07/25/2011, 11 17'S:152 20'E, Louisiade Achipelago
You know how there are some people that are difficult to describe? Something about them eludes the ability to place them among others that you know. You end up telling about the externals; they are funny, they are handsome, they studied here or there - but then end up saying, "you just have to meet them". That is how I feel about Papua New Guinea. Maybe it's that people have lived here for over 40,000 years. Maybe it's that there are four times the number of fish species and corals on the reefs than anywhere else in the world. Maybe it's that there are still volcanoes erupting from time to time, reshaping the landscape, and displacing the villages. Maybe it is that New Guinea was one of the last places on earth to be colonized by the west, and to a large extent never really was. Maybe it is because there are over 800 languages spoken here. Maybe the birds of paradise have magical powers to transport visitors backwards through time. Maybe the fact that many of the islanders in t he Louisiade archipelago do not use money, but still barter with necklaces and stone axes for every day necessities such as soccer shoes and sailing canoes. It could be the 17,000 foot mountain peak with a glacier towering above the steamy equatorial jungle, or the Melanesian people, cousins to the Aboriginals of Australia, still practicing the magic and spirit worship that explained the world their ancestors survived in. It could be the cannibalism, occurring in the 90s for sure, maybe now. I read a newspaper article that told of a 20 year old woman tied up and burned to death in her house last week. The article explained the woman's murder with the line, "she had been practicing evil deeds." It turns out the woman had been eating the hearts of small children, or so the other villagers thought, so they burned her alive. Mysterious, dangerous, beautiful, raw, primitive, unspoiled, jungly - It could have to do with so many things, but whatever it is, I can't really explain the intrigue of Papua New Guinea, you just have to experience it.
Approaching the Louisiades Archipelago on our last day crossing the Coral Sea, the wind was up. It had rained hard, and we had reefed down to almost no sail during the windiest patch. By afternoon we had our big head sail back out and we were scooting along aiming for our landfall. Ever since reading about the Louisiades Archipelago several years ago I wanted to come here. It was said to be a place where people lived mostly overlooked by the march of modernity. A place where island people lived in traditional grass huts, sailing canoes carved from local trees. Friendly people who were glad to see you. The Louisiades are a group of islands surrounded by a protective coral reef extending150 miles east of the mainland of New Guinea. The islands are small, close to one another, and mostly inhabited. There are five languages spoken in the group, and the locals usually speak one, plus pidgin English, and sometimes standard English. The Louisiades are part of a large area of island s called the Maritime Province. The islanders in this part of New Guinea are expert sailors, and still use hand made sailing canoes as their major form of transportation, for fishing, and for travel between islands. Sea Level, our buddy boat, had arrived before us as usual, and it was a good thing; for as we entered the narrow pass guarding the barrier island from the big winds and waves, and pushed through the current into the relative calm of the big lagoon, it became apparent that it was too late in the day to see the numerous coral reefs dotting the entrance to the anchorage. Jim and his guest Chuck aboard Sea Level were waiting for us in their dinghy and guided us toward the anchorage. Even so, we came a few feet from running straight up onto a coral head inches under the surface. After avoiding that, we inched our way into the sand patch that Sea Level had staked out for our two catamarans just off the beach in about 10 feet. After dropping our bow anchor, we ran out our stern anchor as well to keep us in place, and prevent us from swinging into the nearby reefs. Once anchored, we looked around and took in the full beauty of the place. We were anchored in a shallow sandy area with crystal clear, "swimming pool" water. The small island was thick with trees, vines and shrubs competing for sun and soil. A white sand beach surrounded it. The reef ran out on both sides of the small island promising good snorkeling and exploring in the morning. The Duchateau Islands are a series of beautiful sand islands built on the fringing coral reef that makes up the southern side of the huge lagoon surrounding the Louisiade archipelago. They are uninhabited most of the time although local islanders do sail out for fishing and wood gathering expeditions. The westernmost island of the three is where we anchored and got our first taste of the New Guinea climate. The sun was hot hot hot! And the humidity higher. We were surprised at how much the temperature had risen in the last 24 hours. It was like an imaginary line somewhere in the Coral Sea with mild air on one side and hot humid air on the other. And rain too. The squalls would come through and rain like they had a pu rpose. What a feeling. I had dreamed, planned, and worked to be able to sail in the less visited areas of the world, and here we were in Papua New Guinea! During the earlier legs of our trip I would look at the maps of New Guinea and Micronesia with intimidation and wonder. I knew that I was not experienced enough to sail in those waters so far off the regular track-- so far from help in the event of a major equipment failure. This part of the world is truly off the radar. Our charts are inaccurate here, so much so that we only use them to get within a few miles of the islands and then just use our eyeballs to get into an anchorage. Very few anchorages are listed on the few charts that we do have. Up until now we have had a cruising guide describing most of the safe anchorages for all the areas we have sailed. Now, we have a few sketches of some of the anchorages passed from boat to boat in Australia, but mostly it is up to us to figure out where to go. We often just head to an island and start searching along the reef for a gap that will allow us into the protected waters of the lagoon, or a cove with shallow enough water for us to anchor.
