Jan 15-25
It will be too embarrassing to go home after 4 months in Fiji without seeing the island, so we are going to take a road trip. We have the car reserved for 3 days. The plan is to drive completely around the island with a two night stay in Suva. Browsing the web brought up several possibilities of places to stay. After all of Alan’s convention work, we are not really interested in nice mid-range hotels. If we can’t have 5 star then we will go for super budget. We settled on the Capricorn Apartment Hotel, located in downtown Suva with parking and a kitchen for $50 per night (the exchange rate is about 2 fiji dollars to 1 US $) We almost stayed at the City Private for $20 with the bathroom was down the hall but by the time i went to book it they were sold out.. For our last night we booked a room in the Colo-i-Suva Rainforest Hotel. $30 for a hostel type room located just out of the city on a river.
We have no map except for the one in my old Lonely Planet tour book. I have been trying for weeks to get a map of the island but no one seems to have one. Since there is only one main road around the island we should be OK. We have our iPad with the GPS. So off we go. It is a cool, cloudy morning.We are at the beginning of the much needed rainy season and the hills are looking dry. The road follows the coastline with occasional jogs inland. There are scattered houses, small garden plots, cows and goats in the fields. From time to time there is a larger grouping of houses that constitute a village but it is all very random. There are no cultivated, fenced fields or neat little villages like you would see in Europe or the US. The fences, where they exist are rows of posts that have started to sprout and turn back into trees. Here and there we see lines of trees that obviously used to be a fence. About mid morning we stop at a wonderful small hotel, just along the road and get coffee and banana cake but mostly we just keep driving.
Just past the northern tip of the island the road veers inland and we climb up into the mountains. Now there are no more fields. The road follows the river through the trees. The villages cling to the side of the cliffs. Each village is marked by a pair stylized entry and exit posts. It is the same shape that we have seen on phone booths and government buildings, a long pole curving into a U shape at the top. We discover later that it is modeled after the mast on the old sailing outriggers.
Late in the afternoon we come back into civilizations, with more houses, more traffic, mini marts, gas stations and all the trappings of city life. The main road skirts the edge of the hills while the cities down along the waterfront. Driving becomes complicated, more so since we do not have a good map. As we work our way down into the city we come to more and more one way streets. There is no such thing as neat, tidy blocks. The streets wander every which way, going off at odd angles and circling back on themselves and changing named at each corner. We figure out where the hotel should be and aim in that general direction Eventually we even spot the hotel but it is several streets away and we cannot figure out how to get there. Just when we get close we are diverted off by a no left turn sign or a one way street and sent back up the hill again. An then suddenly, we find ourselves right in front of it. Quickly we pull into a parking place and take a deep breath. The car stays parked unless we leave town. We will explore on foot.
As usual, the hotel does not quite match the impression given in the on line pictures. We get checked in and climb two flights of stairs to the top floor and a very large room overlooking the pool with a view of the city. The first impression is that the room is cool, almost cold We have been hot and sweaty for so long. And the second is a large free standing bed. Wow. We have not slept in a whole bed since we were home six months ago. A bed where we can get in and out without crawling over each other. A bed where my feet can’t touch the roof. A bed we can sit on and bounce on and stretch out on. This might be worth the price of the trip right here. The room itself is large with a kitchen area about four times as big as the boat galley. There is a stove, refrigerator, sink, electric tea kettle and cupboards with various dishes and utensils. And a bathroom with a shower. And a lounge area with a table and chairs and a couple of couches. Not fancy but so much more room than we are used to.
Once we are settled we go out exploring. the city is not large but we have the same problem of streets not going where you expect them to. Al least we don't have to obey the one way street sign. We grab some dinner and groceries for tomorrow and soon head back to our wonderfully cool for mor a good nights sleep, with blankets.
