool down before motoring the last few miles to Koror (there was no wind that day). I emphasized to him that we had not gone ashore and would not do so until we checked in. He seemed satisfied and told me he would advise his colleagues and they would expect me on Monday morning at the quarantine dock.

After checking in with all the officials (Customs, Immigration, Quarantine, Health), we were free to go and anchor in front of Sam’s Tour, a diving outfit that had a few moorings available for cruising boats to use. I knew of Sam since I had dove with them 7 ½ years ago along with my good friend Walter, his wife Theresa and their daughter Serena. Palau had been my first dive trip after getting Scuba certified and I fondly remember the island as being very pretty. Pretty however was an inadequate word, I realized this time around. “This is paradise”. Turquoise waters surrounding high rocky islands, caves, blue holes, tunnels, vertical drop off, an astonishing spectrum of coral fish and rare sea creatures, giant clams that weigh a quarter of a ton. There is even what some consider a miracle of evolution with a jellyfish lake teeming with 20 odd million jellyfish that have no sting since they have evolved without any predators (yes, it is possible to swim with all these jellyfish and let me tell you it is a surreal experience). Jellyfish Lake (video)

Palau, for me was also another milestone. I fondly remember sitting at the outdoor bar of Sam’s after a long diving day, looking at the few sailboats and wondering if my dream would come true and one day I would come in this bay with my own sailboat. Back then, I was not sure I would get to realize my sailing dream and it seemed preposterous to think I would make it this far and actually anchor in that lagoon here in Palau.

Furthermore, 7 ½ years ago, we had dove 2 and 3 times a day for 7 days but had not dove the world famous “Blue Corner”, a dive site where there is a lot of current and a lot of fishes, especially sharks, swimming by. The wind had been from the wrong direction and the site too rough to dive. I was disappointed and had promised my self I would be back either by boat or by plane to dive the “Blue Corner”. So, on our second day, I signed my self and Julie to do so. I kept teasing Julie, that since she was a new diver (she had just got certified in Yap a week previous, and that she was going to be diving in one of the best place in the world, she might ass well hang her fins and dive equipment up and never dive again when she got back to Quebec. Why? Because it would all be downhill from here as far as diving was concerned. She would be blaze after this and it would be hard to dive in a better environment than Palau. You probably think that I am full of B.S. but this is exactly what happened to me. My first dive trip was in Palau, 7 1/2 year ago, and I have never dove in a better place since.

We did three dives that day starting with the Virgin Blue Hole, then the Blue Hole and finally the Blue Corner. It was everything I had dreamed of and more. A blue hole, for the non-divers, is a hole in the reef/rocks into which you float down. At the bottom, there usually is a horizontal exit into a cliff wall. It is eerie, magical and a lot of fun to float down one of these shafts and to look up towards the sky to see the hole getting smaller and smaller as you descend. As for the Blue Corner, the best part of it, when there is a lot of current, is to attach yourself to a rock using a reef hook and to watch all the aquatic life, especially the numerous reef sharks, zip by. A little bit like watching a National Geographic underwater movie.

On April 7, Pepe, my Argentinean friend arrived from the Canaries Islands, where he lives, to spend a few months with me. It was great to see him again. It had been over a year since we had traveled together. I also looked forward to practicing my Spanish once again and to create new memories.

Cheers from Paradise!

P.S. Here is a link to the website of one of my friends here who does underwater video productions. The link is a demo video of Palau underwater wonders. Check it out!

Small but Charming Yap

How refreshing Yap turned out to be after our bad experience in Chuuk. Although part of the same country, the Federated States of Micronesia, Yap proved to be far superior in every aspect to Chuuk. First, the Custom, Immigration, Quarantine and Port control officers were not corrupt as in Chuuk. Second, the road infrastructure was some of the best I have seen in the Pacific even including long stretch of sidewalk for pedestrian and bikers. Third, the island was clean. There was very little garbage along the road and in the woods. Finally, the anchorage was calm and free.

