Hmmm, my original post of this seems to have gotten botched. Somehow the text got all out of order. Here's just the text in hopes it'll read right. If you want to see pictures, you'll have to scroll down to see the botched post. Ahh, the joys of blogging from the bush.
Another night of tossed and turned rest on a hard surface went by. We awoke a bit later this morning, having determined the night before that it would be good to stick around a bit in the morning in the off chance that my camera and the captured moments it contained might be returned. It was around 6:30 when I finally made my way up and off my planked bed. I woke Sesi and then made my way out to wake Chad, who was sleeping by the boat.
I envied him out there. The evening had brought nice weather and Chad had set up his mosquito net cocoon out under the sky next to the boat in that soft white sand. Man, that must have been comfortable to sleep in. There was still a small group of youths out there huddled around a small fire. By the ashes in the fire pit, it was obvious they'd been out there all night. Turns out that they were rotating security through the night for the boat. Their effort to protect was very touching.
We began setting about the task of getting our cargo and boat ready to launch. Every moment closer to our departure carried with it the weight of knowing that once we took off, the chances of finding that camera were slim. Each step of preparation was a conscious decision to let the thing go, to leave it behind. I doubled the reward amount and handed out my cell number to about fifty of the youth. The reward amount was more than enough, I hoped, to motivate a scouring of the immediate and outlying area with those looking to make a quick and easy profit from their effort.
When we were about ready, before we found ourselves under the scrutiny of our impending audience, we grabbed a few handfuls of our trail mix and a piece of beef jerky. Soon after, someone also brought us each a cup of the uber-sweetened tea.
Once out at the boat, everything loaded and lashed in place, we thanked the large crowd for their hospitality and for such great effort put into trying to find our little stolen camera. We reminded of the reward and contact information and then started organizing a small number of men to help move the boat down for launch.
The crowd was pressed in all around, making it difficult to get things going. Noticing this, some of the adults in the crowd started in on the children that they needed to get on to school. The kids heard, but did not move... almost as if the adults had said nothing at all. The adults told them again, this time more in unison with raised voices revealing their frustration. Still the children did not move. Still, it was as if the adults weren't saying anything at all. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a coconut fly through the air whizzing through a crowd of the children. One of the men had thrown it and was now grabbing another one as he began yelling at them. The kids scattered, another coconut flew, and an angered pursuit ensued. The man tore a branch off a nearby sapling and chased the kids off in the direction they were to go lashing the thing at them. This was clearly exciting to the crowd, who watched and commented and laughed. In moments the show was over and we were now free to launch.
We hauled Shan Skailyn down to the breakers, which were small. It was one of the rare times we didn't have to time the waves before shoving out. Once the bow was in the water we shoved out quickly and hopped in, paddling away a bit before assessing the light winds.
In all the hubbub yesterday, I'd forgotten to ask Sesi about those kids that ran from us upon our arrival at Bom. As we paddled away from Erima I found myself wondering about it again and asked Sesi what the deal was. Why had those kids been so afraid of us like that yesterday? It was one of the most unusual encounters I've ever had in my 9 years living in Papua New Guinea! Sesi laughed again and said it was nothing. He said that there's been a rumor all along the Rai Coast about how white folks have run out of livers and have been coming and taking livers from unwilling donors along the coast here. Those kids at Bom, not knowing how to interpret our arrival, fit it nicely in the frame of that rumor. Not wanting to become victims, they booked it out of there! Hmmmm... sounds a bit like one of those email spams from years ago? I'm sure many may recall the emails warning travelers; victims being left in bathtubs with ice, short a lobe of liver or a kidney, or whatever the rumor was. I find myself wondering how in the world a rumor like that gets propagated so thoroughly over here where so few have access to email.
Erima, where we'd just left, was well beyond the bend that brings the coast up northward toward Madang. We had hoped that the Taleo wind, which had always been against us as we labored westward up the Rai Coast, would now be working with us as we turned up north. If the winds continued from the west we'd hoped that we'd be able to maintain a nice brisk reach on a port tack the rest of the way to our destination. It wasn't to be. The winds, light as they were, maintained their constant pressure against us. And this early in the morning, the wind was so light that we found it impossible to make any use of it. After several fruitless attempts, we dropped the sail again figuring we could paddle faster than this. Once paddling we started making some good time.
The sea was more glass like this morning than any other morning we'd seen. The orange sunlight, dissipated and colored by the clouds on the horizon, reflected solidly off the smooth water, broken only by two small silhouettes of fishermen in their outriggers. They were obviously taking advantage of this beautiful morning. We glided northward, maintaining about a kilometer between us and the shore. Seeing the fishermen there made me think of the handline we'd brought along and the fact that we'd made zero use of it. We were so focused on the effort of sailing our little craft that it seemed impossible to add yet another task to the mix. Save it for another time, I guess.
