Feb 23
We arrive in Long Island after a 18-20 knot slog on the nose, and drop anchor in 5 meters near a steep shaley beach. A lovely dinner aboard the Rascal puts us all to bed, very tired. We have, at this point had to accept the fact that our dinghy engine is not working, which makes us dependent on the other boats for lifts to shore and back. But there is nothing we can do - there are no mechanics or engine shops around and Kevin off Rusalka has looked at it with Henry, and pronounced it temporarily dead. The lovely folks from Smystery took us to shore the next morning for a walk around this pretty island, population 1500. Long Island had a prior industry of boat building: this stopped when logging was banned in the Andamans and the community needed to be subsidised. Hence there is this neat, little village with lots of uniformed officialdom! It always strikes us too that tiny societies like this, are able to keep their school children beautifully uniformed and tidy, whereas first world western countries' school kids tend to look like a bunch of dishevelled brats! We have some lovely photos of the school girls, with long looped plaited pig-tails, complete with bows, doing their homework in dad's chai shop. Long Island was neat, pretty and organised. We met the chief of Police on his request, to sign in and on arrival he was dressed in just a wrap sarong. He went into a room, changed into long grey pants and white shirt (really, just for us!) and summoned several of his staff. Our visits attract a lot of attention from the local officials and they treat the whole process with a great degree of formality. There is much rustling of papers, stamping of stamps and formal hand-shaking. Goats, cows and a donkey populated the Long Island sports field and the whole place exhibited rustic, ramshackle wooden houses, many of which were water-front with billion dollar views. There is no glass available for Long Island, so everything is made from wood or scraps of wire and twine washed up on the beach, and nobody has any normal windows.
We bought some veggies from a lovely wizened elderly Indian man, and he was very grateful for our custom and asked us to come again. Once more, another order of take-away Samosas from the only "restaurant" in town. They had 3 choices for breakfast, 2 for lunch and 1 for dinner! They had one table and it was surrounded by scratching chickens and the occasional goat as well as several of the villagers who came to look at the "foreigners" drinking their chai. While we were conscious that we were a curiosity, we never ever felt threatened or uncomfortable. These are good people. A walk to the top of the hill took us to the hospital where Charlie had gone a couple of years prior to attend a minor injury. We spoke to the lady doctor for some time - very interesting.
This is where we had long discussions with our cruising pals as to whether to go west through the Homfrey Straits (with an uncertain overhead power line height) or to stay on the eastern side of the Andamans. The former offered an exciting trip through a river-like path to the western side of North Andaman island, and a passage up to remote and unpopulated Interview Island and then a subsequent choice to return to the east side the same way, or go "over the top" - a somewhat hazardous trip. We opted to stay on the east side, along with Rascal, who had valid concerns over the height of her 23 meter mast.... And so the little fleet split two and two, with an agreement to meet up in Port Cornwallis on the NE corner of N. Andaman Islands four days hence.
Pic shows us taking chai at the only restaurant (read drinks shack!)