Most people in North America have never heard of the Federated States of Micronesia unless they are old enough to remember World War II. Here is a brief outline of how this region became an independent country in the 1980’s. The Micronesians came from the Asian corridor area of Malaysia probably before 1000 B.C. There are 8 different cultures throughout Micronesia. The Marianas Islanders also known as the Chamorros (this includes Guam); The I-Kiribati; the Marshallese; the eastern Carolinians; the Chuukese; the Yapese; the Palauans; and the Southwest Islanders. Micronesia had a succession of rulers: Spain, Germany, Japan and the United States. All of them left something to the language and culture of the region. Most of Micronesia – in fact all but Kiribati, Nauru and Guam – was a part of the Trust Territory of the Pacific Islands administered by the United States after the end of the Second World War. The territory was first administered by the Navy Department and later by the Department of the Interior. It has since been dissolved, and quasi independent nations have been created out of the former Trust Territory districts. The Northern Marianas Districts became a commonwealth of the US in 1978. The Marshall Islands District became the Republic of the Marshall Islands, in free association with the US in 1979. The district of Kosrae, Pohnpei, Chuuk and Yap united to form the Federated States of Micronesia in free association with the United States in 1982. The District of Palau became the Republic of Palau, also in free association with the US in 1982. Commonwealth and The free association with the US left the new countries with useful economic support and defense commitment from the US. In exchange for Economic Aid to the tune of 1 Billion Dollar over 15 years period for the Federated States of Micronesia, the US is granted some Military rights for present and future use. This economic/military agreement called a Compact of Free Association was renewed for another 15 years in 2005. While providing direct benefit to the country, it also foster economic dependence and political corruption as is obvious in Chuuk when one compares the states of its infrastructure to the Yapese infrastructure.

What made our stay even more pleasant were the people from the Manta Ray Hotel. Bill, the owner and originally from Texas, happened to be a friend of one my best friend, Walter Hackerott. Walter had emailed him before our arrival and Bill treated us with a warm welcome, offering us the use of the hotel pool and showers free of charge. The Hotel is unique in the Pacific with the added fact that in front of the premises is moored a 100 year old 100 foot wooden Schooner, the SV Mnuw. The Mnuw was purchased by Bill in Indonesia and sailed to Yap to be permanently moored in front of the hotel and turned into a terrific bar/restaurant with a stunning view of the surrounding bay. The hotel also features a dive shop managed by a French speaking Belgian, Jan Sledsens. Jan, Julie and I became fast friends after a few dives as well as several adult beverages shared on the top deck of the Mnuw. Adding to the already colorful ex-patriate scene was Andre, a friend of Bill and a French Quebecer now living in Yap. Andre married a local Yapese beauty and now works for the local utility company. We also became quick friends and even had him and his family over for dinner to enjoy my dubious cooking and to listen to old French Canadian music.

Yap is a very traditional society and Men’s house, ancient stone path as well as huge stone money are still in use throughout the island. Stone money, locally called Rai, can range up to 3 ½ meter (10 feet) in diameter and weigh as much as five tones. In 1929, the Japanese government counted as many as 13000 of these stone disks. Most Rais are kept in banks lined up along village pathways. The money is not moved, even when ownership changes. The Rai cannot be sold to foreigner and the US dollar settles most transactions although the stone disks remain in use today for some traditional exchanges such as wedding and births.

During our first week on the island, Julie completed her Scuba Diving certification with Jan while I went looking for the beautiful Manta Rays with other Scuba tourists. According to our guide, this had not been a good year for Manta Ray observation at the cleaning station in Mils Channel. So I felt fortunate enough to at least be able to see one on my first dive. A cleaning station is an underwater place where Mantas, Sharks and other fishes come to get their parasites removed by small wrasse fish. They hang around for several minutes while the wrasses do their job. It presents Scuba Divers a unique opportunity to observe these wild and beautiful animals in their natural environment, a much better practice than the other method which involves feeding. Our luck was even extended when on two separate occasions, Julie and I, spotted a group of 3 Manta Rays, swimming under and around Whistler. With a wing span close to 12 feet on some individuals, they make an impressive sight when seen from the boat or when seen underwater.

After 10 days, it was time to move on and it was with a sad heart that we said goodbyes to all our new friends before pulling anchor and setting sails for beautiful Palau.

