Harmonie - Charmed? - Salomon Islands Atoll, Chagos

Charmed? - Salomon Islands Atoll, Chagos

Harmonie

Don and Anne Myers

Sat 28 Apr 2012 03:37

5:21.371S 72:12.873E

April 19, 2012 - April 28, 2012

A charmed life? What a stupid thing to write. Anyone would know that as soon as such a declaration is made, everything goes pear-shaped.

Soon after that blog update whizzed its way into the satellite phone, the weather turned ugly. We had a sleepless night filled with rain squalls from every direction, causing us to spin in circles around our confused anchor. The next morning the squalls got more serious and big blasts of wind came in from the southwest, causing the boat to whip around and do the thing we dread more than any other while at anchor in a reef-filled lagoon - drag. The only good thing we can say is that it was daylight. This made it easier for our neighbors on Boomerang, anchored directly behind us, to watch as we slid in their direction. We knew immediately it was happening - so had the engine started, instruments on, computer up and running with electronic charts, and windlass cranking the anchor up in a matter of minutes. It wasn't a wild, uncontrolled fiasco, but keeping the boat pointed into 25ish knots while untangling the anchor chain from coral wasn't exactly a joyful experience. We re-positioned the boat and set the anchor down, but found we were too close to a reef that we could barely see in the persistent gray. The boat pointing/anchor chain untangling/boat re-positioning/anchor dropping procedure was repeated. This time with an overly loud discussion between Don and I as to where exactly the anchor should go. Normally, we handle communication while anchoring with hand signals, but these were fairly extreme circumstances, so verbal communication was required. The trouble is, when one person (me) is on the wheel, and the other (Don) is 20 feet away on the bow, and the engine is running and the wind is howling, it's impossible to hear anything unless the words are shouted. So we shouted.

Don: "This is good, I'm putting the anchor down here!"

Anne (shaking head violently): "No! No! It's too close to Matajusi!"

Don: "What?"

Anne (louder): "It's too close to Matajusi!"

Don: "What?"

Anne: "IT'S TOO CLOSE TO MATAJUSI!"

Don (shaking head violently): "It's fine!"

Anne: "What?"

Don: "What?"

Anne: "WHAT?"

Don: "It's fine! But now you've waited to long!"

Anne: "WHAT?"

Don: "Bring us forward! You let the boat drift!"

Anne: "WHAT?"

Don: "FORWARD!"

Anne (reluctantly driving the boat forward): "IT'S TOO CLOSE TO MATAJUSI!"

Don (whole body shaking violently): "I T ' S F I N E !!!"

Anne: "ok"

Don: "WHAT?"

Anne: "ok"

Don: "WHAT?

Anne: "O K !!!"

In the end, it was fine.

All was forgotten and forgiven in the next few minutes when we saw that we were holding well in the 25+ knot wind gusts. However, we aren't the only boaters that sit around and watch other boaters. All eyes (and ears for those on Matajusi who were close enough to hear) were trained on us as we did our best to provide stellar entertainment for the group.

Shaken by the whole episode, I spent the next several hours in front of the wind meter and GPS making sure we weren't dragging while the wind continued to howl. It was completely irrational behavior, but the only thing my jittery self was capable of doing. Come sunset, however, nature did its thing and put on the best show we've seen in Chagos, which was an excellent diversion.

By 8 o'clock, the wind died down and all wind-related tension vacated the premises. Don and I were sharing a quiet, gourmet dinner (instant noodle soup) when we suddenly heard a TWANG! THUD! Still feeling jumpy from the day's excitement, we ran up into the cockpit with a flashlight to investigate. There on the deck, was a dead brown noddy. Oh no! He rammed into Harmonie's rigging and killed himself! We tried not to feel guilty about all the times we squirted the brown noddies perched on our bow with water at close range while Don tossed the bird corpse overboard. We returned to our dinner feeling unnerved by the death. It wasn't five minutes later when we heard TWANG! THUD! SQUWAK! Oh no! Another suicide! This one nearly fell through the hatch into our dinner. Up we went with the flashlight, and over the rail the second corpse went. Back down to dinner. Another five minutes later, TWANG! THUD! By now we're feeling like a curse has descended on the good ship Harmonie. First the overnight squalls, then the big wind and the dragging, and then three birds kill themselves on our rigging. It's because I said we live a charmed life, isn't it? Remind me never to do that again.

Since then we've had a few more sleepless squall-filled nights, but no more dragging and no more bird suicides. The anchorage filled up with more boats (a total of 15), and the social calendar bloomed with a beach happy hour, boat happy hours and dinners. Our cross-cultural anchorage now includes 3 German boats, 2 Canadian, 2 Finnish, 1 English, 1 Danish, 1 Dutch, 1 Brazilian, 1 Filipino, 1 French, 1 Australian and us. All are going to South Africa via one route or another, so we expect to see all of them on and off over the next eight months as we make our way to Cape Town. Although most, if not all, of these boats crossed the Pacific, we didn't meet them there, so all are relatively new to us. The circumnavigating boater world is so small, it's surprising to run into new people this far into the journey.

Speaking of the journey...

We're feeling like it's about time we moved on

Wait a minute! I just heard another huge TWANG! THUD! Let me go see what's going on up there.

Yup, another bird. This one is stunned, but still alive. Poor thing. Odd that the bird chose this moment to ram our rigging - just as I was typing about his friends and the clock turned midnight. Hmmm.

Ok, ok, moving on. Yes, maybe the birds are telling us it's time to go. After consultation with weatherman Bruce, we've decided to leave tomorrow (Saturday, April 28) for Mauritius 1300 miles away. At the moment, the ITCZ (convergence of northern and southern hemisphere weather systems) is sitting just to our south. You might recall we passed through the ITCZ on the way from Sri Lanka to Chagos, but the darn thing moves around. Anyway, just south of the ITCZ, the southeast tradewinds are waiting for us. So, we'll leave tomorrow, spend about 24 hours getting through the ITCZ and its cloudy, squally weather, then ride the tradewinds all the way to Mauritius where we don't plan to do any sweating. Ahhh.... we've dreamed about the day our eyebrows will no longer drip and we can sleep under a sheet without suffocating.

So, we are ready to go. All the meals are in the freezer, the dinghy and motor are stowed, the kayaks re-positioned on the back deck, the safety gear installed, and engine and generator maintenance taken care of. One boat will be leaving at the same time we do, and another will leave on Sunday. Others may follow later next week. Many in the anchorage will keep tabs on us via daily SSB radio chats, so we'll be in good company. Once we get through the ITCZ, the trip should be a fast one, so we're hoping to arrive in seven or eight days. We'll update the blog daily, starting Sunday.

We've enjoyed our time in Chagos (minus the anchoring challenges and dead bird curse), but are looking forward to our next stop. Besides, we are down to 5 onions, 7 oranges, 5 limes, 8 tiny eggplants, 2 cabbages, 5 carrots and lots of garlic. Don't you wish you were joining us for meals on Harmonie for the next week? Six week old cabbage and carrots - yum, yum! Oh, and in case you were wondering, we ate our last tomato yesterday. Also, the fruit and vegetable longevity prize was awarded to a lemon purchased eight weeks ago in Phuket. The perfectly healthy lemon celebrated wildly before squeezing itself into our lunch hummus.

Anne