Today’s excitement came from a boat dragging through the anchorage barely missing several others as it careened through in the 30 knot gusts, anchor dragging along the bottom. After a couple of us made frantic radio calls warning other boats of the danger, the dragging boat finally got under control, got their anchor up and moved to a new spot. Everyone’s a bit more nervous now in the vicious gusts and we have turned on the GPS anchor alarm on Charisma even though it will almost surely wake me up at least once tonight with a false alarm. Oh well, better that than no alarm at all if we drag.

Here's a picture of the anchor watch screen. You can see how many wind changes we've been having.

Other than that not much adventure to report. A more pedestrian day. I fixed the head which decided a couple days ago to stop working (again). You could flush but no new water would come in. We had to pour a bucket of water in the bowl to do the flush. After procrastinating the appropriate amount of time I finally took the bowl off and found that the check valve ball was stuck. I poked it and it came undone. Put the bowl back on and we’re in business again so to speak.

Ann made cookies and we finished the day with a walk down the beach. That’s about it. Tomorrow maybe if the wind lays down a bit, we’ll go to “The Caves”. One of those places where you snorkel through an underwater tunnel and come up into a cave. We’ll see.

Right now I just wish this wind would die down. The gusts are hitting so hard Charisma’s leaning over and I have to brace myself to keep from falling off the seat. And we’re at anchor!

Yes, that one. The one where Brooke Shields cavorted with what’s his name.

We sailed about 20 miles south down the west side of Yasawa in very blustery conditions. Nice to tuck in here protected on all sides. Still a bit windy, but no ocean swell to worry about.

It was probably once a beautiful spot. It still is, but in a resort kind of way. Tomorrow night we’re going to have dinner with Orcinius at the Blue Lagoon resort.

Just chillin’ for a day or so, waiting for the full moon when apparently it’s prime condition for swimmimg with the manta rays a little further south. Stay tuned for that one..

PAR.  It’s a type of bad weather radar assisted approach used by the military to get their aircraft on the runway in zero/zero conditions.  Basically (and highly simplified explanation) a radar controller using precision radar tracks the aircraft and “talks” the pilot down to the ground.

What does this have to do with Charisma?  Well, we were approaching the Yasawas (from the north) last night at 2200 in deteriorating weather AND we had two retired military radar controllers sitting on Orcinius waiting for us.  They brought us in.

Normally I would never come through the reefs in poor visibility let alone at night, but Orcinius had a track through the reef (as depicted on their chart plotter/radar) that they made when they came in here mid-afternoon with good visibility so were able to give us some waypoints.  But even better, they tracked us on their radar and compared the radar return with the track they made earlier in the day (a “red line” shown on their radar screen).  This gave us a backup and more precision than just following waypoints (in which you can easily be a hundred yards off).  Wow – Precision Approach Radar.  Add to that my experience as an instrument (IFR) rated private pilot and a normally questionable approach looked pretty doable.  I’ve flow down the glideslope to within a couple hundred feet or so of the ground without being able to see the runway (or the ground for that matter) in rain and fog just using the “gauges” so why not in my boat?

So, in we went.  And we were relieved to head in.  A night spent hove to in increasingly windy, building waves and rain with lightning visible in the distance is not my idea of fun.

Before starting in I made a “route” on the chart plotter using the waypoints that John gave me earlier in the day via shortwave radio.  That way the general route plan was automated and I had a feed into the helm for steering.  The GPS would show us a path.  Normally just the GPS is not enough for me to feel comfortable around reefs in the dark – but with our radar controllers we had backup.  As we approached we called them on the VHF.  They responded that they had us on radar and would give us further direction as needed.  Great.  We’re on the glideslope.  Time to start the approach.

As we rounded the north end of the island we were taking some breaking waves into the cockpit, so not a lot of fun.  It’s now blowing 20+ gusting to 30.  I had to concentrate on the helm to keep us on the track, so Ann took care of the radio.  “Orcinius, Orcinius, this is Charisma, do you copy?”  “Roger, Charisma.  Have you loud and clear.  Good signal on radar; we have you coming right on the line”.  Nice.  They even sound like radar controllers.