The natural beauty and unspoiled wilderness both above and below the water are really amazing. The lack of tourism and modern influence is shocking. The islanders are in many ways only a few short steps away from how people have lived for thousands of years. This area is so remote, even though geographically it is relatively close to Australia. We sailed roughly 500 miles from the coast of Australia, but it felt like we might have sailed 10,000. Or rather just sailed off the edge of the earth and fallen back in time. There are no tourists in the Louisiades except for those arriving on their own boat. Meanwhile we sailed along beaches as beautiful or more so than any gorgeous Hawaiian beach. The hillsides of Tahiti look downright dry compared to the steamy jungle occupying every inch of these islands. So much so that even the 500 foot limestone cliffs are overhanging with trees and flowering plants. It was a strange thing to sail by an entire uninhabited island so beautiful th at it could be the jewel of any resort area, and yet no one ever visits.
So here there we were, our first New Guinea anchorage. Next up. Kamatal island.
| Australia, Papua New Guinea, Palau |
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Comments [4]
Wonderful description
Dad/Bill
07/23/2011, Herald Cay
Red Footed Booby
| Australia, Papua New Guinea, Palau |
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07/23/2011, 16 56'S:149 11'E, Coral Sea
HERALD CAY We stopped at a very small pile of sand in the middle of the Coral Sea. It is an oval shaped and sand encircled half mile of pure beauty. I don't think many things can compare to arriving at a pristine and uninhabited island after days of sailing. We were thrilled to have perfect weather and ample light to pick our way through coral bommies to anchor only a short dinghy ride to shore. The water was the most deliciously clear blue- "french ultramarine" in paint- without a hint of green. We could not stop marveling over it.
It took about an hour to stroll around the island entirely and densely populated with nesting birds. For those of you who have read our blog to this point, the little island reminded us most of Rose Atoll near American Samoa. Brown Noddies, Masked and Red-Footed Boobies, Frigatebirds, and Tropic Birds dominated. We took lots of photos and video that we cannot yet upload to the blog, unfortunately, and picked up as much plastic flotsam as we could carry.
What struck me most, other than the dreamy gorgeousness of the place, was something more subtle. Being there reminded me of being amongst giant redwoods, or in a Buddhist temple where worship has taken place for hundreds of years. A sense of the sacred was so palpable. It descended on us slowly and our chattering gave way to silence. I could hardly stop myself from laying down in the shade next to the nesting birds and falling asleep in the deep peace that pervaded the atmosphere. Every one of us was hushed, as if not to scare the birds. But the birds weren't that perturbed by our presence. You could approach most of them within a few feet and be eye to eye since the trees they nested in were mostly shoulder high. Most of the birds not sitting on and egg or two were really active. They were chirping and whistling, fishing and building nests all around us. Still, the atmosphere was of a profound and absorbing silence.
