We waited at anchor in Horse Shoe bay for three days, hoping the south easterly wind would ease. On the first day we did little more than rest, on the second day I took Charley ashore so that she could explore the island, and on the third day I went ashore to see a doctor, my chest was no better after a month, despite a course of anti-biotics. The doctor prescribed different anti-biotics
At last the weather forecast described wind at less than twenty five knots, we hoped. Very early on Friday the 13th, we are not superstitious; we crept out of the bay after the windlass had quietly pulled in the anchor and chain. The wind on the east coast of Australia is similar to that on the east coast of Africa, overnight it is southerly, but as the day goes on it becomes more and more easterly, due to the sea breeze created by the warming of the land.
We had some east to make so an early start was essential. The wind was over twenty knots though and the disorganised wave action ruined any attempt by the yacht to pick up speed. We expected to see other yachts heading south, but none came into view. As the wind backed our course became more northerly, when it was north east we tacked towards Cape Bowling Green, which was ten miles to the south. Had we then been able to leave it to starboard we could have continued south east, but we needed to tack again after a couple of hours to miss the sandy headland, our course then was only just east of north and away from our destination. After two miles we tacked again, by this time the wind had freed us a little more and we were able to point directly at our planned anchorage, west of Cape Upstart, although it was still thirty miles away. The sea breeze had, by that time in the afternoon, increased the wind strength to above twenty five knots: it was wet and a bit uncomfortable. The sun set and the early evening was very dark, there are few lights along the coast of Queensland. Progress was at last good, we were free of the wind and the tide became helpful. It seemed like a long day.

The wind was north east as we approached our planned anchorage, although I selected a place to be sheltered from easterly wind rather than north easterly. We were subjected to the full force of the wind right up to the moment we dropped the anchor, it was only just in a lee. But it was enough, we slept well. At dawn the next morning we set off again, although we were disturbed once during the night as the wind blew from the south west for a while. The second day looked like being easier than the first; the distance to the next possible anchorage was only forty two miles, we logged ninety on the first.  The course to make was just south of east, and the same pattern unfolded, we were pushed to the north and then when we tacked we were slowly freed by the wind to sail our intended course. Except with ten miles to go we were headed and had to beat the remaining miles. Tide against made this frustrating, our anchorage was on the west coast of an island called Gloucester, named after one of George the third’s brothers, courtesy of Cook. We latter learned that the small bay we, and two other yachts chose, was called Squally bay. This was very appropriate; we saw twenty six knots of wind within ten minutes of anchoring. The shape of the island acted as a foil to the wind. The holding was good with sandy mud so we weren’t too bothered.
The next days run was even less so we had a later start than normal, twenty six miles to Hook Island, one of the Whitsunday’s, again by Cook. This sail was the one we had been waiting for, moderate winds and the wave height soon decreased allowing gentle sailing at last. In fact the wind disappeared for a while and we motored. I then realised how dirty the bottom must have become, the weed growth cost a full knot of boat speed. We were surprised at the number of other yachts cruising this area, Charley counted seventeen around us at one stage. Moorings are provided for the early arrivals, we had to anchor. Next morning I began to clean the underside of the hull. It was quite a job; I continued after breakfast but was too tired to complete the task. By midday all the other yachts had moved on, so we decided to do the same. We motored and then sailed south to the main Whitsunday Island; we found another sheltered bay and enjoyed the view. No sign of human interference other than the yachts, not one plastic bag or empty bottle to be seen on the beaches. The cleaning restored most of the missing boat speed.

Charley snorkelled but the water visibility was poor, but as a consolation there were many turtles in the bay to the south of us. While launching the dinghy I knocked a winch handle over the side, the first to be lost in over two years.
Next morning we motored south as the wind strength was less than four knots. The time to move was dictated by the tide; at one stage we had four knots of helpful water below the yacht so the miles to go figure decreased quickly.  We trolled a variety of lures without success, we could see plenty of fish but perhaps they weren’t hungry.
Our planned stop at Ladysmith Island came within a mile of the tide turning against. We decided to anchor and wait for the next ebb to the south. This was only four hours later, the tidal graph describes one big tide and one small tide each day. At four pm we set off again, the wind had backed further and was almost northerly; we hoped to make the next island group in time to anchor in daylight.  
We anchored in the lee of Brampton Island with moments to spare before darkness descended; three other yachts were already in the bay. We could see the loom of the lights of Mackay, our next stop, on the mainland to the south west.  Most of the islands we had seen in the past few days were rocky but tree covered, as we travelled south they became slightly less green, the shades of browns and yellows amongst them seemed to increase.

