Temuto Island, Duff Islands, Solomon. The chiefs house is on the left, up the mountain.

As we slowly motored our way from deep ocean water to the fringing reef, hordes of wooden canoes splashed through the surf headed our way. The paddles swung deep and enthusiastically by a single hunched over native or in the larger canoes, groups of natives. There were natives of all ages in all sizes of canoes.

When Brick House was quickly intercepted, guides pointed and lead us to the safest spot to anchor just outside the reef. There was no passage and the canoes would be stranded on one side of the reef, or the other at low tide. We were surrounded by at least 30 canoes. Such is the reception at a remote village in a mountainous remote island of the Solomon Islands. We were the second yacht in two years to stop here.

Several days before, after dropping the tow line to their 18' open boat and releasing our 10 wayward friends to the island of Utupua, we motored away in the night. There was no wind and the seas were flat so we turned on the red and green running lights, bright anchor lights to better show our position, set the alarm on the AIS (Automatic Identification System) and punched the button on the autopilot, then went to sleep with all the alarms keeping watch, but the alarm clock was set to every half hour to wake either Rebecca or me.

By morning a ten knot breeze puffed from the direction we wanted to go. So we set all 3 sails and slid off to where we did not want to go. Sailing east rather than north, we zoomed in on the chart plotter and decided not to detour around a seamount that showed shallow depths but decided to troll our lure right over the top. It was amazing to see coral and an ocean bottom of 25' depth fifty miles from the nearest dry land. Yet, with our slow speed and flat sea, no fish was fooled by our lure. I could imagine in a storm, what a dangerous surf could be tripped up by this shoal.

Into the night we ghosted then tacked over to the north west; another direction we did not want to go.

Dawn showed the smudge on the horizon of Taumako, the largest of the Duff islands. From this island is where the 10 survivors originated their journey from. The island was never on our itinerary but was now a matter of coincidence. We would stop to give news of their villagers plight and hopefully reprovision with bananas, fruit and vegetables for our long trip to Pohnpei, well north of the equator.

As we slowly motored in, we invited 4 older boys to come on board Brick House. They would help us anchor and ward off the other canoes, keep them from bumping against our new paint job and keep anyone else from coming on board. If not restricted early, Brick House would quickly become overwhelmed with natives.

We wrote a note which was carried to the hut, high on a hill, of the paramount chief. It told the names of the rescued villagers and of their plight. In the mean time canoes were scurrying ashore to fetch our requested food. The first canoe to return loaded us with a stalk of bananas and taro. In return he was given a volley ball and Frisbee. From another canoe, oranges and coconuts were traded for some T-shirts. Spools of sewing thread, fingernail polish and "things" were handed out for anything someone had to trade for. One person brought mangoes, the first ripe mangoes we had seen in two years. Mangoes come into season in the summer months, the cyclone season, from which we are always escaping ahead of. I wanted those mangoes. But he wanted my volley ball pump in trade. Natives have little sense of value so to help with the understanding, I told him to bring me a 25 pound pig for the pump, and a 30 pound pig for my wrist watch. For the mangoes, we settled on an old pair of cheap sunglasses. I still have the pump and wrist watch.

When the paramount chief arrived on board, he squinted hard at the chart plotter as I showed him where we had picked up his villagers and the track we took to get them to safety. He thanked us for taking care of his relatives. For thanking us, we gave him a pair of nonprescription cheater glasses. He was overwhelmed that now he could see things which had been so long a blur.

No supply boat had been to this village in nearly a year so we were a treasure ship. But how many bananas and breadfruit do we need to trade for? We were so besieged with people and requests, we did not want to linger here. Plus, this 65' deep "anchorage" off the village is normally very rough so this calm would soon change.

After 3 hours, now well supplied, we were happy to be on our way.