Guam: A modern and welcoming Island

The first Saturday in March, the Marianas yacht club, where we were anchored, was hosting its annual Laser racing regatta. A Laser sailboat is a small 16 foot sailboat with only one sail called the main sail. The boat is usually handled by one person. It is one of the most popular and affordable racing boat in the world. Some of the participants were local members but there were others who flew from Japan and also from Florida to attend the event. I had never raced Lasers but I put my name in the hat and for a small fee was welcomed to use the club laser. With high winds, sometimes gusting to 30 knots, it was a challenge to keep these small boats upright. Many of us capsized several times, yours truly included. A lot of fun but a lot of work to sail these small boats in these conditions! I got better every race but still finished towards the end of the pack. The contest was won by one of the visiting Japanese sailor. On the last day of the regatta, Sunday, awards were handed out, a nice meal was served and adult beverages were distributed. A great evening and a great event where competition and camaraderie went hand in hand! It reminded me of my North Carolina J-24 racing days with my sailing mentor, Robert Bouknight.

The club member treated us, visiting sailors, so well, made us feel part of the family, offered to take us shopping, show us the island, etc. It felt good to be on a modern island and surrounded by such friendly people.

On March 7th, Randy and I went to the airport to pick up Julie, my new crew. Julie, a good friend of one of my best friend, had volunteered to come and crew for me for 2 months. Although without any previous sailing experience, I could tell right away that she would adapt very quickly to the boat life by the way she volunteered, in these first few days, for any boat chores that needed to be done. On her first days on the island, I rented one of the Yacht Club Laser sailboats and we went out for a quick sailing lesson. It is always a good idea to start on a small sailboat and then move on to a bigger one. The same sailing principles apply to small and big sailboats but are easier to grasp and to experience on a small sailboat since the sailors are closer to the water and the wind. The steering system also responds much quicker on a small sailboat than on a 16 ton one.

It was with a little sadness that we left Guam on March 10th and headed back towards Micronesia. I had fallen in love with the island and its people, even though most of them were transplants. For instance, I became friend with a crazy Australian, Peter and his wife Lindy. Peter was one of the better Laser sailors, finishing in 2nd place in the regatta. He was also a professional pilot, had lived in many different countries and could tell a good tale about almost each one. From flying into warn torn Lebanon to landing into nasty Syria, he could keep entertain for many nights.

But with typhoon season coming soon, we had to leave Guam and head west. After 4 days at sea, we reached Yap, an island in the westernmost province of Micronesia. After an unpleasant stay in Chuuk another of Micronesia’s province, I was a little leery about Yap (see February 15 log). Hence it was a pleasant surprise to find an island that was the total opposite of Chuuk. Honest and friendly Custom and Immigration officials, friendly people, a clean and well kept island as well as a decent road infrastructure. I knew after a few hours that I was going to like this island. Furthermore, Yap is well known in the diving community to be Manta Ray central. I was really looking forward to diving with these giant and beautiful animals!!!

Two faces of Micronesia: Chuuk versus Namomuito

Two days before leaving Chuuk, I happened to meet a group of wreck divers. One of them, Jeff, a 50 year old Englishmen, was keen on being my crew for the 4 day passage to Guam. He had never been in the ocean but had taken a few sailing classes. I gladly accepted his offer to end my solo sailing days. It had been quite a challenge to sail alone. I had enjoyed and was happy to realize I could do it. It was a little dangerous though because when the only sailor aboard is sleeping, there is nobody on watch to scan the horizon for other ships which might be on a collision course with Whistler. Furthermore, it is a little boring and you start talking to yourself.

Jeff proved to be a great crew, always listening for advice and offering to do whatever chores needed to be done. He would even let me sleep through the beginning of my watch not wanting to wake me up when it was my time. On top of that he was quite a world traveler, currently living in Kuala Lumpur after retiring from British Airways.

After 36 hours at sea we made a stop at a remote Micronesian atoll called Namomuito. By that time we were a little leery of Micronesian people and were ready to leave that same day should they come asking for an anchoring fee as they had done at some of the Chuuk islands. However, we were pleasantly surprised by these islanders. They invited us to visit their village. I got to play volleyball. They put on a dancing and singing exhibition for us and presented us with gifts such as coconut vinegar and hats made out of coconut leaves. Of course, we gave them a few items that they needed such as rice, sugar and fish hooks. That first night, Randy and I accompanied 6 of the villagers on a lobster hunt with flashlights, fins, mask, tuba and spears. It was quite an adventure, a little scary at times, since the fishing area was right on the reef exposed to the fury of the ocean. A few times, I got rolled by a wave and lost my bearing. I was thankful to find one of my native friends next to me, making sure I was ok. All 6 of our friends had great lung capacity and would stay underwater for long moments, looking in every crevice for signs of the elusive crustacean. When one was spotted, they would lunge at it, propelled by a hunter and killer instinct which had evolved, I am sure, for the need to secure their prey or die of starvation.

