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.

 

We left Dowera for another day of motoring, not quite enough wind to sail to, but almost. We passed the last point of Halmahera Island and headed for Iryan Jaya, now known as West Papua, or the islands in between. Charley made fish cakes from Barracuda and we sailed overnight to log some mileage. One of the men from Dowara gave us a couple of young coconuts, during the day I emptied the juice into a bottle and chilled it in the fridge. Charley spotted an island on the chart that might be a pleasant anchorage, not too far off our route, so we altered slightly and made for Pulua Miso, we arrived at five am just as the sun brightened the sky, it was my birthday. We anchored in a gently sloping area, which made a pleasant change. The water was crystal clear and for once there was no sign of human life. This island was only a mile long and I presume a lack of drinking water kept inhabitants away. We lowered the rib and went ashore; the main vegetation was bamboo, with a few hardwood trees. There were no edible fruit trees to be seen, we would have been delighted to find just coconuts but there were none. We returned to the yacht and donned snorkelling gear, the underwater scenery seemed to be quite new, Charley spotted a large lobster but by the time I returned, yet again to the yacht, to collect a tool for pulling it out of its crevice, it had withdrawn, never to be seen again. We were keen to catch our supper and maybe Barbeque it on the beach. Our next ploy was to troll a lure behind the rib and speed around the island hoping for a catch, this also failed but we noticed a couple of small caves during the exercise. That evening we enjoyed my birthday with cocktails of coconut milk mixed with Bacardi over ice.
The next day we snorkeled again, there were no other humans on the island so there was no need for swimwear. Nothing edible came into view so we discussed fishing, with Barracuda as bait, in one of the caves. We returned to the yacht and collected our tackle, but not our clothes, the caves were about half a mile away but the rib soon covered that distance. We anchored and found that the first cave was dry inside and the second had only small fish so no barbeque for us. We had a good look at the surrounding area and then began to make our way back to Loggerhead. The yacht was not visible from where we had anchored the rib but around the first point it came into view, so did an Indonesian fishing boat, slowly approaching our yacht. We made full speed to be there before them and just succeeded. I leapt on board and dashed below to grab some clothes for Charley. This fishing boat then anchored quite near us, there were five men on board, once anchored they just stared at us. We had intended to leave anyway but our company put a little urgency into our actions.
The anchor chain had wrapped around a coral head making it too heavy to lift. I grabbed a mask and swam down to free it. We then motored away. Soon the wind picked up and we began a decent sail east. Our destination was Sorong, a port, so unlikely to be beautiful but we should be able to buy diesel there. We were almost free to sail towards the channel between two islands to the west of Sorong, but not quite, we put in one five mile tack just after dark. This for us came at six o'clock. Our longitude was 130 but we had not advanced our clock since Malaysia. The channel was called Selat Sagawin, we had read that there was a strong tide but we had no way of discovering the state. As we approached the plotter described three knots against. We were only sailing at four knots so this made for slow progress. I hoped that the tides in the area were diurnal. Slowly we advanced; when the tide did turn the most we saw in our favour was one knot. The channel had steep sides and the wind there was light, as we left it the wind increased to twenty knots for the last ten miles to Sorong. The Navionics chart was way off again, we did one 360 thinking we were approaching rocks but in fact our judgement was better than the plotter.
Sorong was quite long in terms of frontage but none of it had any shelter from the southerly wind, we motored up and down looking for somewhere to anchor, I would not have built a port at Sorong. The least depth we found was 18 metres, not much good to us without a windlass. We chose a spot in the lee of a nearby island, poor for access to Sorong but sheltered and only 10 metres deep. The rib was lowered and I quickly motored up to a nearby moored fishing boat, the two people I saw on deck turned out to be children but they understood my newly learned Indonesian request for diesel and pointed me at a nearby shed on stilts over the water. The building sold diesel, petrol and two-stroke oil and was within one hundred metres of where we had anchored. I had my two 25 litre containers filled and returned to the yacht. Charley was surprised to see me back so soon. I siphoned the fuel into the tank and returned to the shed. After three trips we had a full tank and 70 litres in containers as a reserve.
