week 10 Dec 14 - 20, 2014, Vuda Point Marina, Fiji
I am finding it very frustrating to be here in Fiji but not going anywhere or seeing anything. i had expected to sail out to explore the islands and to get a car to drive around. But Alan does not want to take a chance on the weather and besides, it is a lot of trouble to get the decks cleared and everything packed and ready to go. He does not want to get a car because not only is it an extra expense but it takes time away from the projects When we first got to Fiji we put together a list of projects that we wanted to get done this season and came up with a total of 117 jobs. We have now been here 2 months and aside from the haul out, very few of them have actually been done. From time to time I get out the list and try to prioritize and schedule things but somehow the work never gets done. The one thing I have learned is that there is no way I can get Alan to do anything. As sweet, kind, gentle, loving as he is, my husband is the most stubborn man in the world. He does what he does when he does it and it takes as long as it takes. When it is finished he does whatever he does next. God forbid I try to make a schedule and plan the work so that it gets done in the most efficient manner, or even done at all. It is a long needed lesson in patience for me. So we have a lot of long lazy days: breakfast, lunch, a nap, topped off by happy hour and then dinner, read for a while and go to bed early, with a few odd jobs here and there.
My jobs are to make sure there is food and that meals are cooked on time, to do the laundry and to keep everything picked up and put away. Not jobs that I was ever fond of at home and even less appealing in such a small space Shopping is even more of a production than it was in Mexico. The bus only runs every 2 hours and takes up to 45 minutes to cover the 10 miles to town. Once there, it is the usual problem of balancing what we need with what I can carry on the bus. Alan seldom goes with me because he hates shopping and does not like to walk very far. He feels that he should stay and get something done on the boat (see above). There is the added problem that we have no refrigeration. The only time we get meat is the day I go shopping and I need to be very careful with the produce, cheese, butter, etc. Once again, it is very difficult to get ground coffee and almost impossible to get decaf, even instant. There is lots of tea but Alan likes his pot of coffee for breakfast. Bread will only keep for a couple of days in this heat and fijian bread is not very good anyway. OK for sandwiches and french toast but not much else. Luckily we have discovered the indian flat bread, roti, which seems to keep indefinitely. There is a wonderful produce market but everything is sold in “heaps” it is not possible to buy just one or two of anything. Bok Choy will only keep for one day. Green beans and carrots will last a couple of days. Lettuce is almost impossible. Tomatoes keep if I buy them green but don’t have much flavor. Eggplant is the one thing that seems to keep so we have eggplant almost every meal. Luckily Alan likes eggplant. I have decided to add green beans and tomatoes to my garden. I tried lettuce but is is not doing very well.
OK, sorry End of rant for the day. I really love it here in Fiji, there are just a few issues to work out
Sunday, March 22, 2015
Week 9, Dec 7-12, haul out
Now that we are back, it is time to haul Rhapsody out of the water and see if we can find and seal the leak. The haul out is set for early tomorrow morning, except that early translates into 10am. We are up and fed and ready when the marina guys show up to help us move. Because the boats are bow to the wall with the stern lines fastened to mooring balls it is difficult to get in and out unassisted so the guys always show up to help. We have cleared the deck and taken down the awning so we can see where we are going. Alan is in the cockpit with the engine running. As soon as the guys untie the stern lines, the bow lines are untied and tossed to me and Alan puts it into reverse. We back carefully out of our spot, avoiding all the lines from the other boats, turn around, head the short distance across the marina basin to the travel lift and ease into the slip, only to be told that we will have to turn around and back in because our mizzen mast is too tall. easier said that done. Like most sailboats, Rhapsody does not back straight. I have never quite figured out why but apparently it has to do with which way the prop spins. Eventually, with not too much yelling and with a lot of help from the guys in the dingy, we get turned around and in position. The lift moves into place, slings are passed under the keel, ropes are tossed and tied and suddenly we are being lifted out of the water. Now we are hanging in the air and being driven along the back to the wash rack. Scary, scary. Always before we have gotten off before it was lifted. I just keep telling myself that they do this all the time and never drop the boats. Still, not my favorite ride.