We continued paddling for about half an hour or so before passing a logging operation that was located on a piece of land jutting out before resuming directly northward again. I can no longer remember the name of this place. My attempt to consult my cached google earth maps (from the bush with no internet) is proving my point that technology is more of a pain in the rear than it's worth. So the name of the place will remain nameless... er, maybe it was Maraga Point, or Maraga Hook, or something like that.
By the way, little side-note here. I've learned something about google earth (and probably google maps too). I've noted that all the companies involved in activities that seem controversial that we encountered along the way do not show on google's maps. It only shows wild green bush where they are located. My guess is that google offers (for a fee, of course) an option for one not to exist on their maps for those who want to minimize their online presence. Interesting.
So back on topic. We'd talked about stopping at the logging operation, having heard that it was a decent enough place to stop and that we'd be more welcome there than we'd been back at Ramu Nickel. However, we'd really just started the day, and all three of us were holding on to the hope that we'd be able to finish our journey today. We'd talked about it, and it seemed like such a long shot. Making Madang was doable, being maybe 12 or 14 kilometers away, but beyond that, we still had easily another 10+. The wind was against us and we were paddling. Yet, the thought anchored itself in our minds. We were set on reaching our goal. So we passed Maraga, continuing our pulling, northward up a long stretch of nice looking smooth black sandy beaches. We could clearly discern Bil Bil island in the distance. Standing just off the coast it marks the outskirts of Madang town. We were not just pulling. We felt as if we were being drawn to it, our eyes fixed on our goal, paddling with rhythm that was going to get us there. Bil Bil, here we come!
The morning wore on as we made our way closer and closer. The wind seemed to tease us, picking up just long enough for us to put forth the effort to raise the sail again before either dying down or becoming so shifty, changing direction and becoming light enough again that our minds returned again to the thought of paddling.
Even with the light shifty winds and alternating sailing and paddling, Bil Bil seemed to be coming on fast. Finally, what I'd guess to be about 5 or 6 miles out, a consistent wind picked up, we set the sail and began tacking up into it. The direction of the wind now allowed us to maintain a port tack pointed high into the wind with need only one or two tacks inland to keep us on course. We'd heard several people say that when we got to Bil Bil we'd want to keep to the safety of the inside of the small island, between it and the coast. The side facing the sea was all rocky and the waters typically much more rough. As we made our way toward it though we saw that it was a much more direct path to go on the outside. Chad and Sesi and myself discussed whether we should take the direct route and risk whatever people had warned us about or stick to the inside which may take a little longer. We ended up deciding that Bil Bil was still far enough off that conditions could change quite a bit. We'd take the route that allowed either path to be taken after assessing the situation once we were nearer. So we took a course directly toward Bil Bil.
Bil Bil not only marked the beginning of Madang town, but also a much more densely islanded section of the coast. Many small, even uninhabited islands, some as small as a house, would dot the waters. Bil Bil shared company with only two or three other islands in the vicinity, but once at Madang the numbers would seem countless. It was the thought of frequenting some of these many islands with my kids over the years that prompted me initially to build Shan Skailyn.
Coming up on Bil Bil we opted for the inside track where I remember from many times flying over, there seemed to be nice beaches on the sheltered sides of these many islands. We thought it would be more scenic and fun to cruise by these beaches. And hey, take a look at this... I have a picture!!! This is a picture of one of Bil Bil's little wantoks (friends) I took a couple years ago. Beautiful! I'd always thought we'd stop at this little beach and sip on some coconuts, soaking in the scenery a bit before moving on. I was disappointed as we passed Bil Bil, and then another and then another that this heavenly little beach never greeted us. I was looking for it, but did not see it! How was it missed? Oh well. Besides, it was now only about 11am. We were at the edge of Madang now! Would it be possible to make our final destination today? This thought kicked down any notion we might have of stopping along the way.
We passed through and behind the few islands there by Bil Bil. Shan Skailyn drew the attention of many of the local children as they hung out on trees and rocks, waving and hootin' and hollerin' at us. The wind was starting to die out so they had plenty of time to look on as we moved along at a snail's pace. While here we called a friend who lives in town and who could notify our families that we'd made it to Madang. It wasn't long before we passed the island group there beyond Bil Bil. The rest of the coastline now, another couple miles or so until Madang harbor, was all rocky with no good landing spots. This rocky section had always scared me; mostly because I could actually see it when we were in town. I'd had lots of time before ever taking this trip to think about the dangers of being caught out here with nowhere to land. We'd been through much worse places in much worse weather, but for some reason my old fear of this place held on. I was nervous here even though the wind was next to nil and the water was calm. I just wanted to be beyond this last little bit of rocky stuff. Who knows what the weather would do, and we were still moving along slowly.
