Still Here
Well, we're still here, lying safe and sound on our mooring at Majuro.
We have been scanning the news headlines and reading the articles that catch our eye. Probably not surprising, but most of what we read is about the pandemic: what it is, what do about it, the state of the economy, the state of the food supply and distribution, the state of the media (what is real?). We read news about the U.S., about Oceania, and, shoots, the whole damn world.
We also keep our VHF radio on, monitoring the local "yachties" frequency, channel 71. We certainly monitor Marshall Islands news via the local paper (a weekly), via the Radio New Zealand web site (several times per week), the official web pages and Facebook pages of the Marshall Islands Disaster Preparedness Office and the Department of Health. And we check out the web site of the local embassy from time to time. The coconut wireless is probably the primary source of news in the atoll, and this is mostly what is passed along on VHF 71, but it is essential to monitor the "official" sources as well, as rumor behaves here much as it behaves anywhere, under any circumstances.
We also spend our time fiddling with boat projects (a never-ending list), shopping to stay provisioned, and keeping entertained. We continue to mine the library, and are reaching deeper into the stacks to find new material. Recent discoveries that I have found absolutely fascinating: The Aneid, by Virgil; and the collected works of Jack London. Truly fascinating, and truly apropos of our times.
We also spend time wondering how all our friends are doing. Given the limitations of communication here, we don't hear much from many. I will let you in on a little secret, though: it is possible to text our Google phone. I discovered this accidentally, while dealing with a compromised credit card, but I'll pass it along in case you have a hankering to give us a quick idea of what you're up to these days.
We are aware that everyone we know in Hawai'i is out of work, as we would be if we were still there. We've been "out of work" since we left Lahaina, plus we've been socially distant, 99% of our time on board, so we know how it works for us. But we're curious how it works for you. How do you cope?
Things here stay relatively normal, as there are no cases of Covid-19 in the Marshalls. But the police and Immigration have stepped up patrolling the anchorage, and have taken names and number of everyone aboard. Permits are no longer being issued to visit other atolls in the Marshalls, and, slowly but surely, all the cruisers are showing up here at Majuro. The primary concern here is that RMI (Republic of the Marshall Islands) will kick yachties out. Currently, yachts are not permitted entry. Once yacht showed up last month, sailed onto a mooring because his engine was out of service, and was ordered to leave. After he explained his predicament, he was advised that they would tow him out the pass. When the pilot boat was dispatched to tow him, and when the master learned the situation, he refused to make the tow. The authorities relented, allowing him time to repair his engine and re-provision. Provisioning was accomplished by a friendly boat already here, schlepping to the grocery store, making the purchase, and then making delivery to the dinghy streamed out behind the receiving boat. That boat remained four days (one day longer than the authorities originally allowed), and then got underway under their own power. They were headed to the Phillipines: the boat was registered elsewhere, but the wife was a Philippine national, so that's where they placed their bet.
The big question for everybody here is: where do we go if we get kicked out? There are boats here from Canada, Germany, New Zealand, and the United States. Only U.S. citizens are not required to have a visa, and much of the discussion amongst the yachties is centered on kicking out 'foreign' boats vs. US boats.
We, too, wonder where we would go if we got kicked out. Many countries, the US included, seem to be relaxing some of the restrictions, but, as of the day before yesterday, the only options we can see are Japan, Guam (US) or the USA. If USA, we ponder Hawaii, Alaska, Washington, and California.
Too much is up in the air to make plans, per se. In the meantime, we re-provision and re-fuel on an as-used basis, and work on projects that can easily be put to bed in working order within 24 hours. And we take it a day at a time.
Good news: the new dinghy is in service. That saves us inflating pontoons every time we put it in the water and every time we prepare to leave the dock. The old dinghy is lying on the foredeck, awaiting it's future consignment to the deep. (The hypalon fabric has deteriorated to the point that you'd have to re-surface the whole thing. Not do-able. On top of that, there is not local market for inflatable dinghies, even good ones: the Marshallese hold these so-called boats in the highest contempt. (On the other hand, we just heard on 71 that a dinghy was stolen from the beach by one of the grocery stores while the crew was doing their shopping.)) Perhaps I will tell the story of importing a dinghy another time. As you may surmise, it was ... complicated.