The people were aboriginal in appearance, not Indonesian and were friendly and polite; there was no begging or harassment. I walked to the few shops on the island; there were basic provisions but not what we wanted, so after a good sleep, next morning I took Charley in the rib to the mainland, with the hope that she could find anything on our shopping list.
We were just south of the equator but the temperature was three or four degrees less than further west, this made it very comfortable, especially at night. Our red ensign was very faded by this time so we broke out a new one, and flew it from a halyard half way up the backstay. It looked very smart.
Charley returned from the mainland with a new friend. She had met an English speaking local who had helped her with the shopping. Almost all my must have provisions were purchased. We had beer and butter, milk and tonic water, enough to keep us happy for another two weeks of cruising. I did not expect to find much in Papua. The friends name was Jos, we showed him the yacht and then I took him back in the rib. Two young boys were aboard when Charley returned neither spoke much English but both seemed impressed with the yacht. One of them arrived on a piece of polystyrene, paddling with another piece of the same. I tried to gesture to him that it might be dangerous but he didn't seem to care.
A passing canoe caught my eye, they had coconuts and other fruit, I shouted coconut and they stopped, their canoe was large and un-manoeuvrable so I jumped into the rib and caught them up. I selected two coconuts, two large grapefruit and a whole stalk of bananas. I asked how much, one chap said a hundred, meaning a hundred thousand, I said twenty, he replied in sign language, times five. I opened Charley's purse and pulled out a twenty thousand note, there was only one, there were a few one and two thousand notes as well, I offered them all to the man, he took them and shook my hand. It's sixteen thousand to the pound.
Next morning we left just after dawn, I took a grib file download as we drank our first cup of tea. It described five to ten knots of wind all day. The plotter was not much help in navigating the way north and then east. As we left the harbour the wind rose steadily and peaked at 27 knots. We shortened sail and made seven knots. The wind was off shore so there were no waves to slow us down. It was text book sailing
As usual I trolled a lure, only one this time as we got into a tangle with two a few days earlier. It wasn't long before we had a bite, the conditions were a bit testing, we tacked and tried to stop. I reeled in, fairly soon I saw a decent tuna come to the stern, a yellowfin, Charley passed me the gaff and I collected the fish and began to raise it enough to bring it inboard, it began to shake violently and splash blood everywhere sow I lowered it again to wait for it to stop. At that point a gust of wind caused the boat to heel and I slipped, I dropped the gaff and it sank immediately, we still had the tuna on the hook so I attempted to bring it in. It began shaking again and the hook came away. The Tuna swam away. That was the fifth bite in a row we had not landed, I think some of the others were sharks, so no loss there but the fridge is empty.
I soon fashioned a new gaff from a splicing tool and a deck brush. The wind soon eased and within two hours we were motoring, as soon as the wind picked up to seven knots we sailed again. The rest of the day saw light winds; we drifted at one to three knots, not enough progress but an enjoyable day. We were following the coast so there was always an interesting sight to starboard.
 

 
Four hours later we awoke, we counted almost fifty yachts near us and we could see half a dozen warships and many other merchant vessels. Lembeh, the island opposite the mainland created shelter. We noticed a tented village on a small hill overlooking the harbour. There were many Bunaken 2009 flags flying. We lowered the rib and went ashore, pleased to be on firm ground again. We soon saw a few familiar faces, people we had seen at KK. The Indonesian customs had set up their own tent and pre-prepared our paperwork; we were quickly cleared in. Immigration would require some payment from us so we began walking to the nearest town, but before we had gone very far a police vehicle stopped and gave us a lift. They took us to a bank where I withdrew one and a half million rupees. Charley began chatting to a local woman who spoke a little English; she kindly led us to a nearby supermarket. We found that prices in the shops were very reasonable. We asked the woman if it was possible to hire a motorbike. While we were shopping she brought us a young man who was prepared to hire us his bike. We agreed a price and rode the bike back to the harbour.