With such a welcome, we wanted to stay longer, unfortunately, the weather was not looking good and if we did not leave soon, it was going to get much worse. So after only 2 days spent with these wonderful people, we picked up anchor and headed for Guam.

The passage was rough but fast. After 4 years and 3 months, I finally crossed the half way mark in my round the world endeavor. As I reflected on these last 4 years, I realized how much I had grown, how much I had seen and experienced. I felt very privileged to be able to do this. It was hard at times, being so far away from those I loved, having to be so self- sufficient, but it was worth every minute of it. In 4 years, I had learned many trades. Navigator, Mechanic, Electrician, Plumber, Electronician, Carpenter, Refrigeration, Fiberglass, Sail Repair, etc! I marveled at how much more I knew now than 4 years ago. I had started my sailing adventures, always surrounded by experienced people. On the first leg, 4 years ago, I had 4 experienced friends as crewmates. Four years later, I had graduated to solo sailing, a challenge that would never have entered my mind in the beginning.

On the 22nd of February, we were entering Guam harbor and were directed by the Coast Guard to anchor in front of the Marianas Yacht Club where we were met by Quarantine, Customs and Immigration officials. Although forced to pay $180 for overtime because it was a Sunday, at least the officials were efficient and we did not experience the bureaucratic BS we had in Chuuk. When we arrived at the yacht club, the members gave us a warm welcome and said we could use their facility for a mere $25 a week. Shower, toilets, fresh water! All were welcome.

Randy and Hideko rented a car and sometimes would take us along for shopping expeditions. It was wonderful to be back in the modern world after 6 months spent in third world countries. What a relief to have access to modern supermarkets, professional mechanics and above all fast mail service from the United States for those long awaited specialized boat items. For instance, I ordered a new refrigeration compressor since my existing one was on its leg and I was tired of fixing it. “Vive le monde moderne” as it makes cold milk and cold beers possible!

Micronesia: A Big Disappointment

If there is one thing I do not like, it is talking or writing negatively about a people or a country. In the past, I managed to see most islands and countries in a positive light. Micronesia, however, started off on the wrong foot.

My first inkling that I was not going to like Micronesia came on the atoll of Kapigamarangi. Angelique, Swingin on a Star and Whistler had brought to the atoll about $200 each in food aid. We had heard from another cruiser, that the atoll of Kapigamarangi and of Nukuoro, had been flooded by tidal waves in December 2008, killing most of their taro and vegetable crops. Unlike a tsunami, tidal waves are not produced by seismic activities but by abnormally high tides (a result of global warming? Probably!!). Usually, a sailboat must enter a country through one of its port of entry. For Micronesia and many countries, depending on the direction of travel, the nearest port of entry can be a detour of several hundred miles. Hence few boats legally visit these islands which are upwind of the nearest port of entry. In most third world countries, the rule is ignored and difficult to enforce given the scarcity of coast guard vessels. In the past, I and most cruisers I know have visited many an island illegally without facing any problems the authorities. You can imagine our surprise, especially since we were bringing some food, when after 2 days of waiting on the yacht, we were told by Kapigamarangi acting chief, Solomon, that we could not go ashore and/or deliver the aid package we had brought. I will let Randy, from Swingin on a Star, explain how he felt about all this bureaucratic nonsense.

You can view more of “Swingin on a Star” journal entries on their website at www.swinginonastar.org.

So, as you can see from the above comments, we were a little disappointed and after spending a few days at anchor in the lagoon of Kapigamarangi, we sailed directly to Chuuk, without stopping in Nukuoro to deliver the food we had brought. After 4 days at sea, we arrived in Chuuk, an official port of entry. More disappointment were in store as the custom and immigration officials kept us waiting 3 days for a cruising permit, hit us with dubious overtime charges and told us to wait on a wharf designed for large ships not sailboats. At, the captain of Angelique, got really angry at the officials, especially since their lifeline rail got damaged by the unsuitable wharf. He asked them if we had done anything wrong and why they were keeping us waiting like that. Maybe it was payback for stopping in Kapigamarangi but since we had not been ashore on the island, we had not committed any infractions. A vessel is allowed to stop legally in any island for repair or to seek protection from bad weather as long as the crew does not go ashore. The officials confirmed that we had done nothing wrong and that they were waiting for the clearance from the capital Pohnpei. What bureaucratic idiocy!!!

