Crossing the Java Sea - in storms and calms

So we left Bawean Island about 30 hours ago headed for Pangkal Pinang on the Island of Bangka (which administratively is part of Sumatra).

We couldn't find a working ATM on Bawean, so we could only get 75 gallons of fuel. We hope it is enough to go all the way to Bangka. Wind has been light, but we sailed for part of today with thunderstorm winds. Both yesterday and today we've collected over 7 gallons of drinking water, so that helps.

Wind instrument went on the fritz yesterday, so I sprayed it, and we'll see if it comes back. Typical Raymarine behavior. Griffyn's DVD player died yesterday - the last of the portable players so there is much lamenting and gnashing of teeth from that quarter.

We also ran into a bamboo "Fish Exciter" during the night, but no harm done. These little tethered platforms are meant to provide shade and cover for fish, and are not easily seen at night, as they are not lit and don't rise more than inches above the water in some cases.

Rain up ahead. Carrie baked bread and cinnamon bread today.

5 02.600 S
110 41.975 E
294 degrees true at 4.0 knots

Owen

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Enroute to Bowean Island - Huge waterspout

So we left for Bowean Island this morning. After some trouble finding our way out through the coral choked entrance we got on our way under power and sail. Wind was from dead aft. And later that died away to only 4 knots.

Around lunch a big rain squall lay just behind us and to Port a bit, when out of it's lower rotating wall, out snaked a thin tendril of blue. Soon the water underneath rose up white to meet the blind reaching arm. In minutes the waterspout had thickened and grown, until it was massive - a 200 meters at the base, and half a mile tall.

We all watched as it grew and twisted and faded and strengthened, then finally disappeared after 15 minutes.

Owen

6 38.874 S/ 114 42.231 E

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Kangean Island on passage from Bali to Malaysia

Kangean Island
on passage from Bali to Malaysia

November 9, 2013

The nearest large island of the Indonesian Archipelago to the small one where we are currently anchored is Java. There is a fast ferry from the small village here to East Java (we assume.) We have been stuck in this calm anchorage now for 5 days. We stopped here for a night of sleep on our way north to Malaysia. And the next morning as Owen was checking the engine he noticed a drip coming from the coolant tank. After closer inspection and a little digging around, he found a pencil sized hole in the inspection plate which is attached to the bottom of the coolant tank. There are baffles in the tank, so you cannot easily look inside it or push something in there and poke around. He quickly siphoned the tank (for reserve - we do not have any spare bottles of coolant.) Then he got on the phone and called Matthew, the Indonesian mechanic we used in Kupang who is now in Bali, for advice. Matthew suggested that we remove the plate with the hole in it and patch the hole (with gasket material and an aluminum patch,) then reattach it.

Well that sounded good except that our tank is old, the bolts holding the inspection plate are old. And sure enough as Owen tried to remove one, the head of the bolt just broke off. We do not have replacement bolts, nor will there be any in this little village near by. So Owen decided to try a patch of aluminum epoxy putty covered with fiberglass. The next day our engine was spattered with coolant as the putty failed. After cleaning it up, he decided to fashion a plate from the aluminum stock that we have on board. And using the little gasket material we have left, some lock washers and several steel screws, secure his plate over the hole in the old one. Many things could go wrong with this plan - and did over the next 48 hours.

It's taken a couple of tries to get it right - if in fact we have finally gotten it right. The gasket material needs 24 hours to cure, so each try is another day here. There were endless fittings, broken hacksaw blades, continuous hunts for tools (disrupting the whole boat), hopes and prayers about our gasket material (being not too old) and of-course a few choice 'captains words' as Owen banged his head and dropped significant parts into the bilge. Yet he hasn't given up hope. We'll check the latest fix in the morning. The kids and I spent the last couple of days in school, out of the way mostly, except for the day it rained buckets. The night before I had set up a bucket of laundry, that morning I was eager to hang it, instead, we collected 11 gallons of water as bolts of lightning flashed all around us. Owen put small navigation electronics in the oven as we watched the walls of rain advance loudly before they pelted our rain catcher and washed our boat clean. Luckily for us the rainy season has begun. There is no water available on this tiny island. The locals survive on brackish well water for washing and rain water for consumption. But it has hardly rained in 4 months, so there wouldn't be any to spare for us should we run out.