One of the reasons for the trip is to pick up parts for the boat and see if we can find someone who knows how to splice wire. One of our shrouds has one broken wire. Does not sound too bad but if it lets so we look the past and have a potential disaster on our hands so Alan wants to fix it now. Supplies in Vuda are limited and Denerau is not much better. Suva is the main port with a large yacht harbor and The Royal Suva Yacht Club so there should be a lot of boat repair shops and chandleries along the waterfront. As far as I can tell, they are just north of town, too far to walk, so next day we reluctantly get back into the car and fight our way out of the city. After several wrong turns and reroutings down one way streets, as we are passing the market going the wrong way for the third time, Alan finally makes an illegal U turn followed by a left across 3 lanes of traffic and we are headed in the right direction and shortly spot a sign for the yacht club. From the website, we had been led to expect something fancy, complete with security guards, super yacht docks and a dress code. Not so. It was just a small cluster of buildings in an industrial part of town fronting a shallow bay. There were a few sail boats but mostly power boats for fishing tied up to the rickety docks. There were the typical group of people drinking beer and exchanging sea stories in the bar. We also somehow expected to be greeted with enthusiasm and a free beer or two when they learned that we had sailed fro the US but our introductions were mostly greeted with indifference. We didi manage to get directions to one chandlery where there might be one man who knew how to do wire splicing When we finally tracked him down and looked at a sample of his work Alan decided that he could do it himself just as well, without having to take it off and bring it into the shop and figure out how to put it back on again.
Back in town, we spent the afternoon and the next morning exploring. We walked through a lovely botanic garden, past a cricket match to the museum where we saw a wonderful old double hull canoe like those that populated the South Pacific islands. The magnificent Palace Hotel has been completely restored to its former glory as a 19th century edifice on the outside. Unfortunately, the new wings and the all of the bedrooms inside have been done in a modern steel and glass stye which does not really fit with the lovely, ornate grander of the main building. However, the entrance lobby is stunning and there is a real Swiss bakery which actually has a happy hour, half price off of whatever is left after 4:00. Alan had a ball.
Monday, April 27, 2015
Week 13,, Jan 4-Jan 15, 2015 Vuda Point Marina, Fiji
With the holidays over and a new year started there is a different energy in the marina. It is time to get serious about cyclone preparations. Everyone who is going to leave has done so. There are only about half a dozen of us left living on boats, either in the water or in the pits. Security is going boat to boat, making a list of everything that needs to be dome. Some have tarps and awnings that need to come down. Some need to be turned around, stern in. Some have dingus and motors and other things left on deck that need to be removed or secured. Every absentee owner gets a letter telling him what meeds to be done and what it will cost for the staff to do it. The local owners start showing up with work crews to get everything squared away. Since we are here, we don’t get a letter but we start to get things cleared off the deck as much as possible. Probably we will get the boat turned around just before I go home so that Alan does not have to do it all himself. Once I am gone, the extra sails and the dingy can be stored in the cabin
One interesting wrinkle, we notified our insurance company in September that we would be spending the season in Fiji. This week we finally got a response. Our insurance will not cover us unless we are below 20 degrees south during the official cyclone season. Fiji is at 17 degrees. And it also does not cover damage from a “named storm” Pretty useless. Unfortunately it is set up as an automatic payment and they are not about to give us our money back. So we just pray that there will not be a cyclone here this year. Once the season is over in April we are covered again.
Update: Alan read the small print over and over and finally decided that we are covered after all, at which point he sent an email to our agent. Turns out we are OK! Glad we did not cancel when we thought we were not covered
With the holidays over and a new year started there is a different energy in the marina. It is time to get serious about cyclone preparations. Everyone who is going to leave has done so. There are only about half a dozen of us left living on boats, either in the water or in the pits. Security is going boat to boat, making a list of everything that needs to be dome. Some have tarps and awnings that need to come down. Some need to be turned around, stern in. Some have dingus and motors and other things left on deck that need to be removed or secured. Every absentee owner gets a letter telling him what meeds to be done and what it will cost for the staff to do it. The local owners start showing up with work crews to get everything squared away. Since we are here, we don’t get a letter but we start to get things cleared off the deck as much as possible. Probably we will get the boat turned around just before I go home so that Alan does not have to do it all himself. Once I am gone, the extra sails and the dingy can be stored in the cabin
One interesting wrinkle, we notified our insurance company in September that we would be spending the season in Fiji. This week we finally got a response. Our insurance will not cover us unless we are below 20 degrees south during the official cyclone season. Fiji is at 17 degrees. And it also does not cover damage from a “named storm” Pretty useless. Unfortunately it is set up as an automatic payment and they are not about to give us our money back. So we just pray that there will not be a cyclone here this year. Once the season is over in April we are covered again.
