An Interlude: Norfolk Island
Tuesday, October 22nd – Norfolk Island and neighboring Phillip Island (that mound to the right of the big mound) are mere specks in the ocean. They hardly show up at all until we are quite close. We honestly don’t know much about this island to which we are headed, but then, that’s been the case for many of the islands we have visited over the years.
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The First Mate has long heard cruisers talk of stopping at Norfolk Island, but it has never been very near to our route. Ten years ago, when we first started cruising here, a boat was able to seek shelter there without having to fuss with clearances or visas, but several years ago, Australian authorities got tougher. It is their country after all. If you want to stop, it will be the same as entering the mainland: passport/immigration clearance, visas and a $200 processing fee. With those new requirements, a short visit just for the fun of it became a remote possibility. Now with a stop for a few days being far preferable to rocking around on the ocean, we are willing (eager even) to go through the hassle of clearing into the country.
The only concern we have is our food. When a boat clears into a country, all fresh fruit, vegetables and meat (cooked or not) are removed just as is done when one flies into a new country. We don’t have much on the boat, but we do have what we need to complete this passage. If all that food is taken, we will have to buy more before leaving. Will this little island with one small store have enough food to replenish the cruising supplies for all the boats now seeking shelter there? We don’t know. They can’t send us all off with nothing! We decide not to worry about it. Something will be worked out.
The First Mate is delighted to be making this stop. She is eager for her first view of a real Norfolk Pine in situ! Captain Cook was also delighted when he first saw those exceptionally tall and straight trees marching across the island. How perfect they would be for his sailing masts, but pine being pine, the soft wood was not strong enough for the task. She, on the other hand, is more drawn to the deep green beauty of a Norfolk Pine. Years ago, The Captain gave her a 3-foot Norfolk Pine when we bought on our first house. How she loved the thing, and enthusiastic Black Thumb that she is, she watered it to do a soggy death. Never again has she had a Norfolk Pine, but she still admires their symmetrical green beauty.
Norfolk Island was uninhabited when Captain Cook discovered it in 1778. In the early 1800’s, the British used it as a penal colony, but that was closed down in 1855 with the remaining prisoners moved to Tasmania. In 1856, all 193 surviving descendants of Fletcher Christian’s mutineers from Captain Bligh’s HMS Bounty were forcefully removed from Pitcairn Island to the surviving structures and farms once used by the prison. While six families did chose to return to Pitcairn Island, of the 2,000 or so souls who today live on Norfolk Island, most trace their lineage back to Pitcairn Island with a high percentage carrying the Christian surname.
Tourism is tightly controlled by the Australian government. The only way to arrive is by plane, and that is not allowed unless one has confirmed reservations at one of the small official places to stay on the island. Camping, youth hostels or any other form of independent travel is not allowed. As would be expected, the locals play up the Pitcairn connection with a museum, films, tours and souvenirs. The First Mate is eager to explore.
Sailing down the coast as we head toward our anchorage, it is a steep and rocky coast line we pass. Patches of emerald green can be seen, but mostly it is craggy rock and scattered pines. Kingston is the main town where the government offices are located, but it is hardly a harbor. With the wind blowing in the direction it now is, anchoring there is untenable. They do have a very small marina area for very small boats, but nothing for us larger sailboats. They do not even have a fuel dock. If one needs fuel, one must bring one’s fuel cans ashore to be filled at the local gas station. The First Mate was surprised when she read this, but now looking at the rugged coast, she can see that unless Mother Nature had thought to endow the island with a deep, sheltering bay, there was not going to be much hope for anything substantial to have been built. The island is lucky to have a few small bays strategically located around the island that provide some shelter from whichever direction the wind or storm may be coming.
And storm it does in this part of the world. Last year, as we were calmly sailing in circles well north of Norfolk Island waiting for stormy weather near New Zealand to move through, a sailboat sank offshore and another was dismasted. Today, all is quiet under a bright blue sky. The strong winds we are avoiding are blowing south of here.
We are headed to Cascade Bay on the north side of the island which will give us shelter from the southeast winds. It is a wide bay which from the distance looks more like a roadstead anchorage than a protected bay, but it is all we have at the moment. As we approach, our AIS system picks out several boats already at anchor and more sailing in. We are not the only ones looking to shelter in a quiet anchorage for a few days.
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By mid-afternoon, we are anchored with several other sailboats. We knew there were a number of boats headed from Nouméa to New Zealand, but as we journeyed across the ocean, our AIS system had only picked out three far away in the distance. Even though we all left from the same point at about the same time, it is always amazing how quickly boats scatter when they get out on the ocean.
Except for one small section with what looks to be a raised graveled area where one might be able to pull up a dinghy, the shore is too steep and rocky to be easily accessible.
