Hey All, currently sitting in a nice little cafe in the town of Lifuka in the Ha'apai group of Tonga. Got a good internet connection here! I fininshed catching up on my chronicles of the past month or so, so here you are!

Palmerston
A small atoll on the western extremity of the southern group of the Cook Islands. Inhabited by a single extended family, they are somewhat sovereign, but still fall within the jurisdiction of the Cooks.
I've written so much about this place for Reach the World and in my own handwritten journal, that I just can't re-write it all again in utmost detail here without banging my head against a wall. Instead, I'll just transcribe my journal. Apologies for choppy sentences and poor flow!

9/7/10
Palmerston. Arrived at 10am after sandbagging at 2 knots all night to avoid arriving in the dark. Still blowing 30 knots. A sight greeted us as we rounded up onto the western side of the atoll: 10 other sailboats and the tall ship Picton Castle. Didn't expect much other vessel traffic at all. Can't get away from it! We were immediately intercepted by a local man in an aluminum skiff who raced out through the pass to meet us. He said "my name is Edward and I will be your host. I'll try to find you a mooring. This boat needs to leave" and he motioned to one of the boats to the south and sped off. Ken was at the helm and we motored up towards the tall ship Picton Castle, and impressive white three masted barque. We were gawked at from the rail by what looked to be the whole crew. Edward returned and said we'd have to drop anchor as the boat on the mooring was not leaving. He guided us to a good spot and indicated where to drop the hook. We set the hook, but we drifted back too close to a neighboring boat so we re-set. Edward motored back to the island to go get customs for us. Soon he returned with two other local guys Terry and Simon who were more than nice. Even though there are only 60 people on the island, these guys took their jobs seriously and wore uniforms etc. They took some tea and chatted amiably while filling out the paperwork. After they left, we listened to some Cat Stevens (first music in a week due to battery charging issues). Edward returned to pick us up to go ashore. He expertly guided us, and a couple of other cruisers (a castaway looking father and his two daughters) through the tiny pass at low tide, almost scraping bottom. Earlier we had dinghied out our second anchor for better holding in this steep-to anchorage. Edward led us ashore to his house, which was very open air. Main living area was poles with sheet metal roof, no walls. Kitchen looked like a chicken coop across the sand yard. Met Edward's mother, who was a sweet chatty old lady 80 years old who sat under the tin roof in an old ratty chair with ratty footstool and said "I don't walk too good anymore" and showed me her swollen legs and an old scar from a broken bone. Strangely, she was still able to easily touch her toes and massage her own feet. She told me the story of how one of her grandchildren had been born on the island in less than ideal circumstances and how she had been the mid-wife. I understood about 50% of the words she was saying, but followed along fairly well.

Edward's 15 year old son Davie soon took us on a walking tour of the small island, strutting ahead like he wanted to get it over with. Showed us the school, the packed sand tennis court, the original house built in 1862 by William Marsters of massive timbers from shipwrecks (still there but looks like a sponge from all the termite damage).. William Marsters (an Englishman) was the first colonizer of the island when in 1862 he settled here with three local wives from Penrhyn Island (one of the other Cook Islands). He then distributed the wives among three of the motus and made strict rules about interbreeding. What those were I cannot imagine, because nowadays, every single person on the island has the same last name: Marsters.
Davie also showed us the generator for island power, which runs for 6 hours a day, the admin offices (where we paid our $5NZ each for clearance), and back to the house. There are massive mahogany trees growing on the island, much to our surprise. Davie wants to be a policeman and is actually already training for the job (rarotonga). He asked if I skateboarded (probably a novelty for somebody from a place with no pavement) and if we surfed. No surf on Palmerston. The one guy who tried was apparently a professional surfer and ended up breaking his leg and having to be rescued.


