Westward Ho!
12 August 2014 | 07 35.085'S:127 21.951'E
Diomedea sped out of Saumlaki as massive rain and wind squalls chased us for the reach down to Selaru Island, only 25 miles away. The black veils obscured Tanimbar island from view but ahead of us was sunshine. Excellent. The entry to Labuan Olendir (08 07.71S:130 58.59'E) was made difficult by a line of nets across the entire bay, something to which we are becoming increasingly accustomed. Good anchorage was made in 12m with solid holding and soon some other yachts joined us in the delightfully flat water of this place. Strong winds and rain raked the bay making dinghy travel quite an experience. Locals boarded our yachts uninvited so we had to make a call to our agent Raymond to liase with the village headman to curtail this activity. We traded some fishhooks for coconuts, instantly transporting us back 300 years. A mad dash of 70 miles took us to the undescribed bay in the lee of Masela Island (08 11.065'S:129 49.21'E). The chart was a fantasy and we soon disregarded its contents completely, relying on the Mark 1 eyeball instead. Coral and rubble lay strewn over the seabed, and upon up anchoring the next day, a large fan came up with the chain. Interestingly, we were hailed by Masela Radio. This was quite unexpected as the village appeared to have no power at all. One boat elected to stay to do a tour of the area whilst the rest of our small band set sail for the 150 mile run to Romang island. It was a fabulous sail with wung out jib in 15-20 kt tradewinds. We saw dolphins and an extremely large blue whale which came up right next to Diomedea. At least as big as the boat. If one reads Coleridge, the poem The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner refers to the end of the day in the tropics stating that: At one stride comes the night. This most certainly was not our experience. The sun set right on the bow in a gorgeous fiery blaze, followed by lingering twilight for almost an hour. No sooner had the last light faded than the full moon rose dead astern to give us magnificent illumination for the night. Diomedea sped on under reduced rig with the Southern Cross low on port, as we timed our arrival for daybreak. Romangâs rugged 700m peaks appeared with dawn and Diomedea gybed around the point to glide the final miles up to the nicely indented bay with the village of Hila at its apex. The anchorage is remarkably steep to. Less than one mile from the shore the water is 2000 metres deep. Our hook went down on the reef in about 12 metres but the boat ended up in about 40m once the chain was out. Whilst there was very little swell in the bay, the presence of a col directly above the harbour ensured that bullets of wind swept us as the trades accelerated over the pass. Not only is the bay a wind factory, but the village appears to be a baby factory as well. Children of all ages were just everywhere. The Catholic church is obviously doing a good job, even if its building is smaller than the more obvious Protestant church up the hill. Walking through the village one is overwhelmed by the scent of cloves. Mats of drying cloves are spread out all over the place. We saw corn fields, paw paw, and something that looked like lemons growing but no other vegetables were seen. A few tiny stores sold cigarettes, soap and small packets of junk food. So far in these remote islands of Indonesia we have not seen a single obese person. Almost all people are whippet-thin so presumably food is not in abundance. Nor are there any old people to be found. We are guessing that at 50 your time is up. A supply ship curiously called The Miami came to the large concrete wharf which was not on anyoneâs charts. On our regular morning radio sked we found that other rally yachts are scattered over the archipelago, with some to the north in Banda, one in Sulawesi, one in Babar and the rest around Leti to the south of us. Presumably the rally fleet will reunite at some point along the island chain.