Toba Naloma Bay
Pos 17:22.70S 177:49.76E
It’s a damp humid morning, with mist hanging on the hills as we set out early aiming to cut the distance left to Port Denarau in half, a manageable day sail.
Shân has a fit of domestics and starts cleaning up the mildew that has grown on the top surfaces of the pilot house. Her bums sticking up in the air but under threat of severe penalties if I shoot from this angle I venture outside for a full frontal!!
Lars wants to tackle problems of a loftier nature as I hoist him up the mast to check the Genoa roller gear to see why were having problems tightening the luff. It would appear it has become a bit ragged and is jamming in its groove, but in the event we manage to sort it out.
The trouble with starting out early is that beer o’clock takes forever to come around. Fortunately we’ve had special dispensation from the Pope and the U.N. with regards to date lines and time differences and find that 11 o’clock is really noon.
A we journey on with odd knock on the hull from “Fiji Mines”, floating coconuts, the sun is now blazing hot and despite a tan I manage to get myself burnt from the relatively short time we’ve spent on deck.
Shân’s at it again and is now sewing the deck mattresses that have split, while Lars is navigating a somewhat erratic path between the poles marking the reefs. Yes surprisingly most of them are in place, each occupied by its own Blue Billed Booby that barely registers our passing as I photograph them.
Its heading for one o’clock and time for lunch so we pull up at the nearest mangrove island for a swim and a snorkel. The visibility is pretty poor though I do manager to come across a pretty (as in deadly poison) black and white stripped sea snake. I feel it better not to point it out Shân as she swims by none the wiser.
Lunch and a beer and were off again pulling into Toba Naloma bay just before sunset, we anchor for the night. It’s an average sunset but as Lars and I set about sending the Blog the moon rises and is quite impressive sending a shimmering reflection across the bay.
Mexican Train is produced and I manage to get what must be the highest (worst) score in the history of the game. I had started my train by the time the others have finished. I open another bottle of wine, what do I care!
Bob the Blog