Betio, Tarawa, Kiribati
Sunday, 25 May 2008
The trip down from Majuro resulted in a totally destroyed (not repairable) Mylar-jib and once more a ripped Genoa. Also, the leaks were getting so bad, that our navigation computer died twice, but somehow I could miraculously revive it with some electronic CPR. As usual we were hard on the wind, which resulted not only in our two trampolines being ripped, but also in the automatic bilge pump flying through the starboard engine room.
All in all, we spent two days and 16 hours adrift. The first day was the result of Aurora Ulani being continuously seasick for two days, so that I decided to give her a break. That strategy worked out fine and she didn't get seasick again. The rest of the time adrift, we spent fixing sails.
Of course we arrived outside Tarawa in the middle of the night, so that we had to take down sails once more. And in the morning a violent squall with massive amounts of rain announced our arrival to our friends here. I was reminded of Nigel on SPINALONGA,who had said in Suva: "Remind me to never to go sailing with you, Holger. You are amazingly unlucky!" And Kaspar on CELUANN had complained that he had to motor 20 hours per day, as there was absolutely no wind. Sometimes I wonder whether we live in a parallel-universe.
When clearing in with customs and immigration, I was dismayed to hear that we would only be allowed to stay for 30 days. We could, however, apply for an extension, which would cost A$ 60 per person. Then we'd have altogether four months in Kiribati. We visited our various friends on the island and went to the run of the Kiribati Hash House Harriers. I went over to the Wishing Star Restaurant in order to deliver a parcel to Huang Jianhong which his brother Huang Jianming had given me in Majuro. Soon we became fast friends. He was very interested in DHARMA BUM III, so that we had him aboard, where he had a good look around.
Hong came here quite a few years ago from Canton province, married a local beauty and started supplying the outer islands with necessities. He also began to import motorcycles from China, opened up a wholesale as well as a retail-outlet and a restaurant. Soon he found himself so busy you wouldn't believe. Almost all his waking hours are spent working and at the same time he and his family live in the most spartan accommodation imaginable. And his friend Mei Songping, who has a little shop at the harbor, is not only running his own business, but working as a construction laborer as well. Hong has three relatives over here now, as well as quite a few more employees from his wife's side. He is still young, maybe around 30, and is making around 10,000 to 15,000 dollars per month, depending on how things are going. His latest venture is exporting "rubbish" as he calls it, to Taiwan.
He is one of the most hospitable and generous people we have ever met and he is interested in everything around him. He also is a proud father of a two-year-old boy, who runs all over the place. And his wife isn't only a beauty, but works just as hard as he does, always with a smile on her face - and time for friends. It is people like these, probably more than anything else, that make us want to continue with this lifestyle. Getting to know them is what makes all the hard work and the anxiety worth it.
The next few days we spent a lot of time together. He offered us the use of his car, invited us again and again into his home, where we were welcome to use his washing machine and his coconut wireless (the local WiFi system, which works similar to a DSL network). It was very welcome, as we had come to the conclusion that we really needed to get a new headsail. I ordered a brand-new custom-made roller-furling genoa at Lee Sails in Hong Kong. At US$ 1400 it was only a fraction of the cost what a sail of similar quality would cost in North America, Europe, Australia or New Zealand. And to my surprise, it was cheaper to have it sent by FedEx (US$ 245) than to have it delivered by ship. A yachtie friend, which I had got to know 1987 in Tonga and who now lives in the Philippines, urged me to have all boat materials shipped to Majuro, as the import duty in the Philippines is very high. Other friends reported that Vanuatu, the Solomons and New Caledonia were either very expensive, unsafe or unsuitable for other reasons. Like rampant theft, crime, malaria, salt-water crocodiles and so on.
So we made the decision to sail back to Majuro, pick up the sail around 24 July and then slowly sail to Kosrae, Pohnpei, Chuuk, Yap (Federated States of Micronesia, FSM) and Palau to the Philippines. We plan to visit our friend there, leave the boat and fly to Germany, where we intend to spend Christmas and my parents' 50-year wedding anniversary in January 2009.
As the prices for braided nylon rope were astronomical (Hong almost threw a fit and said that you could buy a motorcycle for that amount of money), I only made temporary repairs with two rolls of polypropylene line and determined to have proper repairs done elsewhere. I removed the alternator on the starboard engine and replaced a bolt, which was eating up the belt. I fixed the float-switch/bilge-pump assembly (hopefully permanently this time) and did numerous other repairs on the boat. For almost a month, we worked seven days a week and I thought longingly of the time when I ran a business and had Sundays off. What luxury!
