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TUVALU
TO AUSTRALIA
Westsail 32
First published in "S.A. Sailing"
I
had met Jefata, the captain of the Tuvala Maritime School a few days
earlier. He suggested that I move Shackles, as soon as the weather abated,
to another islet, Amatuku to the North as it afforded more shelter
from the westerly winds.
I managed to enlist the help of Jefata and two of his students to help
move my vessel. I knew that the anchor chain had become twisted around
a coral head, which was probably quite fortunate as this had prevented
the boat from being buffeted further ashore.
We picked a high tide and a gap in the weather, before attempting the
move, as it was still difficult to get out to the yacht due to the big
waves which were still sweeping in. I managed to get the motor going,
and moved forward with my new crew pulling up the anchors as we went.
The chain around the coral presented a problem, but Jefata dived into
the water and managed to free it. This done, I thankfully powered out
into deeper waters of the lagoon, to give myself a bit of sea room,
and to get clear of the breaking swell.
The islet of Amatuku is to the north of Funafuti, and is separated from
it by a long reef, which is awash at high tide. The two students aboard
were enthralled as we motor/sailed north, parallel to the reef as they
had never been on a sailing craft before. In the area of the lagoon
we were transiting, are numerous sunken barges and pontoons, as well
as a sizable ship high on the reef. All these are left over from the
American occupation during the Second World War.
Amatuku is a relatively small island covered with lush vegetation and
coconut palms. I was assigned one of the two mooring buoys about 50
metres from the stone wharf. The entry to Amatuku had been cleared of
coral to a depth of three metres by the Americans, who, during their
occupation, had 5000 personnel stationed on the island.
What a picturesque setting, Shackles was safely moored almost under
swaying palm trees, in flat water which teemed with millions of fish.
I knew that I couldn’t expect all this help and hospitality for nothing,
yet Polynesian Island culture being what it is, it meant that I couldn’t
give Jefata any money. Instead I “donated” to the school a diving bottle
with valve and harness which I had bought for next to nothing in the
States. I had never used it in my travels, so I was happy that Jevata
would derive a lot of pleasure from it. He was overjoyed, and promised
to let my stay as long as I wanted.
Tuvala Marine School is quite unique in that it trains Tuvaluans for
work on overseas ships. The school has around 200 pupils, and passes
about 60 trainees every year. At present there are 300 former-students
working on ships throughout the world. The money they send back to their
families, generates much needed cash in the local economy. The initial
training caters for deck work or engine-room maintenance, but after
completion, one can specialize in a variety of fields. The last three
months of a course is spent working on the only cargo/passenger ship
Tuvala operates - the MV Nivaga, doing trips to the outer islands and
the occasional trip to Fiji.
The morning after my arrival at Amatuku, the captain assigned a team
of students to swim out to the yacht, and scrub the bottom. They were
filled with so much enthusiasm, that I had to be in the water with them
to prevent them from completely scrubbing off my anti fouling paint.
Once they had finished with the bottom they cleaned the hull and deck
as well. Jefata, assured me Shackles was now the showpiece of the school,
and to its occasional important visitors, it had to look “ ship shape”.
I was also assigned two graduates who were waiting for employment overseas.
The one immediately got busy and did a lot of splicing, whipped all the
loose rope ends on board, while the other got busy with my engine, and
cleaned it and did a superb service. Either of these two guys would
make an ideal crew member on a yacht.
As the weeks went by, I became more a part of the Sea School with its
strict discipline and routine from the students. They were awakened
at two bells (05h00) for a swim and a race back to shore, Every morning
I was awakened with the instructors’ command of “line up, line up”.
After that, breakfast, and by first light, the cadets were on the parade
ground.
I offered to do a course of Navigation lessons in the evening if any
of the students were interested and ended up with a class of around
20, and gave lessons on three nights a week. I started off with very
basic subjects, but it soon became apparent that the students were so
keen and alert, that I soon graduated on to sextant reading and plotting.
We soon went on to the moon sight, and position lines. It was very rewarding
to me that at least half the students grasped the theory and practice
and can do a sextant shot and plot a position. I gave them all lecture
notes and photocopies of the relevant pages out of the Nautical Almanac
and brought my sextant ashore, for them to use. Most weekends I had some
of the students aboard putting into practice what they had learned.
Every week I would go into the village, on what is called the “mainland”
- the island of Funafuti. This trip involved catching the 07h00 school
ferry from the Amatuku Wharf, and 90 minutes later, being dropped off
at the small jetty at the hotel. I would then have breakfast at the
hotel and renew acquaintances.
I was slowly starting to stock up with provisions on order to leave
in April for destinations Southwards. I would buy just as much as I
could carry, as the shops were quite a long way from the ferry, and
a lot of walking was required. Fortunately I had done my major shopping
six months previously in San Diego, and still had all the necessary
basic food stuffs - hundreds of tins of food, rice, sugar, flour, tea
and the like - it was just the perishables and “luxuries” I needed -
not that much was available on the island anyway.