From the start it was a great sail, close hauled all the way but with a pleasant amount of wind.  The waves gradually decreased the further south we went. We passed many islands, some on the inside but mostly to seaward, invariably they were tree covered, the coast was almost uninhabited. We saw only two small outcrops of houses in the entire eighty miles between Cairns and Caldwell. Caldwell is protected from the prevailing winds by a large island called Hinchinbrook. There was a marina there but we found no need to enter it as the anchor held us securely in the lee of the island. The night was very quiet and we both slept well.
Next morning we motored south, with the tide, through the Hinchinbrook channel. It was mangrove lined on both sides, perfect crocodile country. The channel was buoyed adequately and the twenty or so miles took less than four hours. The scenery was just as nature created it, no human influence at all. Occasionally we saw someone in a metal dinghy with an outboard engine, and later we saw a few people fishing. As we rounded the south of the island, the channel was very shallow; the least depth we saw was 1.6 metres below the keel. Just as well that we had timed our departure to coincide with high water. There was a collective sigh of relief when we found the depth increasing again. From then the wind was from east south east, we were just free enough to sail close hauled towards our next planned stop at Magnetic Island, just outside Townsville.
Whilst in Cairns I read an extract from James Cook’s log of his journey north along Australia’s coast, many of the current place names were chosen by him. At Magnetic Island he noticed an unusual variation affecting his compass and deduced that the island must contain a source of iron.
Our sailing went well but the wind headed us reducing progress. We passed inside several islands and eventually noticed a settlement on one of them. Rather than continue to beat our way south we decided to anchor off this town, the island was called Great Palm Island. The seabed shelved very gently and was too shallow for us to get close to the beach. This would have been ideal before we had a windlass, but now I had one I wanted to enjoy the luxury of anchoring in deeper water. But not this time, we anchored at least half a mile from the coast with six metres under the keel.  We later learned that the settlement was for Aboriginal people only, just as well we didn’t go ashore.
Next morning we sailed the thirty or so miles to Townsville. The bay shelved gently and by the time we were close the harbour the depth of water was only a few metres. A dredged channel led into the marina, at times we had less than a metre below the keel, and it was quite windy so there was a lively motion on the water.
We enjoyed Townsville; it was smaller than Cairns but just as well maintained, the municipal authorities in Australia seem to spend extremely generously on infrastructure. Parks and roads are all pristine. A call from someone in Cairns, who had seen our note advertising the Honda outboard, led to its sale. Another note on a board in the marina in Townsville also led to the sale of the Aries wind vane. So after a few days we departed lighter and wealthier than when we arrived. The Aries is a useful piece of kit on the right yacht, Loggerhead is too finely balanced. The tidal situation meant that we had to wait until 11 am to leave safely, this would of course not allow us to go too far in daylight. The chap that bought the Aries, to replace his 30 year old one, advised us that the shelter in bowling green bay, the first one with enough depth to anchor in, was poor. He suggested a short hop to Horseshoe Bay on the northern coast of Magnetic Island. This would mean a short first sail, but it was our intended course of action. However, the sailing was good and the conditions pleasant so we decided to continue. The forecast was SE/E 15-20 knots becoming 20-25 in the evening so we were happy enough. Our decision to continue was a mistake, we passed a headland and found that once in Bowling Green bay the wave heights increased and the wind headed us. It also became obvious why it was so named, the land is as flat as a ….. And it afforded no shelter. We continued with the intention of anchoring near the shore, at that stage 12 miles upwind, the light faded and with no moon and full cloud it was very dark. The wind had been a manageable 18-20 knots but increased with the gloom, we went to three reefs in the main and a balanced genoa. With a couple of miles to go it was obvious that anchoring would not be sensible, so our choices were to beat against the, by now 30 knot wind to the next bay, or turn and run for shelter. We turned back. I tacked the boat and Charley let out the main sheet as we bore away, the waves were quite big and the only way of helming in the darkness was by was the instruments. The nearest easy shelter that we could see on the plotter was the original destination, North of Magnetic Island in horseshoe Bay, 25 miles away. Once or twice, larger than usual following waves or a gust of wind forced the boat to sail momentarily with the wind on the beam. On one such occasion Charley was safely below with the wash board in, trying to make coffee; she was safe, but showered with onions and garlic as objects flew across the cabin. The sea on the beam had caused a big roll but no water entered the cockpit.
A ship appeared to be coming close according to the AIS but Charley called them on the VHF and they were kind enough to pass behind us. After three hours we were within a few miles of Magnetic Island; we furled the genoa away and with just the main reefed down we still made seven or eight knots through the water. The shore lights at last gave us a heading and we motored the last mile into the bay and found some respite from the wind. We anchored in five metres, but the wind caused us to drag slowly, at the second attempt we anchored slightly closer to the shore and I let out the entire sixty metres of chain.  It was after one o’clock before we finally turned in. We slept soundly, in the morning we counted fifteen other yachts in the bay, all of which were much nearer to the shore than we were.

I hated leaving Cairns. In most ports I can't wait to get to sea after just two or three days, but not Cairns. We dwelled for two weeks, during which time we made some new friends, met some old ones, began the repairs and discovered what a wonderful prospect Australia is.
I knew that the charges for weekend arrival would be higher than weekday rates, but I just couldn't wait. We were not disappointed; the town is beautifully designed, public barbecues and a modern open air swimming pool were set in gardens on the beachfront, the shops were full of tourists, and the atmosphere had a holiday feel to it.
We enjoyed drinks and snacks on three or four yachts that we had seen before and some of them joined us on our yacht for similar fare, a group of us dined at the nearest public barbecue, all we had to do was press a button and the heat came on. We ate ashore a few times, Greek, Indian and Italian meals, all good tucker. One day a Surrey friend of Charley's appeared on the pontoon. She and her partner, John, live in Palm Cove just up the coast from Cairns. One night they invited us dinner; as John is a professional chef, this turned out to be a feast.
There were plenty of live aboard dive boats taking people out to the Barrier Reef, I hoped to do some diving but I picked up a chest infection on the first day in Cairns, it stubbornly refused to clear up so I decided to wait until further down the coast.
The weather in Cairns was spring like, windy and showery, but generally cooler than PNG.
The list of repairs was again daunting, I sought advice about the location of chandlers, they were all outside the shopping area, in a semi industrial area, a fair walk. The first time I visited them I walked but after that I hired or borrowed a car. I ordered a Muir windlass and bought six new stanchions, we also replaced the lifeline netting around the foredeck. It looked very smart. I found a new blower to replace the worn out one that ventilates the engine space. I also found a fishing tackle shop and spent an obscene amount of money on new gear.
While waiting for the windlass to arrive I made a start on the wiring. I ran two 35 square millimetre cables through the trunking to the bow. I also prepared a cable from the cockpit as I wanted to be able to raise or lower the anchor from there. Most of the other jobs had parts suppliers near Brisbane so I decided to wait until we arrived there. The windlass arrived and the installation went well, it leaked a bit to begin with but this was soon solved.
Brisbane was about 800 miles south. The cyclone season was fast approaching so we decided to make a start, but not before we hired a car and drove inland to see some of the scenery. Tropical rainforest once covered the table lands, but much of it was cleared for farming, there are a few remaining areas and the policy the government is adopting is to return some areas to its former condition. Away from the coast the lack of rainfall becomes evident, the trees have adapted to drought conditions and the farmers have well developed irrigation to allow them to grow all manner of crops. The scenery was wonderful, good roads, almost no litter; the towns seemed prosperous bordering on idyllic.
We motored out of the Marlin Marina; the wind was above twenty five knots, three reefs and a small piece of the new Quantum Genoa, stored away since Durban carried us along nicely. The tide was helpful to begin with, our route was north for about five miles then east for a about the same. Fitzroy Island was only eleven miles from Cairns yet we had to sail twenty five miles to get there. It was good to be out sailing, but as always, a prolonged period in port makes it feel strange. Once clear of the main our course was south, there weren't many islands with shelter within a day sail so we stopped at Fitzroy.
The first anchoring left us just a bit too close to the rocky shore, but it didn't matter; we simply did it again. The new windlass was an unbelievable improvement. Press a button and in came the chain. We moved out a bit and re- anchored. The island was tree covered, about a kilometre long with the two tallest peaks at either end. A resort with a pier sat on the beach was in the middle. Even though we were in the lee of the island the wind gusted strongly all night, neither of us slept particularly well but the anchor and about fifty metres of chain were quite secure in sand.
Next morning we moved off, the wind came from our intended direction and with the tide against progress was poor. I decided to return and wait for a change in the weather.
Charley couldn't resist the idea of exploring another island so I took her ashore in the rib. We spent the day resting, and left again just after midnight.
 

