Getting The Hump
25 June 2017
At long last we're ready to make a move again. Well, maybe tomorrow.
The rugby is over and so the fleshpots of Suva must be left behind along with the tedium of boat chores such as fixing the galley sea water tap, clearing the stinking spilt diesel from the bilge and the daily dinghying of 20 kilo, 20 litre Jerrycans of water out to the boat.
Or pump, sump, and hump as I think of it.
Suva has been an interesting mix of worlds. First world supermarkets, Sony dealerships, posh hotels and glistening multi-storey shopping mall food courts all cheek by jowl with the local, corrugated iron and tarpaulin roofed sprawling fruit and veg market. Impoverished generations sitting cross legged on old flattened cardboard boxes on the pavements hoping to sell one of their many small piles of oranges stacked neatly like so many fruit pyramids on their staked out bit of pavement. Next to these pavement fruiterers are the fishmongers selling some weird bearded fish (that bear a striking resemblance to some Glaswegian wifies I've seen in my time), tuna heads, sea weed, octopus and captured land crabs big and small, tied up with lengths of grass. Poulterers sitting and looking a little bit sheepish in front of their hand woven flax baskets of chickens and ducks for sale, already trussed up, their little heads poking out their leafy, environmentally friendly carry-out cages with a quizzical look on their wee faces knowing that somehow, today is going to be different. Brings a whole new meaning to Chicken in a Basket. Just add chips!
Next stop is the Lau Group, 190 miles east and probably upwind. It could be a long way to reach these coral atolls with populations from the tens to a few hundred all surviving on local produce, odd donations from passing cruisers and, if the weather is kind, a supply drop from the inter-island landing craft every month or so.
There are a few atolls between us and them, one, as of last Friday, and somewhat ironically now sporting a real wreck to match the wreck icon that shows on the electronic chart........ when you zoom in to 24 mile radius. No zoom. No reef.....apparently; until that dreadful crash. Fortunately no one was hurt. Poor them. Adding insult to injury, their rescuers brought them promptly back to tipping wet, grey Suva.
Confession. We've done the "didn't zoom in" thing back in Florida, fortunately getting away scot free, gliding to a silent stop on a six foot mud shallow**. There but for etc.......
Thanks to Peatsmoke for the loan of their Round the World charts which are on the chart table with a renewed vow to plot actual positions, tracks and EP's every hour.
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**
"Stuart. There's something not right".
I was asleep down below as we smoothly beat our way in flat water through the pitch black night down the inside of the Florida Panhandle.
Responding to this query I came on deck. All seemed fine. We had a light 10 knot breeze, slightly heeled. The sails were set perfectly. All seemed OK until I realised we were stopped. A look at the plotter showed clear water for miles.....until you zoomed in (in my defence this was pre Team Vestas) and bingo, we've slid ever so gently onto a mud hump in the wastes of the Gulf of Mexico.
Engine on. Full astern. Rudder wiggled too and fro. Sails backed. No joy. Ever tried blowing up, launching a dinghy and rowing around in the dark with a kedge anchor at two in the morning?
One learns!