As we got closer in where the reef narrows and Ann needed to be doing some other boat prep to get the anchor ready and such (I was too busy steering in the blustery conditions to do the talking) , Orcinius called, “OK, no response needed, we’ll just give directions.  Charisma, make a 10 degree left turn.  OK, back on the line.  Now turn right straight to our light.  Good come straight in, you’re right on the line”.

And so it went.  It took about an hour from our initial approach point until we pulled up to within a boat length behind Orcinius where we dropped the anchor and immediately got blown back on the anchor by the gusting wind.  Fortunately the holding here is exceptional in good sand and the anchor grabbed right off and dug in.  We were set.

After cleaning up the boat a little to make sure nothing blew overboard during the night, we talked about our approach over a glass (OK, a couple glasses!) of wine.  We decided that was kind of fun, but the third kind of fun that is better after you wake up the next morning.  For now we agreed, “Let’s not do that again soon!”

Many thanks to Controllers John and Lisa from Orcinius.  You guys are awesome!

Position: 16 degrees 27 minutes south; 177 degrees, 46 minutes east

It’s coming on 1900 on our second night out from Nagelelevu. We’re about 16 miles from the north end of the northern most Yasawa island and are headed for Yasawa-I-Rara. It’s a bay just down from the top of the island. Orcinius got there this afternoon, so we have a bit of a description of the anchorage as well as some waypoints for coming in. It’s a bright moon, so with the waypoints and our radar we’re going to go in. We expect to get there sometime around 2200 or so. If it doesn’t look good we’ll stand off for the night and go in during daylight. We’ll see.

Last night was one of those nights that keep you coming back for more. We sailed all night in the brilliant moonlight. No clouds, stars, moon, calm one meter swell and nice warm breeze that kicked us along between 4 and 6 knots. It doesn’t get much better for a passage. Then today around noon the wind died way down and we reluctantly turned on the engine and have been motor-sailing ever since in an effort to get to the anchorage at a reasonable hour (if you consider 2200 as reasonable. Well it’s better than, say, 0300)

So stay turned tomorrow and we’ll tell you how it went and maybe describe a little of our first impression of the Yasawa chain of islands. It’s in the northwest part of the Fiji archipelago. We didn’t go here last year, so it will be all new.

And I really, really, mean CLOSE!

How close (you might ask)? Well, I’m sitting in the cockpit around 1700 reading a book when suddenly there’s a loud splashing noise and water is starting to pour into the cockpit. My immediate reaction was rough wave and I ducked, but the water kept coming, now like a firehose with a powerful “whooshing” noise. What the hell??!! As I was getting drenched from this mystery “wave” I looked out (actually down) into the water just in time to see a whale almost touching Charisma’s side. As I was watching completely slack-jawed at the wonder and terror of it all I was also getting drenched as its blow hole was spouting so close to Charisma it hit the underside of our solar panel which deflected the water/whale snot into the cockpit and at me. As I was still processing what was happening I watched the dark grey body slide next to us – headed in the opposite direction – and saw its tail come out of the water. Fortunately it was a gentle sway instead of a slap. As many sailors know, sailboats have been sunk by just such an encounter. How we didn’t get hit I’ll never know.

I do know that I think the whale was just as scared as I was (Ann was down below on the radio and didn’t get to see the initial encounter) because the water all around where we “came together” was brown. I think we scared the $%@ out of him too!

Phew, we’ve now had enough of whales for quite some time thank you very much.

Such a unique experience to come to this place. First off there are only two guys who live here and one of those has been gone most of this year. His uncle Mo is the only one living on this tiny island. Mo’s brother lived her by himself before Mo did. There’s nothing here but a couple of old shacks that they are adding to hodge podge as they find old nails and boards. The island is very remote. It is the most Northeast of the islands in the Fiji archipelago and it’s at least 50 miles from any other inhabited land. It’s also tiny. The lagoon is almost 12 miles long, but the island is only about ½ mile long and somewhat less than that wide.