Last night as the dark clouds blew away, and a big red sun set on a fresh horizon, after a day of rain and hanging and re-hanging the laundry, not teaching school and feeling somewhat down about the repairs, I slumped down on deck and just listened to the chanting coming from loudspeakers on shore half a mile away. I must have heard 7 different voices each chanting their own Muslim prayer. As I looked at the bay surrounding me, I gave into the undulating voices and waited for the chanting to awaken my own voice. (In a former life I was a vocalist. I haven't sung much on this trip - quarters are too close.) I began a quiet chant of my own and wished I could see the local mosque.

The agony of waiting for the repairs to "hold" and allow us to continue on our way has made the last couple of days a bit tense. Yet finding this engine leak while at anchor has made this particular problem less difficult - we are relatively comfortable here. It is beautiful. The locals haven't bothered us at all (trying to sell us things.) The weather has been just glorious, mostly sunny with light winds to keep us cool. The sunsets are pretty. This anchorage is more peaceful than anywhere we have been in almost a year. There is almost no swell and best of all, there are no mosquitos! So we can actually enjoy an evening after dark.

There comes a time in every passage where I let go enough of what I cannot control (my own sea sickness, repairs at sea, sick kids, scary weather) and find a bit of peace with the current situation. If Owen cannot repair the leak - maybe it will be just the beginning of another part of a different type of journey. Maybe he would end up on a fast ferry to Java for parts. And maybe Tamsyn or Griffyn would go along. And maybe I'd finish another painting while they are away.

Carrie

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Still at Kangean Island - Troubleshooting Header Tank Leak

Hi again,

Bet you thought we were in Borneo? Well, the "repair" to our Header Tank leak didn't hold. In fact it sprayed coolant all over the engine compartment. So we spent the next day fashioning an aluminum plate that we could attach onto the bottom of the aluminum access plate on the underside of the Header Tank. This involved broken hacksaw blades, drilling holes, measuring 20 times and cutting once, and so on. Then we used much of our high-temperature gasket goop to make the gasket, and attached the whole thing onto the bottom of the damaged access plate.

Wait 24 hours for the gasket to dry, fill up the coolant tank, and start the engine. This time it looks good, but 5 minutes in I see a leak - not from my new plate, but from the old gasket on the old access plate. Shut down the engine, drain coolant, allow to cool. It wasn't a huge leak,but probably would empty the tank in a few hours. No good. Figure out plan C.

Today I cleaned some old gasket material out with a knife blade (very gingerly) and cleaned all surfaces with acetone. Then I drilled one more hole for a bolt to help snug-up the gasket. Forced black gasket goop into the gaps, coated everything six ways from Sunday with goop, and now we wit another 24 hours to test. Ain't life grand ;-)

On the other hand, this a a beautiful bay. Aside by occasional drive-by's from friendly local fisherman, it is silent except when the distant call for prayer drifts out across the water - rising and falling in undulating tones.

Keep your fingers crossed. More later.

Owen

P.S. Carrie will probably ppost something she's been writing about our stay here.

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Kangean Island - stopover on way to Kumai - Borneo

So for the last two days we've been at anchor at Kangean Island (6 51.478 S/ 115 14.124 E. It's a beautiful place. Very quiet. Al little fishing community on an island not far away.

The first day was just to rest, but yesterday when we wanted to continue north I noticed that our Header Tank on the engine was leaking coolant. The problem turned out to be a corroded spot on an aluminum access plate on the tank's bottom. We repaired the hole with aluminum epoxy putty, and covered that repair with a 3 millimeter thick layer of epoxy resin. So looks like we are ready to go, but now there is little wind.

Heading for Bowean Island some 165 miles away.

Happy Birthday Jeremy!

Owen

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Madrona anchored overnight north of Padang Bai, Bali

Hi,

We have left Serangan yesterday, and traveled 25 miles northeast along

Bali's coast, and through an area of treacherous currents. We spent

the night anchored in 15 feet of water by a little village an oil

terminal) just north of Padang Bai. We all went for a swim - nice

coral and stingrays. The we had a a Halloween spooky movie, and the

turned in early.

Today we round Bali's Northeast corner - with the optimal tides and

currents - and head out in the open steering Northwest, ultimately

heading for Kumai on Kalimantan.

Special hello to Mike in Savu Savu.