For the first four hours there was little wind but as we approached the China strait it picked up, eighteen knots on the nose. The course altered to starboard enough for the wind to help, although between the islands it was variable. We did enjoy a helpful current this time, only a knot as we were a bit late, but it was better than nothing. We saw Samurai Island again a couple of miles away, but our course took us through the west passage around one of the larger islands. Much of this coast has never been surveyed so we followed a recommended route. Just after dusk we were able to sail and motor our course directly at Cairns. A last reef to pass though and we were in deep water. The weather forecast gave us three days of relatively light winds. Forecasts are exactly that, a prediction not a guarantee and the Coral Sea can be fairly tempestuous. During the south east monsoon, that is your wind direction, almost without fail. Shortly after leaving Alotoa at midday on Wednesday I sent a notice of arrival warning by email to Australian Customs. They require 96 hours notice and details of yacht and crew etc. They take a dim view of people turning up un-announced. I gave notice that we would arrive at nine o’clock on the next Monday morning, we were likely to arrive before then but they charge extra for weekend attendance, so we would anchor and wait.

We motored for the first few hours once clear, but then the wind picked up and rose to eighteen to twenty knots, with two reefs in the main we rarely dropped below seven knots. The sea state was very disorganised so our motion was a bit frantic. Our heading was south west so we could expect to be on port tack for the entire leg. This gave the damaged starboard D2 an easy ride.

We expected the Australian authorities to confiscate most of our food, so our stores were very low, some of our meals would have to be inventive. The water maker was not at its best either; the aft tank was half full so we had enough to cook with but unless I could make some, not enough to wash with.

Our good speed soon brought the hours to go figure down; on the second day I noticed that a metre of the leech cord tape on the genoa had come un-stitched. I also took regular weather reports; eventually one had bad news, thirty knots due on Sunday evening. At that stage, Thursday, there was still 350 miles to go to the gap in the Great Barrier Reef. We then had a reason to hurry, so we went into race mode. Loggerhead responded, the miles disappeared astern, on the second night the figures showed eighteen to twenty knots of wind, but it felt much more, the genoa was reduced to the size of a number 4 and with three reefs in the main we still managed over seven knots, so perhaps it was more.

The next day the wind eased to ten knots or under and the sun came out, there were many more sea birds than we had seen in a long time. A look at the log revealed a 24 hour run of 172 miles, and I think the log under reads slightly. The wind coming from just in front of the beam is ideal; it means plenty of basic speed and an angle to work around the waves.

Charley made fresh bread and we enjoyed some rest, full sail kept the speed near or above six knots. The evening was perfect, clear sky lots of stars, no moon but ideal sailing conditions. The boat speed was still good despite only ten knots of wind. A gannet landed on the pulpit and spent the night there, preening itself and then sleeping with its head under a wing. Just after dawn the wind all but disappeared, the lull before the storm I presumed. The forecasts continued to warn of thirty knots, not disastrous in its self, but it was due to be spread over a very large area, half of eastern Australia, so it was reasonable to assume that it would be stronger in places. The gannet flew away, caught two fling fish and returned to the pulpit.

At just over three days from Alotoa we approached the Great Barrier Reef, there was less wind than the forecast and occasionally we motored to keep the speed up. I also trolled a lure; it wasn’t long before we had a meal on the line, a four kilo Barracuda safely in the fridge. I put the line out again after I had washed the cockpit, not for food but just to see what would take the lure. I didn’t have to wait long, the biggest King Mackerel I had ever seen took the Rapala, I estimate that it weighed ten kilos; I struggled to wind it in. The fish was fortunate that we already had a full fridge so we let it go without bringing it aboard. King Mackerel is a misnomer; the fish is more like a barracuda than a mackerel. Just not quite as good to eat.

As we approached Cairns, in darkness, we could see the lights of the city. There was a five mile dredged channel to negotiate, the lateral marks all flashed in perfect unison, it created an unsual effect, a bit like a runway. At last we could see other yachts anchored opposite the marina so we joined them. The anchor immediately took hold in the mud. A few beers by way of celebration and then some well deserved sleep.

Next morning I called the marina on the VHF, the lady replied and after an hour called back to confirm that a place was available. The wind was over twenty knots by this time, even in the shelter of the harbour. We moored next to a large dive charter yacht and I began to walk to the marina office. Fortunately an American man who’s yacht was close by, advised me not to leave my yacht until Customs and Quarantine have given permission. He called them on his mobile phone for me. Both organisations attended promptly. I filled in a few forms for the two gentlemen from Customs, but the young lady from Quarantine, as we expected, proceeded to go through our food stores. She confiscated more than she left, she also scrutinised my wooden story board from PNG. I was fortunate to have had it fumigated after buying it or it would have been lost.

The fee for this service was over six hundred Australian dollars, almost half of which was at overtime rates as it was Sunday.