Once we were finally allowed to leave the Custom wharf, we went and anchored on the south side of the main island of Weno in the Chuuk Lagoon. One day, I got my bicycle out and went around the island in a little less than 2 hours. I was shocked by all the garbage lying around. I had rarely seen such an environmental ignorance. There was garbage and old abandoned cars everywhere. Along the shore, in the lagoon, along the road, in the woods!

There was only one road and it was in horrible shape. The cars, which there were too many for such a small island, could rarely travel faster than 15 mph due to the numerous potholes. It was faster to travel by bike, cheaper and you got some exercise. Given all these advantages, I was disappointed to see only one other person using a bicycle. Amazing isn’t it!!! Especially given the obesity problem prevalent amongst the population! Micronesia used to be a US protectorate after World War II until its independence. They still receive between 50 and 100 million$ in aid from the US. It seems they are caught between the two ways of life, the subsistence way of life and the western way of life, and as a result, are displaying the worst attributes of the two ways of life. For example, it is not uncommon to see one working car in a yard along with 4 abandoned immobile cars in that same yard. Their love affair with cars and gasoline is hard to justify given that most people earn less than $1 an hour. How can they afford cars and the gasoline that is required to power them? I asked that question to a native I met last night. The answer was that most Chukeeses have relatives working in the US or other Western countries and that these relatives will send a good portion of their earning back to the island. This is all well and good but it is creating an environmental challenge as far as car disposal is concerned. They could learn a lot from modern islands such as Bermuda who adds a disposal tax to any cars brought on the island. This disposal tax serves to ship the car back to the mainland where it can be processed and recycled.

Ok, enough negativity! There is one good thing about Chuuk and it is the scuba diving. The lagoon is home to over 60 wrecks, most of them Japanese ships sunk by the US during operation Hailstorm on February 17 and 18, 1944. To the Japanese, the Chuuk bombing, was their Pearl Harbor. 45 ships were sunk, 27 heavily damaged and 275 planes destroyed. More than 3 times the amount of explosive used on Pearl Harbor was dropped here in Chuuk. This historical event caused modern day Chuuk to be considered “wreck diving central”. Randy and I took advantage of the opportunity and were able to dive on 7 different wrecks. We saw unexploded mines, torpedoes, tanks, gas masks as well as several different artillery pieces. Diving among all these historical artifacts humbled me and also allowed me a glimpse at the past as well as its lessons!!!

A night on the Reef

The wind finally died down and we were able to make our way to Green Island, a beautiful atoll 50 miles north of Buka. The anchor had not been resting on the bottom, that many pirogues surrounded Whistler as well as Angelique and Swingin on a Star. The people from Green Island were curious but shy. Some spoke English but most were embarrassed at trying to speak Shakespeare language. I traded sugar, rice and some cookies for fruits and vegetables. The next day, I kayaked to the main village and discovered a volleyball court. After asking around I found that they usually played everyday at 3 pm. However, they had punctured their last volleyball so daily games had been halted. By chance, I had volleyball on board. I went to get it and the game was on. The caliber was very good. We played until sunset and the game seemed to break away some of their natural shyness. After it ended, I offered them my volleyball which they happily accepted. In return, one of the teenage boys climbed a 100 feet high coconut tree to get me some green coconut, which I prized, greatly for the sweet water contained inside. They husked a half dozen of them and presented them to me. Most of them accompanied me to my kayak and were hoping I would come back the next day for more Volleyball. Unfortunately, the wind was right and we departed the next day for Nugaria atoll located at 3 degree 23 minutes south and 154 degree 40 minutes east. This was to be our last stop in Papua New Guinea. A drawback of traveling so fast and so much. You make friends that you have to leave a few hours after knowing them.

Nugaria was a repeat of Green as far as Volleyball was concerned except that they had their ball this time. A good thing since I had given away my ball. 500 people lived on the main island. They lived off the copra trade (oil made from coconut) as well as the collection of Troca shells, which were sold to a trader in Rabaul and turned into garment buttons and other clothing items. The atoll had suffered in December from particularly high tides which had flooded the main island with as much as 2 feet of water. Fortunately, another island with a higher elevation was the home of their main vegetable gardens, so they came out all right. Furthermore, a cargo boat delivered various supplies every 3 months or so. As on Green Island, a few of my new Volleyball friends begged me to stay a few more days. However, the wind was too good to pass and after a day and a half on the atoll, we set sail again, this time for a 3-day passage, my first overnight passage as a solo sailor.