Around 4:00, we all gathered at the village gathering area for a barbeque and performance from the crew of the tall ship. All crew were young (teens and early 20's)mostly americans and were covered with big polynesian tatoos, mostly across their chests...eeeesh. All of them got them in Rarotonga from the same guy. They're going to love those in about 10 years. The Picton Castle is here to deliver some cargo (picked up in Rarotonga) and to take some passengers up to Puka Puka from here. They are on their way around the world. Each crew member pays $40K to do the 14 month trip. The last supply ship to come to Palmerston was 6 months ago, so they probably needed it. While we waited for the performance, we mingled with the crew and a multitude of locals. I talked for some time with Goodly, Edward's brother. He told me about everything and graciously answered my question about sewage disposal and septic tanks on the island. The told me the story of how he, twice, had outboard motor problems while out fishing with no radio and only narrowly escaped drifting out to sea forever.. (he set his sea anchor etc, then figured out if you pull out the kill switch all the way and hold it there, the motor would run) I don't know why these guys don't save up for kickers.

The dancing by the male crew was pretty terrible. They had worked with one of the villagers to come up with a haka routine to a local song, and they went all out with palm leaf skirts etc. The women crew were a little better, and a couple of them had really mastered the Tahitian hip shake. All in all a valiant effort, but one that left us on the Shannon chuckling for many days after. The villagers from Puka Puka also put on a little show to say thanks for the hospitality of the Palmerston Islanders.. They sang some great songs in that awesome three part polynesian harmony the just gets me to my bones.
Feast! Every villager brought food and so did the crew of the Picton Castle. Breadfruit, beef, fish, chicken, pancakes with buttercream, rolls, breads, coconut dishes, oh my. I stuffed and stuffed, with an eye over my shoulder as squall after squall rolled in and the boats swung around a bit on their scope. Wind from the west would have had us up on the reef, the way the bottom is..

As it was getting dark, Edward loaded us up again in his boat and delivered us back to the Shannon, promising to come for us again in the morning. Standing outside to take a pee just now, I noticed the whitecaps stirring up the bioluminescence....
and recalled that at the BBQ I had been solicited casually for my, ahem, "genetic contribution", by the friend of the reverend's wife. Those strict rules on interbreeding, I guess.

9/8/10
Picton Castle had an open-house. Edward picked us up around 11 and ferried us over to the ship where we climbed aboard via rope ladder and were immediately taken on a tour by Tammy, a trainee aboard from Canada. She wasn't cleared to go aloft just yet, but stuck to furling headsails on the bowsprit. The whole village was also there, checking out the ship. The steward made tons of food for everyone and laid it out on deck amidships on the cargo hatch. Brit, who always gets roped into rough-housing with local kids, in an effort to hoist a little girl up in the air, bonked her head against the overhang of the coachroof. I had to laugh. A group of people from Puka Puka are catching a ride home on the tallship due to the infrequency of cargo ships heading there. It kinda feels like we're back in time a century or two- a sailing ship delivering cargo and passengers to remote islands.. pretty cool. One nice lady from Puka Puka was sitting along the bulwark off to one side with a plastic bag full of skinned cooked seabirds (tropicbirds). Later we saw a derelict carcass on the seat of one of the small boats. Once again, I had to laugh.

There was a little local kid with long flowing black curly locks who was getting waaaaay too much attention from the crew of the ship and everybody else. He was pretending all the food was his, hitting people (he slapped me in the face when I tried to take a handful of popcorn), stealing hats and riding on people's shoulders...
Once the tours were over, the cruisers and locals gathered on the main deck by the cargo hold. Locals gathered on the starboard side, and cruisers gathered on the port side, with very little mingling. I tried to break the mold, but only succeeded in talking to a few locals and generally looking lonely and slightly creepy. Eventually, I met all the other cruisers: Graham and Julie, Alex and Amelia on "Artimo". Big Texas and wife Jules on "Simpatica" and Lisa and John (heli-ski guide) and kids on "Tyee".
The captain of the Picton Castle was a soggy fleshy looking man with droopy-dog eyes, who still managed to somehow look like a famous movie star, and was just as charismatic. He gave a speech, and all gathered (probably 100 people)to hear.. Something cheezy about hospitality and emotional generosity, then the reverend spoke, and then the mayor Bill. Then, once again, the crew of the Picton castle performed their dance again, utterly unimproved from the day before. The guy's routine went as follows:
Villagers on ukuleles and guitars sang this song:
"Welcome to Picton Castle,
Hello, kia orana to you,
I assuuuuuuume this is whaaaat
You want to seeeeeee!"
While the dancers did the haka and motioned to their crotchal regions on the last line..

