The Internationally Famous Kamatal Yacht Club
The internationally famous Kamatal Yacht Club? What is The First Mate talking about? Well, actually, if one were to consider the number of yachts from nations ‘round the world that have visited the Kamatal Yacht Club, then, yes, the Kamatal Yacht Club could justifiably claim world fame. Just don’t ask anyone about it who has not sailed the waters of the Louisiades!
.
Tuesday, October 1st – By pre-arrangement, Salacia and Avante are to rendezvous outside the entrance to Kamatal Island. The reef-bound entrance to the relatively small, coral-rimmed lagoon can be tricky. Salacia offers to be the lead boat. They have 4 sets of eyes compared to our 2, and, for a bird’s eye view, Ron will be sent aloft to a spreader.
.
We line up behind Salacia and watch Ron ascending the mast to sit on the lower spreader. Ross moves forward for a view from the bow, Di is on look-out in the cockpit and Stephen is at the helm. On Avante, The Captain is at the bow, and The First Mate is at the helm. We have our new ear-phone walkie-talkies on which means we don’t have to rely on hand signals or good old-fashioned yelling back and forth.
.
Despite all our eyes searching for the reef entrance, we miss it and have to circle back which gives a catamaran time to get in ahead of our two boats. We cross the reef and enter the small lagoon. The catamaran, Muskat, is already in and anchored. Salacia drops her anchor. We next drop anchor forward of Muskat, but the anchor drags on coral leaving us much too near the cat.
.
Winds are up. Seas are churning. There’s a blow coming in, and with coral heads and the reef itself so close in the small lagoon, The First Mate wants to abandon further anchoring efforts. There is a larger lagoon located further out. Let’s go there. The Captain, however, says that we will persevere and try again. Oh, dear!
.
Our second attempt holds, but neither of us is comfortable. We are surrounded by bommies and coral reef. It’s all just too close, and if the wind were to change, we could end up on the reef. From the cockpit, we watch the swing of the boat and the darkening sky.
.
Jimmy, the owner of the island and founder of the Kamatal Yacht Club, is not one to be deterred by approaching storm clouds as he paddles out from shore in his kayak. He is a friendly, talkative man who welcomes us to his island and the Kamatal Yacht Club. We are free to come ashore, meet whomever of his family is around and tour the place. He asks us to sign the yacht club guest book. We glue one of our photos of Avante positioned between two icebergs into the book and then sign our names. On an isolated, energy- and water-deprived island here in the Pacific, an ice cube is an unknown thing. Jimmy is astounded at the size of the icebergs and delighted to have the photo in his book. He proudly announces that the club “restaurant” will be open tomorrow night. Would we like to make a reservation? There is no cost. Maybe a donation would be nice, and do bring your own beverage. Fearing the worst, The First Mate questions the menu. Not pig, please! Grilled fish, she is told. Relieved, we quickly add our names to the reservation list.
After Jimmy leaves, The Captain is served his lunch. Dishes are barely disposed of before the storm that has been building launches its fury over us. Winds sweep across the small lagoon at 30+ knots, and rain pelts down.
.
Hunkered under the dodger, we watch the clouds race overhead. Looking toward the island, palm fronds are bent horizontal by the wind. It is reassuring to see heads moving above deck on the boats around us. Anchored in a small lagoon, surrounded by reefs, this is not the kind of anchorage to blithely ride out a storm sitting below deck in comfort.
.
The Captain announces, to
The First Mate’s relief, that as soon as the storm ends, we will move to
the larger lagoon further out from the island. It is not where we
would like to be, but it certainly will be safer, especially if one of
these storms were to come up at night with a wind shift. Storm over.
We motor on out to re-anchor.
Salacia has invited us over for Sundowners. It’s a fair distance now to get back to them in the smaller lagoon. We launch the dinghy and, with the wind still up, endure a bumpy, wave-tossed ride over to them. The delicious aroma of baking bread greets us as we climb aboard, but what The First Mate enjoys most is the cooling air-conditioning they have on to counter the heat of the bread machine. How luxurious! It is always fun to visit another boat to see how they have things arranged and how they manage life in the space provided. It is even more fun when the boat is the same as your own. Always there is something to learn, and maybe even an idea or two on how to make life more efficient on your own boat. A bread machine would certainly be nice, but where to put it? Our trade-off is an espresso machine. The one we first had on Avante finally froze up on us. It is gone. Bread machine or espresso? Aboard Avante, morning cappuccinos win out every time! The espresso machine will be replaced on the first trip back from the States where there is room in our luggage to pack it. We linger on, enjoying our visit until 7:00. Time to head back. Salacia is leaving in the morning for Misima, but we plan to stay another day. Waving good-bye, we’ll meet up again in Misima. Off we go into the dark night, banging into the surf. Wave after wave washes over the dinghy drenching us from head to toe. Dripping, we climb back up on deck, shower off with fresh water at the stern and head below to dinner: Grilled Cognac-marinated pork chops with ginger/lime dipping sauce. Another experiment by The First Mate. It’s a keeper. Yum!
Wednesday, October 2nd – Salacia motors out in the early morning. Hearing on the radio that several Rally boats are sailing in later in the morning, we move over to the smaller bay to anchor where Salacia had been. It’s a beautiful day. Blue sky, sun streaming down — totally different from the stormy day of yesterday. By late morning, Clear Horizons, Too Impetuous and Smart Choice are anchored in the little lagoon with us and Muskat. With conditions so calm, the five boats can easily anchor here, but The First Mate keeps an anxious eye on the weather. Another blow like yesterday could have us all scrambling.
