The Annual DimDim Migration
Saturday, September 14th – We are headed offshore to the Louisiades today. The weather window, according to our Rally leader, Guy, is as good as he has ever seen. “Alleluia!” exalts The First Mate. The only issue is the tide. The official rally start is at 1030, but by then, the tide will be too low for us to get out of the marina. Our friends on Salacia are eager to get going and decide to leave with the high tide at 0600, joking that they’ll have drinks ready for us slow pokes when we arrive.
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Most of the fleet follows throughout the morning in order to be out in the bay for the muster call at 1030. By then, Avante’s keel is at least a foot deep in the soft mud with only 7 feet below us.
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We have chosen to give ourselves a leisurely morning to wrap up last minute details and leave with the rising tide this afternoon. We Skype sons, David and Eric, and granddaughter, Berlin. A blog is posted, and the boat is cleaned in preparation for departure. The Captain walks over to a near-by IGA to pick up a bottle of dish soap for Salacia, as a dawn wake-up knock on our hull had alerted us to the fact that this one important item had been overlooked on their shopping list.
1530 – We slowly motor out the marina and head southeast for the Grafton Passage through the Great Barrier Reef. We are the last boat to leave. As soon as we can, we raise the sails. No reef — How nice! We sail off into 11-14 knots of wind.
Sunday, September 15th– 0945 – The Captain calls all hands on deck. Winds have been up to 18 knots creating seas which crashed into and washed over the bow of the boat. Our new staysail had been secured in its bag on the bow, all ready for use. Unfortunately, it had succumbed to the force of the water. Blown sideways on the deck, the cover bag must have filled with water and been pulled over the side of the boat. When The Captain saw it, part of the sail was over the side as well. Scrambling to the bow of the boat with both ocean and wind working against him, The Captain fights to get the sail back aboard.
Once corralled, the sail must be removed from the inner forestay and pulled down the side of the boat and back into the cockpit. Slowly, Captain and First Mate yank the stiff and bulky sail back into the relative safety of the cockpit.
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An exhausted Captain claims victory over sail, though we still have to laboriously stuff the recalcitrant thing into a sail bag and shove the whole mess below deck and out of sight. The weather is too nice to need this sail anyway!
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Catching our breaths, we marvel at the fact that this incident happened in the daylight under a bright blue sky. There is some kind of law out here on the seas that states that when disastrous things happen, it is always at night under a pitch-black sky in the worst imaginable conditions. Not this time. The First Mate sends King Neptune a sincere thank you.
Tuesday, September 17th– 1400 – After less than 3 days at sea, Duchateau, our destination, is in sight, but first we have to get ourselves through the passage in the reef and around some shallow shoals. Reefs within reefs — just like Fiji. It is a phenomena that amazes The First Mate. She would love to see a slow motion movie of the formation of these islands and reefs. How many millennia would it have to go back? Probably very close to the beginning of time, she thinks. The pass is not marked, but it is wide and deep. All we have to worry about is the run of the current through the pass and any ocean turmoil. Not bad. We have seen far worse.
1500 – We are anchored in Duchateau, Louisiades, Papua New Guinea. Eight boats are already at anchor. Even leaving last, we completed the passage ahead of most of the fleet. That’s a J/160 for you! It was an absolutely wonderful passage. Some of the catamarans that are already here had to run their engines part of the time because they could not point close enough to the wind. It was no problem for us. Winds were between 10 to 18 knots, mostly around 14. The ever-vigilant First Mate never ever saw 20 knots. We were going into the seas, but there were no big swells. No squalls, no rain. No complaints from the crew, and other than the staysail incident, it was an uneventful and very pleasant 3 days at sea. In fact, it was so delightful that The First Mate actually said she could keep on going. That is definitely a first for her! Thus, feeling fully rested and after the usual clean-up of boat and selves, we are ready to hit the beach!
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Duchateau, the first of the many island paradises we will visit here in the Louisiades, is a low-lying island with dense brush and swaying palm trees. The obligatory fringe of soft sand beach runs tantalizingly across its shoreline. What more could one ask for?