I found it very difficult to leave that place and once again felt so fortunate for the experience. But we did leave, only the next day, on the rhumb line for the Louisiades, Papua New Guinea.
| Australia, Papua New Guinea, Palau |
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Love, Anita
07/23/2011, Herald Cay
Masked Booby
| Australia, Papua New Guinea, Palau |
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07/20/2011, 19 27'S:148 39'E, Great Barier Reef
We are still having trouble sending photos over our very slow satellite phone connection. We will upload some photos when we find a good connection.
It has been almost two months since we left Australia, crossed the Coral Sea, and entered Papua New Guinea. In that time we have been to 22 islands, crossed the Coral, Solomon, and Bismark Seas, and sailed about 1,600 miles. We have not seen any other cruising boat in the entire time except our buddy boats Sea Level, and Elena. We have often been the only boat the islanders have seen this year, and at our last two islands, we were the only boat that has ever stopped there!
Here is our entry from our passage out of Australia and into the Coral Sea. Enjoy.
It's Midnight here in the middle of the Coral Sea. Manjula is sleeping and it's my turn to be on watch. Sea Level, our buddy boat, just slipped out of view over the horizon. They are flying a spinnaker tonight and have been steadily pulling ahead of us for the last 7 or 8 hours. The last thing we saw of them was their navigation light on top of their mast. Now we are alone about 300 miles off the coast of Australia with about 300 miles to go to New Guinea. I can't think of too many better places to be.
Manjula and I had the good fortune to have great weather for our crossing of the Coral Sea so far. That means that it has been calm enough for us to stop and explore some of the remote reefs and islands that lie off the Australian coast. We cleared out of Australia in Bowen and headed 40 miles out to the Great Barrier Reef where we found a place suitable to anchor amidst the coral. We were careful to drop our anchor in a sandy patch so that we wouldn't damage any of the living reef. The next morning we took our dinghy around a couple of different spots and snorkeled the reef.
The color, beauty, and variety of life on the reef are staggering. Floating over the reef it is difficult to understand how there can be so many different beautiful shapes and styles of living creature. The longer you look the more life that comes into focus. There are animals that look like cauliflower, mushrooms, and outer space monsters; fish of so many styles, color combinations, and shapes that I spit out my snorkel laughing. Big ones, small ones, short ones, fat ones - round ones, skinny ones, blue ones, orange ones. God clearly feels no need for his creatures to wear matching socks. Day glow and neon appear to be particularly in style this year, but also muted pastels, and rich earth tones. Diving down through the clear water the light streams through the caves and crannies, giving the impression of a jungle canopy. Overhanging coral petals, starfish, giant clams with 1960s tie dye patterns bursting out of their ancient shells...there aren't enough letters in the alphabe t to really share the experience.
We climbed back aboard Endless Summer, and after eating a simple lunch, we headed out of our little coral garden and motored carefully about 5 miles north looking for a place to pass through the reef and out to the open sea.
Navigating in coral is mostly about using your eyes. The charts are good for getting to the area and showing you where the shallow water starts, but once you are in the reefs, the charts are useless. Fortunately when the sun is high in the sky, the clear water allows you to see the reef very clearly. The different colors of blue, green, white, brown, and charcoal indicate the type of bottom and how deep it is. Sometimes one of us will stand on the front deck or the cabin top to get a better view and direct the driver. This time it was Manjula on the cabin top as we wove our way around the shallow areas. As we approached the gap in the reef that our chart had indicated, we saw clear signs of current on the surface of the water. As we entered the full stream, small waves broke around us. We switched to two motors as we usually only run with one to conserve fuel, but as we pushed through the quarter mile gap in the reef, the current reached 3.5 knots. We broke out of the current as our depth gauge showed the bottom drop from 35 feet to 200. We hoisted our sails and continued moving out through the reef with a little more wiggle room. The reef clusters were further apart now, giving us room to sail between them with a mile or more clearance. By night fall we were sailing over the edge of the continental shelf. More reefs and shallows lay in our path, but they were isolated reefs tens of miles apart and would be easy to avoid.
Our destination lay about 90 miles offshore. We had arranged to meet up with our friends Jim and Kent aboard Sea Level at Horseshoe Reef. We planned to sail through the night and arrive late enough in the morning to enter the reef in good light.
| Australia, Papua New Guinea, Palau |
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07/20/2011, Great Barrier Reef, Australia
We are still having trouble sending photos over our very slow satellite phone connection. We will upload some photos when we find a good connection.