Full moon and therefore big tidal differences approached, so we decided to go to Bikeman Island, where we would try to beach the boat to effect repairs on the saildrive. That is risky business, because you have to time things just right as you actually go on top of the reef. Also, you always have to worry about a wind-shift, waves which will slam your boat upon the ground and various other things. From then on I didn't sleep too well.
All of a sudden the wind died completely. I talked with Tom on VANESSA, who told me that the green freighter which graced the reef behind us had been wrecked just before our second arrival. Violent squall, the anchor didn't hold, the engine couldn't get started in time. The result is a total loss. Another one. I counted 13 big wrecks in our immediate vicinity. Wow!
When the wind picked up again, it came from the west, which really started to alarm me. Whereas squalls rarely last for more than a few hours, a Westerly (gale from the West) can last three days to a week. Windspeeds can go up all the way to 50 knots and by the time you realize what is going on, it is usually too late to go out through the pass to seek open water.
But as the sky didn't turn black in the west, we still pulled up our anchor and motored over to Bikeman Island. We checked out the vicinity by dinghy and found two places, which seemed to be suitable for our purposes. The next morning we started to get ready in the dark and approached the small island as soon as we could see the coral-heads. All went well. At 7:20 a.m. we were aground and just a little while later DHARMA BUM III stopped rocking, so that we could get to work. While Liping cleaned the hulls, I tried to replace the seals on the saildrive. Unfortunately the water never fell low enough. The highest tides were during the night and I wasn't going to risk staying there that long. Also, I simply couldn't undo the bolt which held the propeller in place. This probably means that the boat has to come completely out of the water in a place where competent mechanics can tackle the problem. Another Boat Unit or two down the drain (That's what Doris and Wolf on NOMAD http://www.seenomaden.at & http://www.yacht.de/schenk/who/who31.html call € 1000)
When the biweekly Billfishing tournament came up, Craig (the ambassador of New Zealand) invited me to come along. Instead of going through the pass, we went through a tiny crack in the reef where the causeway between Betio and Bairiki had been built. The big 175 HP Yamaha scraped a few times across the bottom, but we made it just in time. The sea was a bit lumpy and so we slammed around quite a bit. Fortunately Mac, an I-Kiribati who was driving the launch, was not one of these madmen who disregard nature and so he throttled down considerably. As soon as we were about halfway between Maiana (the next atoll) and Tarawa, we threw out some handlines with double hooks and rubber squid. Soon Mac caught the first Skipjack tuna and at 8:00 o'clock I hooked my first one. After another 40 minutes I got my second one - and that's when I realized what Craig had meant when saying that you either have to have Kiribati hands - or gloves. The fish was so strong that the line cut right into my hand and I had no chance to hold on to it. This didn't pose a problem for Mac. He simply grabbed the line with his bare hands and reeled the fish in.
All in all we caught four Skipjack and I learned a lot about the Kiribati way of fishing. No wonder these guys can drift for months in the open ocean and usually still survive. They are truly master fisherman and as fishing is the reason why they are out there, they have all the necessary fishing equipment for survival on board. A Westerner or any other city-person would perish within a few days, that's for sure. They have long poles which they use for jigging, saving fuel thereby. The have big shark buoys which they use to catch sharks and of course the have the usual trolling equipment.
Back on board DHARMA BUM III, we had raw tuna as sashimi, but somehow we couldn't make it as delicious as Anton deBrum & Johnny Willis did it in Majuro. We have a lot to learn! The rest of the fish was converted into German-style fish-balls, but again the taste didn't quite come up to our expectations. With the fish as fresh as it was, it puzzled us. Maybe it should be bled, so that the fish-blood can't contaminate the meat? We'll have to find out, as we are pretty sure now, that we will be able to catch this kind of fish during our next few trips. The big purse seiners we saw here last time, apparently follow the migration of the schools of tuna and are currently in Papua New Guinea (PNG).
We have a couple more things to do on the boat, but in just a few days we will set sail for the Marshall Islands once more, where we hope to arrive somewhere between 7 June and 10 June. Leaving is a bit of a sad affair this time, as it is very unlikely that we will ever see our friends here again. But we sure as hell won't forget them. We will talk about them for many years to come.