8 30.998 S

115 30.592 E

Owen

A Rich 10 Days, Tanna Island - PHOTOS - Wayback Machine

 A Rich 10 Days, Tanna Island

Port Resolution Bay
Tanna, Vanuatu

Late October, 2012

The passage from Anatom to Tanna took us two days instead of one due to light wind. We watched Mount Yasur vent huge clouds of ash and steam which drifted slowly across the island, out to sea and across our path. As we sailed closer, looking for our anchorage, we saw a magnificent white sandy beach that seemed to run the length of the Island. There were people on the beach playing in the water. I definitely wanted to go there. We sailed right up to the entrance of Port Resolution bay - 100 yards from where we dropped the anchor.

Captain Cook sailed into this bay in his vessel 'Resolution', thus the name of the bay. Apparently he wanted to see the volcano, but the locals wouldn't let him, it being their deity and all. Cook is lucky really - he may not have survived if he had gone up the mountain, into the bush - due the practice of cannibalism.

 The bay reminded me a little of the dramatic bays in the Marquesas. At the entrance to the bay, a 200 ft volcanic rock wall rose out of the water opposite an 80 foot cliff. These high walls framed a low wide beach with lush vegetation. With the exception of the few boats at anchor, there was little sign of life - a pristine bay. The bay appeared small but once you began to explore in the dinghy, it was huge. We had to make an S curve to get to shore to avoid rocks and reef. Our first trip back, it was high tide near dusk and we got stuck on a rock just under the surface - leaving a long gash in the bottom or our soft bottom dinghy. (Luckily it was not a part of the dinghy that inflated!)

On shore we found a small resort at the top of cliff from which we took this photo. The resort had sleeping huts with mosquito netting over a bed and a sink on the door step. There was a public shower on the grounds and you could order your meals at the yacht club building or down the road 1/4 of a mile in the village cafe.

 From the moment I stepped ashore in Tanna, I felt I was visiting an older landscape. I remember thinking the flora here is extraordinary, something I haven't seen before. It did feel a little like parts of Tonga, where the shore was made of colossal coral boulders held back by ancient overgrown mangroves - but there are no mountains in northern Tonga. It felt a little like Daniel's' Bay on Nuka Hiva (the Marquesas) yet even more primeval, more dense with much bigger trees.

 And the trees seemed to collude with one another - each trying to outdo the next - by looking more round or taller or greener or more droopy so that when you took in a wide view there was enormously diverse and picturesque vegetation, like there is in an old-growth forest. Owen and Dennis (SV Knotty Lady) were walking along and wondered over a mile out of their way before they realized that they were on the wrong road. There are foot paths through out the Island and few roads.

 The primeval essence I was absorbing as I walked ashore in Port Resolution bay, as I stared at those trees and was amazed at how they grew, as I walked the village and talked to the women, was the beginning of a new experience for us (the kids and I especially - Owen has spent time in Africa). The experience that began on Anatom (in Vanuatu), the 'difference' was the undeveloped world.

 The village near Port Resolution, Ikepuwo, is situated between Port Resolution and that big white sandy ocean beach. Walking along the dirt road from the yacht club to the village, we spied two life size figures, a female and a male. They were carved from palm tree trunks. There is a large open green as you enter the village, surrounded by grass huts. I loved the houses, how they were built. Each family erected several huts, one for sleeping, another for cooking, and sometimes a third for children to play in or guests to sleep in. There was no furniture just rough shelves with dirt floors. Some women covered the floor with woven mats. Everyone sat on mats, palms leaves or the grass outside their hut. Owen and Griffyn watched a hut being built over the days we traversed the village. A sleeping hut was being built for a some newlyweds. Extended families often shared the kitchen hut.

The people of Tanna are living much as their ancestors have for thousands of years, close to the earth. They make what they need from the trees and vegetation surrounding them. They eat what grows easily and survives the daily drift of ash from Mt. Yasur. Many villagers had cataracts, even young people, caused by the volcanic debris and ash always settling and resettling around them. And they maintain a village garden up in the hills about a kilometer from their homes.