Update: Alan read the small print over and over and finally decided that we are covered after all, at which point he sent an email to our agent. Turns out we are OK! Glad we did not cancel when we thought we were not covered
Week 12, Dec 28-Jan 3
Christmas passed quietly. Most of the staff had the day off. We had a lazy breakfast and went to the hotel next door for a swim. I had hoped to find someplace glitzy for New Years Eve where I could wear my dancing shoes and a sparkly gown but in the end, that was a very quiet day too. I had done some research on the internet but it all seemed too expensive or too much trouble. And so our days are filled with boat work. I am planing a trip home in February, to coincide with the Woman’s Sailing Convention in Newport Beach I would also like to go to Texas to visit my brother and his kids while I am home, so I am spending hours trying to find a cheap ticket and get all the dates coordinated. Alan is working on the engine and planing a box for the cockpit to get the switches and gages out of the water. There are numerous trips to town for groceries and supplies. it is hot and getting hotter and each little thing seems to take forever. Abut 5:00 people gather at the bar to have a beer and relax and talk about what is next
My project is once again varnish. After spending most of last summer in Mexico sanding and scraping and putting 4, 5, 6, 7 coats of varnish on the woodwork, we have decided to take it all off and just oil the wood. As usual, Alan did a lot of research into the issues and has decided on something called Uncle Billy’s oil. We ordered a dozen cans of it while we were in Mexico and have it packed away in the paint locker. Alan used it on the teak steps of the rat line and it seems to be doing well so we have decided to use it on the rest of the boat, even though it is mahogany not teak. Varnish looks beautiful when it first goes on but when you are sailing in the tropics it very quickly begins to fade and chip. After six months at sea it is looking pretty bad. Of course we could just paint the wood and be done with it but Rhapsody is such a classic boat that it just seems to need the wood trim.
Most of the old varnish just peals of in great long cheers, sort of like your skin after a good sunburn. But there are always those places, usually in an inaccessible corner, that just won’e come off. I use scrappers, sandpaper, ice picks letter openers and whatever else I can find. My favorite tools are a $10 set of cheese knives that I got at Cost Plus. The wooden handles fit my hand nicely and they are very sharp. When I finally have it all scraped down to the bare wood, Alan gives it a polish with the electric sander and it is ready to be oiled. It goes on quickly with a soft rag and looks lovely with a soft glow that brings out the grain of the wood. Best of all, no nasty smell of turpentine and no brushes to clean. We really don’t even need to wash our hands since it is actually good for your skin.
Of course the test will be how it looks after another 6 months of cruising. Will it really protect the wood? Will it still look nice or will we be thinking about sanding it off and going back to the varnish? Only time will tell
Christmas passed quietly. Most of the staff had the day off. We had a lazy breakfast and went to the hotel next door for a swim. I had hoped to find someplace glitzy for New Years Eve where I could wear my dancing shoes and a sparkly gown but in the end, that was a very quiet day too. I had done some research on the internet but it all seemed too expensive or too much trouble. And so our days are filled with boat work. I am planing a trip home in February, to coincide with the Woman’s Sailing Convention in Newport Beach I would also like to go to Texas to visit my brother and his kids while I am home, so I am spending hours trying to find a cheap ticket and get all the dates coordinated. Alan is working on the engine and planing a box for the cockpit to get the switches and gages out of the water. There are numerous trips to town for groceries and supplies. it is hot and getting hotter and each little thing seems to take forever. Abut 5:00 people gather at the bar to have a beer and relax and talk about what is next
My project is once again varnish. After spending most of last summer in Mexico sanding and scraping and putting 4, 5, 6, 7 coats of varnish on the woodwork, we have decided to take it all off and just oil the wood. As usual, Alan did a lot of research into the issues and has decided on something called Uncle Billy’s oil. We ordered a dozen cans of it while we were in Mexico and have it packed away in the paint locker. Alan used it on the teak steps of the rat line and it seems to be doing well so we have decided to use it on the rest of the boat, even though it is mahogany not teak. Varnish looks beautiful when it first goes on but when you are sailing in the tropics it very quickly begins to fade and chip. After six months at sea it is looking pretty bad. Of course we could just paint the wood and be done with it but Rhapsody is such a classic boat that it just seems to need the wood trim.