I was a little apprehensive but also excited at trying my hand at this new challenge. Swinging on a Star, being a 50-foot Catamaran, is inherently faster than a monohull and pulled away quickly. They were lost over the horizon by midmorning on the first day. Angelique, a 53-foot monohull should also have been quicker than Whistler since its waterlength was 9 feet longer than Whistler. To my surprise, by sunset I had pulled away from Angelique but was still in Visual and VHF contact until the next morning when all radio contact was lost. That first night was a little trying, since wind squall after wind squall forced me to reef the Genoa in a hurry on 4 to 5 occasions, cutting into my short attempts at sleeping. The morning, though, brought more constant wind and the day was picture perfect with 10-knot wind from the east-northeast making for a comfortable sail for Whistler and its solo passenger bound on a north heading. I should have reduced sails that second night but by my calculation I had to maintain good speed to reach our destination, Kapigamarangi atoll, before sunset the next day. I did not feel like spending a third night at sea. So I flew my whole complement of main sail, staysail and Genoa with not a reef in any of them. A risky proposition should the wind raise abruptly but one which paid off. The wind stayed constant and I slept deeply for many 2-hour periods that night, trusting my strobe mast light would alert any vessel in the vicinity of my presence. The need for sleep had to be balanced against the need to maintain a watch. Sleep deprivation was more dangerous in my book than the low risk of collision. A conundrum experienced by most solo sailors I believe. By chance, I woke up at 4 am just in time to see a nasty thunderstorm coming my way. I reduced the Genoa just in time before a 25-knot wind squall hit Whistler. After a while, the wind came down some but stayed at 15 knots and unfortunately veered to the northeast. It was as close to the wind as I could sail and still make my destination. I kept the Genoa almost completely furled and was able to get a few more degree closer to the wind than previously thought possible. According to the wind indicator, I was sailing as close to 30 degree off the wind.

I made such good speed in the last 48 hours that I arrived at the Kapigamarangi atoll at 1 pm. Swingin on a Star had arrived the night before and with the help of his GPS coordinates, I was able to negotiate the very tricky pass into the lagoon without a hitch. Angelique, on the other hand radioed us at about 4 pm to tell us they were at least 2 hours away. Not good since sunset was at 6 pm and a night entrance into that tricky pass, even with GPS coordinates, was a hazardous proposition, especially if the tide induced current was ripping. To help Angelique make a decision, Randy, the Captain of Swingin on a Star, and I jumped in his powerful 25 hp propelled dinghy and headed out to the pass to ascertain current speed and overall conditions. Armed with handheld GPS and VHF as well as a powerful spotlight we determined that the current was in excess of 4 knots in the pass. We were about to report these conditions to Angelique who was less than ½ miles from the entrance when to our horror, we heard At’s voice, the Captain of Angelique, on the VHF telling us that he had hit the reef. We quickly sped towards his position and to our horror, the nightmare that most sailors fear had come true. Angelique was hard on the reef, being swung from side to side by the swell coming from the south, the keel grinding, the 2 masts shaking with each attack. It was gut wrenching. I could barely watch but we had to do something and quick since for every minute lost, the situation would get worst as the tide was dropping and would not rise for another 3 hours.

30 tons (60,000 pounds) being pounded by the swell onto a hard reef on a moonless, squally and starless night is a nightmarish sight. At tries full reverse on the engine. To make matter worse, his motor has developed a leak in the heat exchanger and is losing water, which causes it to overheat. The motor coolant reservoir has to be filled with water every 15 minutes or the engine could be damaged irreversibly. No success with the reversing maneuver. We tie a line to Randy’s dinghy and try to help. But 25 hp is no match for a stranded 60000 pounds behemoth. We then try tying one of the mast halyards to the dinghy to heel Angelique to the side and clear the keel from the reef. Again no success! We are getting desperate!! The pounding is getting worse. Anytime, the hull could crack and develop a leak, dooming this time-tested sailboat. At and Dia have already lost a sailboat in the Caribbean, watching the sinking with heavy hearts from the deck of a cargo ship that had responded to their distress call. With all my heart, I wish they did not have to relive the loss of another boat.