That evening there was yet another Gala Dinner in the tented village, I estimate two thousand people, including crews from warships, listened to the speeches, watched the dancing and ate the food. The hospitality was slightly overdone. A great deal of effort was made by these people, but we found it a bit embarrassing. We were “befriended” by a local councillor who was keen to make a good impression. He spent some time discussing local affairs with us. The next day he brought some other local aficionados by boat to visit Loggerhead.
Earlier that day we had gone ashore and just as I was about to climb out of the rib I stood awkwardly for a second and pinched a nerve in my back, an old rugby injury. I hoped that nothing would come of it but by the time we had walked up the hill I could no longer stand. I had no option but to sit for a few hours while waiting for a pain relieving pill to take effect. I then made my way back to the rib park and somehow managed to get back to the yacht. Whilst I was stuck ashore Charley returned to the yacht to greet our visitors. The next evening a boat delivered a present to us. It was a book of photographs of North Sulawesi, an absolute work of art, signed by the Minister of Marine affairs of Indonesia.
After resting for a couple of days I was able to get ashore again so we took the hired bike to Menado. It was further than we had expected and the roads narrower, although one of them had been resurfaced for Bunaken week. However we enjoyed the trip. Menado was quite modern but the villages that we passed through on the way were obviously poor.
Next day I rigged some support for the broken shroud and bought diesel from a garage. Some of the other yachts took part in a race to Menado but that was out of the question for us. We received another visit from a launch delivering gifts, another book and a small case of tinned tuna. The harbour master also visited that day; he gave those that wanted it their outward clearance. A health official also attended. We were given a green book, rather like a diary of the state of health of the yacht.
Our local councillor visited again the next day and took us on an excursion inland; we visited a graveyard full of Waruga, a stone sarcophagus containing several generations of the same family, all initially stored in a sitting position. After that we toured the higher ground and had lunch at an Indonesian restaurant. Some of the dishes were a bit too exotic for us; we declined the snails and the various parts of pig, including ear and lung that were offered.
When walking about Bitung we were looked upon as celebrities, many people took our photograph, the same was true at the anchorage, many people in small boats, even fishermen, waved and took photographs of us as they went past. We found it a bit strange, but the reaction to us was overwhelmingly positive.
Six days in Bitung was enough for me, it was windy every day, and there were no calm days while we were there. The south west monsoon is very reliable. We hoped that the wind would ease when we sailed east as we had to sail north or south of Pulua Halmahera, the large island to the east of Sulawesi. We chose to go south to get to Papua New Guinea. To begin with we motored through the warships that had returned to Bitung after the sail past in Menado. The wind was more than we would have liked, especially with a damaged rig. The distance to the islands around Halmahera was about 150 miles, it seemed much further, the sea was rough and confused and we were delighted to sail into the lee of some of the smaller islands. We picked one with a north facing beach and just managed to arrive before the last of the daylight disappeared. The water was deep until very close to the shore but we managed to find a shelf to anchor on. The visibility was excellent I could clearly see the bottom at twenty metres. We anchored in eight, the bottom was rocky with sandy patches, I don't think the anchor dug in but the chain wrapped around some rocks, it was very sheltered, we hardly moved all night.
When I checked our position on the plotter I noticed that we had crossed the equator and were just over half a mile south, the island was called Pulau Tolimao, the one nearest was called Pulau Gunanga and was about two miles away, but it was in the Northern hemisphere and we were not.
After a shower, dinner and a couple of cold beers we slept like logs, but before we turned in we sat in the cockpit in the dark, listening to the birds in the trees on the island only a hundred metres away.