Most of the old varnish just peals of in great long cheers, sort of like your skin after a good sunburn. But there are always those places, usually in an inaccessible corner, that just won’e come off. I use scrappers, sandpaper, ice picks letter openers and whatever else I can find. My favorite tools are a $10 set of cheese knives that I got at Cost Plus. The wooden handles fit my hand nicely and they are very sharp. When I finally have it all scraped down to the bare wood, Alan gives it a polish with the electric sander and it is ready to be oiled. It goes on quickly with a soft rag and looks lovely with a soft glow that brings out the grain of the wood. Best of all, no nasty smell of turpentine and no brushes to clean. We really don’t even need to wash our hands since it is actually good for your skin.
Of course the test will be how it looks after another 6 months of cruising. Will it really protect the wood? Will it still look nice or will we be thinking about sanding it off and going back to the varnish? Only time will tell
Week 11
Dec 21-26
I have finally had it with the shopping and cooking and picking up and never going anywhere. First of all, Alan comes with me to go shopping from now on and we take a taxi back. Second, I get one day a week off, no cooking and no thinking about cooking, no cleaning or picking up or dishwashing, no chores. I want coffee made before I get up and he can figure out “what’s for dinner” And if we can’t get a car for a week to drive around the island, let’s at least get one for a day and go to the orchid garden.
And so, we do get a car. First stop is the Orchid garden, just a few miles south of Vuda, on the way to Nadi set back up against the hills. It is a lovely place that was owned by Raymond Burr. Several hundred acres of landscaped gardens dripping with orchids of all kinds and a lily pond complete with frogs. We spend several hours happily wandering, climb up and down hills, taking pictures (posted on Facebook) and generally relaxing. A guided tour is included in the price of admission and we are soon up to our ears in botanical names. When we are finally hot, tired and overloaded with beauty, we make our way back to the large airy reception bure and stretch out on their comfortable lounge chairs for a frosty drink and a short nap
Next stop is the mud baths. They are supposed to be just up the road, although no one here seems to be too sure about that. Since there is only one road here and we know we did not pass it on the way in, we figure that if we keep going we will come to it. And indeed, after driving through beautiful green hills for 15-20 minutes we spot a parking lot and a cluster of buildings. This must be it
A path leads from the parking lot to a gate and just inside is the admission booth. The local village owns and runs the place. Apparently there are 2 separate places, one for the tour buses and one for everyone else. Luckily we have ended up at the one for everyone else and there is almost no one here. There is a large family of Russians and a young Australian couple. Once we have dealt with the admission charges and declined all of the add on services, we are escorted along a path which winds among the pools. There is one with hot water, one with not-so-hot water , one with cool water and one for going into first to be sure all the mud is off. At the far end of the path is a large open room with benches all around and a couple of semi enclosed changing rooms. I packed our oldest swimsuits on the theory that we may never get the mud out. Once we are changed we are led across the grass to steps which go down into a large pool of mud, black slimy gooey mud. Gingerly, hanging on tight to the railing, we make our way down the steps into the mud. One step, two steps, three, four and then there is just the bottom and I have to let go and move away so that the next person can come down. It is warm and squish between my toes. There are weeds growing on the bottom.and rocks and sticks This is definitely an “organic” experience, not a deluxe spa. The procedure is to cover yourself from head to toe with the mud and then come out and bake in the sun until it is dry. While the water in the pool is muddy, the actual mud is on the bottom and I need to reach down and scoop up handfuls of it to cover myself. Alan and I take turns making sure no spot is missed. He had announced earlier that he was not interested joining me but somehow, there he was,covered from head to toe in black mud.
