Ups andDownsTual, Maluku Province, Indonesia June 7th 2020 The entire voyage would be 1200 miles and the first 300 mile leg was a journey across the bay of Papua New Guinea. It was still cyclone season but our PNG visas were up so we decided to take the path less traveled; the Northern Passage through the Torres Straits. This route is fairly safe from boat-eating-cyclones if we stayed very close to the Papua mainland. That meant dealing with reefage and extremely shallow ground. We were headed to Indonesia, the port of Tual specifically, a voyage that we expected to take 10 days and ended up taking almost a month. To add to the darkness of this passage, about 24 hours after we left Port Moresby, the world had begun closing down behind us. We would not find out about this devastating circumstance until we reached the other side of the bay; we were busy sailing and being sick. I was sure it was corona virus and was ready to give it up (I missed my dog). Dois was sure it was not covid19 (he missed her too but he is not the drama queen I am). He was right, we lived, it was only a cold. After 3 days of varied sailing conditions we dropped anchor behind Daru, one of the poorest little islands I have ever seen. The mud flats at low tide were covered in garbage and the beach behind was a mass of lean-tos and tents. We were planning on leaving the next morning so we used their cell tower for world class internet speeds (it would be a rare villager that has a phone). We discovered that Ports we needed to get into for provisions and sanctuary were closed or closing. This was crushing news to sailors not currently checked into any country. We were no longer certain of our welcome into foreign waters and it would be over 3 weeks before we would find out our fate. The shallow pass has a tidal range of 12' or more. The higher the tide the faster the current, maybe as much as 6 knots. Morning tidal currents were flowing in the direction we wanted to go, but because of all the reef in the area, the published tides are not very reliable. A 6 hour tide gave us a 25 mile range and the next 2 island anchorages are conveniently placed just about 25 miles away. We left early on the low tide and reached Saibai Island anchorage the in the afternoon. We woke early again on the next day (March 8) to check the weather and to start the next leg to Boigu Island. But Mother Nature had a completely different plan (as she often does). A weather check revealed a cyclone forming to our south. Saibai Island would not provide much if any protection from the outer bands of a strong cyclone. So we did a 180 degree turn to head back to the more protected island of Daru. It was the right decision, but a particularly terrifying trip back. We would be going against the tide. We needed to cross the Shallows (an area about 1/2 mile long) sooner than later. Unfortunately we were fighting the current in this direction, dropping our speed to 2 or 3 knots. We reached it later. That meant we had less water with a longer traverse time. We needed the tide to turn and carry us quickly to the other side. I watched the numbers on the depth sounder go down into single digits (from the keel) and read out the numbers to Dois on the bow, he watched the sand come up. The tide continued to ebb and should have turned already. We were running out of time (and water). Our choices were: 1) Turn & run, find a deep spot quick & anchor for the night in an uncharted spot, in the middle of nowhere, with unknown rocks and reefs lurking in the depths. (Can you tell I did not like this idea?) 2) Lay Ashika down on her side in the rising sand (if we got caught in too shallow waters). That can break things, really not a good idea. 3) Go for it. Can you guess what we did? We went for it. When we clear the Shallows, we would be less than 15 miles to Daru. But we had lost many hours fighting the current and our timing was dubious. We did not want to traverse this path in the dark. We just needed the tide to catch up with us. I could see Dois doubting the decision and the word "TURN! " was on his lips when the water suddenly whorled up in clouds of sand and we could no longer see the bottom. The tide was turning. It's called slack tide, but here in the shallows, it is anything but slack. Instead, it is turbulent; the water turns into a boiling cauldron of churning water and sand, trying to find its new path to open ocean. Then, just few moments later...wala! The tide has turned as was promised since the beginning of time. The current was moving in our direction again propelling us accoss the sandy bottom at 8 knots over 8' of water. We can see every blade of grass in the sand and we are searching for depth. It happened so suddenly it left us breathless with relief and not a small amount of fear. The horrifying thought of of hitting a sand mogul or worse, a rock kept us from celebrating until we made it back to Daru... just in time to watch the sunset. Our fridge had died the previous week (ongoing design flaw, dont buy an Isotherm) and we lost a lot of provisions. All of our fresh and frozen foods were mostly tossed overboard. Since we were back in Daru, we asked the officials for permission to go ashore to re-provision. We arrived at the mud flats in our dinghy to navigate the many criss-crossed anchor lines of fishing pangas, deserted boats and boat condos. And trash. Lots of trash. They did not get the email about plastic in our oceans. Walking up the beach, past fires grilling leg bones of mysterious origins, we were greeted by generations of locals, many adults smiling wide and exposing big red, bloody grins. Contrary to Dois' belief that they had just finished eating their enemies, their bright red teeth were from the community wide habit of chewing betel nut. From our perspective, it is a truly a grotesque addiction. The semi-high has been compared to a lot of coffee and cigarettes. The gory look doesnt seem like a fair trade. The supermarket was just at the top of the beach and was surprisingly well stocked. My plan was to can a lot of chicken. We bought a dozen packages of frozen chicken thighs and also stocked up on commercially canned food. There wasnt much in the veggie dept. except some garlic and really old potatoes. We had a local guy approach us to say "hi" in the store and he managed to get us ice for our non-functioning fridge. Back to the beach with our bags of loot, we navigated a large crowd that had gathered on the berm. Looking around for the reason of this amassing of villagers, it dawned on us that we were the entertainment. Visitors to this small outpost must be very few and far between. Perhaps our mass food purchases added to some of this kerfuffle. We were the rich. It never fails to amuse us that our status changes from place to place; from homeless to famous, with just a change of lat. and long. The next morning I discovered all of the defrosted chicken was bad. Twelve packs of thighs... overboard. I think we tossed at least $400 worth of food in the first week of this journey. We made another trip to shore to buy the whole chickens, opening and sniff testing each one before handing it to the cashier. She was not impressed. It was a good decision to go back and Ashika weathered the storm nicely in the lee of Daru as Cyclone Gretel grew from a tropical storm to a full blown cat5 Cyclone to our south, battering the Torres Straits and going on to trash the East Coast of Australia. March 17th, we again headed again towards Indonesia, facing a steeper tidal challenge and we managed to make it the entire way without any drama. We stayed one night off Saibai Island again, where an Australian border patrol helicopter contacted us while hovered above our masts. While I answered their questions via radio, Dois sang "Suicide is Painless" refrains from Mash. The Aussies just wanted us to know that we were in Australian waters and we were forbidden to even think about visiting the island of Saibai. Fine by us (like we had a choice), we only wanted to move on. The next morning we reached Boigu Island and our first view of an Indonesia Island, albeit at a distance. The following day we sailed past Deliverance Island, appropriately named, completing a challenging pass that was only about 80 miles long. And we did it without dipping Ashika's foot in the sand. We spent a day at nature park/zoo in PNG and this parrot adopted Dois. Ups and Downs Part 2 coming soon! Peace
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SailorsDois brings at least 5 decades of boating experience to our journey. Lauri brings years of love for the ocean. Archives
October 2020
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