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Scanning the horizon in almost any direction, one can usually pick out the unmistakeable shape of the sail of a Sailau (Sigh – louh´). All Pacific island nations have various forms of outriggers and kayaks. Attach a sail, and they have a sailboat. They are abundant throughout the islands, but their functional use has mostly been replaced by the outboard motor. Here in the Louisiades, the Sailau is the main means of transportation and communication around the islands. There are very few outboard motors, and many of them sit idle needing either repair or fuel.
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Sailaus are so important that they are used as a bride price. We are told that the tree to build the shell of the Sailau is only available on one island. A young man must trade for his boat. So many pigs, so much fuel, yams, paupau and hard cold Kina (cash). It is a very costly purchase. After chosing his wife, the Sailau is his bargaining chip. He gets his bride. He also gets to use his Sailau, but the Sailau now belongs to his bride’s family.
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The First Mate is fascinated by the sight of these outrigger sailboats with their brightly colored sails. Elegantly, they appear to glide across the horizon.
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As we work around the boat, we are visited by several wooden kayaks. They have items for trade: Pawpaw (papaya), sweet potatoes, bananas, woven baskets. None of these do we need, but when a man, who introduces himself as Joseph, shows up with 2 large lobsters or crayfish, we are ready to negotiate. A brand-new Avante shirt and a kilo bag of sugar cinches the deal. We later learn that Joseph, who was sporting an orange 2010 Puddle Jump T-shirt, is one of his group’s leaders.
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5:00 – Sundowners on the beach. Dinghies and and Sailaus mix. Locals and DimDims mix. Was it mentioned that we are called DimDims by the locals? Though DimDims probably do some pretty DumbDumb things as far as the locals are concerned, the name actually derives from our pale skins, not from our paltry intellect.
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We gather on the beach for what The First Mate coins the “Annual DimDim Migration”. 19 boats with 79 people. That’s more boats than any one of these island villages have afloat, and more people than many of the smaller villages possess. The First Mate does not know what the locals call the yearly return of the Louisiades Rally, but she figures that they must have some kind of name for it. We certainly are an event in their lives with our gifts, money and the opportunity to barter for needed items. Needles, fishing hooks, clothes, rice, sugar — just name it. Common everyday items that we take for granted, but with absolutely no stores anywhere near and money even dearer, these common everyday items are treasures.
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A large crowd awaits us ashore. We learn that though this island is owned by one man, as every speck of land, reef or bay is owned by someone out here in the Pacific, no one lives on this island.
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The
people of a small village have come over from a near-by island in
anticipation of the arrival of the DimDims. This has all been
orchestrated by the rally organizer with the cooperation of the local
leaders. Several of the large bags of “freight” which each Rally boat
is carrying are called for the next morning. These bags of donations
will be given to the islanders. Among the wide assortment of articles
to be donated are clothes, ropes, linens, school books, medical supplies
and several items which have been specifically asked for by the
leaders. A lobster or crayfish barbecue is planned for the next
evening. Part of our Rally fee pays for the barbecue, but we are all
asked to bring a large dish to share. “Not salads,” requests the
village leader. They do not like green salads, but rice will do just
nicely. The First Mate will make a large bowl of rice with zucchini and
tomatoes.
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Wednesday, September 18th – Our friends on Salacia had promised back in Yorkeys Knob that they would have drinks waiting for us when we finally turned up in Duchateau after our “tardy” departure. They radio to invite us over before the evening barbecue on the beach.
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If all island feasts were like this one, The Captain and First Mate would always be enthusiastic participants. Lobsters! Well over 100 lobsters have been harvested from the reefs around the island.
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A few fish caught by Rally boats are added to the bounty. What a feast!
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Our second day in this island paradise comes to an end with a picturesque view of a Sailau against an orange sunset. Sitting on a soft sand beach, palm trees swaying, hands sticky from grilled fresh lobster, watching a gorgeous sunset and awaiting a brilliant full moon that will soon be rising, could anyone ask for more? Don’t think so!