Vuda Marina was the end of two thousand miles of sailing alone with no autopilot. Before this trip it was one of the things I worried about most, the long nights at the helm with nobody to hand it to, and now it is simply something we have done. I got good at it. I would be happy never to have to get good at it again.
The plan for Fiji was to catch up with friends, explore a few islands and, mostly, rest. It did not go exactly to plan, nothing out here does, but by the end most of the pieces had turned up, along with a couple of wild highlights and a low point I could have done without.
Left: Lautoka market, tomatoes by the heap and the price on a cardboard sign. Right, top: eggs by the tray. Right, bottom: chillies, beans and greens laid out on the concrete.
First there was the list. Vuda is the first marina we have seen in about ten thousand miles, and Cloud Nine and I had been saving things up. The big one was a rerig of the remaining standing rigging, and a quick rig check ended any debate about it when we found more broken strands on the main shrouds. That got done. The autopilot parts had all arrived, so it went back together, and I finally found the access that will make the job easier next time. Then we rebuilt one of the steering mechanisms, which went badly enough that Cloud Nine had no steering at all for about a week, until a local steel shop got her back to working order.
With her back together we went out to the islands with a group of very good sailors and friends, and for the first time in a long while I got the chill and relax part of sailing, which had been in short supply since the Gambiers. The islands were full of beautiful, peaceful, friendly people, and every day there was something new to be grateful for.
Left: hauling in the net off the jetty at dusk. Right, top: the cast, the net opening like a jellyfish. Right, bottom: gathering it in for the next throw.
Left: last light on the jetty, the anchorage beyond. Right, top: walking home along the boards. Right, bottom: Mana Diamonds, watching the water.
Left: number twenty three, leading the way up. Right, top: a pause on the ridge above the bay. Right, bottom: through the long grass toward the top.
Left: a rest in the bamboo. Right, top: a dog who came along for the walk. Right, bottom: a horse in the long grass, unbothered by any of us.
Left: goats on the ridgeline, the only ones who did not need a path. Right, top: yellow walls and a white picket fence in the village. Right, bottom: kettle on a wood fire.
The best of it was a dive with bull sharks. I said yes before I had done any research, then did the research, which is probably the wrong way round but was never going to change the answer. It was my kind of adventure. A group of inexperienced divers, fifteen to twenty bull sharks, and three rules. Dive down, hold the rope, don't touch the sharks. What made it a proper adventure was that not everything was quite under control.
The divers sit behind a wall and the crew hold the sharks off with poles. I knew it was getting interesting when I settled into my spot with the sharks right out in front of me, and I could see the poles, but nobody was holding them. For a couple of minutes it was just me and the sharks. Then the crew arrived, the feeding started and the sharks mostly kept to their lane, though they pushed close enough to fill the frame of a GoPro. I had been given seat number one, right beside the feed, and I ducked more than once.
Left: seat number one. Close enough to fill the frame. Right, top: fifteen to twenty bull sharks, mostly staying in their lane. Right, bottom: pushing the boundaries, as promised.
A few sunsets later we pointed Cloud Nine back at Vuda and she made quick work of it. She came out of the water for a few jobs, I said goodbye to a group of friends I am going to miss, and once again I was a solo sailor with a boat on the hard and some decisions to make.
The big one is New Zealand. Every cruiser picks a route based on what matters most to them, and I have narrowed mine to two. The first is direct to Opua, south west to John's Corner and then straight for New Zealand. The second suits my swing wide theory better. Vanuatu for a couple of good days, then New Caledonia, then on to New Zealand. I like it because it breaks up the legs and puts me closer for the final weather call, so I am trusting a seven day forecast instead of a ten. Without a weather router that matters. The first seven days of a forecast are usually a lot more honest than the last three.
So I set about getting Cloud Nine ready, or as ready as I thought she was, and life threw me a curve ball. Climbing the ladder to get aboard on the hard, I fell from the top step, ten or twelve feet to the ground, and came away with a long list of injuries. I don't remember climbing back up or getting into bed. I do remember the next morning. It hurt everywhere.
So now I am healing, in body and in mind. I fly home for a week, which will not be easy in this state, but that is how life goes sometimes, and I hope it doesn't get in the way of carrying on. For now I will keep planning and keep pushing. Cyclone season is starting, and the talk of a double El Niño is not my idea of fun. Cloud Nine is waiting on her stands. She has always been more patient than me.
