Monday, June 30, 2014
Link to Pamplemousse Video
Here's a short video we made about eating pamplemousse.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vjXIbkab8LE
Thursday, June 26, 2014
Small World in Apia
So, we were in an internet cafe the other day, and struck up a conversation with a fellow from New Zealand. Turns out he’s half samoan, and now lives here with his New Zealander wife. Tony is his name, and very friendly. He and his wife ran a small resort on the neighboring island of Savai’i until starting a business here in Apia. Well, later that day, Robyn stopped in at the New Zealand High Commission office looking for some information. The woman working there was from New Zealand (not surprising). After dealing with the requested information, they continued chatting briefly, during which the woman mentioned running a small resort on Savai’i. Of course, Robyn asked her if her husband’s name was Tony. Sure enough.
Tuesday, June 24, 2014
West from Manihiki to Samoa, 24 June 2014
We slipped the mooring at Manihiki late morning on the 16th, with a good wind to start the 690 mile run down to Apia, the capitol of Samoa. The daily runs for the first two days were well above average, over 150 miles each -- great, boisterous sailing. The third day's mileage dropped a bit to a more typical daily run, 139 miles. Then the wind gods turned their backs on us, letting us bob along slowly for the remainder of the passage. This wasn't all bad, though, as we had no deadline, and the sailing was surprisingly good for only doing a knot or two. Usually, when the wind drops like that, the swell makes the boat roll side to side, which then makes the sails slat noisily (i.e. snap back and forth). This is hard on the sails, the rigging, and the crew. This time, though, the minor swell was from such an angle that we didn't roll or slat much at all. It was actually quite enjoyable to sail slowly along on an almost flat sea, without any hurry at all. Sailing easily along like that in the moonlight is simply magical. Life is simple out there.
Four more days of mostly light-air sailing brought us just to the entrance of Apia Harbor. At that point, the wind died away to nothing. We had hoped to sail into the harbor, however slowly, and drop anchor without starting the engine at all on this passage, but the last mile wasn't going to happen any time soon without diesel. So, we fired her up and motored in. We thought it was Sunday morning, and by rights it should have been, so we expected to stay aboard at anchor until the next morning when we could clear in. We were a little surprised at the amount of traffic on shore, though, and when we heard the police band marching to raise the flag -- they don't do that on Sundays -- we knew something was up. It turns out that Samoa decided a few years ago that they wanted to see the new day before Tonga, so they moved the Date Line east enough to make that happen. So, we lost a day. Now we have to think what day it is back home, and not just the hour, before making a phone call.
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
Recent Photos
Here are a few random photos from the past month.
Nice pair!
Skyline at Ua Pou
74" Short-Bill Spearfish, a marlin variety
New friends Rio, Kula & family, in Tetautua
Ubiquitous Blacktip Shark, a fearsome man-eater, NOT!
Old friend Tumukahu, and his wife, Hakono, in Tetautua
Anchored at Omoka
Old friends Alex & Christine in Omoka
Tetautua Village
New Tats
PENRHYN
Penrhyn, Cook Islands — 9 June 2014
We didn’t expect to find internet here, but change does occur, even in sleepy backwaters such as Penrhyn. That’s about all that’s changed, though. We arrived here last Sunday, the 1st, after a delightful eight-day passage from Ua Pou in the Marquesas. Delightful, that is, except for early Sunday morning. Up until then, we had good wind, moderate seas, fine weather with barely a few light showers, no squalls at all — one of our best passages ever. Early Sunday morning, though, we were overtaken unexpectedly by a massive, violent squall. We went from poking along in the blackness at three knots with the sails slatting, and me beginning to wonder if we’d arrive that day, to being overpowered by gale force winds, charging along at almost eight knots, pounded by heavy, driving rain, with the full mainsail plastered against the rigging. One of those times when it’s hard to remember why we’re out here.