With our first three efforts having failed we resort to the anchor trick and carry one of Angelique anchors in Randy’s dinghy about 50 feet to the port quarter and drop it in deeper water. The anchor rode is then made tight with the help of the anchor windlass and Angelique is turned around facing the right direction. There is a risk in the maneuver. The rudder is now in a dangerous position and could be damaged since the stern of the boat is now in the shallower water. Fortunately, Angelique is a full keel boat and the rudder is shorter than the keel and somewhat protected. With me, on board Angelique, operating the engine throttle and refilling the coolant reservoir every 15 minutes, with At and Dia on the bow manning the anchor windlass which also has developed a problem and whose breaker is overheating, we manage to pull Angelique a few feet in the right direction when all of a sudden, the anchor comes free from the bottom. I jump back in the dinghy and we retrieve the anchor in order to reset it. To our amazement, we discover that one of the two anchor flukes is bent by more than 90 degree. Randy suggests we use it anyway instead of another heavier anchor, so we drop it once again in deep water and start the process over. No luck. Angelique is not moving. After two hours of exhausting efforts, we are one hour from low tide and decide to wait out the tide.

We gather inside Angelique, trying to gulp down a soup made by Dia and trying to keep their mind off the grinding and pounding by engaging in small positive talks. It is not easy. I have trouble concentrating on the conversation. We decide to wait until midnight to start the motor assisted anchor-kedging operation. However, a south wind has risen and is increasing the swell since we are facing that direction. This makes the pounding worse but at the same time, lifts Angelique a few inches of the reef every minute. Before it comes back crashing down on the reef after each successive lift, we can feel Angelique moving. It is not even 11 pm. We get back to our post and start the process again. To our joy and surprise, she comes free of the reef in a matter of minutes. We are overjoyed but it is short lived since the anchor will not come free from the bottom and Angelique is held in place by that anchor not 15 feet away from the reef. At any time we could be thrown back onto it. Fortunately, the anchor rode is rope and not chain. So with At back at the engine control, I grab a knife and cut away the 3 strand of heavy nylon line coordinating the last cut with At’s engine control. Free she comes and away she goes into deeper and deeper water. What a relief!!! What’s more, the rudder is responding and does not seem to have suffered terminal damage. Randy and I decide to spend the night aboard Angelique and tie his dinghy so we can tow it all night. I am dead tired, in need of much needed sleep after my solo sailing. I do not even offer to hold the wheel and after having changed into dryer looser clothes provided by Dia from At’s wardrobe, I try to snatch a few zees while Randy bravely volunteer for steering duty. After what seems like an interminable night, the sun finally rises. Being 5 miles away, a safe distance from the dreaded and much-feared reef, we slowly motor back to the entrance. Randy and I get back in his dinghy and slowly guide the scar ridden Angelique through the treacherous pass which involves a narrow 90 degree turn with a nasty cross-current. We make it in safely and finally, Angelique is anchored safely besides Swingin on a Star and Whistler. Dia insist on cooking us a champagne breakfast. My body however has another idea in mind. Randy and Hideko (who has spent the night alone on Swingin on a Star) come to get me 30 minutes later aboard Whistler, but to their surprise, there is no answer. They knock, yell but to no avail. Apparently, I am told, Dia even tried to rouse me on the VHF radio with no more success than Randy and Hideko. So now you know how I came to miss a great breakfast in the middle of the Pacific and how I was dead to the world until one that afternoon.

You will also be happy to know that the next day, At snorkeled around his hull and to his amazement only the rudder had suffered damage but damage that was not life threatening and could be repaired at the next haul-out. Imagine if we had had to repair hull cracks here on this atoll, which lacks any modern facilities, 500 miles from any boating facilities.

Happy New Year et Bonne Annee to all my friends and parents. I hope 2009 brings the realization of some of your dreams.

I finally left Gizo around the 5th of January. It was hard to leave since I had made some friends in that small town as well as with all 5 boats in the anchorage. Janik had to leave Whistler to return to Canada. She was scheduled to leave only at the beginning of February from the Philippines but it was clear that we would not make it that far by then given the northwest monsoon wind season, which had just started. I will miss Janik as a crewmate. She was knowledgeable and dependable, bringing thoughtful suggestions but never questioning a decision once it had been made.