My friend Mo and me on the beach in front of his house.

But, the spirit is so strong here. These two and especially Mo have such a strong belief. It’s just such fun to be around them. And fun that Mo remembered Ann and me from last year including details that he pointed out such as which path we took through the jungle(“Look, remember we went that way last year”) and he remembered that last year we were heading to Nairai to meet the folks who found our bottle. Of course we are only the third yacht that has visited his island in the last twelve months so maybe not so hard to remember. One of the boats we recommended come here last year made up a Guest Book for him to have yachties sign. That’s how we know how many have come – and we’re proud that even though we were here first, our name, a picture of Charisma and a little note are now also in the book.

It’s pretty interesting to see how simply someone can live and still enjoy life. Mo loves his life even though he almost literally has nothing. Except as he will point out, he in fact has a lot. Beautiful sunrises, starlit nights, clear water and plentiful food from the ground and sea. Mo may not have much but he is not wanting.

So, what a treat to be able to revisit for a second time such a wonderful person. I do hope we might meet him yet again.

Such a beautiful place (John and Bob walking the beach)

So long Mo and thanks for the wonderful hospitality. I hope we might be able to come see you next year.

(A postscript:  Mo asked us if we would telephone his brother Leone who lives in Suva and ask him to send a AM Radio when Matea comes back, to replace the one that broke. We called him today and had a great conversation and hope we might get to meet him in person when we get to Denarau in a couple weeks.  How fun to make connections like this from island to island and across the world).

By Ann: One of the joys of cruising in Fiji is attending church services. I know, not everyone would say that church services are their thing, but once you hear the Fijians lifting their voices in song you will agree. They are a treat. The churches that we have attended in Fulunga and Nairai were Methodist. Honestly, I was hoping to see more Catholic churches. I did attend a Catholic mass last year when we were in Suva. And I never would have known about it if our friend Mo, from Nagalelevu had not told me to look for it. Mo used to live in Suva and used to attend daily mass.

Now Mo lives on a small island, sometimes with his nephew, but for most of the last ten months, alone. That’s a big change in lifestyle. When we go ashore in Nagalelevu one of the first things you notice is a statue of the Virgin Mary on a pedestal in the garden. This statue was one of the first things that the guys “reclaimed” upon their return to the island. And today Mo has created a nice bench to sit and pray. And he adorns her with fresh flowers daily. Mo refers to the statue as “Our Lady” and stops to pray twice a day. And he credits “Our Lady” with much of their good fortune. When we asked how it was that they were able to afford a fiber (Fijian slang for 20 foot open boat with outboard), Mo put his hands in together as if in prayer, his eyes lit up and lifted to the sky and he said, “Our Lady provided.”

"Our Lady" (Picture from our visit last year - has since been cleaned up)

Knowing that I would often miss church services during our travels I obtained a daily mass booklet for Catholics. It has kept me in contact with my formal faith as we have traveled. Seeing Mo’s strong faith that he so willingly shared with me I decided to take it in for him. Pleased is not a strong enough description for his reaction. His eyes filled with tears of joy. He held it as gently as a newborn. And he thanked me profusely.

Pray for our safe travels, Mo and I will pray for you in return. Small island, big faith.

Or as we found out “Feremo”. That’s his real name. We got into the island around 1200 and Moe was waiting for us to hike across the island. He had a rice sack and I was thinking that he would pick up some garbasge on the windward side. Little did I know what he had in mind.

(Editors note: For more on Mo, his nephew Matea and this island see our blog from last year’s archive on August 21, 2013)

Any wonder why Mo loves this place. (Those are Charisma and Orcinius way off in the background. You have to anchor about a mile off the reef).

We walked through the jungle. The path was not much more defined than last year. We probably couldn’t have found our way by ourselves. Along the way he showed us places where the “old ones” had plantations. It was pretty cool to have the anthro-history lesson. You could almost hear the voices of his ancestors.