Next morning we made an early start, the anchor came in easily and we motored east to find some wind, I put out one lure, a new Rapalla, and within ten minutes we had a big strike; we were still close to the island. I throttled back the engine and tacked to stop the yacht. Charley came on deck to help. The ratchet on the reel was still screaming. I applied more drag and slowed it down. Charley passed me a belt to pivot the rod on, and I began reeling in. What ever it was had plenty of strength, eventually I brought it alongside, my first thought was Kingfish, but then I noticed the teeth, it was a large Barracuda. Charley passed me the gaff and then stepped back, unnecessarily, as with the gaff in its jaw it was under control. We then took some photographs and got the yacht under way again.
We found the wind as we left the lee of the island and sailed a good course to the south east. A super yacht with its own helicopter passed us but we were delighted with our situation. They might have a helicopter but we had a Barracuda. Soon though, the wind died so I decided to motor for a while, only the engine would not start, there was no power at the switch, after a brief examination I discovered that one of the battery terminals was not connected properly so the problem was easily rectified.
Then plan for the day was to find another anchorage by mid afternoon and perhaps have a swim. The delays landing the fish and finding the bad battery terminal meant we arrived at Pulau-Pulau Kusa later than we would have liked. The wind had become west of south so the first possible site to anchor at was too exposed. We then spent an hour motoring around trying to find a suitable spot. It rained heavily during this process, when the rain eased we found that the water was too deep around most of the island, the coral reef was like a wall, we could easily see it as the water was so clear. Eventually we found an inlet and some shelter; someone had helpfully put stakes in the shallows. We anchored minutes before darkness fell. There were high trees all around, we spotted some people watching us, and we could see the smoke from their fire. It was rather eerie.
We dined that evening on Barracuda, although the portions were small in case of ciguatera poisoning. Next morning there were no signs of poisoning so we presumed that our meal was edible, we had plenty more to look forward to. The scene around us was surreal; it was like being in a small lake in a jungle. We could see the coral wall not much more than a boat length away, we had been fortunate that it was so still. When I pulled up the anchor it came straight up, it was not laid out and any wind would have put us against the coral.
We motored out of the inlet and managed to get a wave from the woman and child that watched us. It was only seven am but it was already baking hot in the sun, a little breeze arrived but it was a day of mixed sailing and motoring. Just after lunch we came across a few small boats fishing, the men flew kites with fishing lines attached to them. We saw another yacht but it was too far away to make out who or what it was. The next small group of islands looked tempting, the chart seemed to display possible anchorages, we had planned to sail overnight but the wind had other ideas, so we decided to stop. We dropped the main and motored into the middle of three islands, the largest was called Dowora. We had seen one fishing boat on our approach but we were surprised to see the size of the village we soon came across. We investigated one small bay but the bottom was no less than fifty metres within two boat lengths of the beach. As we continued a couple of small canoes with inboard engines and small children at the bow approached us, we waved at each other, I pointed at my anchor hoping to be advised about a good spot, the man steering the canoe pointed at the lure hanging from my rod hoping to be given one. More boats approached us, I waved an acceptance of the anchoring advice in return for a lure. The first site offered was 47 metres deep so I made gestures to that end. The man waved us to follow him; we crossed the bay and passed his village built on stilts. The next offering was still too deep but I reluctantly decided to anchor in 15 metres, I could see the coral wall close to the beach. The anchor went straight down and probably fell in deepwater; we backed up but could not get near the beach, whilst we were anchoring a flotilla of small boats gathered around us. As soon as we were set men started to climb aboard, within minutes heads were peering into every port. My eyes were everywhere, there were lots of easily stolen items lying about, but I soon detected a respect for our belongings. At least twenty men and boys were on board, one chap had a few words of English, they advised that a Danish yacht had once stopped there. It must have been meal time or maybe prayer time as they all left, but in darkness, an hour later they all came back. We all sat around the cockpit, we offered them water melon and the English speaker wrote down lots of Indonesian words for us. Some of them wanted fishing lures so I gave them a couple. I had asked for the words “We want sleep” during the lesson, so when I said it they got the hint. We shook hands and they departed. They all seemed to be smokers so in the morning Loggerhead resembled an ash tray. We washed away the mess and I pulled up the anchor. We received a few waves from the people in boats and we motored out of the island group, heading just south of east.