Anyway, the morning dawned fine, and we motored through the pass into the lagoon just after lunch. Being Sunday — nothing moves here on Sundays — we dropped the hook off the town of Omoka, cleaned up, and just relaxed. The Trades were blowing pretty hard, and the anchorage is on the lee side of the lagoon, so we felt pretty much like we were still at sea. The immigration and health officers came out Monday morning to clear us in, after which we motored across the lagoon to the other village, Tetautua, on the windward side, looking for a more tranquil anchorage.
We spent most of the week over there — we’re back on the Omoka side now — visiting with people we met ten years ago when we first visited Penrhyn, and meeting some new people. The island council here at Penrhyn has five members, two of which are from Tetautua, and three from Omoka. We were invited to dinner by both council members while in Tetautua, which dinners were also birthday parties for a child in each family. Everyone here speaks English, albeit as a second language, so that aspect is easier than in the Marquesas, but conversation still can be a little awkward because English is still their second language. Even so, the people are warm and friendly, welcoming and very hospitable. The anchorage at Tetautua is also as good as a gets — fifteen feet deep over a clean sand bottom, calm clear water, a nice breeze.
The people we most wanted to visit, though, live in Omoka, so when the winds died down a bit, we motored back across to the leeward side. The anchorage here is just the opposite of that at Tetautua — deeper, foul with small coral heads scattered on the bottom (not visible from the surface), and choppy water. The potential for wrapping ones chain around some coral is pretty high. Oh well, this is where our friends are. And the Trades are down right now, so the anchorage is calm.
One of the endearing traits of the people here is their inclusiveness; visitors are automatically invited to community events. We got back to this side on Friday, and that evening there was a huge, island-wide celebration of someone’s fiftieth birthday (apparently the 1st, the 21st and the 50th evoke huge celebrations). We were, of course, invited. It was quite the event — vast quantities of food, guest-of-honor-concept taken to an extreme, endless speeches.
Of the several families that we wanted to visit here on this trip, only one is still here. The other two are living in Rarotonga. We’ve been having a great visit with that family, though. The husband in one of the other families was the health officer here last time. He’s moved up to be head of all health officers, now, and so lives in “Raro”, but as luck would have it, he came to Penrhyn today on business, so we got to visit at least with him after all. Tomorrow is my sixtieth
birthday, and our friends here want to have a party — I celebrated my fiftieth here with them, as well. The Trades are coming back up, so we’ll leave the next day, Wednesday the 11th.
Shrinking Population
There are many fewer people here than ten years ago. Young people leave for either the capitol (i.e. Rarotonga), or New Zealand, or especially Australia. Cook Islanders are New Zealand citizens, so they have residency rights in both New Zealand and Australia. Australia has better job opportunities and a warmer climate, so more go there. Like the Irish in America, there are many more Cook Islanders in Australia than in the Cook Islands. Walking around the two villages here, I am struck by the number of vacant houses, and by the generally deteriorating look to the place. Like small towns everywhere, there is a constant loss to the big cities. Perhaps that’s a good thing here, because, with global warming and the resulting rise in sea level, there won’t be an island here in the not-too-distant future. In fact, all the atolls, like this one, all around the world, are doomed to disappear beneath the waves all too soon. The coral just doesn’t grow fast enough to keep up. That is a sad thing for people like us who have fond memories of these places and people, but it is a great tragedy for them.
[Side note about Ireland and Irish: A fellow on a boat back in the Marquesas introduced himself to us, then said, in a heavy accent, “I’m from Ireland.” I replied, “I am, too, several generations back.”]
Sharks
Many of the yachties we’ve met, especially the newer ones, have expressed reluctance to swim in places like this for fear of sharks. Well, reef sharks are pretty easy to get along with. A few days ago at Tetautua, one of the people demonstrated this by jumping off the sea wall right into a group of sharks, almost landing on top of one over six feet long. They just scattered. Yesterday, some of the locals were cleaning the days fish catch, sitting on benches awash in the water, with sharks milling about next to them, eating the scraps thrown their way. Nobody gives them a second thought.