As predicted the wind was strong all weekend, so we stayed put in Sewa Bay in Normanby. The locals paid us several visits and we began to build friendships with some of them. Their lives were simple, but not that easy. On Sunday afternoon a man from a Catholic mission from the far side of the bay paid me a visit, asking for the captain. He then advised me, in all seriousness, that he had heard that pirates intended to pay us a visit that evening and we should consider leaving. I thanked him, with a straight face, and he left. Charley and I wracked our brains for his motive; our best bet was that he believed we were corrupting his flock, whatever his motive we thought it most unlikely that pirates would take him into their confidence. Needless to say no pirates came.
We could not have left that evening as the weather was too bad, not that we wanted to. Next morning at dawn, five o'clock in these parts, I pulled up the anchor. Many of the children of the small village waved us goodbye, I don't know if they always start their day that early but I doubt it. We hoisted the main and put two reefs in it, even though the wind inside the bay was only six knots. We asked a man that had been outside all night fishing about the wave heights, he said that they were OK. To begin with they were, but as we went further from the narrow entrance the wind increased. The most we saw was thirty two knots. We were well prepared and Charley was feeling better so we were content with our situation. The current against was two and a half knots on the near side of the channel, this decreased as we made our way, hard on the wind, to the other side, we then tacked and made some progress to the east. This continued for about five hours, after which we entered a buoyed channel between islands and reefs. We were then about twelve miles from our starting position. The channel was ten degrees further from the wind but still not enough for us to sail our course. We had to put several tacks in, but each one was easier than the last. The wind was about eighteen to twenty knots and the waves were small due to the islands. After about ten miles we left the last mark to starboard and our course alteration left the wind on our port beam. With a clean bottom and a relatively light ship we took off, seven and a half to eight knots, both boat speed and over the ground, as the tide was on our beam as well. The next eighteen miles took only two and a half hours. There were one or two rogue waves so a bit of spray came inboard, but it was sunny and warm so that mattered not. The next two waypoints were harder on the wind but only a little. The earlier delay meant that we had missed the helpful tide in the China Strait, and that meant an unhelpful tide to come, the pilot books spoke of three to six knots. As we entered yet another narrow channel, the multitude of islands ensured flat water despite a reasonable breeze, the three knots against was easily overcome by our six to seven knots of boat speed. Our hopes of anchoring in daylight increased having seemed impossible earlier in the day. A couple of tacks and a final flourish and we arrived ready to anchor at Samurai Island. We saw people on the jetty and anchored, ten minutes before it was dark. The day began rather difficult but ended one to remember.
Next morning after breakfast we lowered the rib and added the outboard, even though the dock was only fifty metres away. Rowing against a three knot current was not an option. As soon as we stepped ashore a lady said"I saw you last night, my husband is the Customs officer, and he is away for a month". She then went on to explain that we would have to go to another port for our outward clearance, the nearest being Alotau. I immediately thought of leaving PNG without clearing out, but the next country would be Australia and their officials have a reputation to uphold, so I doubt that they would be sympathetic. We knew that there was a shop and a market on the island so we had high hopes of improving our stores. Both were a huge disappointment. I won't, but I could from memory recount the entire stock of the market. We returned to Loggerhead, disappointed.
The linear drive to the autopilot had given up on the last leg but fortunately I had a brand new spare, exchanging old for new was one of the jobs I intended to do before we sailed to Australia, now I did it before we sailed north again back into Papua New Guinea, while I did that Charley backed fresh bread. We then made ready to sail, we would of course have to pass through the China strait, and as before the tide was against us, this time at up to four knots. We persevered and just before dusk arrived at Alotau. I fished on the passage and had one bite, something so substantial that it bent the hooks while freeing itself. As usual anchoring was difficult, the shore was steep to, and the only area we could find that was shallow enough was close to a reef.
Next morning, after a sleepless night, we saw how close we had been to disaster. A coral wall was only three metres away; the rudder would have been the first thing to touch. Yet again our luck was in.
We readied the rib and went ashore, the supermarkets were full of edible provisions, and I even bought a case of beer. The customs paperwork was effortless and so we returned to the yacht. I then made two trips to a garage for diesel, we pulled up the anchor and motored back towards the China strait.
 

We spoke on the radio with Magic Roundabout and agreed to stop in Tufi for a rest. The cuttings into Cape Nelson are called Fjords by the locals; they are deep, but not very steep above the water. Tufi was in one of these Fjords, fortunately we found a mooring buoy, it was very close to the coral wall so I moored stern to. A couple of hour's later Magic Roundabout arrived and rafted alongside. There was a shop and a dive centre in the small bay, and nothing else, I quickly lowered the rib and rowed ashore, I bought a dozen bottles of cold beer and rowed back. We all relaxed for a while and enjoyed the beer. I then began cleaning the underwater hull of Loggerhead. We had to arrive in Australia with a clean bottom or be ordered to haul out. Overlooking the bay was a lodge or resort, while buying the beer I spoke to the only guest who advised that it had a restaurant and bar. Next day I trudged up the steep hill only to be told that it was not open to non residents, their loss.
Charley developed some symptoms that might be malaria, I had a test kit for the lethal strain which fortunately proved negative, a blood test is the only certain diagnosis. Her condition did not improve after a few days so she took some Malarone and we sailed towards Samuri Island. If no medical advice could be found there it was only three or four days to Australia.
To begin with the wind was on the nose at fifteen knots and the current against at one knot so progress was slow, the channel through the un-surveyed area was small so the only option was to motor, our SOG was only 3 knots for much of the time and Charley was not well enough to stand watches. For a few hours in the afternoon the wind freed us enough to make some progress, but as soon as it got dark the wind direction reverted, it also rose to twenty five knots and the sea state soon became unpleasant. Two and a half, to three metre waves.
With the desire to make progress I pushed as hard as I dare, the yacht coped magnificently with falling off big waves many times, slamming and shuddering into the troughs. Charley's discomfort came and went, during the better periods she kept watch while I slept. It was a long night, the wind direction remained the same the next day, it became obvious that we would not make Samuri Island in daylight so we looked for an anchorage. We crossed the strait and entered a natural harbour inside Normanby Island. It was so sheltered that Charley, with a high temperature, soon missed the cooling aspect of the wind at sea, it was completely still inside but outside the wind blew at over twenty knots.
We anchored in ten metres, and a dozen small canoes soon surrounded the yacht, the people were friendly of course, and advised us that we had missed some of the yachts we knew by two days. Our stores were getting low, but after a simple meal we slept for twelve hours. Next morning we awoke to look at our new surroundings, hills covered with trees filled the entire horizon, almost like a lake, a few wooden houses on stilts, and a few areas where the trees had been cleared for crops. The wind gusted strongly but there were no waves at all. We looked down on the reef we had anchored on and saw beautiful coral in good condition. I quickly donned snorkelling gear and dived down to check the anchor. It wasn't set of course but it had found a coral head to hook onto. Some of the locals arrived and Charley lent one her mask and snorkel, another brought a homemade spear gun and the man with the mask dived down for fish. I watched as he very skilfully caught some.
Charley had been in and out of fevers, chills and headaches for five days. The course of Mallerone seemed to be having an effect, and the worst seemed over, we hoped.
We intended to check out of PNG at Samuri Island but the weather forecast for the next two days was for 25-30 knot winds, so we decided to wait. We also had to consider the state of the tide as there was reputed to be a very strong flow to the north either side of high water. Samuri was also said to be a poor anchorage so we intended to make the stay a short one before the four day crossing to Cairns in Australia.
 

