It's All a Croc
12 August 2012 | Pipisala Bay, Russell Group
Bommies
Saturday 11 August 2012
Anchoring in the Solomon's is often a challenge because of depth. Islands are steep to nearly everywhere making 90 meters (300 feet) of chain barely sufficient. Head of bay at Faila in the Russell Group, however, has a shelf of sand at 3 to 4 meters interspersed with bommies that remain just deep enough in places to be safe... probably.
Sightings of 6 or 7 foot crocodiles during daylight from boats at nearby Koemurun gave lie to reports the critters are shy and venture out only at night. They're small however and besides we ain't afraid a no crocs. Swam all over the bay getting exercise while enjoying cool new coral and hordes of little fish. Also replaced prop zinc, shaved waterline beard and survived massive pruning. Terrific anchorage and beautiful. For those who love flies it's perfect.
Sunday 12 August 2012
After unsuccessfully attempting to add pan pipe music (apparently the instrument, made with bamboo here, is indigenous) from a thumb drive to the relatively modern iPod given a village kid by someone named Dorothy (due licensing restrictions only she could do it without pirate software) departed Faila behind four others toward Pipisala Bay as staging for short overnight to Marovo Sound in the New Georgia group next day or two. Anchored just by a bommie just at keel level just because of chainsaw noise just by where others anchored just far enough away. Just the way it is.
Canoes full of children have replaced flies as most numerous distraction. Villagers all over Solomon's have apparently not heard or possibly taken to heart my sagacious advice to sell them between the terrible twos and puberty while they're cute. Parents could make big bucks and buy that Lear jet or island in the Bahamas they've always longed for... or, ummm... a lifetime supply of betel nuts and 100 teeth whitenings. After that, of course, you can't give them away. Even good friends who should know better eschew this wise counsel. They seem to get attached to the little things and reason flies. Life is funny that way.
Bluglass (the crew, not the boat itself which is a catamaran and therefore not particularly good at this sort of thing) caught a big wahoo coming around so everyone will congregate there for dinner around 1730. This constant partying every night (fishing has been good and abundant grog was shipped in Honiara) with great people is a terrible strain. The pressure is enormous, but please direct your compassion to those in greater need. We're tough, accept what comes along and soldier on.
Jack