During the drying period we wandered around the grounds. The villagers had set up booths selling the usual local handicrafts and we picked up some carved wooden figures for presents. When the mud had turned from black to light grey and was starting to crack we headed back to the pool to rinse. Then we lounged our way through each of the other pools, real pools of cement and tile. When we were all clean and mellow we joined the villagers for a feast of baked fish, cassava and greens and glasses of juice and then headed back home to the marina.
The villager ladies tell me they indulge in a mud bath once a week. I imagine it is a very different atmosphere when the area is closed to tourists and the it is only the locals, soaking and scrubbing and having a party
Dec 21-26
I have finally had it with the shopping and cooking and picking up and never going anywhere. First of all, Alan comes with me to go shopping from now on and we take a taxi back. Second, I get one day a week off, no cooking and no thinking about cooking, no cleaning or picking up or dishwashing, no chores. I want coffee made before I get up and he can figure out “what’s for dinner” And if we can’t get a car for a week to drive around the island, let’s at least get one for a day and go to the orchid garden.
And so, we do get a car. First stop is the Orchid garden, just a few miles south of Vuda, on the way to Nadi set back up against the hills. It is a lovely place that was owned by Raymond Burr. Several hundred acres of landscaped gardens dripping with orchids of all kinds and a lily pond complete with frogs. We spend several hours happily wandering, climb up and down hills, taking pictures (posted on Facebook) and generally relaxing. A guided tour is included in the price of admission and we are soon up to our ears in botanical names. When we are finally hot, tired and overloaded with beauty, we make our way back to the large airy reception bure and stretch out on their comfortable lounge chairs for a frosty drink and a short nap
Next stop is the mud baths. They are supposed to be just up the road, although no one here seems to be too sure about that. Since there is only one road here and we know we did not pass it on the way in, we figure that if we keep going we will come to it. And indeed, after driving through beautiful green hills for 15-20 minutes we spot a parking lot and a cluster of buildings. This must be it
A path leads from the parking lot to a gate and just inside is the admission booth. The local village owns and runs the place. Apparently there are 2 separate places, one for the tour buses and one for everyone else. Luckily we have ended up at the one for everyone else and there is almost no one here. There is a large family of Russians and a young Australian couple. Once we have dealt with the admission charges and declined all of the add on services, we are escorted along a path which winds among the pools. There is one with hot water, one with not-so-hot water , one with cool water and one for going into first to be sure all the mud is off. At the far end of the path is a large open room with benches all around and a couple of semi enclosed changing rooms. I packed our oldest swimsuits on the theory that we may never get the mud out. Once we are changed we are led across the grass to steps which go down into a large pool of mud, black slimy gooey mud. Gingerly, hanging on tight to the railing, we make our way down the steps into the mud. One step, two steps, three, four and then there is just the bottom and I have to let go and move away so that the next person can come down. It is warm and squish between my toes. There are weeds growing on the bottom.and rocks and sticks This is definitely an “organic” experience, not a deluxe spa. The procedure is to cover yourself from head to toe with the mud and then come out and bake in the sun until it is dry. While the water in the pool is muddy, the actual mud is on the bottom and I need to reach down and scoop up handfuls of it to cover myself. Alan and I take turns making sure no spot is missed. He had announced earlier that he was not interested joining me but somehow, there he was,covered from head to toe in black mud.
During the drying period we wandered around the grounds. The villagers had set up booths selling the usual local handicrafts and we picked up some carved wooden figures for presents. When the mud had turned from black to light grey and was starting to crack we headed back to the pool to rinse. Then we lounged our way through each of the other pools, real pools of cement and tile. When we were all clean and mellow we joined the villagers for a feast of baked fish, cassava and greens and glasses of juice and then headed back home to the marina.
The villager ladies tell me they indulge in a mud bath once a week. I imagine it is a very different atmosphere when the area is closed to tourists and the it is only the locals, soaking and scrubbing and having a party
Sunday, March 22, 2015
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
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
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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