It has been almost two months since we left Australia, crossed the Coral Sea, and entered Papua New Guinea. In that time we have been to 22 islands, crossed the Coral, Solomon, and Bismark Seas, and sailed about 1,600 miles. We have not seen any other cruising boat in the entire time except our buddy boats Sea Level, and Elena. We have often been the only boat the islanders have seen this year, and at our last two islands, we were the only boat that has ever stopped there!
Here is our entry from our passage out of Australia and into the Coral Sea. Enjoy.
ItÂ's Midnight here in the middle of the Coral Sea. Manjula is sleeping and itÂ's my turn to be on watch. Sea Level, our buddy boat, just slipped out of view over the horizon. They are flying a spinnaker tonight and have been steadily pulling ahead of us for the last 7 or 8 hours. The last thing we saw of them was their navigation light on top of their mast. Now we are alone about 300 miles off the coast of Australia with about 300 miles to go to New Guinea. I canÂ't think of too many better places to be.
Manjula and I had the good fortune to have great weather for our crossing of the Coral Sea so far. That means that it has been calm enough for us to stop and explore some of the remote reefs and islands that lie off the Australian coast. We cleared out of Australia in Bowen and headed 40 miles out to the Great Barrier Reef where we found a place suitable to anchor amidst the coral. We were careful to drop our anchor in a sandy patch so that we wouldnÂ't damage any of the living reef. The next morning we took our dinghy around a couple of different spots and snorkeled the reef.
The color, beauty, and variety of life on the reef are staggering. Floating over the reef it is difficult to understand how there can be so many different beautiful shapes and styles of living creature. The longer you look the more life that comes into focus. There are animals that look like cauliflower, mushrooms, and outer space monsters; fish of so many styles, color combinations, and shapes that I spit out my snorkel laughing. Big ones, small ones, short ones, fat onesÂ...round ones, skinny ones, blue ones, orange ones. God clearly feels no need for his creatures to wear matching socks. Day glow and neon appear to be particularly in style this year, but also muted pastels, and rich earth tones. Diving down through the clear water the light streams through the caves and crannies, giving the impression of a jungle canopy. Overhanging coral petals, starfish, giant clams with 1960s tie dye patterns bursting out of their ancient shells...there arenÂ't enough letters in the alphabet to really share the experience.
We climbed back aboard Endless Summer, and after eating a simple lunch, we headed out of our little coral garden and motored carefully about 5 miles north looking for a place to pass through the reef and out to the open sea.
Navigating in coral is mostly about using your eyes. The charts are good for getting to the area and showing you where the shallow water starts, but once you are in the reefs, the charts are useless. Fortunately when the sun is high in the sky, the clear water allows you to see the reef very clearly. The different colors of blue, green, white, brown, and charcoal indicate the type of bottom and how deep it is. Sometimes one of us will stand on the front deck or the cabin top to get a better view and direct the driver. This time it was Manjula on the cabin top as we wove our way around the shallow areas. As we approached the gap in the reef that our chart had indicated, we saw clear signs of current on the surface of the water. As we entered the full stream, small waves broke around us. We switched to two motors as we usually only run with one to conserve fuel, but as we pushed through the quarter mile gap in the reef, the current reached 3.5 knots. We broke out of the current as our depth gauge showed the bottom drop from 35 feet to 200. We hoisted our sails and continued moving out through the reef with a little more wiggle room. The reef clusters were further apart now, giving us room to sail between them with a mile or more clearance. By night fall we were sailing over the edge of the continental shelf. More reefs and shallows lay in our path, but they were isolated reefs tens of miles apart and would be easy to avoid.
Our destination lay about 90 miles offshore. We had arranged to meet up with our friends Jim and Kent aboard Sea Level at Horseshoe Reef. We planned to sail through the night and arrive late enough in the morning to enter the reef in good light.
| Australia, Papua New Guinea, Palau |
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