Part way across he suddenly stopped and we saw him reach down. A giant coconut crab! Moe very triumphantly announced we now had dinner! This guy was huge. Probably 30-40 years old. That’s the one problem with harvesting these animals. They grow very slowly. We only taste them here where they are not over-harvested since only one or two people live here.

Miss grabbing this crab just right and say "goodbye" to your finger.

He very carefully tied it up with vines from the forest floor before putting into the rice bag. Ah, now we get it. Moe has several black fingers and toes from coconut crab encounters. Their claws can cut through coconuts – you can image what they can do to your extremities!

So, a great hike, coconut crabs, some coconuts on the beach to recover from the hike and back to the boats for dinner of coconut crab.

John and Mo taking a break.

Bringing back the crab.

Mr. Crab ready for the pot.

The kitchen. Water's almost boiling.

Cooked crabs, dinner's ready!

You can see from this picture how their claws can open coconuts so easily.

Or should I call it “Stupid Captain Tricks”?

Either way, we almost lost our dinghy last night. We were anchored in the lagoon at Nagelelevu, coming back from dinner on Orcinius. It was windy and bumpy and maybe some alcohol was involved. Anyway as I went to put the dinghy painter (that’s the bow line for you landlubbers) through the hawse hole in the side of the boat so I could put it on a cleat, a big wave hit the dinghy and knocked the painter out of my hand. I tried to get the boat hook but by the time I untied it and got to the stern the dinghy was out of reach and sailing away into the darkness. For a split second I had a choice. Jump in the water after it or call Orcinius and get them to come over in their dinghy. I thought better of jumping. The wind was blowing it away almost as fast as I could swim and IF I caught it I might be too exhausted to climb in. Fortunately I had that choice. Anyway, John quickly launched theirs (it’s on a hoist on the stern), and zoomed over. I jumped in with our high power flashlight and off we went into the darkness. Looking downwind we saw nothing for a moment or two, then, swinging the light a bit I caught a reflection of the light. There it was and off we went. The tricky part was we were headed right for the reef. You couldn’t see how shallow the water was getting. But John is a bold driver and we charged on with me crossing my fingers. We got to it before it hit the reef and I lept in, started the engine and we headed back. Getting soaked the whole way in the steepening waves caused by the shallow water.

Phew! Thank you, John.

So today went a little better. We waited out some squally, rainy weather and went into the beach around 1300. Lisa was feeling a little under the weather, so John, Ann and I hit the beach hoping that we would find the two “castaways” we met here last year. Walking anxiously up to the hut we didn’t see any sign, so we called out, “Bula, bula” and from within the hut we heard some stirring. Coming closer we could see it was Moe. Yeah! He’s still here. And he remembered us. We spent the afternoon sitting in his hut and talking about how it was going. Turns out they just got a boat this summer and Matei, Moe’s nephew, had taken it in to Taveuni to sell some fish they caught and to take a course – we’re not quite sure what, but some kind of captain’s course probably to operate a vessel.

Here's Mo's house. He's added a room since last year.

Mo is encouraging the chickens to come in the house and lay eggs. Beats having to find them in the bush. He's also working on a hen house to keep the chickens in at night. That will be even easier.

Anyway, we brought some gifts for Moe and gave them (John and Lisa also brought some they will bring tomorrow). He was thrilled and…Coconut crab tomorrow!! This place is crawling with them so it’s the only place where we would accept one.

So, tomorrow we’ll go in for a hike across the island, then Moe said he would cook the crabs for us and tomorrow night we’ll enjoy one of the truly rare tastes in the world.

It is 0815 and we have been motor-sailing for two hours already, on our way to Ngalelevu, the most northeastern island in Fiji. Our visit last year was a huge treat. Living on the small island in a 12-mile lagoon we found
Matei, a 35-year old man and Moe, his 69-year old uncle. These guys were the only two people living on an island full of coconut crabs. They were working or reclaiming the island so their wives and families would join them. Their goal was to have a house ready for their wives by Christmas.

So today we will push through the 10 hour sail and see if the boys are still there. Sure hope so because we are bringing Orcinius along to meet them. And we have some goodies for them.

If not, another great anchorage to share with Orcinius!