After the crew dance, four local Marsters got up and did a nice dance to a more wholesome song, with a last line of
"You'll never find another Marsters girl like me..."
At least they can poke fun at their own strange geneology!

At the conclusion of the performance, Big Texas shouted "All ashore thats going ashore!" and was immediately reprimanded by the captain: "I did NOT say that"...
One of the PC crew was only 17 and had seen the Picton Castle on TV when she was 9 years old, and had been saving ever since to come aboard for a voyage. She was Irish. She must have had one heck of an allowance to affort the $40K ticket.
After about 3 hours aboard, Edward dropped us back off at the Shannon. We watched as the Picton Castle got underway. The entire crew gathered on the focsle and took turns pumping up and down on the huge manual windlass. As the ship crept towards her anchor, several of the square sails were unfurled. When she finally broke free of the bottom, she stood off to the north and picked up speed as more and more sail was put on her. It was like watching pure poetry. Now, a quiet evening aboard while the winds continue to rage outside.

9/9/10
During the night, one of the other yachts, "Calypso" broke free of their mooring and drifted out to sea. In the morning we heard talk on the radio of plans to set down a new mooring. So when Edward came to pick us up, Ken and I jumped in the boat with our dive gear (me with scuba stuff too) and went to the spot where we searched for the old chain to no avial. Must've ripped the whole thing out. Canadians Lucy and John showed up with more scuba gear and got in the water with us. Found a good spot for new chain and did it up through a nice big puka in the reef. John dropped his pliers and they shot off down the reef slope like a spaceship. I never saw anything so cool. Luckily I kept my eye on the place where they landed and was able to retrieve them. Eddie told us about the local politics of moorings- how cousin Bob has two moorings, but never maintains them. And how he once received a gift of chain and line from a cruiser, but never shared any with Edward. Also how his brother Terry has two moorings, but sometimes places the boats he hosts on Edward's moorings (as was the case the morning we arrived). Not all is without competition! We gave Edward one of our Penn trolling polls and he was definitely surprised. "I did not expect this!" He immediately jammed it into a hole in the gunwale and said "I will put it here", then jumped aboard Shannon to chat.

Later, after making a trip to another boat, Edward returned to pick us up to go ashore.
Also in Edward's boat was another cruiser named Per from Sweden, who we had met in Fatu Hiva in the Marquesas when we anchored right next to him. Unbeknownst to us, he actually nearly died there from shallow water blackout while spearfishing, but was resuscitated with CPR by a doctor on a neighboring boat. Anyway, he was fine now and all smiles
. When we arrived at Edward's house, we could see that lunch preparations were under way, with a big table set in the shaded lanai. Alina and I wanted to go to the school to interview some kids for Reach the World, so we asked Edward and he radioed ahead to the school. At 12:30, Alina and I, along with some others, headed over to the school. But, not before sitting with grandma in the lanai, listening to her story of how she broke her leg in a crab hole on an outlying motu while packing a load of copra on her back... Then, how her foot was stuck in the hole with the bone bent backwards. After a long time, her son Simon came in a boat and picked her up to take her back to the village where he reset the bone and and splinted it with maori medicinal herbs (root of Pandanus). Every day she would massage the break in the ocean and apply more medicine. After a month she could hobble around the house. Now she has a visible divot in her shin, which she showed me by lifting leg up on the bench. Pretty flexible, old grandma. I asked her what had changed here on Palmerston since she was a child, and she said "Nothing is the same".. "Very different". When further prompted, she said that everyone used to be relaxed and not so uptight. Now everybody bickers and fights. She is 80 years old, so we assume she must be only 3rd or 4th generation Marsters.