We have been scanning the news headlines and reading the articles that catch our eye. Probably not surprising, but most of what we read is about the pandemic: what it is, what do about it, the state of the economy, the state of the food supply and distribution, the state of the media (what is real?). We read news about the U.S., about Oceania, and, shoots, the whole damn world.
We also keep our VHF radio on, monitoring the local "yachties" frequency, channel 71. We certainly monitor Marshall Islands news via the local paper (a weekly), via the Radio New Zealand web site (several times per week), the official web pages and Facebook pages of the Marshall Islands Disaster Preparedness Office and the Department of Health. And we check out the web site of the local embassy from time to time. The coconut wireless is probably the primary source of news in the atoll, and this is mostly what is passed along on VHF 71, but it is essential to monitor the "official" sources as well, as rumor behaves here much as it behaves anywhere, under any circumstances.
We also spend our time fiddling with boat projects (a never-ending list), shopping to stay provisioned, and keeping entertained. We continue to mine the library, and are reaching deeper into the stacks to find new material. Recent discoveries that I have found absolutely fascinating: The Aneid, by Virgil; and the collected works of Jack London. Truly fascinating, and truly apropos of our times.
We also spend time wondering how all our friends are doing. Given the limitations of communication here, we don't hear much from many. I will let you in on a little secret, though: it is possible to text our Google phone. I discovered this accidentally, while dealing with a compromised credit card, but I'll pass it along in case you have a hankering to give us a quick idea of what you're up to these days.
We are aware that everyone we know in Hawai'i is out of work, as we would be if we were still there. We've been "out of work" since we left Lahaina, plus we've been socially distant, 99% of our time on board, so we know how it works for us. But we're curious how it works for you. How do you cope?
Things here stay relatively normal, as there are no cases of Covid-19 in the Marshalls. But the police and Immigration have stepped up patrolling the anchorage, and have taken names and number of everyone aboard. Permits are no longer being issued to visit other atolls in the Marshalls, and, slowly but surely, all the cruisers are showing up here at Majuro. The primary concern here is that RMI (Republic of the Marshall Islands) will kick yachties out. Currently, yachts are not permitted entry. Once yacht showed up last month, sailed onto a mooring because his engine was out of service, and was ordered to leave. After he explained his predicament, he was advised that they would tow him out the pass. When the pilot boat was dispatched to tow him, and when the master learned the situation, he refused to make the tow. The authorities relented, allowing him time to repair his engine and re-provision. Provisioning was accomplished by a friendly boat already here, schlepping to the grocery store, making the purchase, and then making delivery to the dinghy streamed out behind the receiving boat. That boat remained four days (one day longer than the authorities originally allowed), and then got underway under their own power. They were headed to the Phillipines: the boat was registered elsewhere, but the wife was a Philippine national, so that's where they placed their bet.
The big question for everybody here is: where do we go if we get kicked out? There are boats here from Canada, Germany, New Zealand, and the United States. Only U.S. citizens are not required to have a visa, and much of the discussion amongst the yachties is centered on kicking out 'foreign' boats vs. US boats.
We, too, wonder where we would go if we got kicked out. Many countries, the US included, seem to be relaxing some of the restrictions, but, as of the day before yesterday, the only options we can see are Japan, Guam (US) or the USA. If USA, we ponder Hawaii, Alaska, Washington, and California.
Too much is up in the air to make plans, per se. In the meantime, we re-provision and re-fuel on an as-used basis, and work on projects that can easily be put to bed in working order within 24 hours. And we take it a day at a time.
Good news: the new dinghy is in service. That saves us inflating pontoons every time we put it in the water and every time we prepare to leave the dock. The old dinghy is lying on the foredeck, awaiting it's future consignment to the deep. (The hypalon fabric has deteriorated to the point that you'd have to re-surface the whole thing. Not do-able. On top of that, there is not local market for inflatable dinghies, even good ones: the Marshallese hold these so-called boats in the highest contempt. (On the other hand, we just heard on 71 that a dinghy was stolen from the beach by one of the grocery stores while the crew was doing their shopping.)) Perhaps I will tell the story of importing a dinghy another time. As you may surmise, it was ... complicated.
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