Vulcan Spirit and her temporarily augmented crew left New Caledonia on 11 June, heading for Australia via the remote uninhabited French possession of Chesterfield Reef which lies halfway between NC and Australia. It is a huge reef system, a tiny part of which appears above the sea, and famed for its seabird population. The bit we went to is a very thin island chain (and when I say thin, I mean 10 metres wide or less), rising to a metre or so above HW, but stretching for several miles. This makes a fantastic breakwater, so the lagoon is flat calm – a really safe anchorage in the middle of nowhere.

There are no reliable charts, so getting in safely requires a spotter in the rigging. Here she is, halfway up the mast in the bosun’s chair. From this height, with the sun crucially behind her and wearing polarising sunglasses, she can see shallow water invisible at deck level. Coral heads (bommies) rising sharply from the depths are the danger; a few were spotted and avoided. Ali spent an hour up the mast.

 

 

We had very mixed weather at Chesterfield; here is an approaching squall system looking very threatening. You can clearly see three separate rain squalls, all of which will feature stronger and variable wind. Sometimes they miss you, and sometimes they don’t:

 

 

And here is Vulcan Spirit at anchor in 5m of water in the lee of the reef, looking like a typical cruising boat – covered in washing and with the crew in the water polishing exhaust stains off the hull:

 

 

The entire huge reef system is French territory; it says so on this rather dilapidated sign:

 

 

Here is the island chain on a nice day, with the ocean side on the left, and the lagoon on the right; note how narrow the islands are. A game of Vulcan Spirit boule is in play with your hero nattily dressed in blue:

 

 

The lagoon from the dinghy:

 

 

This is the seaward side of the island, with a line of old coral reef topped by blown coral sand. Note the birds who will be subject of another blog shortly:

 

 

Part of the crew taking a well-earned respite from the hurly-burly of constant boat maintenance in faraway places, otherwise known as cruising:

 

 

Next, crustacea of Chesterfield.