At the school, all the kids were out at recess. We talked to the young friendly teacher's aid, and she snared a couple of kids for us to interview for RTW. Julianna, age 9, and Moe, age 9. Julianna preferred to stand up, and gave good answers to all questions. Moe, who seemed intimidated by the four questions he saw on my last page, got the abbreviated version. They seem very sheltered. Julianna did not seem to know any famous people, save for Michael Jackson, and when asked if she had any questions for kids in the U.S., it was "What kind of pizza do you have? I like cheese and chili"....
She liked all her subjects and wanted to be a teacher someday. And a hairdresser. When asked where she would go if she could go anywhere in the world, she answered "stay right here in Palmerston"...
After returning to Edward's from the school, we feasted on potluck lunch. Edward had cooked up some delicious ono (wahoo) which I ate!! and fried rice (which we brought), along with a couple of other dishes. Awesome.
Then it was another short walk with Edward to see a little more of the island (some pig pens and old graves and such), and then a short snorkel in the lagoon. The coral in the lagoon was awesomely healthy and everything looked quite pristine. Catamarans used to be able to make it through the pass into the lagoon, but the family council has since banned boats in the lagoon after one idiot cruiser repeatedly ignored Simon's requests and continued throwing their garbage in the water.

After getting out of the water and returning to Edward's house, Edward said "All four of you need to go to the admin office. Terry would like to speak with you." So Edward escorted us down there and Terry welcomed us into the office. Terry said "Sit down please". "I would like to speak with you regarding an incident that occurred today"..
My heart skipped a beat. Incident? "Oh shit, we're on a weird inbred island and now they're going to hold us prisoner, or frame us for some incident..."!
Turns out all he wanted was for us to go through the proper channels for visiting the school and interviewing the kids. (Which I assumed was asking permission from the teachers) He wanted to see our credentials (of which we of course had none) and to see the questions we asked the kids, along with their answers (which was a little Big-brother-ish). He asked if Reach the World was religiously affiliated, and when we said no, he seemed somewhat disappointed. He then told us how he received his masters in theology, which prepared him spiritually to come back to live on isolated Palmerston, but in no way did it prepare him practically for driving boats, fishing, etc.
I promised to return the next day with a copy of our interview, and all was well. Edward was somewhat apologetic for the dramatic nature of the meeting, but acknowledged that those rules were in place for the protection of the residents of Palmerston. Check.
Terry takes his job very seriously here on this small island, and I respect that. Still, it was a little scary.

Edward dropped us back off at Shannon before dinner, and for a reason unbeknownst to us, also dropped off his son Davie and cousin John on the Shannon. I didn't even realize it until I popped my head back out of the hatch after dropping my stuff in the cabin only to those two standing on the bowsprit looking like scared puppies. So, we all hung out in the cockpit, ate cookies and listended to music from Ken's Ipod. They specifically requested hiphop, so we played them the good old Hot 93.9 mix. We talked for more than an hour, with no clue as to where Edward had gone, or if he was even coming back that night.
I asked Davie if they ever get tired of sailors coming to their island day after day year after year, and he answered with an unequivocal "No, not at all." "It is no problem, and it is our custom to welcome visitors". No kidding. They'd been feeding us, ferrying us around in their boats, having us in their home, and all for nothing. Nobody ever once asked for a contribution, donation, or anything. Awesomeness.

9/10/10
I awoke to the sound of an outboard motor, and poked my head out of the companionway in time to see Edward drift past, madly reeling in his trolling line. With a grin he glanced over at me and yelled "Got away!"
He immediately came over and tied up to Shannon and hopped aboard.
"Good morning my friend!" he said
He said "Another sailboat coming in this morning. I woke up early to be the first out so I could host them. I put a slipknot in my mooring line so I could just go! If I go below into your cabin right now, my brother and cousin are watching closely from shore, and as soon as they see me disappear, they will get in their boats and come out here and beat me to it!"
Wow, I thought, a little fiercer competition than I thought! With no monetary gain in it for anyone, what is the driving force? Competetive hospitality?
Not only do they watch each other, but every word spoken on the VHF radio is listened to by at least someone on the island. Whether it is between yacht to yacht or yacht to shore, or what, somebody is listening. I witnessed this firsthand while sitting on Edward's lanai. He has a VHF base station mounted right there and can listen at any time. He overheard two yachts calling each other and jumped up to listen in. He even followed them up a channel when they switched from 16. We all heard the two yachties talking to each other about the history of the island (of course thinking they were on a private channel), and related to each other the story of William Marsters and his polygamist tendencies. As they said this, Edward looked back over his shoulder with a grin and a gleam in his eye and said to his brother "They know about the wives!"

