Drama in Blue Lagoon
Saturday, September 28th – A large hand-painted sign greets us the next morning as we walk up the beach to the village on Bagaman Island. It serves as another reminder of how important our visit is to these people.
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We walk down a reception line smiling, shaking hands, exchanging a few words of greeting and receiving a welcome crown or necklace of woven flowers.
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Thus adorned, we stroll around the village as we watch the final preparations for the day’s activities. All is ready. We are asked to take our seats in a sheltered area. Those villagers not involved in the proceedings sit along the sidelines. They are just as eagerly awaiting the events as we are, for it is as much a holiday for them as for us.
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Men, women and children take part in the traditional dancing that opens the ceremonies.
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A SingSing follows with dancing and songs.
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Singing and dancing concluded, we wait. A frenzy of activity is happening behind one of the buildings. Suddenly, the clarion sound of a conch shell fills the air. Heads turn as a procession solemnly makes its way onto center stage.
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Three warriors with bodies painted charcoal black march toward us. The first is the man with the conch shell. Followed closely behind are two men carrying a pole slung with a living, wild-eyed pig trussed to it. A traditional feast is being prepared for us later this afternoon. Is this poor, tortured beast to be our meal?
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With trays balanced on their heads, three young girls follow the men. On the trays are the primary foods of the feast: yams, taro, pumpkin and rice. After solemnly parading in front of us, they exit off rear stage where behind a building we can see the smoke from a fire and later, to The First Mate’s intense dismay, hear the high-pitched squeals of the pig.
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The ceremonies conclude with some good old-fashioned line dancing by all. It was a delightful presentation and one we appreciated for the time and effort that went into it.
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While waiting for the feast to begin, a local crafts show is set up. Carvings, bead work and woven articles are offered for us to purchase. Again, aware that this is one of the few ways these islanders can earn money, we get in there and buy.
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The feast, when it is eventually served, holds no surprises. The poor pig is tough and dry, and steamed yams and potatoes are tasteless without salt, herbs and butter. We nibble away politely.
The rest of the afternoon is spent aboard Avante. We had planned to move over to Bobolina, the near-by bay we had tried to anchor in the day before, but the winds continued strong and gusty making that anchorage untenable. We hunker below decks out of the wind and hope the Trick or Treaters will think we are napping. Show yourself above deck, and a kayak will appear instantly by magic. Poof! “Where did that one come from?” we puzzle. We are full up on vegetables, fruit and eggs. We don’t need another basket, shell or trinket. The First Mate is reduced to just handing out small bags of sugar, rice, flour and detergent rather than sending them on their way empty-handed. Not having expected so many, she is running out of supplies. In a few days, we will all be going to Misima, the one town in this archipelago. There she can restock, she hopes. Until then, she must ration, for she does want to have something little, at the very least, to give.
Chris and Rodney radio from Smart Choice to invite us for Sundowners. Allusive and Yantara will be joining us. We eagerly get ready for a fun evening, and it is. We all stay well past the usual Sundowner leave-taking time until finally we know we all must break up for dinner. Chris wants to show us some information about Tasmania so we stay a bit after the others leave. One minute leads to an hour and then to dinner. We decide to pool our resources cruiser style. Bill heads back to Avante for those 4 lobsters which must be eaten tonight, a bag of lettuce and more wine. Smart Choice contributes two fresh fish filets. Chris adds tomato and avocado to the lettuce, and Rodney whips up his famous baked French Fries. Now this is a true FEAST! Midnight arrives before we finally decide to call it an evening.
Sunday, September 29th – The Rally is going to what is described as a magical place: a big azure blue lagoon, and thus it is called Blue Lagoon. As usual, the entrance is tricky. Winds are still gusty, and the seas are up. Skippers must line up their boats correctly to go through the pass which will be difficult to see in these conditions. With a thick cloud cover, the Blue Lagoon will not stand out in all its blue glory. There will be no definition to anything out there. Oh, and beware the sideways pull of the current in the pass! The First Mate is not at all pleased with any of this news, but as all the other boats are setting forth, she knows Avante will, too. She just hopes this isn’t dumb following dumber. Approaching the lagoon, nothing can be discerned of a pass. At the helm, she questions but is hushed by a Captain who says he has the reef in sight. Does he? We are almost at the pass, and she still can see nothing that stands out as “here is the pass”. From the bow, The Captain signals that he has sighted the pass, but we keep having to correct for that sideways current. On utter faith in her Captain, since she still cannot see a thing, she follows his directions and holds course. We are through the pass! Are we? You could fool her, for the water is just as churned up inside as it was outside the lagoon. We anchor resigned to the fact that it will be a rolling night.
Now that we are in and anchored, we are free to pay more attention to the reports coming over on the radio. One of the catamarans is in trouble. A classic string of faults has hit them. Engines will not work and neither will their anchor windless. They are in danger of drifting back on the reef. Quickly, a near-by anchored boat throws them a line so they are temporarily secured while several other cruisers arrive to help figure out what has gone wrong. We arrive late on the scene and can do nothing to help. Tensely, we watch boats and people maneuver around the stalled catamaran. A complex electrical snafu proves to be the culprit. Parts are replaced, and soon they up and running. None of us want to speculate on what would have happened if they had been out here alone.
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We are in Blue Lagoon to enjoy its beauty which, unfortunately, is negligible today, and to take part in a Rally Games Day followed by a Barbie on the beach. We swim, throw Frisbees, sail kites and play tug of war.
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The Captain ends up with a shin scrape during his turn at tug of war. As has been mentioned before, nasty bacteria in these warm tropical waters make any open wound susceptible to infection. His small scrape is something to watch.