Family Relationships
We are completely lost with the family structures here, the very concept of “family” being somewhat fluid, even amorphous here. The names don’t help much, either. Children may, or may not, have the same last name as the parents. Children of the same parents may not have the same last name. People typically introduce themselves with just the last name, but that’s not how they’re addressed or referred to by others. And in such an insular community, there are only a few last names to begin with. Add to all that the practice of giving two first names to children; use either one you like, it doesn’t matter. Names aside, the children living with a couple may be their own, maybe a sibling’s, maybe grandchildren, or maybe only distantly related, yet they are referred to as the couple’s children. One’s own children, even as young as infants, may be living with family as far away as Australia or New Zealand. This is truly a culture where children are raised by the entire community.
Sixtieth Birthday, 10 June
The Trades came up this morning, and are forecast to increase more tonight. I was uncomfortable with the coral in the anchorage at Omoka -- with the higher winds tomorrow, we might have had difficulties getting our anchor and chain up -- so we bade adieu to our friends there, foregoing the birthday party tonight, and motored back over to the windward side at Tetautua. The calm water here is quite welcome for packing up the inflatable dinghy, and generally getting ready for sea. We will leave at first light tomorrow, bound for Manihiki, the next of the Cook Islands, only 200 miles away. We have a friend there, too, whose family here in Penrhyn is sending a fifty-pound sack of sugar for him with us. We'll probably just spend one or two nights there before heading on to Apia, the capitol of Samoa.
After we cleared out with the immigration officer this morning, he presented us with two hands of bananas and a locally woven fan. Imagine that at LAX.
We didn’t expect to find internet here, but change does occur, even in sleepy backwaters such as Penrhyn. That’s about all that’s changed, though. We arrived here last Sunday, the 1st, after a delightful eight-day passage from Ua Pou in the Marquesas. Delightful, that is, except for early Sunday morning. Up until then, we had good wind, moderate seas, fine weather with barely a few light showers, no squalls at all — one of our best passages ever. Early Sunday morning, though, we were overtaken unexpectedly by a massive, violent squall. We went from poking along in the blackness at three knots with the sails slatting, and me beginning to wonder if we’d arrive that day, to being overpowered by gale force winds, charging along at almost eight knots, pounded by heavy, driving rain, with the full mainsail plastered against the rigging. One of those times when it’s hard to remember why we’re out here.
Anyway, the morning dawned fine, and we motored through the pass into the lagoon just after lunch. Being Sunday — nothing moves here on Sundays — we dropped the hook off the town of Omoka, cleaned up, and just relaxed. The Trades were blowing pretty hard, and the anchorage is on the lee side of the lagoon, so we felt pretty much like we were still at sea. The immigration and health officers came out Monday morning to clear us in, after which we motored across the lagoon to the other village, Tetautua, on the windward side, looking for a more tranquil anchorage.
We spent most of the week over there — we’re back on the Omoka side now — visiting with people we met ten years ago when we first visited Penrhyn, and meeting some new people. The island council here at Penrhyn has five members, two of which are from Tetautua, and three from Omoka. We were invited to dinner by both council members while in Tetautua, which dinners were also birthday parties for a child in each family. Everyone here speaks English, albeit as a second language, so that aspect is easier than in the Marquesas, but conversation still can be a little awkward because English is still their second language. Even so, the people are warm and friendly, welcoming and very hospitable. The anchorage at Tetautua is also as good as a gets — fifteen feet deep over a clean sand bottom, calm clear water, a nice breeze.
The people we most wanted to visit, though, live in Omoka, so when the winds died down a bit, we motored back across to the leeward side. The anchorage here is just the opposite of that at Tetautua — deeper, foul with small coral heads scattered on the bottom (not visible from the surface), and choppy water. The potential for wrapping ones chain around some coral is pretty high. Oh well, this is where our friends are. And the Trades are down right now, so the anchorage is calm.
