PANAMA TO OZ - April to November 1995

Hazel Sneath

(Hazel wrote from Australia last December, continuing the account of her and Dave's circumnavigation aboard their 35ft Chassiron RF Mon Tour, begun in the previous issue).

I left you last April, as we sped down the Gulf of Panama into a black night lit by forked lightning -- and now I write from Australia. It has been an adventurous six months and new ground to us. First we had to reach the Galapagos. This ocean section is notorious for cross currents, squalls and fickle winds. Considering all, we didn't fare badly. It took us twelve days and was mostly to windward. We were really looking forward to visiting the Galapagos but had heard conflicting reports about being allowed to stop there and how much it could cost. We made straight for Academy Bay and anchored. The cost seemed to depend on the personality and mood of the particular official on duty, but is well worth it. There are plenty of organised tours to choose from, and the whole experience holds an Alice in Wonderland quality! The town was friendly and the supermarket well stocked. It would be best if one could plan well in advance and be granted a permit, as the allotted few days are just not enough. The group of islands is large and the wildlife varied and exotic. We found the Darwin Centre well laid out and informative.

One day we caught a local bus inland and trekked on horseback with a guide to see the giant tortoise out in the bush. We came face to face with several of the archaic, ambling creatures, and we waited silently and watched. What stories they could tell. I believe Captain James Cook presented one of these creatures to the King of Tonga in 1774 and it lived a life of luxury in the Palace grounds, only dying in 1966!

Our favourite stop was to anchor in Black Beach Bay (Playa Negra) on the small island of Floreana. The port captain was very friendly, and the village tiny. Up in the hills behind the village German settlers had begun a farm, an agricultural centre which thrives to this day. The one guest house is run by Erika Wittmer, who comes from the same German family. They offer a large evening meal for US$5, and you eat with the family and chat. Both food and company were excellent. A short walk along the coast is a bay which is home to sealions. It was fascinating to watch them - dads sunbathing on the dunes and rocks, mums and aunts minding the children, and little ones splashing around in the sea. All so ungainly on land, yet so graceful and swift in the water. At 4pm sharp, as if a bell had rung, they sped off to sea to look for supper, leaving a nucleus of kids and babyminders on the beach, who would be fed on their return.

All the various creatures we saw were so tame. The motto was `look not touch'. They were so unafraid that you could approach close up.

From the Galapagos it took us twenty-eight days to the Marquesas. The passage was straightforward trade wind sailing with only a few squalls and was an unexpected delight. Apart from a handful of large fishing ships, usually encountered at night, and a series of US weather stations (in the form of floating pylons) to avoid, it was an empty stretch of ocean. Making landfall at Nuka Hiva was exciting. We were dreading both the `No-No Fly' and `Le Bond'! However, neither were as bad as we'd heard. If you've visited Skye and coped with the midges you could cope with the No-Nos -- but I wrote a poem about them, all the same!

THE FEROCIOUS NO-NO FLY

The No-No Fly lives here.

He's a vicious little beast.

He lies in wait upon the shore,

Attacking yachties by the score

And on them has a feast.

He's very small and makes no sound

And his bite is merciless.

The midges on the Isle of Skye

Are naught compared with the No-No Fly

On the Isles of the Marquesas.

Mountains, gorges, waterfalls;

It's all so unexpected.

You wander round in great delight,

After sea and sky it's quite a sight --

Then your bites become infected.

Fully clothed and `jungle-juiced'

You walk round in a sweat,

"So bite me now", is the battle cry

But then you find the blooming fly's

Crawled straight through your mosquito net.

There is no answer; not a doubt.

It makes you want to scream and shout.

You itch and scratch; you scratch and itch.

Suddenly life's become a bitch

And o'er the side you want to pitch

Your vile and bitten body ..............aaarrrgh.....

As for `Le Bond' -- well, we bit the bullet and paid it, but not until we'd reached Tahiti. You're allowed thirty days to sort out payment, and there is no pressure to pay it in the Marquesas. Some folk avoided paying it, but risked being boarded by the patrol boat and fined. We found the cheapest way to pay was in US dollars. We paid $1000 each, in a mixture of cash and travellers' cheques, and were allowed to claim it back in dollars. If you pay in any other currency, or by VISA, it is converted into French Polynesian francs and you get it back in francs, thus having to change it back into whatever currency you need next -- so you lose out twice on the exchange. If you pay in US dollars it is NOT converted to FP francs. It was the Bank of Tahiti which unexpectedly advised us of this, and their only charge for the transaction was US$25 each. Other folk paid more than this. As we spent ten weeks in French Polynesia we were able to claim it back easily at our last port of call in Bora Bora, by giving the Bank of Tahiti there five days' notice.

We were well pleased with visiting these stunning islands, ranging from the atolls of the Tuamotus to the mountainous islands north of Tahiti. It is truly a paradise, but it is an expensive one, so we were glad to have stocked up well in Panama. A note here about Duty Free stores. Customs regard yachties as tourists, not big ships, and only allow you what you'd normally be able to take into France (or UK), ie. not a lot! The patrol boat had a field day boarding yachts, charging duty or confiscating booze. We had heard you could declare it, have it bonded, and then reclaim it in Tahiti. However this proved a major and difficult accomplishment, made harder by the distinct anti-nuclear activity (the flip side of the coin in French Polynesia). French officialdom was not flavour of the month -- and again, it seemed to depend on the personality of the particular officer.

We were glad when cruising these islands that we had plenty of anchor chain and rope. Anchorages can be deep (20-30 metres) and there are many coral heads to tangle with. It was a comfort to have a diving bottle as then at least we could free it ourselves. We explored coastline and mountains by boat, bus and foot and left Bora Bora's beautiful shores bound for Pago-Pago in American Samoa, to stock up with food.