We are moved first to a wash rack where a ladder is moved into position so that we can climb down. Then Rhapsody is washed down with high pressure hoses. Soon the ground is littered with hundreds of tiny oyster shells. Then she is moved again, down the way to a “parking spot”. Gradually and carefully, poles and tires are moved into position and the slings are released. It certainly does not look very secure. I walk all around, carefully pushing and kicking all the props to be sure they are steady. A long ladder is brought and secured to the rail and up we go. It feels weird to be in the boat but on land not in the water. Alan and I both keep thinking we are moving. I even get off and kick at the ropes holding us one more time to be sure they don’t wiggle (they don’t) One of the problems with being out of the water is that there is no way to drain the sink. Normally the dirty water is just pumped into the ocean. We get our the dishpan that we used when the sink broke in Tonga and manage breakfast and lunch but dinner is too hard. We have decided that we will just eat out every night and work our way through the menu at the marina restaurant. It is also a long walk down the ladder and to the bathroom in the morning, since we can’t use the toilet either.
Next morning the guys show up bright and early and get to work. The main reason for the haul out is to finally find the source of the leak that has plagued us since we left home and stop it once and for all. There are 2 possible sources; the prop shaft where it comes through the hull is one obvious suspect and the other is the through hull, a valve that needs to be open to draw saltwater into the engine to cool it when we are running but is closed when the engine is not running. There are also two other through hulls, one for the bathroom sink to drain and one to pull in seawater for the water maker. Alan takes all three apart, carefully cleans, greases and replaces them. The prop shaft is a more difficult problem. We had crawled into the back of the engine room while the boat was in the water and looked carefully with a flashlight to see if we could tell where the water was coming from. As best we could tell, it was seeping in around the bolts which hold on the fitting which holds the bushing which is around the drive shaft. (Can you tell I really don’t know what I am talking about here?) For whatever reason, this large piece of bronze does not quite fit tightly against the hull, so there is a gap. The bolts came out and all the old caulk was scraped off, inside and out. Then everything was replaced and caulked. Hopefully that will solve the problem and we will once more be dry.
Of course the “while you are at it” syndrome kicks in and we decide to have the bottom painted too. And then the painters discover a crack along the deck where the rail is separating from the hull. So that needs to be scrapped and caulked and painted too. But all in all, the work goes quickly. Everything is complete and dries overnight. There is one last coat of paint before the lift shows up to move us back to the water. The process is reversed and and we are back in the water within a week.
A day later we discover that the leak was is not fixed. There is still water in the bilge . Al least now we know where it is coming from. It is not likely to get worse. We just have to remember to pump it out every few days Maybe next year…..
Now that we are back, it is time to haul Rhapsody out of the water and see if we can find and seal the leak. The haul out is set for early tomorrow morning, except that early translates into 10am. We are up and fed and ready when the marina guys show up to help us move. Because the boats are bow to the wall with the stern lines fastened to mooring balls it is difficult to get in and out unassisted so the guys always show up to help. We have cleared the deck and taken down the awning so we can see where we are going. Alan is in the cockpit with the engine running. As soon as the guys untie the stern lines, the bow lines are untied and tossed to me and Alan puts it into reverse. We back carefully out of our spot, avoiding all the lines from the other boats, turn around, head the short distance across the marina basin to the travel lift and ease into the slip, only to be told that we will have to turn around and back in because our mizzen mast is too tall. easier said that done. Like most sailboats, Rhapsody does not back straight. I have never quite figured out why but apparently it has to do with which way the prop spins. Eventually, with not too much yelling and with a lot of help from the guys in the dingy, we get turned around and in position. The lift moves into place, slings are passed under the keel, ropes are tossed and tied and suddenly we are being lifted out of the water. Now we are hanging in the air and being driven along the back to the wash rack. Scary, scary. Always before we have gotten off before it was lifted. I just keep telling myself that they do this all the time and never drop the boats. Still, not my favorite ride.
We are moved first to a wash rack where a ladder is moved into position so that we can climb down. Then Rhapsody is washed down with high pressure hoses. Soon the ground is littered with hundreds of tiny oyster shells. Then she is moved again, down the way to a “parking spot”. Gradually and carefully, poles and tires are moved into position and the slings are released. It certainly does not look very secure. I walk all around, carefully pushing and kicking all the props to be sure they are steady. A long ladder is brought and secured to the rail and up we go. It feels weird to be in the boat but on land not in the water. Alan and I both keep thinking we are moving. I even get off and kick at the ropes holding us one more time to be sure they don’t wiggle (they don’t) One of the problems with being out of the water is that there is no way to drain the sink. Normally the dirty water is just pumped into the ocean. We get our the dishpan that we used when the sink broke in Tonga and manage breakfast and lunch but dinner is too hard. We have decided that we will just eat out every night and work our way through the menu at the marina restaurant. It is also a long walk down the ladder and to the bathroom in the morning, since we can’t use the toilet either.