As we sat in the cockpit, I gave Edward some tea and chatted as we watched the new boat slowly come in from the north. Edward described how sometimes his brother and cousin get lazy and don't report the sailors they host through the proper channels, consequently causing the island to miss out on government dollars for tourism... Interesting. I had wondered where all their money for outboard gas comes from. But doesn't tourism imply people spending money in a place? No one who visits Palmerston ever spends a single dime there. I asked him if there were any other ways (besides being a customs official) that people could make money on the island. He said that they export parrotfish to Rarotonga for the restaurants. Every time a supply ship comes (about every 6 months), they export a couple of tons of parrotfish.
Soon the new boat arrived and he hustled off to greet it. While I readied my stuff to go ashore to meet Terry, Ken and Alina dinghied over to Artimo to say hi and interview their daughter Amelia for Reach the World (what it is like to live on a sailboat as a kid). Wind still blowing 25-30knots, and the motor died as they were partway there and they rapidly began drifting out to sea. We always carry a VHF and an aerial flare onboard the dinghy for just such an eventuality. Ken soon got the motor going and they were off. Until he did, however, there was much radio chatter from other cruisers watching. Cruisers definitely like to watch each other over the garden fence!

When I arrived ashore, grandma, Simon, and Shirley (Edward's wife) were sitting around on the lanai listlessly. Shirley had her head leaned up against one of the posts and looked like she was going to die of boredom or sadness, I couldn't quite tell. Edward called Terry to see if he was there in the office, but there was no reply, so I sat down with the family to wait. Life is slow here, so everybody smokes like fiends. They all have their little pouch of tobacco and paper and are constantly pausing to roll up a cigarette (except grandma). I sat there, listening to another one of grandma's stories, this time about how she'd been to New Zealand six times in her life for medical treatment, but how now she just wanted to stay on Palmerston. I talked to Simon for a while about outboards and the various merits of two stroke vs four stroke. Soon, Edward's other brother (#2 of 10) showed up, nodded to me, and sat silently smoking with everyone else. He passed out a new pack of tobacco to Shirley, who looked for a moment a little less like she wanted to die. It soon passed however, and she literally dragged her feet in a slow shuffle over to the chicken wire kitchen where she shooed a couple of little piglets away and began making dough.

When I went to see Terry, all was well and he reviewed the document with me. Telecom had just that week installed the first internet on the island, so Terry had attempted to find Reach the World online. All he succeeded in finding was the "Reach the World Foundation" which is some whack religious charity. He asked me again if we were religiously affiliated like he didn't quite believe me the first time. I assured him that no, we were not affiliated. After a very amiable visit, I went on my way down the path to Edward's again (no cars on the island, and no roads. Only footpaths).
I think that everything is kept purposefully sheltered on the island, and in addition to the bureaucratic side of things, they are concerned with what outsiders may introduce or push on their kids. I didn't see a single TV on the whole island. But, I think the intentions of sheltering are good, despite the obvious grip that religion has on the island. Seriously, what do these kids need with exposure to western culture anyway? It always just ends up making things worse. I applaud little Palmerston for making their strange insular world work as well as it does.

Back at Edward's, I commented on how good Shirley's bread looked. She replied that it didn't turn out very well. Too dense. With a hint of a smile, she dumped the whole batch into a big bag and handed it to me. Sweet!
After saying goodbye to Grandma, Simon, Edward and I motored back out to the anchorage, Edward telling me stories of how in the past he had had to kick out a couple of the yachties when they weren't obeying the rules. One night he rowed his boat out through the pass and slipped one of the boats off its mooring, casting it adrift! Renegade!
And at that, our permit at Palmerston was up, and we had to move along. After fighting with the kedge from the dinghy for about 15 minutes, I had to don my snorkel stuff in the cold wind and go free it from the bottom by hand. (Note: Do not attempt to swim a 45 lb anchor up from 30 feet by yourself. You will not succeed, and will have to drop the anchor halfway to avoid blowing a blood vessel).
As we stood off the shore and raised sail, a mother humpback and her calf surfaced right alongside the boat. I was at the helm, but everyone else ran forward to get a better look. Just as they did so, the mother released a big stinky fish breath spew out of her blowhole, which misted over Ken, Britton, and into Alina's open mouth. I had to laugh.