A Cholera outbreak In PNG made travel inland difficult. We particularly wanted to see some traditional costumes but all the festivals were cancelled. The Australian government even sent troops to help restrict people's movement. Fortunately Madang, where we were, remained uninfected.
The New Guinea people were charming, almost everyone called me "Sir or boss" and all spoke good English as well as Toc Pidgin. New Guinea has at least 800 languages, a third of the world's total.
The engine seawater pump was the first priority, I soon removed it but the only shop in town selling bearings and seals did not have the required sizes. Several possible sources were established including some from England, but fortunately someone discovered them in Port Moresby. The pump was soon repaired and re-installed.
We met for meals with some of the other cruisers at the Madang club; most of the members were Australians. Ostensibly a fishing club although I didn't see any landed. One crew we met were from a tug towing a barge on passage from Singapore to Australia, they had already attempted the Vitiaz strait and had returned to Madang after being un-able to make enough way. There was a noticeable Australian influence in the town and I presume the rest of PNG, even the bank notes and coins are similar, this was very good news, the food was edible and a big improvement on Indonesian to our tastes. The people appear to me to behave like a cross between Aboriginals and Caribbean's. They are very laidback. There would appear to be plenty of unemployment as the town is full of people not doing very much, although I understand that there is no social security.
It took us a few days to find our way around the town. It has several "fingers" into an inland sea, the tidal range is no more than a metre and we soon found the easiest way to get around was in the rib rather than walking.
We bought some carvings and traditional shell work, and would have bought more but for lack of space on a small yacht. The other yachts soon left, they had heard about a weather opportunity to get through the Vitiaz Straight, which is between New Britain and the mainland. Several people at the club advised us that it is very difficult to make way against the waves and current unless the winds are light. We continually watched the weather and looked for opportunities to travel inland.
We watched the final of the Australian Rules football competition at the club on the television, in an attempt to assimilate with the new culture. Apparently it was an exciting match, to me, it was unintelligible.
We heard and read much about the people from the central highlands; murders seemed to be common, either during theft or as part of a tribal retaliation, vehicles travel in convoy, where there are roads. Much of the country is without a road network; the only quick means of travel is to fly. Some people were unknown to the outside world until the 1970's. I wouldn't be surprised if there were some still living in the jungle that has never met an outsider.
Cocoa is a substantial export, there were several ships loaded at the nearby dock while we were there, another unusual crop for us to see was Tobacco, dried leaves were on sale at the market, and these were then rolled into small pieces of newspaper for smoking.
Most evening's locals surrounded the yacht, either to listen to our western music or to discuss our passage from England with us, occasionally jealousy got the better of one of them, one chap declaring that he owned the bay that we were in and we must pay him 100 kina. As soon as I said no, he dropped his demand to 20 kina. Another time in town a scruffy looking man waved at Charley as she photographed some bats high in a tree, he then said they were his bats and he didn't want them photographed. Charley soon put him straight. As the days passed we learnt more about the culture, a favourite subject for discussion was the bride-price. The tradition is for the groom to pay the bride's family for the right to marry, this could be cash or goods, but was often a mixture of the two, pigs are a sign of wealth and several would normally be included in a bride-price. Wealthy men can take more than one wife, when daughters marry the investment brings a return, as the groom has to pay. Married men often live apart from their wives, sometimes with single men as women are believed to have magical powers; young men go through an initiation, in part, to deal with these powers.
Despite our attempts, no trip to the highlands could be arranged, so we began to watch for some lighter winds to depart with. We did visit some villages near Madang, these were very well kept, and the people interesting. One village had a cassowary in a cage; these are like emu's only less docile. On the 1st of October, two years to the day, since we left Southampton, we motored out of Madang. We were much wiser about PNG than before we arrived.
The first 24 hours brought a mixture of wind directions and strengths, just after dawn on the second day we entered the Vitiaz strait. The grib files led us to expect light winds, but the reality was quite different, it soon rose to twenty knots and the current against us was over two knots. We made for the shore to find relief from the current, in the bays there was always slack water or a counter current but around the headlands no such luxury existed. A three metre swell from a long fetch to the south east made life unpleasant. In one of the bays I filmed the remarkable scenery just before a wave covered the yacht, the camera was soaked, and we also very nearly lost our oilies which were in the cockpit drying in the sun. If that wasn't enough excitement, within half an hour a swarm of bees decided our cabin would make an interesting new home, we quickly closed everything and dealt with the persistent ones. They were remarkable; they flew straight into the cabin as though following a scent trail.
The Tug and barge made another attempt at the strait, they were unable to get close to the shore and the full current reduced their progress to almost nothing. We soon passed them, after several hours they gave up again and returned to Madang. Quite how they are going to get through the strait is a mystery to me.
We managed to make progress by a combination of "pinching" with the aid of the engine and choosing where to sail. In the afternoon the wind died for a while, reducing our progress, and then rose to twenty five knots plus. Just before dusk, which at this latitude is six pm, we sighted another yacht ahead, Magic Roundabout, English, heading for New Zealand; we met them for drinks (ours), at an anchorage ten miles further on. A well deserved nights rest at a place called Finch Haven, more accurately Hafen because many of the place names are German; the north east of the island was stripped from their control after the First World War and given to Australia to administer.
The next day was spent reorganizing the yacht; diesel from the spare containers was put into the tank, the steering cable slackened slightly, and a stoppage in the water maker rectified. Four young boys brought us some coconuts and a request from the village elder, who they called the big man, for two bottles of whiskey, I soon replied that I had no whisky. After an afternoon sleep we motored south again.
A full moon all night, so bright I could almost read, but little wind so we motored south and then east. Next morning I filled the aft tank and all the ready use bottles with fresh water from the Schenker water maker. Our route south east was well offshore, at least ten miles, but the area on the charts was un-surveyed, it was still surprising to find reefs so far from land and in water that was otherwise a hundred metres deep. One moment plane sailing, the next we could see a colourful garden below us with only a couple of metres of water over it. We might not have been paying attention if we hadn't seen the sea break on similar reefs nearby. The second night was not so pleasant, thunderstorms and torrential rain, I filled all our buckets with rainwater for rinsing out our washing.
 

We were again disappointed, we arrived back at the PNG Consulate at one o'clock, the visa's had not been prepared, worse still, I was informed that I must supply a full inventory of my yacht including food. I quickly wrote one out. We left frustrated at four pm, some of the others stayed.

At about six pm one of those that had waited came alongside in their dinghy, they had their visa but my hand written inventory was not acceptable, I was to type one and take it back the next morning.