Next morning the guys show up bright and early and get to work. The main reason for the haul out is to finally find the source of the leak that has plagued us since we left home and stop it once and for all. There are 2 possible sources; the prop shaft where it comes through the hull is one obvious suspect and the other is the through hull, a valve that needs to be open to draw saltwater into the engine to cool it when we are running but is closed when the engine is not running. There are also two other through hulls, one for the bathroom sink to drain and one to pull in seawater for the water maker. Alan takes all three apart, carefully cleans, greases and replaces them. The prop shaft is a more difficult problem. We had crawled into the back of the engine room while the boat was in the water and looked carefully with a flashlight to see if we could tell where the water was coming from. As best we could tell, it was seeping in around the bolts which hold on the fitting which holds the bushing which is around the drive shaft. (Can you tell I really don’t know what I am talking about here?) For whatever reason, this large piece of bronze does not quite fit tightly against the hull, so there is a gap. The bolts came out and all the old caulk was scraped off, inside and out. Then everything was replaced and caulked. Hopefully that will solve the problem and we will once more be dry.
Of course the “while you are at it” syndrome kicks in and we decide to have the bottom painted too. And then the painters discover a crack along the deck where the rail is separating from the hull. So that needs to be scrapped and caulked and painted too. But all in all, the work goes quickly. Everything is complete and dries overnight. There is one last coat of paint before the lift shows up to move us back to the water. The process is reversed and and we are back in the water within a week.
A day later we discover that the leak was is not fixed. There is still water in the bilge . Al least now we know where it is coming from. It is not likely to get worse. We just have to remember to pump it out every few days Maybe next year…..
Week 8 Nov 28-Dec 6, 2014
Mana, Waya and back
Next morning, we want to get our or Mana before the ferry comes back, so we are up early. Once out of the channel we work our way through, between, around reefs and atolls. This is nerve wracking navigation with one eye for the iPad and one eye on the water and a third eye on the depth gage. We don’t bother to put any sail up because we are going to have the motor on and we need all the maneuverability we can get. We had considered making a couple of intermediate stops, but ended up going all the way to Waya which is the southernmost of the Yasawa Island group. If the weather holds we can stop at the other places on the way back. We anchored easily in 5 fathoms with a sandy bottom just in front of the village, a welcome change from last night.
One of the traditions when sailing in the more remote islands in Fiji is to “make sevu sevu”. This means to present the chief of the village with a bundle of kava roots and participate in the kava drinking ceremony. I have actually been looking forward to this. Once we had the dingy put together and launched we changed into proper clothed, me in a skirt and a blouse with sleeves and Alan in a fijan skirt and button shirt. When we landed there were only a few people on the beach. It is Sunday evening and everyone is in church. We are told, quite nicely, that we must wait until church is over and then someone will tell the chief that we are here. Except that apparently there is no chief, only a sous chief or headman in charge. And so we sat on the beach and made small talk for half and hour or so. It is fascinating to me that after the first questions of “What is your name?” and “Where are you from?” the next question os always “How old are you?” They are of course always amazed that we are seventy one and it earns us a fair amount of respect.
Eventually our waiting time is over and we are turned over to a small boy who is the grandson of the chief who escorts us to another young man who takes us a house next door to the church where a group of women are seated. After several minutes of conversation one of the women rises and taks us into a small house next door where an older man is waiting. This is the headman whose role it is to check us out and see if we qualify for admission to the village.
after several minutes of polite conversation he apparently decided we pass and asks if that is our gift. Alan presents him with our bundle of Kava roots. He saya a prayer over it in Fijian acknowledging our gift and asking for protection and good fortune for us. That is it. No kava drinking because there is no chief. We are accepted and welcome to explore the village and dismissed.
The women next door are weaving beautiful floor mats. My expression of appreciation for the hard work and beauty of the work seem to be the ice breaker and we are suddenly best friends with everyone. We are escorted around the village, given mangos and giant papaya, introduced to everyone, invited into homes. We are introduced to the old the oldest man in the village who is 82. Yes, of course everyone we meet has asked how old we are. We also meet the crazy Australian and his granddaughter. He is a sailor who came to Fiji and never left. Except that he is a single handed around the world sailor who was one of the few to survive the big storm that hit the Sidney Hhobart race. He makes his living now by giving inspirational speeches to various conferences and conventions. He has a compound of three houses at one end of the village, distinguished by their white paint and curtained windows. Most of the houses are a combination of cement block and corrugated tin with open windows and doors. Inside is one room for sleeping and storing clothes. Cooking and eating seem to be done outside. That night, back on the boat, we realize that there are no lights in the village. When we ask about this the next day we are told that they do have electricity but it is turned off on Sunday night. I never figured out exactly why.