I could have picked up a young and keen Australian as a crew, but after 4 years of sailing with crew, it was time for a new challenge. It was time to try my hand at solo sailing. So, I set out from Gizo alone on Whistler but still in company of two other boats, which were going in the same direction. I had got to know Randy and Hideko from the American 50 foot catamaran “Swingin on a Star” as well as At and Dia from the Dutch 53 foot monohull “Angelique II” pretty well over the last two weeks. Great people to spend time with and some of them avid divers. This was going to be fun. All of us had the Philippines for long range destination with stops in Papua New Guinea, Micronesia, Guam and Palau, hence we decided to travel together for a little while.

Monsoon, a word derived from Arabic languages, means season. Such winds blow consistently from one direction for one season, then after a short interruption, blow with equal consistency from the opposite direction. Although consisting primarily of light wind, the northwest monsoon affecting the Papua New Guinea region blew from the direction we wanted to go. We had to plan our passages carefully and analyze the weather so that we would be traveling on the lightest wind days. We did so for the first two days, but on the third day, we had to turn back and go hide in a protected anchorage right on the border of the Solomon Islands and Papua New Guinea. We bided our time, in quite idyllic conditions for three days before successfully making three daily passages along the coast of Bougainville in Papua New Guinea (PNG). Before sunset, we would pick an anchorage and spend the night before heading out again. Coastal sailing is tiresome for solo sailors since one must always be on the lookout for reefs, canoes, etc. However, the night anchorage allowed me to recharge my batteries and go again the next day.

The island of Bougainville and Buka are in what is called the North Solomon province of PNG. They are also closer to the Solomon Islands than to PNG. In the 1960’s and early 1970’s the North Solomon began a push to break away from Australian colonial control, climaxing in land disputes over the proposed Panguna area. Then, before PNG independence, Bougainville pushed for an independent grouping of the Bismarck Archipelago (Bougainville, New Britain, New Ireland and the Admiralty islands). In 1974 secessionist movement sprang up. In 1987 the Panguna Landowners Association was formed. It demanded better environmental protection; huge back-payments of profit from the copper mine and US$10 billion in compensation. These demands were not met of course and in 1988 the Bougainville Revolutionary Army (BRA), which sprang from the Landowners Association, began to sabotage the mine. Increasing attacks on mine workers resulted in the mine closure in 1989, an enormous blow to the PNG economy. A state of emergency was declared, the PNG army moved in and the conflict spread to the rest of the island. Whole villages were moved into care centers, area outside BRA control. To ensure that the people moved, the army burned their villages and stories about rape and murder flooded out of Bougainville. At the height of this civil war, 60,000 people were displaced.

In 1990, the PNG government withdrew its forces and instituted a blockade, which lead to great hardship for the Bougainvilleans. The BRA declared independence, forming the republic of Meekamui on May 17, 1990. Bougainville slipped back into primitivism according to some. The BRA brought over supplies from the nearby Solomon and the PNG army in retaliation caused international tension by raiding suspected BRA bases in the Solomon Islands, even killing innocent people. In February 1997, then Prime Minister Julius Chan contracted a mercenary company to put down the rebels. The plan was exposed and there was an international outcry. Days of heavy tension in Port Moresby saw rioting and looting which forced Chan to stand down. The mercenaries, mostly South Africans, were deported. In March 2002 PNG Parliament passed legislation to give legal status to the autonomy arrangement contained in a peace agreement, which includes a referendum for an independent Bougainville State in 2017. The PNG army withdrew for the last time in April 2003. Weapons were surrendered to the UN, and certain amnesties and pardon were granted.

Given the above background, there has not been much tourism in that part of PNG for the last two decades. We did not know what to expect and we had heard reports of roving band of armed youths from one of the few yachts to travel through Bougainville in the last year. We had even debated whether or not to set up a night watch in each Bougainville anchorage. So, we were pleasantly surprised by the friendliness and shy curiosity of the locals at each of the four anchorages we spent the night. They brought us fruits and vegetables, always staying away from the boats until invited by us to come closer, they proposed visits to their villages, they were even disappointed that we did not stay longer. In the town of Buka, we were of course the only white persons around but we were treated with friendliness, respect and curiosity. To tell you the truth, it felt safer than the Solomon and Vanuatu. I really wished we could have stayed longer, but we had to take advantage of light wind days and we had committed ourselves to delivering some food to two Micronesian atolls affected by unusually high tides last December. Being low atolls, the unusual high tides, called tidal waves, had destroyed their gardens. A sign of global warming? Maybe!