 These panels are not being used, no local knows how to fix the problem. Occasionally bits of new technology finds it's way into their lives - like water pumps and cell phones. We sold a solar charger (for cell phones) to the owner of the Port Resolution Yacht Club for vatu so that we would have enough cash to get into Mt. Yasur National Park. (One of the most expensive National Parks in the World.) The closest ATM was a two hour bus ride (one way) and we didn't have enough cash when we arrived for that. The vatu was much stronger than we expected. We hadn't brought enough from Fiji. And we kept hearing different prices for the ride up to the park and no one seemed to know the entrance fee for children. It took us a couple days of selling things to get enough cash to go up the mountain and get a few straight answers. And once we were able to pay the driver and entrance fees, we were again out of vatu. So I began to talk to the village women to find fresh food for trade.

Modern housing is making it's way to this village. Will this village look the same in 10 years? Cinder blocks and corrugated metal cost money, grass and trees are free. The only cash coming into the village was from the few tourists. We met a single mom. She had a table outside her hut full of the baskets she wove for sale. She told us that her husband had just left her and her 5 children. She couldn't have been more than 30 and already had cataracts. Owen gave her the monocle he was carrying. She gave Owen a basket.

 A couple days later as I stood in her kitchen hut one afternoon around 4 PM, I watched a two year old pull the cover off a large kettle of steaming rice (cooked over a low fire on the dirt floor). The two year old began eating the hot rice with his fingers. Her other kids were walking around the dark hut, making noise the way hungry kids do. I remember feeling her anxiety, it was such a dim place and soon it would be dark. She seemed so desperate. She kept offering me food for trade. She picked up an egg from a dark corner of the hut (where her chicken likes to lay.) She handed me her only egg, some island greens, a manioc root. I didn't want to take her food, but I knew she wouldn't offer it if she couldn't get more easily. In return I would bring her tinned meat, clothes and things for her children.

In the early afternoon you would see little solar lamps set out in the sun. Each hut seemed to have one little lamp. In the evening when all was dark, completely dark, the only lights we saw on the island (when we were coming back from our 45 minute drive to the edge of the crater) was the headlights of our vehicle, fires burning and occasionally a dim light from inside of a hut (a solar lamp?). There were no street lights along the main dirt road, yet there were crowds of people walking as we passed by. There had been a national election that day. 50 women ran for office for the 150 seats available. Not a single woman was elected. Our driver had the radio on loud listening for results. He kept stopping the car to talk to friends along the road. Black male faces pressed to our windows to see who was inside. Everyone was all abuzz about the election.

 There are tiny resorts all over Vanuatu. Sarah had a cafe where she sold a cup of coffee (grown and roasted on Tanna) and meals (if tourists from neighboring resorts called ahead to order a meal.) She had worked in a resort before she asked her husband to build her this building for her coffee shop.

We only met one other couple, staying at a resort during our week in the port. There is a small community shop tended by two young girls which sold a few items (baskets, bags, children's skirts, shells, feather sticks) made by the local women and bananas or papayas. There was another small store where one could purchase onions, instant noodles, canned tuna and a few other items - the store was less than 100 sq. ft. with about 3 shelves a foot deep with items for sale. It was slim pickin's.

Tamsyn, Griffyn and I spent a day with Karen (S/V Yolo - the hostess of Tamsyn's 9th birthday party at Minerva Reef in 2011) walking around the village. We watched a woman make lap lap. A flat bread made from grated manioc (tapioca root) and coconut cream, wrapped in banana leaves and baked over a bed of coals. I traded with her for a kilo of flour. (There was no flour for sale in the village.)

 Karen had met a family that was taking care of a baby fruit bat, so she showed Tamsyn and Griffyn where the bat was living.

 The pregnant woman in this picture is carrying her first child (and a little anxious about it). Each night as we ate dinner in the cockpit, huge fruit bats would come out and fly around the boat. We could hear Mt. Yasur booming and watch steam rise in patches from the hillside. Late late at night long after dusk, there would be a red glow on the underside of the clouds like deep red sunset. If the wind blew the ash cloud into the bay, it would leave a thin layer of black ash all over the boat. Rain would make it inky. A local told me that the water in the bay is too warm for sharks, they never enter.