One of the endearing traits of the people here is their inclusiveness; visitors are automatically invited to community events. We got back to this side on Friday, and that evening there was a huge, island-wide celebration of someone’s fiftieth birthday (apparently the 1st, the 21st and the 50th evoke huge celebrations). We were, of course, invited. It was quite the event — vast quantities of food, guest-of-honor-concept taken to an extreme, endless speeches.
Of the several families that we wanted to visit here on this trip, only one is still here. The other two are living in Rarotonga. We’ve been having a great visit with that family, though. The husband in one of the other families was the health officer here last time. He’s moved up to be head of all health officers, now, and so lives in “Raro”, but as luck would have it, he came to Penrhyn today on business, so we got to visit at least with him after all. Tomorrow is my sixtieth
birthday, and our friends here want to have a party — I celebrated my fiftieth here with them, as well. The Trades are coming back up, so we’ll leave the next day, Wednesday the 11th.
Shrinking Population
There are many fewer people here than ten years ago. Young people leave for either the capitol (i.e. Rarotonga), or New Zealand, or especially Australia. Cook Islanders are New Zealand citizens, so they have residency rights in both New Zealand and Australia. Australia has better job opportunities and a warmer climate, so more go there. Like the Irish in America, there are many more Cook Islanders in Australia than in the Cook Islands. Walking around the two villages here, I am struck by the number of vacant houses, and by the generally deteriorating look to the place. Like small towns everywhere, there is a constant loss to the big cities. Perhaps that’s a good thing here, because, with global warming and the resulting rise in sea level, there won’t be an island here in the not-too-distant future. In fact, all the atolls, like this one, all around the world, are doomed to disappear beneath the waves all too soon. The coral just doesn’t grow fast enough to keep up. That is a sad thing for people like us who have fond memories of these places and people, but it is a great tragedy for them.
[Side note about Ireland and Irish: A fellow on a boat back in the Marquesas introduced himself to us, then said, in a heavy accent, “I’m from Ireland.” I replied, “I am, too, several generations back.”]
Sharks
Many of the yachties we’ve met, especially the newer ones, have expressed reluctance to swim in places like this for fear of sharks. Well, reef sharks are pretty easy to get along with. A few days ago at Tetautua, one of the people demonstrated this by jumping off the sea wall right into a group of sharks, almost landing on top of one over six feet long. They just scattered. Yesterday, some of the locals were cleaning the days fish catch, sitting on benches awash in the water, with sharks milling about next to them, eating the scraps thrown their way. Nobody gives them a second thought.
Family Relationships
We are completely lost with the family structures here, the very concept of “family” being somewhat fluid, even amorphous here. The names don’t help much, either. Children may, or may not, have the same last name as the parents. Children of the same parents may not have the same last name. People typically introduce themselves with just the last name, but that’s not how they’re addressed or referred to by others. And in such an insular community, there are only a few last names to begin with. Add to all that the practice of giving two first names to children; use either one you like, it doesn’t matter. Names aside, the children living with a couple may be their own, maybe a sibling’s, maybe grandchildren, or maybe only distantly related, yet they are referred to as the couple’s children. One’s own children, even as young as infants, may be living with family as far away as Australia or New Zealand. This is truly a culture where children are raised by the entire community.
Sixtieth Birthday, 10 June
The Trades came up this morning, and are forecast to increase more tonight. I was uncomfortable with the coral in the anchorage at Omoka -- with the higher winds tomorrow, we might have had difficulties getting our anchor and chain up -- so we bade adieu to our friends there, foregoing the birthday party tonight, and motored back over to the windward side at Tetautua. The calm water here is quite welcome for packing up the inflatable dinghy, and generally getting ready for sea. We will leave at first light tomorrow, bound for Manihiki, the next of the Cook Islands, only 200 miles away. We have a friend there, too, whose family here in Penrhyn is sending a fifty-pound sack of sugar for him with us. We'll probably just spend one or two nights there before heading on to Apia, the capitol of Samoa.
After we cleared out with the immigration officer this morning, he presented us with two hands of bananas and a locally woven fan. Imagine that at LAX.
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