While the Games go on, an unexpected drama is taking place behind scenes. Our stop tomorrow is Hobo Bay, just around the corner, for another day of village presentations and feasting. Our Rally leader, Guy, had motored over to the village to see about final details. This visit was scheduled months before, but the village plans the activities. Communications are so poor here that Guy often does not know what is planned until he shows up. To his great dismay, he learns that a proposed anchoring fee of 50 Kina ($25.00) is going to be charged to each boat anchoring in the bay. Nowhere in the Pacific are anchoring fees levied. Fiji did put one into effect for a year. With so many other island nations to chose from, yachties just went some place else that year. The next year, Fiji abandoned its anchoring fee program. To these islanders, us cruisers are multi-millionaires, but yachties are just like the general population. Not all of them have unlimited resources, and many are out here on restricted budgets. An anchoring fee raises hackles. It is bound to come eventually, thinks The First Mate, but no yachtie is going to accept it easily. Upon hearing about this proposed fee, Guy informs the village that the Rally will not be coming around tomorrow and that he would advise his group not to anchor in their bay.
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Two local men follow Guy back to our beach. Guy further discusses the situation with them and then calls all Captains over for an elaborate presentation of the events, emphasizing loudly that no Rally donations would be given to this village, that their donations would now be divided among other villages and that Rally boats are strongly advised not to anchor in Hobo Bay.
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A few hours later, a sailau sails into the lagoon with the village elder on board. He formally asks Guy to return to the village to hear what the village people themselves have to say. He and the elder gentleman whisk away in Guy’s dinghy. Back at the village, about 150 residents meet him on the beach. He is assured of their warm welcome for the Rally. There will be no anchoring fee. Please, come tomorrow! So much is planned.
This drama was interesting because it illustrates the importance of the cruising yacht as a major source of both revenue and goods in the Louisiades. Having 20 boats come by is a huge event for a village, and many villages encourage the Rally to visit. However, as we have learned, everything is owned by someone and sharing does not always come easily. While we don’t know all the details, it is likely the the decision to charge an anchoring fee was made by the person or family which “owns” the bay where we are to anchor, the proceeds of which would go to that person or family and not to the village.
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Us yachties continue on with our games only mildly intrigued by the confrontation going on around us. While Guy returns to the village, we are more interested in the Barbie. What a Barbie! We eat our fill enjoying our day on the beach until pesky flies find The Captain’s shin scrape. Both of us know it is time to get back to the boat, give the wound a good cleaning and bandage it. Experience has taught us that out here, this is not something to ignore.
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We are back on Avante by the time Guy returns with the announcement that the festivities will go on as planned tomorrow. When the rest of the village learned that this anchoring fee was going to cancel the Rally visit, they eventually put enough pressure on whomever was the cause of this debacle to change his mind. So be it, but we know we will not be going. To get from dinghy to shore requires several steps in the water, and The Captain is not willing to risk infection. Ron on Salacia is now on antibiotics for a simple scrape he got while working around the boat. Last year, The First Mate’s blister, received while hiking in Vanuatu, became infected and took a long, long time to heal even with a round of strong antibiotics. One does not treat these things lightly out here. The Captain resigns himself to staying well out of the water for a day or two, and all on the Rally understand when he radios in his reason for not joining the group in Hobo Bay the next morning.
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We remain in Blue Lagoon throughout the morning watching all the other boats leave. The First Mate is eager to photo the lagoon with no other boats. With the sun out today, Blue Lagoon shows forth in all its azure beauty.
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Sun may be out, but the wind is blowing in the 20’s churning up the seas. We watch Salacia now on the outside of the reef, motoring her way to Hobo Bay. The First Mate is happy where we are for the time being.
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Finally, it is time for us to leave, and The First Mate is no happier about exiting the lagoon than she was upon entering it. With the heavy wind churning up the water, she still cannot see the pass. It is an uncomfortable feeling not to be able to pick out at least one end of the reef as it opens into the pass. Despite her reservations, we exit the pass with no problem and motor back to the Bobolina, the little bay off Bagaman. Once again, the anchorage is untenable in this wind. We return to Bagaman to drop anchor in overcast and a light drizzle.
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A very personable young man named Fleming paddles up with 2 friends and a younger brother with him. He’s the brightly smiling one on the left. His command of English is remarkable. His uncle is Moses, our flag pole carver. We learn that he is one of 6 boys, but two of them have died. He is quite frank and unemotional as he states the death of his brothers. Children dying in infancy is heart-rending, but throughout these islands, it is so common that not having lost a child or sibling is more the rarity. I have sat with young mothers who, while holding an infant in their arms, tell me in almost an inconsequential manner that they have already lost one or two. That is just how it is out here. How do you respond to that? Back in the States, we are in shock when a child or even young adult dies. A child is not supposed to die before the parent, but here in the Louisiades, that is the norm.
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Moses later stops by with the beginnings of our flag pole to confirm his measurements. We give him our old one to use for comparison — and when asked about any DVD’s we might happen to have onboard, 3 of our Paul Newman DVD’s are placed in a zip lock and lent to him. We know they do not have electricity on the island. There may not be a single light bulb out there burning, but they do have a generator for such important events as Movie Night. Good on them! The First Mate hopes they enjoy their evening with Blue Eyes!
While the villagers enjoy their movies, we hunker down quietly cozy on Avante. The drizzle of the day gives way to heavy rain throughout the night. For that we are thankful. It will wash a sticky layer of crusty salt off the boat. Tomorrow, we are to rendezvous with Salacia before we head through another tricky pass to Kamatal Island and the hospitality of Jimmy’s at the Kamatal Yacht Club.