Next morning we decide to go snorkeling in the morning. It is beautiful. Even though the sky is overcast, the water is wonderfully clear. We can see the whole shape of the hull as we swim away and the chain all the way down to the anchor. We spend a couple of hours drifting around among the coral between the boat and the shore. There are amazing shapes and colors. There are giant wrinkled mounds that always remind me of a human brain, tiny lacy fans, one that looks like a black feather boa, brilliant red and purple and yellow ones. Fish in every combination of color, little and big.
While we were diving a cruise ship anchored in the bay. Shortly the villagers had set up mats with a variety of trinkets for sale, wooden masks and carvings, necklaces of shells and tapa cloth and wonderful polished shells from the sea and the shore boats brought the tourists in for a talk on village life and a chance to shop.
i wandered down the beach collected shells, carefully selecting just the right ones for a necklace. (Unfortunately when I tried to drill holes in them, they we both too hard and too hard to hole. I am going to get a small jewelry vice when I am home and a super hard drill bit for my drummel and try again.) The tourists had gone when I returned to the village and the ladies were packing up their mats until next time. Interestingly, they not only did not expect me to buy anything but actually gave me some of the shells. As we headed back to the village I asked about the various trees around. When they discovered that I had never had breadfruit, I was taken to one of the homes and plyed with both boiled and fried pieces of breadfruit, along with very specific instructions on how to pick and cook it. When I was completely stuffed, they gave me several to take back, along with more mangoes and papaya.
Next morning we reluctantly weighed anchor and left this lovely island to head back. The wind was good for once and we were actually able to sail. We got to Mana and decided to anchor for the night again. This proved to be a disaster. It was late in the day and overcast so it was very difficult to see the coral reefs. Using our previous track on the iPad we headed for the spot where we had anchored last time, The catamaran was still here and it must have moved because we could not find a spot that was deep enough and had room to swing. I was on the tiller and Alan was up front ready to drop the anchor when there was a horrible crunch and we were on the reef. I screamed and put it in reverse but that was no good because there was coral all around. Alan secured the anchor and came and took the tiller while I went up front to look for a clear spot . After what seemed like hours of back and forth, alternately creeping and gunning he finally managed to get us turned around and out back into the channel. If it had been earlier in the day we would have left but we did not want to be out sailing in the dark so we moved on down the channel towards the village to see if we could find another spot, trying to remember from last time where the reefs were. Next try had us scraping bottom again but we finally found a spot that seemed OK. I think it is actually in the ferry lane but we plan to be gone early in the morning before the ferry arrives. I doubt that we will be back to Mana.
Next day we headed back to Muscat Cove and the next day back to Vunda Marina, just ahead of wet and windy weather.
Mana, Waya and back
Next morning, we want to get our or Mana before the ferry comes back, so we are up early. Once out of the channel we work our way through, between, around reefs and atolls. This is nerve wracking navigation with one eye for the iPad and one eye on the water and a third eye on the depth gage. We don’t bother to put any sail up because we are going to have the motor on and we need all the maneuverability we can get. We had considered making a couple of intermediate stops, but ended up going all the way to Waya which is the southernmost of the Yasawa Island group. If the weather holds we can stop at the other places on the way back. We anchored easily in 5 fathoms with a sandy bottom just in front of the village, a welcome change from last night.
One of the traditions when sailing in the more remote islands in Fiji is to “make sevu sevu”. This means to present the chief of the village with a bundle of kava roots and participate in the kava drinking ceremony. I have actually been looking forward to this. Once we had the dingy put together and launched we changed into proper clothed, me in a skirt and a blouse with sleeves and Alan in a fijan skirt and button shirt. When we landed there were only a few people on the beach. It is Sunday evening and everyone is in church. We are told, quite nicely, that we must wait until church is over and then someone will tell the chief that we are here. Except that apparently there is no chief, only a sous chief or headman in charge. And so we sat on the beach and made small talk for half and hour or so. It is fascinating to me that after the first questions of “What is your name?” and “Where are you from?” the next question os always “How old are you?” They are of course always amazed that we are seventy one and it earns us a fair amount of respect.