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A substantial concrete platform with a crane mechanism has been built. Recalling a similar, much more rustic and rusting affair in Niue, we figure that this must be how they launch small boats into the water, for we see no small boats pulled up on shore anywhere.
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Our Q flag is flying. We are supposed to call Customs, but we figure with 3 other boats at anchor all flying their Q flags, Customs has already been alerted to our presence and will be here at some point. We wait, but no one shows up.
After several days rolling around on the ocean, it is nice to be stilled. Showers are taken. A general clean up is made, and we spend the rest of the day relaxing and enjoying the view. Other than a narrow emerald green valley running up from a rocky shore, all the rest is steep to shore fit only for agile mountain goats. A few roof tops can be seen high in the hills so we know there are people up there, but down here, there is no one but the occasional car motoring down to that loading platform. In fact, we marvel at the number of cars we see driving down this dead end road for no other reason than to stop a while and then turn around to drive back up the way they came. In the whole time, we only see one small boat being lowered into and then later hauled out of the water. We finally decide that news travels fast on this small and very isolated island. Having all these sailboats anchored in this bay is probably a highlight worth seeing.
Wednesday, October 23rd – Early in the morning, a 125-foot sailing vessel, Janice of Wyoming, shows up on our AIS heading right toward our anchorage. Large as she is, she, too, is choosing to wait out the weather.
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Later in the morning, a Customs officer radios one of the boats at anchor. They are asked to turn to a different channel as is required. All the rest of us boats who regularly monitor the emergency/hailing channel also change the channel to listen in, for we know that whatever Customs has to tell this one boat, they most likely want all of us to hear. To our surprise, we learn that they have no plans to drive out to our bay to clear us into the country. They just want to know that we are okay. Do we have enough food? Do we have enough fuel? Apparently, Janice of Wyoming had earlier radioed in with a question regarding fuel. They enter into the conversation to say that they reviewed their situation and now think they are fine. It is confirmed that most of us will stay another day. That is fine. All the boats check into the conversation to confirm that they too are well aboard. Departure plans are explained, and before signing off, we thank them for their consideration. The option to clear into the country was not even suggested. We are allowed to stay here at anchor until it is good to leave, but, of course, we cannot go ashore.
As The First Mate thinks about Norfolk Island’s tourist restrictions, she guesses that this should not be surprising. They are not set up for unscheduled cruisers to be wandering around the place nor would they have the food to replace what they would have to confiscate from all of these boats. The First Mate is at first disappointed. She so did want to go ashore to explore, but as she looks at the lay of the land, she realizes that any exploration would not take them far unless they really wanted to hoof it up and over mountain and dale. It is a good 5 miles to Kingston which in itself doesn’t have much to offer. In a classic Sour Grapes reaction, she tells herself that the museum would probably be closed, or if open, the exhibits would be run down. Still, if there were a car or even a miserable scooter rental, she would be tempted, but there is nothing.
A long-distance photo shows the Norfolk Pines. She had expected vast stretches of these trees spreading across the landscape, but in the almost 200 years the place has been inhabited, the need for wood to build, cook and heat as well as clearing land for farms and ranches have done their work. Useless wood from Captain Cook’s perspective, he probably would not be distressed.
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S/v Babe, at anchor when we arrived, had left earlier in the morning banking that the winds and seas were either not as bad as predicted or would have calmed down some by the time they reached the area. We wished them good fortune as we contentedly spend a quiet day at anchor. In the late afternoon, the radio crackles with an “Attention the fleet”. The fleet being us at anchor, we all tune in. S/v Babe is returning here late this evening, and another sailboat, s/v Indigo, is due in around 0500. Both had encountered far heavier seas than they expected. Unable to make much headway into the waves and certainly not comfortable to hold in place, the best option for them was to turn around, get out of the turbulence and back to our anchorage. We are all asked to keep our lights on, especially since several of us have dark blue hulls and are difficult to see at night. As evening approaches, we turn on our anchor lights and add in a cockpit light. Janice of Wyoming, the furthest one out in the bay, has her many mast lights on and running up that 5-spreader mast, they really look impressive. One can’t miss her! We watch Babe arrive around 2300 and drop anchor. S/v Indigo pulls in at 0500. Both, we imagine, are glad to be anchored and ready for a nap.
Today, Thursday, October 24th, rested from our sojourn, we are ready to hit the ocean road again. Our limited visit to Norfolk Island was enjoyable, though disappointing because we were not able to get ashore. If anything the short stay has peaked The First Mate’s interest. Just out of curiosity, she is going to research how possible it would be to fly there for 2 or 3 days. She would like to see the island and its residents. We could rent a car to tour the land and visit that museum of Pitcairn history even though, as with most such small island exhibits, she thinks it is probably old, faded and worn around the edges.