I participated in almost all the social activities on Amatuku - I went
to the small church on Sundays, and listened to the wonderful singing
of the boys. I attended most feasts in honour of guests visiting the
school as I suppose I added a bit of foreign culture to an otherwise
very island gathering. I was present too when the Prime Minister visited,
and the Minister of Foreign Affairs, as well as dignitaries from a fishing
consortium in Japan.
On one of my visits to the village I noticed a new arrival in the lagoon
- another yacht, anchored a long way from shore. I bumped into Terence
the owner in town, and found out that he was another single-hander on
the Hong Kong sloop "Kadenza". We spent the day together before I
returned to Amatuku as the sea where he was anchored was still rough.
Having received permission, Terence sailed over and anchored beyond
the inshore reef in calm, protected water.
Terence Lamb, was almost at the end of his circumnavigation, which also
took in South Africa. He has a dog on board, which wasn’t allowed ashore
on any of the populated islands. Muliteface, an islet close by and north
of Amatuku is deserted, and this was where Terence would head every
morning to exercise his dog. This island was completely untouched by
civilization and was covered with thick vegetation and untrodden white
beaches.
After a week, Terence left, to sail on towards Hong Kong, which also
made me think about leaving, with Australia being my next destination.
I spent the day before I left Amatuku Islet picnicking on Mulifeface
with a few new found friends. They had come over from the “big” island
to join me, and bid me farewell. It was a memorable day with good company
and lots of laughs. One of the guys had bought a tape cassette, and
we danced on the beach, swam and snorkelled. The fish barbecue, in an
open pit in the sand, carried on all day.
All too soon it was time for me to return to Shackles to prepare for
the start of my long voyage in the morning. There was all the paraphernalia
such as sail covers to be removed, wind vane to be connected, sails
to be handed on and sheets to be tied, and the dozens of “little” jobs
that have to be seen to before departure.
Initially I had decided to sail or motor, from my anchorage at Amatuku,
passing the island of Funafuti, and exit by the eastern pass. As this
was the way I had originally arrived two months previously I knew the
pass, which was wide and straight forward. However Jefata convinced
me that the pass on the northwest side was just as easy, and was a lot
closer. Besides, if I would exit that way, he (Jefata) and two of his
pupils would join me until clear of the island. He would bring an aluminum
runabout for his return. I decided to take his advice - after all, it
would save me something like 30 miles!
By 10h00 the following day everything was stowed and ready and I was
joined by my three new crew, if only for a few hours. We dropped the
mooring and were off, towing the aluminum dinghy behind us. It was a
beautiful clear day with a light northerly breeze. Much to the delight
of my companions, I hoisted sail, connected the Aries, and stopped the
engine. They couldn’t believe it that all of a sudden we were sailing
along at quite a rate, with just the hum of the breeze.
The pass appeared amongst a froth of white breakers, and I started the
motor again, and motor sailed towards it. It was a nail biting experience
as the water got shallower and shallower. I decided to drop the tow
and let one of the students follow us in the boat as it was causing
quite a drag. The seas were breaking heavily on the exposed reef either
side and on a reef a few hundred metres in front of us. There just didn’t
seem to be a way out. Jefata was confident though, and by then I was
totally in his hands. Just when the reef seemed too close, the reef
on the port side opened up, and exposed a channel to the open sea, passing
close to yet another palm fringed islet. This is one pass that I am
very glad I was not attempting alone.
As soon as Shackles was alongside the islet with open sea in sight,
Jefata said it was time for him to return. By then it had become quite
rough with the first of the open sea rollers being fanned by the northern
wind. The aluminum skiff had great difficulty in coming alongside, as
the waves would crunch the two together, only to be thrown clear seconds
later. At another attempt the boat was almost thrown on shackles deck
- bending a stanchion in the process. By then it had become apparent
that the two people still on the yacht were not able to get safely into
their boat. Undaunted, on the next pass, they threw their shoes and
shirts into the boat, and dived into the sea.
My last sight of Jefata and his student was when they were clambering
aboard their skiff. Goodbye Jefata, Goodbye Amatuku, Goodbye Funafuti
- it was quite a strange, panicky feeling to be alone...
Back to the sea routine again!
I was heading to Port Vila, Vanuatu, where I planned to spend a few
weeks, before carrying on towards Australia. For the first few days
at sea in a northerly wind I made good time with the help of a little
current.
The wind slowly veered around to the west, and increased, resulting
in an uncomfortable beat. I was a bit concerned as the barometer was
falling. The first notification I received of approaching bad weather
was from an American Weather report out of Hawaii on the “time band” on
short wave - Station WWV. A deepening low was forming to the north of
me and was expected to move southwest. I wasn’t about to take any chances,
so I came about to head northwest. Sure enough, the low passed in front
of me and within a few hours had become a tropical depression, and a
day later a full fledge cyclone - code name “Betty”, which by then was
fortunately 600 miles to the southwest and of course exactly in the
direction I wanted to go. I changed my own course more to the west taking
me north of the Banks islands of Vanuatu. This was when I realized that
my chances of sailing to Port Vila were slim as it lay directly to the
South.