Eventually our waiting time is over and we are turned over to a small boy who is the grandson of the chief who escorts us to another young man who takes us a house next door to the church where a group of women are seated. After several minutes of conversation one of the women rises and taks us into a small house next door where an older man is waiting. This is the headman whose role it is to check us out and see if we qualify for admission to the village.
after several minutes of polite conversation he apparently decided we pass and asks if that is our gift. Alan presents him with our bundle of Kava roots. He saya a prayer over it in Fijian acknowledging our gift and asking for protection and good fortune for us. That is it. No kava drinking because there is no chief. We are accepted and welcome to explore the village and dismissed.
The women next door are weaving beautiful floor mats. My expression of appreciation for the hard work and beauty of the work seem to be the ice breaker and we are suddenly best friends with everyone. We are escorted around the village, given mangos and giant papaya, introduced to everyone, invited into homes. We are introduced to the old the oldest man in the village who is 82. Yes, of course everyone we meet has asked how old we are. We also meet the crazy Australian and his granddaughter. He is a sailor who came to Fiji and never left. Except that he is a single handed around the world sailor who was one of the few to survive the big storm that hit the Sidney Hhobart race. He makes his living now by giving inspirational speeches to various conferences and conventions. He has a compound of three houses at one end of the village, distinguished by their white paint and curtained windows. Most of the houses are a combination of cement block and corrugated tin with open windows and doors. Inside is one room for sleeping and storing clothes. Cooking and eating seem to be done outside. That night, back on the boat, we realize that there are no lights in the village. When we ask about this the next day we are told that they do have electricity but it is turned off on Sunday night. I never figured out exactly why.
Next morning we decide to go snorkeling in the morning. It is beautiful. Even though the sky is overcast, the water is wonderfully clear. We can see the whole shape of the hull as we swim away and the chain all the way down to the anchor. We spend a couple of hours drifting around among the coral between the boat and the shore. There are amazing shapes and colors. There are giant wrinkled mounds that always remind me of a human brain, tiny lacy fans, one that looks like a black feather boa, brilliant red and purple and yellow ones. Fish in every combination of color, little and big.
While we were diving a cruise ship anchored in the bay. Shortly the villagers had set up mats with a variety of trinkets for sale, wooden masks and carvings, necklaces of shells and tapa cloth and wonderful polished shells from the sea and the shore boats brought the tourists in for a talk on village life and a chance to shop.
i wandered down the beach collected shells, carefully selecting just the right ones for a necklace. (Unfortunately when I tried to drill holes in them, they we both too hard and too hard to hole. I am going to get a small jewelry vice when I am home and a super hard drill bit for my drummel and try again.) The tourists had gone when I returned to the village and the ladies were packing up their mats until next time. Interestingly, they not only did not expect me to buy anything but actually gave me some of the shells. As we headed back to the village I asked about the various trees around. When they discovered that I had never had breadfruit, I was taken to one of the homes and plyed with both boiled and fried pieces of breadfruit, along with very specific instructions on how to pick and cook it. When I was completely stuffed, they gave me several to take back, along with more mangoes and papaya.
Next morning we reluctantly weighed anchor and left this lovely island to head back. The wind was good for once and we were actually able to sail. We got to Mana and decided to anchor for the night again. This proved to be a disaster. It was late in the day and overcast so it was very difficult to see the coral reefs. Using our previous track on the iPad we headed for the spot where we had anchored last time, The catamaran was still here and it must have moved because we could not find a spot that was deep enough and had room to swing. I was on the tiller and Alan was up front ready to drop the anchor when there was a horrible crunch and we were on the reef. I screamed and put it in reverse but that was no good because there was coral all around. Alan secured the anchor and came and took the tiller while I went up front to look for a clear spot . After what seemed like hours of back and forth, alternately creeping and gunning he finally managed to get us turned around and out back into the channel. If it had been earlier in the day we would have left but we did not want to be out sailing in the dark so we moved on down the channel towards the village to see if we could find another spot, trying to remember from last time where the reefs were. Next try had us scraping bottom again but we finally found a spot that seemed OK. I think it is actually in the ferry lane but we plan to be gone early in the morning before the ferry arrives. I doubt that we will be back to Mana.
Next day we headed back to Muscat Cove and the next day back to Vunda Marina, just ahead of wet and windy weather.
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