I arrived just after eight o'clock, the inventory was fine, but the person that would have to sign the visa was not at the office until late afternoon. I asked for our passports back, we intended to check out with the Indonesian authorities and bring our passports back later. We went to immigration knowing that we had over-stayed our visa by three days. The official must have noticed this, but he then said that his colleagues in Bitung had made a mistake and that we did not need the visa we had been given, he then cleared us out and we walked away without having to pay a fine. I can only assume that the Bunaken comment in our passports swayed his judgement, I cannot believe that it was just charity.  Next we went to find the harbour master, the first office we entered was actually the port authority including Pilots, they decided that we should pay for anchoring for a week in the harbour, the tariff they produced was for ships, when the calculator came out our bill came to US dollars just less than one cent, but they said round it up to six dollars, I said "OK, we will go and get some dollars" we walked out and looked for the harbour master, not intending to go back.  It was not very far away, two of the other skippers were there trying to clear out. I detail the procedure to give a taste of the officialdom. To begin we had to check in, admittedly something we should have done before, but often it is possible to do both at once, The inward department wanted to see a crew list, stamped by immigration, a copy of the yacht registration, our passports, the last port clearance with the Bitung immigration crew list duly stamped, and a security clearance, something I had never seen. But before all that we had to get clearance from the Quarantine department, we soon found them nearby, our green book came into action, and we paid 20,000 rupees, just over a pound.

Having cleared in we could then see the Harbour master for our outward clearance, a similar performance followed, we were given our port clearance and all that remained was Customs. The Bunaken week organisers had prepared our paperwork, we simply had to hand it in and wait for it to be stamped, while we waited a pregnant cat wandered through the reception area, gave birth to a kitten somewhere and carried it past us again.

 I would be unlikely to transit Indonesia again, without the support of a rally, or other organising body. The cruising permit, known as a CAIT was not asked for by any official, but at least I had one.

After the Customs we went back to the PNG consulate, a ten minute minibus ride, there was no sign of the person that signed visa's. We waited, Charley found a hairdresser nearby and had a new style, it came out rather well, and the cost was 35,000 rupees.  We wandered back to the consulate and discussed the gentleman's non arrival with the receptionist; it seemed that we were going to be disappointed yet again. The next day, Wednesday, was PNG Independence Day, the consulate would be closed, and we were cleared out from Jayapura, which means we should have left within 24 hours of the clearance.

The next day was pleasantly spent shopping and preparing the yacht, the aspect we liked most was that we did not have to stand outside the PNG consulate that day.

Three more Bunaken yachts arrived from the west, I explained to them the problems we had experienced in applying for a visa, they seemed prepared endure the same and see how it went.

We went to the consulate the next morning, the receptionist was in a meeting, but when she did make an appearance she said we would get our visa that day. The newcomers soon arrived and asked for application forms, the receptionist handed them out but also advised that the next seven days were a Muslim holiday and the consulate would be closed.

They decided not to bother, I wished we had done the same, at midday we were handed our passports with a 30 day visa stamped inside. We had waited 8 days, we could have spent the time better.

We returned to the harbour and immediately waved goodbye to our neighbours and motored away.

Within an hour we had enough wind to sail and in a good direction as well, but not for long, the wind headed us so we began to tack along the coast.  Pleasant sailing until it got dark, then clouds quickly formed and the wind strength increased, we continued like this for most of the night, making slow progress, at 2 am I noticed a small harbour quite nearby, there was thunder and lightening all around and with no moon it was not very enjoyable, the harbour looked good so we entered and anchored. After four hours sleep we woke to find ourselves in a substantial logging port, there were seagoing vessels and enormous log barges with tugs pushing them towards the ships. We quickly weighed anchor and motored out, I put out a line and soon caught a 4 kilo King Mackerel. The wind was from the east and only freed us to sail our proper course for a few hours before dusk, the rest of the day we tacked. The current was 2.7 knots at its worst meaning hardly any forward motion, on the first day we logged a hundred miles, poor by our standards, but due to the current we were only 35 miles from where we started. The next night was the same, strong winds, lightening, no moon, and almost no progress, we were lucky if we could make one knot towards our target and there was no harbour to shelter in, we both got wet through. The most wind was 27 knots, although it was 20 plus for most of the night. The combination of a confused sea and a large swell made sailing difficult, the waves slowed the yacht so much that occasionally we lost steerage and the yacht fell away from the wind, heeling over as it did so, before picking up speed again. At dawn I looked at the coast and could see where we were the previous day, we had made very little progress.  This was becoming depressing.

I took new grib file via the satellite phone, fortunately there appeared to be an area of light winds approaching, we looked forward to motoring and hugging the coast to avoid the current. The third day was much better, some decent sailing at last and islands near the coast to deflect the current.  Madang looked a long way away at this rate, although Wewak was approaching and that meant that there were a few decent anchorages to come. The coast that we had seen was remarkably unspoilt, hardly any sign of human activity, a few log huts and a couple of timber operations to spoil the tree covered mountains.  Floating logs continued to be a worry, some of the rivers that we passed were substantial. The third night was delightful, light winds calm water and plenty of stars, although no moon. We made good progress with the aid of the engine.

We passed Wewak at dawn but did not pause, preferring to make use of the light winds to motor east. Within a few hours we saw flow from the river Sepic, The mouth was 35 miles ahead but we could plainly see the difference, the water was cloudy, full of debris and it flowed against our direction at over a knot, the clean water, nearer the shore flowed with us at half a knot. I altered to starboard to maintain the helpful current.

During the morning I ran the water maker at the same time as the engine for the first time, the extra voltage created by the engine gave a surprising boost to behaviour and output of the water maker. I estimate that it produced a quarter more fresh water during the same period.

The fourth night was another unpleasant one, almost total darkness then heavy rain and lightening for hours on end. Strong and variable winds made us put the sails away and motor, when it did ease I watched as we motored and then sailed past an active volcano, I could only see its shape when lightening lit the sky behind it, but I could just make out the smoke or steam coming from its peak. It was very impressive, between midnight and two am I stared at it while listening to my ipod, music by The Prodigy seemed very appropriate, next morning we could see a large recent lava flow down one side of the cone.

We were within a normal day's sailing of our destination, Madang, but the current had other ideas, we faced another night at sea.

The autopilot dropped of line a few times during the night, when we hand steered we noticed how slack the cable was. More jobs for the increasing list.

