| wave2angela23:33 UTC01 Nov 2007 |
That takes care of the basic greetings along our sailing route from NZ-Fiji, on to Funafuti (Tuvalu) and our latest port, Tarawa (Kiribati); the passage was 700 miles, time taken to sail 4 ½ days.
Q: “What are the joys of sailing in ‘confused and turbulent seas’?”
A: “There are none!” Think washing machine and you’ll have an idea how tiring the non-stop action can be.
Seen along the way? Not much! We sailed past islands with lovely names – Arorae, Onotoa and Nonouti (pronounced ‘no-nosi’) but saw no shadow of land during day nor light at night, their presence only being indicated on our GPS screens. Maiana, the closest island to the Tarawa Atoll complex, was merely a low line of palm trees above a stretch of sand. No sea traffic apart from one vessel on the horizon as we approached Kiribati and 4 or 5 speedy little fishing boats, wave jumping as they trolled about 10 miles from Tarawa lagoon.
So, here we are anchored in Tarawa Harbor after an entry around a reef so splendid in its colors that you could easily be lured in too close to its shimmering band of luscious turquoise. Again, the land offers just a little protection from the wind and waves, no ring of islands to enclose and comfort but our small fleet of migrating yachts are tucked close to shore amongst a fleet of wrecks in various stages of disintegration. Our neighbours are one naval vessel (of the not new variety), a fleet of purse seine vessels and their mother ships, a couple of decrepit local ferries and the local version of lagoon-craft. DIY? Tack together a pair of the most clompy-looking hulls (2”x4” struts and ¾” marine ply, not lightweight materials), build on whatever superstructure seems a good idea at the time, adorn with random paint work and you’re away. Neither fast, picturesque nor elegant….. a live-aboard version tied to the shore could almost have sailed with the assorted clothing hung up to dry.
‘Ko na mauri ‘ is the lovely way of saying ‘hello’, it means ‘May you be Blessed’, during our stay on Rabi Island in Fiji (whose people came from Kiribati in the 1940’s); we gathered a basic vocabulary that we are already attempting. Although Tarawa is busier with more amenities, people here may speak less English than in Tuvalu; however they are every bit as friendly and interested, sharing the ‘raised eyebrow’ greeting that I interpret as ‘I acknowledge your presence’. In fact local hand and facial gestures slip in to on-board use, we indicate direction, distance and size in ways that would mystify other yachties.
First impression of Tarawa is of dust, dust and MORE DUST - the main road is being surfaced (providing employment for many of the young men), no rain for many weeks and the dust drifts everywhere. From the port area of Betio we caught a ‘bus’ (mini van) up-island, along a causeway with open sea on one side, lagoon on the other: we are assured there is enough of a through-flow to keep the lagoon fresh and it isn’t as ‘dirty’ as we’d been led to believe. Bustling Bairiki (well, these things are relative) supplied our usual internet fix, cheap and cheerful local lunch, small supermarkets with the basics to top up our provisions, a row of tables provided a choice of bananas, bananas and more…… in the tiny market ladies were making the traditional form of string from strands of coconut fibre twisted together by rubbing on the top of their bare legs. Finding a few fresh vegetables keeps me happy.
Sturdy folk, most go barefoot and you rarely see a wrist watch, most of the ladies have long swathes of lustrous hair tied in a variety of knots and wear a very loose home-made top (called a tibuta) smocked or gathered around the neckline, they look cool and neat, I want one, I want one. The children (who don’t wear much at all) seem less wary of an I’Matang here than the Tuvaluan children when I was a Palangi there! And kids there are a-plenty, wander away from the ‘main’ roads and you soon see that a large proportion of the population seems to be under 15 years old, one of the other yachties suggests that television would be a less productive way of spending time. Perhaps next time we are back in port we’ll take a tour to learn something of the battles of World War II and the problems of live munitions that still lie around and take the bus down the chain of islands to see what we can see.
The cruiser’s radio network reveals that there is a small stream of vessels heading north, all have to check in to the main ports of Funafuti or Tarawa, then most disperse for a few weeks, way out here with little in the way of accommodation we yachties must make up most of the tourists. No formal permission needed to visit other islands so next we’ll head for Abaiang, ‘Land-in-the-Wind’.
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