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Published: June 16th 2008
If these are the famous Trade Winds….I can do without the trade.
Tearing ourselves away from the magic of Bora Bora in the Society Islands we set off for Rarotonga in the Cook Islands some 500 miles SW. The first day or so was really quiet we even had to drive for a while but then had Big Red up and hauling us along.
Thursday came the front, wind blowing 20 - 25 knots and the seas just went berko. Sloppy, choppy big waves but no rhythm or rhyme, a violent washing machine action, not your smooth sloppy front-load this was your big Kelvinator on max agitation cycle.
Waves were breaking right over the boat, sloshing over the cabin, flooding the cockpit, in my little bed I was looking up and watching water flooding over my hatch.
The violence of the vertical motion was lifting and separating everything. On the upward cycle I’m gripping the side of the bunk so I stay relatively safe as I’m launched, airborne, then on the downward cycle I’m pressed into the mattress at about 5Gs, I can feel the fibreglass of the hull thru’ 6” of foam. The fibreglass is pulsing with the slamming
waves and flexing of the hulls.
On watch, out in the pissing rain, spray blasting, a wall of white water rears up, I’m wrapping my arms and legs around the seat ….ayayay…
This was the most violent sea since I’ve been aboard. We’ve been thru’ some big swells and slop but this was extreme. Everything not tied down was jumping about. I had a tray of lamb bits thawing on the stove top, it leapt right over the safety bar and made a dash for freedom. I speared the bigger pieces and rounded up most of the rest but some small morsels scurried off, down into the cracks like crabs in some Kafkaesque cockroach metamorphosis to await the femme fatale of Rarotonga customs and excise who will greet us in her neatly pressed, form fitting, blue overalls, accompanied by her team of fumigants, like landing at Essendon International in the olden days with the hosties walking the aisle spraying de-tox anti fungal bug spray to save the nation …… so much for big storms and dark nights and hallucinations!
So, the Cookies, Cook actually called them something else but some Russian cartographer early last century, or the one before,
renamed them the Cook Islands. Covering an area somewhat greater than the mainland US states or Western Europe, the combined land mass is less than New York city (now this is why I usually don’t bother with meaningless statistics)
Rarotonga, the capital is where were at. For the capital it’s a pretty sorry little harbour. Rusting hulks and fishing tramps, little freighters (one is lying sideways at the entrance, “underpowered” a local tells me, tried to leave in a big wind and just got blown onto the reef) there are 5 other yachts, we stern tie to the dock with 2 anchors out, there’s a constant surge and getting ashore is a pain in the *rse, clambering up the crumbling concrete, rusty re-bar poking out where the concrete has cracked. But beautiful big iron bollards, real works of art! On one side a couple of dilapidated corrugated iron clad sheds, piles of what looks suspiciously like junk, old broken bits of machinery, a few patchy hulks, fishing trawlers, most of the dock concrete is cancerous, flaking, rust stained, a pile of inevitable containers, flashes from an arc welder light up the dingy interior of a rusted tin shed. The little
harbour master’s and the marine cops’ buildings are newer and smarter but the whole scene is of neglect or maybe reflects the laidback local lifestyle literally.
You can see straightaway the difference between French Polynesia into which the frog government pumps squillions, and here where the kiwi govt tends to leave them alone. But the people here are much the same as in FP, absolutely friendly and always smiling and laughing. Yesterday a group of a dozen young guys were playing touch rugby on the dock right beside us, they were just constantly cracking up laughing. In the water a bunch of kids splashed around, all cacking themselves, I haven’t seen anyone upset about anything here, it’s amazingly laidback. There’s always some locals coming down to the dock to see what’s happening, it’s the centre of town.
Scooters are the transport of choice here, thousands of them, and also popular with the tourists who often leave yards of skin behind. At the Police station they all have to get a local licence and it’s a sight to see. Reminds me of Bali when you had to get a bike licence, it’s scary. Fortunately many of them fail the licence test
at the police station and go no further! Unfortunately helmets, like seat belts in cars, are optional!
The locals cruise around, often aimlessly and usually with a minimum of concentration. Many of the locals are huge, often dwarfing the little scooters and often with a small child clinging to what they can, the parent so massive it’s like trying to embrace Uluru.
I went to the Telecom internet place, open 24/7, quite a walk from the boat, and realised I had no local currency. I had some US dollars and asked the woman if I could pay with it. She told me she couldn’t take it or change it. But then she said I could just pay her next time I came in!! It just knocked me out, but this is how it is here, lots of trust and generous spirit.
Ooh, a real cabin again…Gonz flies out tomorrow…bummer, he’s always good value aboard….but it means I can get out of the shed and into a big cabin…no more sharing my suenos with Spectra the watermaker (ask James Bond!) Mr Freeze the icemaker and Ms Splendide the washing machine…and a full sized bed…in case I get lucky…
Ah, one more day, Gonz’s last so a biggie last night. I got a rent-a-wreck yesterday and we drove around the island (it ain’t far!) the van seems relatively new but has 56,000 kms I’ve got no idea how they could get that many k’s up. Maybe 20,000 times round the island?