The next failure was the sea water pump on the engine, it began to leak water into the well, fortunately the amount was tolerable, another job to add to the list.

Late afternoon we spotted a catamaran ahead, one of the yachts that were at Jayapura, we spoke on the VHF and agreed to anchor in a small bay about ten miles ahead. As we arrived heavy rain reduced visibility, but we anchored in 8 metres. A local in a canoe soon paid us a visit, and suggested in excellent English that we move our anchor as the swell was bad where we were. We hoped to be fine where we were, but he was correct, an hour after dark during dinner and after two large gin and tonics each, we dragged. The swell made it uncomfortable and the usual evening wind pushed us towards the cat. We had no choice but to go to sea, I pulled up the anchor and we motored out of the bay.  We were quite close to a headland around which was Madang twenty miles away. The current, swell and tidal rips meant that for the first two hours our speed over the ground was no more than a knot, but when we did eventually round the corner we found a counter current and sped along at over six knots. We entered a natural harbour around midnight and despite an electronic chart that was at least a third of a mile inaccurate, the lightening illuminated the islands enough for us to find a peaceful spot for the night. Next morning Charley removed three buckets of sea water from the engine well and then we sailed seven miles south to Madang.

Madang was more developed than I expected, we found a small wall to moor against, although the amount of water left under the keel was not as much as I would have liked. I went ashore and within a hundred metres had found an ATM and a supermarket with almost everything we wanted.

 

 

Our first day in Jayapura brought pleasure and dissapointment. We did the rounds of the other yachts, catching up with the people we met at Bunaken week, the depressing news was that the best visa advice for PNG was to get one before arrival, and at Jayapura that apparently took five days, our Indonesian Visa’s expired on the 14^th of September so we had no time to spare, we were also advised that the local PNG consulate was less businesslike than they should be. They wanted to see all manner of documents and required a letter from us explaining why we wanted a visa and almost a hundred pounds for the two of us. I considered going through Papua New Guinea without a visa, but following further thought we decided to apply and see what happened. We took a mini bus to the consulate and filled in the forms, we then waited for them to enjoy an extended lunch, they then refused to give me a receipt for my cash, so we had to accept the situation. We returned to the harbour to wait, we went back on a similar minibus, which carried about ten people. One of the Papuans, who we had never met, got off and while paying the driver for his fare paid ours as well.

The town of Jayapura is very large by Papuan standards; this part of Indonesian Papua is known as “Papua” rather than Central Papua to the west. The first thing we noticed was the poor quality of the paving, originally block paved, no repairs have been done for many years, the result was even worse than Mozambique and there were red stains everywhere, due to the betel nut chewing. There is plenty of traffic, crossing the road is difficult. Vehicles do not stop at what are plainly crossings. And sadly litter is everywhere, plastic bags, bottles and filth in heaps. The streams and rivers are full of it, the locals to a man; think it is fine to throw rubbish into the water.

The shops seemed reasonably well stocked, every third or fourth sells mobile phones, I noticed that almost all phones or accessories could be bought, as in most of Asia. We shopped at a small supermarket and were delighted at what we found, bacon, rare in a Muslim country and a bottle of HP sauce for example. Alcohol could only be bought between 7 and 9 PM from back street shops. We found three or four internet cafes but the service speed was disappointing.

Our luck in rafting alongside local boats continued to pay dividends, the crews regularly visited us, sometime when we wanted privacy, but always they were well mannered. At last one came aboard who spoke a little English; he agreed to walk around the town with us as translator. I bought more fishing tackle and Charley bought fruit and vegetables.

A group of young boys played on the boats, about a dozen of them, aged from about nine to twelve, they swam in the water constantly. We could not understand why, as it was filthy. Whenever I went on deck they shouted “Hello Mister”

Another Bunaken yacht arrived, making five, this one had damaged its propeller on a floating tree, surprisingly to me, they carried a spare.  We did feel our prop strike something but perhaps its folding nature prevented damage.

While waiting for the visa I changed the oil and filter on the engine, the oil leak was slightly worse by now, I had a good look and concluded that there was more than one, the obvious one was from the injector pump, which I could not repair, but I found another from the sump gasket. I tightened all the bolts and cleaned the well.

The other yachties were becoming restless at the slowness of the PNG consulate; on Friday most of us gathered outside at the same time. This was not a good idea as we put them under pressure. It had been my intention to quietly ask if a little extra payment could expedite matters. One crew demanded their passports back, without the visa. I calculated that we would already incur a fine from the Indonesians so a few more days wouldn’t matter.

Over the weekend I changed the arrangements for the seawater intake to the water maker, it had shared an inlet with the engine but so much motoring made water making difficult. The solution had been obvious for months; I just needed time or an incentive to alter things. The works went well, I put a “T” in the toilet water inlet, one way toilet, the other water maker, we would of course never use both at the same time.

We had a good look at several grib files and discussed with the Australians, who were all going home, the best route, I tended to favour a shorter route than Solomans, Vanuatu, New Caledonia, but it all depended on the wind direction.

We made our way to the Consulate early on Monday, but were told to return in the afternoon, so we did some shopping assuming that we were about to leave.

 

 

 

There are different types of people sailing on a daily basis, I think of myself as a passage maker, trying to get from A to B, then there are the genuine cruisers, the occasional tourists and further down the order are the live-aboards, who don't move much. I had always frowned upon talk of wonderful anchorages, preferring to talk about great sailing, but since leaving Bitung I can at last relate to those who seek the secluded tranquillity of an anchorage with a view. We have enjoyed many days in unbelievable places, occasionally the positioning was a bit risky, often we had no choice, but to spend time in some of them was to realise many people's idea of paradise. The scenery was stunning, Beaches, volcanic islands, coral reefs and various types of forest. Occasionally we entertained the locals, Indonesian or Papuans, They climbed aboard Loggerhead without much of an invitation, but the smiles said it all, one or two had a few words of English, and they were all very poor by our standards.