.
The water is a brilliant blue and crystal clear. It is so clear that we can follow the anchor chain many feet down to where the anchor is set. A nearby bommie shows up near us though, fortunately, Avante‘s keel will clear it easily at low tide.
.
Donning goggles and fins, we swim off to snorkel the reefs. Conditions are perfect. The coral is colorful, and the sea life is abundant. A large sea turtle lazing among the coral startles at our approach and speeds off to our disappointment. Cumbersome on land, they really can move in the water! What a pleasant surprise to find this reef area to be one of the best we have seen across the Pacific!
.
Late in the afternoon, a sailau with a bright blue sail comes into view and sails through the reef into our lagoon. It slowly maneuvers past our boats and pulls up on shore below Jimmy’s homestead and the Kamatal Yacht Club.
.
The obviously overloaded boat is packed. This is definitely a boat on a mission. Where are they headed, we wonder. Once on shore, everyone disembarks and starts carrying bundles up onto the beach and into a protected tree-shaded area. We know the only ones on this island are Jimmy and his family. Who are these people? We learn later that this is a group from a distant island heading over to Misima to visit and shop. Not everyone can reach Misima by sailau in one day. Therefore, all islands have spots where voyaging sailaus can stop and camp for the night. That is what these people are doing as they go about their business of setting up camp for the night.
.
It is now 5:00. We head ashore as requested for dinner at the Kamatal Yacht Club. Jimmy and family greet us formally with a welcoming flower lei and invite us to walk up the swept and manicured path to the Yacht Club. Wow! We are impressed with the ingenuity of Jimmy and his family. They have turned an isolated island into a money-making venture for themselves in an area where little is available in the way of money-making ventures. “Good on ya, Jimmy!” as our Aussie friends would say.
.
The Yacht Club is a simple A-frame building with palm fronds shading the open windows. Inside the pleasant room, the walls are pieced together from intricately woven reed mats. A long table runs the length of the room upon which covered dishes of food have already been placed.
.
At one end of the room are book shelves. These books were donated by a previous yacht who, assessing the needs of yachties like themselves, knew a book exchange out here in the Pacific would be a hit with fellow cruisers. Not to be outdone by a few books and magazines, a dark brown hen has chosen a far corner on an unoccupied shelf to roost. She is content to have us look, but her warning cackles tell us not to bother her. Kept awake by our presence, she is just barely tolerating us in her domaine!
.
We stand around outside the clubhouse sipping our drinks and talking to members of Jimmy’s family. We meet his wife and children as well as extended family members. The more adventurous kids chase after balloons that one of the yachties had brought for them.
.
When dinner is finally announced, we are invited to serve ourselves from the table. There are various rice and potato dishes and several fish and meat entrees, but it is hard in the dim light to tell what is what. It is said that our use of salt and spices has dulled our taste buds. That must be the case, for we really do not know what we are eating. Everything is equally bland and differs only in the amount of chewing required. The First Mate giggles as she pictures an islander’s first taste of a well-seasoned Cajun dish! Racing for water, he’d exclaim that one can’t taste anything for the spice and heat. It’s all a simple matter of what one is used to eating.
As part of our donation for the dinner, we give Jimmy a pair of diving booties. We had replaced ours because the zippers were no longer holding. Jimmy is delighted with this pair. With his reef-strewn shore, the booties will be well-used when walking across the reef looking for snails and other sea creatures that make up their diet. We add in 2 brand new T-shirts as well as 5 kina ($2.50) as later requested for the dinner.
.
Thursday, October 3rd – Our last morning anchored below the Kamatal Yacht club, the town of Misima is our next stop. Enjoying breakfast on Avante’s deck, it is delightful to look across the azure water to the island. Through the palm trees, the other side of the island can be seen. Jimmy suddenly appears kayaking up to the sides of Avante. His cousin, a policeman, needs to return to Misima where he works. Knowing that we are going there this afternoon, would we be able to take him? Of course. No problem. The Captain will pick him up on shore at 11:00.
.
A little while later, another kayak pulls up with 2 men aboard. They are from the sailau that pulled in yesterday afternoon. Their sailau is really over-loaded, and as they are headed to Misima as we are, would we be able to take a few with us? We are hesitant at first. These islanders grow up sailing, but Avante is a complex boat. Our biggest fear is fingers getting caught in lines around the winches or in the winches themselves. Wanting to help them out, we offer to take 3 of their group, but not old folks or very young children either.
.
At 11:00, The Captain heads ashore and returns to Avante with Jimmy’s cousin, 2 women and a young boy with a nasty cut on his foot who, it is hoped, they are taking to the clinic in town. The Avante Inter-Island Taxi Service has been launched!
.
Everyone finds a seat, and in a short while, we are motoring slowing out the lagoon. We turn right and head down the other side of the island looking back across the reef at the boats still at anchor in the lagoon.
.
Clearing the reefs, we raise sails. We had hoped for a brisk sail, but the winds are flukey. It looks like another blow is brewing out there. For now, everyone sits in the shade of the bimini excitedly watching the action aboard Avante as we sail along.
.
Winds die, sails come down, rain descends and excitement fades. Are we there yet? Now hunkered down under the bimini for rain protection, we turn on the engine and chug along to Misima.
.
We can see their sailau in the distance. It is disappointing to have to motor after expecting a great sail, but unlike the sailau, when the wind fails, we can crank on the engine. Though an ancient and antiquated form of transportation we may be, we present-day sailors have no problem with a little modern help now and then!