The cyclone continued on its destructive path, creating havoc in the
northern part of Vanuatu on Espiritu Santo and Pentecost Island, flattening
plantations and destroying houses. I was able to pick up Radio Vanuatu,
and thus followed the track of the cyclone, to New Caledonia, where
it petered out.
As I had plenty of food and water it made little difference to me that
I was unable to stop at Port Vila. Instead I carried on westwards, towards
the Solomon Islands, thinking that perhaps I would take a break there,
although I didn’t have any charts of the area.
After 22 days I sighted Vanikolo and Utupua islands of the eastern Solomon
group, and passes between the two. I was close enough to the one to
see dense forests, but no sign of habitation.
My portable radio kept me amused for hours as I listened to the “Pidjin”
as spoken in the Solomons.
After studying the only information I had on these islands - a book
called “Landfalls in Paradise”, I decided to give the Solomons a miss
and carry on to Gove, Australia, on the western side of the Torres Strait.
On my twenty-fifth day at sea the wind died in the Gulf of Papua, with
the jungles of Papua New Guinea just 100 miles to the north of me. Once
the seas calmed, I took down all the sails, and put up my sun awning,
and pretended I was anchored somewhere. Its amazing what one can see
in the flat calm ocean. I had birds trying to roost aboard; the sea
beneath me had four pilot fish, which had been with me for three weeks
swimming aimlessly around the yacht. I swam often to cool off, as it
was really hot during the days. Always when I swam, I had a line tied
on to me, and also kept a wary eye out for sharks. It is quite and eerie
feeling to know that the water is four kilometres deep.
As must happen, the wind eventually came up and pushed me in the right
direction, towards Bramble Cay, the northern entrance to the Torres
Strait, and close to the mouth of the Fly River in Papua New Guinea.
One big danger in this vicinity is floating debris and trees that are
washed down the big rivers after heavy rains in he jungles of the interior.
I saw many trees - some 40 metres long and complete with branches and
leaves. Flocks of birds perch on these trees, and many seem to have
made them their home. At night I did shorten sail, as one of these trees
could do a lot of damage!
Bramble Cay appeared, just where it should have, and from there on through
the Torres Strait there is always a lighthouse in sight at night - and
reefs or islands during the day. It is rather like following a well-defined
highway, each twist is marked by a series of marks or lights, that are
clearly shown on the charts, as are the true bearings. I had to be very
alert most of the time though, as the tide currents are very strong.
Often during the transit I would find myself being pulled off course
by the current, and if there was enough wind I could correct my course
by sailing. Only once, in the middle of the night (as usual), while
I was trying to grab an hour’s sleep - the wind died and the three knot
current swept me westwards. When my alarm woke my and I looked ahead,
the light bearing had changed dramatically, and I realized that between
me and the light was an exposed coral bank.
The Australian Coast watch runs a pretty efficient system and fly
light aircraft between Australia and its northern neighbour in an attempt
to prevent illegal immigration and smuggling. I often heard them on
the VHF radio asking a vessel to identify itself.
When I got close to Thursday Island I radioed through to the coast watch
to report my presence in Australian waters. I was glad I did as they
notified Gove, my expected first port of call, of my intended arrival.
From then on every now and again, the Coast watch would fly over me
and wish me “good day”. This happened four times during my trip across
the Gulf of Carpenteria.
It took me two days and nights to pass through the 150 miles of the
Torres Strait. I was pretty tired with the almost constant vigilance
required to keep clear of obstacles and vessels. The last major hurdle
is Hammond Rock, which is quite spectacular as on top of this rock is
a lighthouse. With the outgoing tidal flow and current, I “raced” past
this rock at around eight knots. The gap between it and the northern
reefs is only a few hundred meters wide. The bulk of all the water flows
through here from the slightly higher Pacific Ocean into the Gulf of
Carpenteria.
At dawn on my thirty-fourth day at sea, I could make out the Cape, and
behind it lay the mining town of Gove, this area of the Northern Territory
is Aboriginal Reserve, and is very isolated from the rest of Australia,
with access only possible by ship or aeroplane. The town of Gove owes
its existence to a large bauxite mine close by, with the big ore being
exported from Gove harbour. The Yacht Club is situated at the head of
a large, well protected bay where dozens of local craft are moored.
I arrived in Australia without a Visa. Of course the immigration people,
who came out to Shackles shortly after my arrival could have made my
life very difficult. But they didn’t. Instead they couldn’t have been
more helpful. I was issued with something called “Border Visa”, valid
for one month, which had been issued from Darwin.
All the formalities were eventually concluded the following day over
a few beers at the yacht club. There is quite a considerable tide, so
one of my first lessons was to have an anchor and line in the dinghy
- otherwise at low tide the dinghy would be high and dry.
After a few days and a number of good, hot showers and good food, I
felt human again. The Australian outback hospitality and friendliness,
knows no bounds. Immediately I was surrounded by dozens of new friends.
While in Australia I had decided to leave the yacht in the safety of
the bay, and go “Walk about” for a week or so. I visited Darwin and
Alice Springs as I felt that I needed the break after all that water.
More
to follow..........
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