Karen had skinned her shin coming off her dinghy the morning we met the baby fruit bat. She didn't have a band aid, the flies landed continuously on her wound all day, despite her constant swishing them away. Two days later when she came to visit us on Madrona, I noticed that her leg had developed a huge swelling and the area where she had skinned herself was much larger. She had bandaged it when she got back to Yolo, she told me, and doused it with peroxide. I told her that wasn't going to be enough and she might end up in the hospital if she didn't treat it more aggressively. Owen (the real doctor aboard) suggested she use her silver burn ointment and a strong anti-biotic. She had a tropical ulcer growing. We had heard nasty stories about tropical ulcers and been warned about the flies in Vanuatu. There are so many beef cattle here that the fly population is much higher than other countries in the tropics. Beef is a major export of Vanuatu. And the beef is very high quality - but the cow pies are everywhere and they are all swarming with flies. The flies here carry staphylococcus - so tropical ulcers are common and often serious. Wounds here fester very quickly and need to be treated with both an anti-biotic as well as an anti-fungal (gentian violet is an incredibly cheap anti-fungal).

 We watched another woman wearing a Mother Hubbard dress sew with her manual Singer sewing machine. She told me there are 8 of these sewing machines in this village. They can be purchased in the closest city - a two hour bus ride one way - for a couple hundred US $ (.86 cents US = 100 vatu). I traded sewing machine needles, elastic, thread, fabric and clothes with her for a large basket of fresh fruit and vegetables.

 We met Nicky and Dennis, S/V Knotty Lady, who were bringing their new 40' Hunter, purchased in the California, home to Australia. [It was christened in Niue by a whale tangled in their mooring lines. The whale almost totally destroyed their bow trying to escape.]  October 30th, we went up Mt. Yasur with Nicky and Dennis to watch it erupt. Bumping along in the back of a pick up truck driving past steaming black volcanic dirt through jungle vegetation and huge tree ferns was an experience we will never forget. The top of the mountain looked like a moonscape - zero vegetation, flatten and burned from hot lava.

Tamsyn cut her finger picking up a black lacy rock of pure glass (melted black sand). Standing at the edge of the crater we saw awesome fireworks, breathed choking toxic fumes (when the wind blew toward us), heard flying magma the size of boulders hit the ground, froze in the wind at the top as the temperature dropped, and had spectacularly deep views of both the caldera and the lush green landscape 100s of feet below us on the slopes of this magnificent mountain.

October 31st we celebrated Halloween at Knotty Lady - Tamsyn as a ballet dancer, Griffyn as Spider-man. I brought Boston baked beans and rice and they served marinated Mahi Mahi (caught on the way to Tanna). We all watched a scary movie and ate candy. We spent three days walking the village, and going to the beach with Nicky and Dennis.

Tanna is one of the islands in Vanuatu where white people are considered suspicious, untrustworthy. The black-birding (slavers), the missionaries, and the white colonizers were often eaten by the locals. Thus whites had less influence here than other parts of Vanuatu. And as a result of it, this island has kept it's cultural identity more firmly than many of the other islands and villages in Vanuatu. The chiefs, the clans, still rule the villages on Tanna. The 'nasara', an open area surrounded by giant banyan trees, is a place where men gather nightly to drink kava.

Nicki, Tamsyn and I were ushered along a path that goes around the nasara (rather than the usual path which crosses through it) one evening near 5PM as the men were gathering. Women in this village are still forbidden to enter the nasara or drink kava with men. Nicki mentioned that she had read about a place where menstruating women were expected to live separately from the rest of the village. I told I had read about that too long long ago. Then she told me that it was written about the villages on Tanna. I thought it was amazing we had both read about it long before we came here. Women in Vanuatu have little value in the family - except as bride money (often called the 'bride price'). Because women do most of the labor, when one is married the family receiving the bride has to pay the family she leaves. The Moon Guide to the South Pacific has a section on women which mentions that very recently women were typically worth less than a good pig. As a result of their low status, domestic violence against women is still very common and police rarely get involved.

The local school here, taught in Bislama also offers French. Literacy in Vanuatu is 50%, children are needed to help with chores and often do not attend beyond the primary school. Bislama is the language we heard as children in cartoons, "me no savvy" says the 'Indian' to the paleface who attempts communication. How did it end up back home in cartoons? I suppose the same way "la la land" did (which is from Swahili spoken in Africa). Many schools in Vanuatu offer either French or English as a secondary language because both the French and the British claimed Vanuatu as a colony. When the British and French officials were trying to decide what side of the road to drive on, they decided to settle the issue by waiting for a car to be delivered to Port Villa. If the car came from Britain, they would drive on the left, if the car delivered was from France - the national standard would be to drive on the right. We sailed out of Tanna, on a dark and windy day heading north to the capital, Port Villa.

Carrie