Eleven days of `fresh' sailing in and out of the tropical convergence zone followed. Squalls and cross-seas, and we arrived in the teeth of a gale to a busy harbour and a lot of anxious yachties on anchor watch. We joined them. The town and island were very different from expectations and we liked it. It was small, scruffy in a natural way, and very friendly. We had several walks and bus rides exploring, and topped a rise one quiet Sunday morning to hear the strains of hymn singing swelling up from a church in a small bay far below. The singing in these islands is something else. As we ascended the ridge to the top of the old cable car station we could still hear the harmonising.

Supplies, water and fuel were easily obtainable, and the only drawback was the smell from the tuna cannery once a day. It was great to have washing machines and showers handy again -- the first time in four months, since Panama. The yacht club was twenty minutes' walk but was welcoming, with an excellent bar and very reasonably priced cafe, and a good book swap.

The problem with cruising is that you don't have time to go everywhere. We should like to have called in at Western Samoa and visited the Robert Louis Stevenson museum etc, but then we'd have missed other places. One morning we left for the Vava'u group of Northern Tonga and had another lively three day flier on the wind.

It is one thing to read about these places, but the reality can be so different. Tonga we loved. It is poor, friendly and religious in mixed proportions. Pigs roam the shores and the villages. Dirt roads lead everywhere, and the shops look like something out of the wild west. Officialdom hit the boat before we'd even tied up at the wharf at Niafu. Thud! -- Thwack! -- they jumped, and landed on the deck looking twice the size of large rugby players! As they're trained by the Aussie customs they promptly confiscated our fruit and vegetables. We completed various forms in the cabin, and they chatted and accepted a beer.

There is a thriving charter business in the Vava'u group. They have excellent information on the various anchorages, and there is a good net. It is as well to have good charts as there are many reefs to avoid. It is not walking country, but the cruising is idyllic and it reminded us of Scotland. Families visit you in their little boats and sell or trade their wares. Their basketwork and weaving are of really robust quality and very good value. Even if you don't want to buy they always invite you to their church, and ask for sweets for their children or for anything `western' -- batteries, magazines, clothes etc.

Snorkelling the various coral reefs is sheltered and unspoilt, and the highlight is visiting two big caves, one by dinghy and the other by surface-diving in snorkel and mask. Both are unique experiences.

Our three week spell there was all too short, but we had to press on to Fiji and Australia, and we chose a break in the weather for a fast ride to Suva. We arrived just in time to attend a wedding on the foredeck of a singlehander's boat. The couple had met in the Mediterranean (each being singlehanded), had managed to `court' en route (don't ask me how!) and plighted their troth in Suva harbour with a local preacher presiding over the ceremony. Champagne and goodies followed and it all made the Owl and Pussycat look tame!

Reaching Suva was akin to reaching Heaven. It began with the yacht club who were welcoming, organised and efficient -- you could do everything there concerning faxes, phone calls and photocopying. Once those were seen to, you could drink excellent beer at their bar and partake of mouthwatering meat pies followed by ice cream. Prices were more than reasonable and you felt replete for the whole day. There was a restaurant for the more discerning, and a splendid view over green lawns across the bay. Children had play areas outside and in, and solar-panel powered hot showers were available throughout the day or night. The washing machines were well used, as were clothes lines inside or out (it rains a lot in Suva). Fuel and water were easily available and cheap, and in between all this you could relax in front of TV or play ping-pong. See what I mean? All this cost an anchorage fee of œ12 a week, or you could pay more and tie up on the pontoons. Town was twenty minutes' walk away, or 12p by bus. In town you could buy spares -- paint and varnish were particularly good buys -- or get anything repaired, and the market was bulging with fresh fruit and vegetables. Supermarkets and hot bread shops abounded and prices were all reasonable. If not, you bargained. The locals were a hotchpotch of Fijian, Indian and Chinese. We were obviously street-wise again, as in any city, and careful about locking up and keeping an eye on each others' boats, but we had no problems.

The further west you travel, the more fussy become Customs and Immigration and the longer it takes. Fiji took a few hours and was in triplicate. We obtained a cruising permit to visit different island groups, and also an entry visa for Australia.

We organised a land expedition to climb the highest mountain, Mount Victoria (4341ft). This involved an eight hour bus ride and crossed some beautiful countryside, ending up a mountain dust road complete with hairpin bends and stunning views. At times it seemed as though complete villages were travelling on our bus, bringing lots of locally grown produce. As the bus had no windows and the roads were unmetalled we felt as though we'd traversed a desert on a motorbike. However, we revived after the village chief accepted our kava gift and we took part in the drinking ceremony. He then fed us and we slept on his mat floor. A successful summit ascent was achieved the next day, and when the party descended to bathe in his river he offered us more refreshment. Yes -- a welcome change from The Sea.

Three days of perfect sailing followed, along Fiji's south coast to Musket Cove and then Lautoka. The west coast is hot and is sugarcane country, compared with `soggy Suva' in the east with its jungle-clad hills and market garden areas.

Musket Cove is a well organised tourist resort -- though friendly to yachties -- and is set in a beautiful offshore island bay. From here it was a half-day sail to anchor off the boatyard/marina at Lautaka, where we stocked up and cleared outward Customs.

Unfortunately our time ran out before we'd had the chance to explore the other island groups, but we hope to be back next year. Next we plan to make the two week passage to Brisbane and wait out the Pacific cyclone season on Australia's west coast. Time should pass quickly, as we have relatives and friends to visit and much necessary boat maintenance to do.

Strange to think that this time last year we were setting off on our adventure to cross Biscay in the teeth of the autumn gales. How much we have seen and learned this year, and what a medley of experiences it has brought. Work looms on the horizon now before we continue our voyage -- but we shall be in touch when it does.