We motored for 38 hours of the first 48 after leaving  Sorong, on the third morning the wind at last made an appearance, 15-20 knots and up to seven knots of boat speed all day. We planned to visit Biak but we only managed an island call Supiori by early evening so we decided to stop there. We trolled lures as usual although the success rate was poor. Approaching the intended anchorage I began to prepare the boat, the main came down and we motored, watching the plotter and then bringing in the fishing lines, the first one broke as it was almost in. A crimp had cut through the line losing a brand new jig that I had made up that morning. I was disappointed. We were within two miles of our intended anchorage and I was just about to bring in the second line when we had a strike. I was determined to land what ever it was; I also prayed that it wasn't a shark. We throttled back the engine and I slowly began to reel it in, it felt quite heavy, or strong. I took my time, letting the fish tire, while Charley prepared the cockpit. The fish turned out to be a Trevally or Giant Kingfish, I noticed that the hook was in its gill rather than mouth, I expected to lose it but I passed Charley the rod and lifted it inboard with my homemade gaff.  It weighed almost 6 kilos and was a welcome addition to the menu. We left it in the cockpit while we anchored as it was almost dark. Next morning we had a few visitors, Papuans who seemed fascinated by the sight of a yacht. One had a bit of English but most didn't. They were very pleasant. Most had red stained and rotten teeth due to the betel nut that they chew. I asked them for coconuts and within ten minutes they brought ten to the yacht. When they left Charley and I rowed ashore, the short distance did not warrant the outboard. We found fresh water seeping through the volcanic rocks on the beach, we had noticed a mixture of salt and fresh when we snorkelled earlier.

Next morning we left early and motored most of the way to Korim a small town along the coast. As we entered the bay, which was sheltered to all directions except north, there were more than a dozen men fishing in small canoes. Something took my lure but quickly freed itself, I fully intended to give whatever I landed to the oldest man fishing. I then tangled the fishing line with the wind generator. I cut the line in order to stop the mess increasing. I pulled in the rest of the line by hand and retrieved the lure and the leader, there was a good length of line in the cockpit so I waved at the nearest man and gave it to him, he seemed pleased enough.

We soon anchored in six metres, a luxury. A small group of canoes soon surrounded us; no one had English so the communication was poor, I did enquire about the availability of diesel, solar in Indonesian, apparently some was available.

Next morning we went ashore in the rib, apart from the fishermen we saw very few people, we left the rib tied to a tree, beside some canoes with out-riggers. The night before the men around us pointed when we asked about Korim, we assumed that there might be some shops and a garage. We followed a path which then became a road but all we found were a few houses and a church made of corrugated iron. One house had a very rough stall fronting the road; there were some local fruits and some beans for sale. Charley bought some green beans from one of the ladies and with no common language we gestured with our empty containers that we wanted diesel. We understood that we had to go to the nearest town, which apparently was five kilometres away. The lady suggested that we wait as a truck would be along soon. And so it was, a small truck laden with sand arrived. We waved our empty containers and the man bade us get in. An hour later, and I estimate after 40 kilometres  we arrived at a town, the other side of the island because we could see the sea, the man dropped us at the only garage in the town and would take no money for his kindness.

We found one local with a bit of English who directed us to an internet café, in itself most surprising. After an hour on-line we walked back to the garage only to be told that there was no diesel. I found out later that they did have diesel but would not let it be bought in plastic containers. Fortunately, one of the many men just standing about recognised our predicament and led us to an unofficial garage, selling fuel by the ladle from a ramshackle site next to the official garage.  We filled our two containers and then tried to hail a taxi to go back to Korim.  None of the taxi's would oblige until one man helped by sending us to a nearby market from which busses would go to Korim. The people were very kind to us; one man led us to the front of a queue of vehicles when all I could say was Korim. The two plastic containers were tied onto the roof of the minibus, we were given the best seats and off we went. An hour, and a dozen stops later, we arrived back at near where we had left the rib. I was pleased to see the rib where we left it. I put the diesel containers aboard and immediately noticed that someone had borrowed half the petrol in the tank. At least they had been good enough to leave us with enough to get back to the yacht. We spent the afternoon preparing for sea, I went to the top of the mast to investigate an instrument failure, as I thought the anemometer was broken; I brought it down for repair. Just before dusk a squall from the north arrived, the anchor was firmly set and all the wind did was charge the batteries.

Next morning I returned to the top of the mast with the Raymarine wind instrument, having repaired the break with Spabond. I reconnected it and we had wind speed information again. We raised the anchor and quickly put out two lures. All the men in canoes waved as we weaved between them, we soon had a bite on a trolled lure, we stopped the engine and then another fish took the other line, I managed to bring my fish alongside, Charley played the other, I could see a barracuda, but the other fish escaped, as did the barracuda, I decided that the hooks are not suitable for mouths full of teeth.

We motored away and for the next fifteen hours the wind stayed below three knots, the sea was "oily", comfortable but again we had to rely on the engine. The grib file forecast predicted little wind so we were not surprised. There was plenty of wind to the south of the island but we were to the north. At 3.30 am some southerly wind did allow sailing and rest for the engine, at dawn I started the water maker and began filling the aft tank. The wind died mid morning and so the engine went on again, but only for an hour, a sea breeze set in and lasted all day. We were delighted with the sail. During the morning I changed the hooks on the Rapala lures, Trees in the water were a problem, we struck one or two but not heavily, many of the older ones had been eroded to large logs. At lunch time we caught a fish, another new species, a big mouthed queenfish, at four and a half kilos it put up quite a fight. The new hooks definitely made a difference.

Although there was little in the way of wind the passage was very pleasurable, the first night was almost as bright as daylight due to the full moon, and whenever we could we ghosted along under full sail. I expected to motor the whole way so this came as a bonus. The second night brought a few rain clouds with a bit of variable wind strength and direction, some of which we sailed to. By now we had ample diesel to get to Jayapura so it was a case of nursing the engine and its oil leak rather than the fuel.

It always takes a few days of watches before we settle down, when the weather is good we get enough sleep so most mornings we both look for things to do, Charley bakes bread and I play with my fishing gear mostly but a whole host of jobs do get done. When water permits we keep our washing under control. A lesson learnt a few islands back was that the husks from coconuts stain the gel-coat a red/brown which is difficult to remove.

We relaxed a bit more in the afternoons, Charley has taken up Soduko. I mentally list the jobs to be done in Australia. I am beginning to think we will not get there by the 1^st of November.

The third day was mostly pleasant sailing apart from the trees in the sea. The evening brought no surprises and just after dawn we motored into Jayapura, there were four yachts at anchor, three of them we recognised as having been at Bitung, we asked for the best place to anchor, they all replied its 30 metres plus everywhere. We did a tour of the immediate area just in case we could find something shallower, without success. Then a stroke of luck, the crew from a moored wooden cargo boat waved at us to raft alongside them. The crew was soon peering into our hatches, they were also interested in the knots we use. I gave them a lesson on how to tie a bowline.