Happy Birthday Ricki!!!

We sailed the next leg down Sudest Island to reach Dumaga Bay, leaving the anchorage by 0730. Jamie was invited to spend the passage on Quintessa, and jumped at the opportunity, with barely a backward glance as Andy swept him away by dinghy. Graeme and I hardly knew what to do with ourselves, so made a couple of phone calls, including one to Ricki to wish her a happy birthday, and decided to try fishing again. Wouldn't you know it, we caught fish Number 2!! Another decent-sized Spanish mackerel! I claim some of the landing rights although I let Graeme deal with the icky bit.

We had an easy picturesque passage of about 20+ miles along the south-western end of Sudest, and then entered Dumaga Bay with visual navigation. This has usually meant me standing in front of the mast, scanning the waters for bommies, and giving (frantic?) hand signals back to the skipper if a change of course is necessary. We were fortunate the threatening weather held off and we were able to see the reefs and bommies quite clearly. Dumaga is virtually opposite Johnston Pass, making it an ideal jumping off point. The bay is sizeable, with villages all around, so we anchored pretty much smack bang in the middle in about 8 metres. Jamie was quite pleased to see Graeme appear in the dinghy, and launched himself as Graeme came alongside. At some point during the day he had begun to think we had abandoned him! (It was only a passing thought, really!)

Quintessa had arrived some time before us, and already had traders aboard when we anchored. It wasn't long before canoes started appearing from all directions, and we were inundated again. We had a slick talking young fellow called Raymond turn up in his threadbare T-shirt. Just to clarify, when I say threadbare, I mean that his shirt was full of holes and the seams had all separated, so he was left with a few dirty yellow strips of fabric hanging off a frayed neckline. His shorts weren't much better. This is by no means an unusual sight anywhere in the Louisiades. He boarded without asking (which seems annoyingly typical around here), sweet talked me out of a hand mirror, some spray deodorant and a few other things before we sent him on his way. He promised some greens, mangoes, bananas and coconuts in return. The locals around here don't have much to trade; just fresh produce, which is fine unless you're about to return to a country where Quarantine doesn't allow you to bring anything fresh across the border. We traded our remaining clothes, soap and fishing gear for eggs, tiny tomatoes, greens (the locals call it cabbage but the leaves have a nutty vine leaf taste and are shaped like, well, tree leaves...), bananas, passionfruit and pineapple. Hoping we can eat it all before the authorities board us in Australia. It would be such a shame to have to toss it overboard!

A little later, between rain squalls, we went to shore. We have been spoilt with sandy beaches (and villages built on the sand) at almost every anchorage bar Misima, but here, on Sudest Island in this bay we experienced a different environment. The mangroves break to reveal a reddish muddy beach, with slabs of silvery-green (slate?) rock. The village we visited is built on the same reddish clay, and the recent rains had turned the pathways to sludge. As usual, we were met by hoards of local children, running along the shoreline. Kelli and Andy arrived before us and were already visiting one of the local 'elders' - another Raymond. He claimed he wasn't the boss but he had a big house and was well educated, with a certificate on the wall proudly displaying his four years' training to work for the Catholic Church. We stood in the shelter of his eaves, in the mud, surrounded by his family and other villagers, handing out balloons, balls, lollies and other gifts. Later, we were taken for a tour. Perhaps the most amazing thing to see were pieces of stainless steel framework, a boat's stern seat and other yacht items that had been incorporated into the village 'decor'. We learned that in recent years two yachts had come to grief on the nearby reef, and the villagers had received permission to salvage. Mental note: Do not let Symphony end up as village decoration. Hmm. Perhaps our esteemed rally leader knew a thing or two when he advised against leaving via Johnston Pass??

Back at Quintessa for a drink, we were once again descended upon by locals wanting to trade, or just wanting 'help please'. Young Raymond turned up with the promised fruit, although the mangoes were obviously windfalls and the coconut had already been drunk! To make matters worse, it was getting dark and his canoe was sinking. Graeme ended up having to take him back a considerable distance to shore in the dinghy, with the canoe slung across the dinghy bow. He was less than impressed, and somewhat surprised when Raymond put his order in for more gifts.

I cooked good Aussie steak for all of us, with creamy mashed potato and the local greens.