It’s shocking the number of churches here, there must be one church for every 10 people, every brand of godbotherer you could name. Why do they pick on these poor people so relentlessly? Are they easier to convert or something? More obedient? And the effect is obvious, on Sunday everything stops, shuts down. But all the young people I talk to have nothing to do with church. I’m going next Sunday tho to listen to the singing, supposed to be as good as Huahine.
On the drive round the island it is a constant line up of churches, rent-a-bungalow/ apartments /beach resorts and graves. There’s a local custom whereby people are buried in the yard or on a block next door, and really elaborate some of them. Big bunches of colourful, maybe plastic, flowers and always clean, shiny marble slabs, and they’re on every second block.
Nothing
much happens here. A few kiwi expats I’ve spoken to tell me about having to get out regularly or die of crazy boredom. A vast number of locals live and work in NZ and Oz in fact there’s a problem with the dwindling population. Also a problem with dwindling tourism.
There is a sad air of ‘good times over’ and a general air of ‘couldn’t give a rats’ but no doubt the toury industry will pick up and everything else is overwhelmingly dominated by the happiness of the people, always smiling and laughing, unfailingly friendly and generous, it is wonderfully refreshing. And, the BIG AND, how good is it to be dealing in English again! Pity about the bread tho’
Oh, and Jim’s wife Evelyn, aka Mary Xmas, arrived yesterday with the goodies. New camera and iPod for me and a bunch of boat stuff. Whoo hooo. Except my computer won’t talk to the pod until I upgrade itunes or something similar! But great to have these valuable bits replaced.
I have learned my lesson and now refuse to take the camera out of the ziplock bag so the photos may appear a little blurred. Ha.
Last night
we had a double header experience. We went to the world famous show at the Edgewater Resort (funny how places have ‘world famous’ in the title, obviously if it was really world famous you wouldn’t need to spell it out) In the intro I thought the MC said welcome to the Dishwater Resort which wasn’t such an auspicious start. Anyway, we were there for the dinner and show but also to watch the tourists! Fantastic.
Altho’ the tourist business is down a lot the place was packed, I reckon a lot of people got tix as part of their package deals.
After some really corny MC intro jokes that were really funny the show began. It was a wild, colourful and exotic. The drummers furiously beating the tubular drums, then dropping them and taking up guitars and ukeleles, singing and chanting, then the dancers, this troupe have travelled the world, 4 or 5 girls with the grass skirts, coco bras, fixed smiles, but you wouldn’t believe how they move their hips. Extra! The upper body and shoulders have to remain rigid while the hips are rotating in perfect synch with the music, absolutely bizarre.
And I found it very moving.
Manta
Rarotonga styleI had expected a bit of a plastic toury scene but this appeared tres authentic and the whole group was really into it. Maybe it is their little escape from the religious intolerance.
And it was interesting to observe the tourists too but they seemed very ordinary holiday makers, no double heads or suchlike, queuing up for the buffet, pretty friendly.
Oh and while stuck here with the weather and all that I got to meet the lovely Stormy (her real name) and she's an excellent tattooist, it IS addictive...and how much longer we will be here could be interesting!
The weather has continued to deteriorate, the strong wind warnings are still up so it looks like a bit longer here. It’s not bad having some respite from the sweaty heat of the first few days but it is getting a bit bloody chilly in the evenings, like jacket and long pants stuff. Last night it must have got down to 16 or 17 C, freezing.
But it’s not the worst place in the world to be stuck. We are getting better known around town, hang out at the one café mostly. One of the waitresses took me out the
other night clubbing. I can’t remember much but next day people were coming up to me and greeting me with great affection(?) Hmmmmm
So now I have camera again but a lot of these pix are from Gonzalo who has taken a fabulous collection, gracias mi pana!
Now Sunday morning, 7.30am, the wind is whistling thru’ the lines, we’re rolling in the heavy surge, you can hear the strain in the lines as they take up and relax. I stick my head out of the hatch, we’re in a line up of 8 yachts, all stern tied with 2 anchors out front, it’s a fantastic view across all the boats heaving and rolling slightly out of time. I’m going to internet this and then head for the church up the road where they advertise the Maori service at 9am, English at 10!
So if nothing else is heard we will be off in a couple of days for Tonga, about 800 miles and then on to Fiji 500 miles, by the 30 June when we fly out. If any of you feel up to it there’s a need for crew from Fiji to Oz. You’ll need to
get yourself to Fiji before the end of July and it works out to about $400 - 500 a month for necessities and you’ll end up in Bundy or Glady……
PS just got back from church, the singing was fabulous, a much better organised lot than Huahine and some exceptional voices among the throng. A number of littler kids wander in and out and all about the church playing in blissful ignorance. The amazing thing is I still never see any agro or unhappiness, these kids play around with never an angry word or gesture. I doubt kids anywhere play this peacefully.
OK, off to blog shop……keep in touch….besos….
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