I found it difficult to recognize from this new perspective, the different places with which I am familiar from the ground. It was odd to see the different locations, knowing I ought to be familiar yet was having a hard time recognizing them. One by one they would click. As soon as a major feature was obvious, many of the others would jump out, now having their reference point.
Relief of the fear of this little coastal section came for me when I saw the lighthouse known as Coastwatchers, or "Coasties", a towering white rocket shaped lighthouse that is well known for it's welcome to Madang. Once we were at this tower, I knew, we were almost home free. We'd cross the harbor, after watching for any ships that might be coming through, then pass on behind the protection of a myriad of little islands that we would navigate around and through to make the final leg to our destination.
We heard a shout from the shore. It was definitely a western shout. We looked and noticed our friend whom we'd called earlier was standing right out by the lighthouse and taking video of us with his phone. He filmed us for a while until we crossed by and into the harbor.
Kranket island was the first of the many islands we'd pass once we'd crossed the harbor. It felt as if we'd made our destination! But we still had a ways to go. Only being about 1pm now we figured we have a real shot at finishing our journey today. We sailed on.
Most of the rest of the afternoon there were half-decent winds blowing through all those islands. We glided over varicolored blues as deep dark rose to lightness of shallow coral only to dive back down bringing us out over the unseen bottom. The occasional hazard of a lone rock was to be avoided as we tacked our way up wind, navigating in between the islands, hoping the next passage would bring the familiar into sight.
We found it altogether a different thing to be tacking upwind with intent of navigating specific passages. Our experience up to this point had just been tacking mostly up a straight line, like the zig zag stitching on the seams of our sail. However, navigating in between the islands, some of them providing only narrow channels, required constant judgment calls regarding how much more zig than zag would put us on track to make the passage; judgment calls we found ourselves missing frequently. It's amazing how deceptive the whole game can be. In the end though, it was no big deal, we just did a few more tacks than we thought we'd have to as we made our way to our destination. We found ourselves being a little more daring with the rocks too as we wanted to maximize each tack. We'd approach sometimes to within 15 or 20 yards of the rocks at times before tacking back out. The weather and the waves were such that we feared little about losing control. Plus, when you're on that final stretch, close to home, one tends to be willing to do more than he would in the far off places. Maybe it's the motivation to just get there quickly. Or maybe it's the thought that should something happen, you're in familiar territory. I knew we were close by because I could now see the long stretch of Sek island in the distance.
Eventually as we gazed between the narrow passage of two islands, we spotted the familiar silver glare of the roofing tin on the houses that made up our destination! Excitedly we made our way in, passing between the islands and into the little bay that is our home away from home. We couldn't wait! We couldn't believe we were finally here. My posterior was killing me from the last 7 days in this little canoe. An infection seemed to be setting in. But it mattered not. We were home! Today, we'd made it further than any other day, by a long shot! At least 22 miles. It seems the same tide that worked against us on our final leg of the Rai Coast (before it turned up northward) was now working for us and helped carry us along! Right here though, the wind tapered off, making our final approach a slow and agonizing 45 minute crawl. It may have been faster to just drop sail at this point, but we dared not be seen paddling into home. We wanted the glory of Shan Skailyn under sail power, even though barely crawling along, to be seen. Paddling in would feel like defeat. So we crawled our way in under sail, got in close brailed the sail, and prepared for our final landing. We paddled in to the cheers of our family and friends who had come out to greet us! Yes! We made it! Thank you, God!
I honestly don't remember a time when I was as frightened as I found myself several times on this trip! The birth of our first child may have come close, but that was different. What started out as just a crazy idea two years ago, came to fruition and took us much further beyond the threshold of our capabilities than we'd anticipated. Initially, upon pondering the craziness of not only building this boat in the middle of the jungle, but also committing to sailing it 90 miles with no sailing experience, my doubt was balanced out by thoughts of all the many other crazy things that people have done and continue to do and by God's good graces (whether they give him credit or not), still come out alright on the other side. It didn't seem right to let the fear I've harbored since the very conception of the idea, keep me from continuing to plan and setting out on this maiden voyage. That first day on Wab beach (and the subsequent few days afterward) as reality hit me, I was sure I was a complete idiot for thinking that way and having moved ahead with these plans. I was sure I was going to die in the Bismark Sea! But there was no way out by then. Now that we're on the other side, having learned what we learned and seen what we saw (and we're still alive), I am glad that we decided to just do this thing and that we went all the way!
It's a long shot, but now I'm starting to wonder if it would be worthwhile to try to make this trip, or something similar, again in another year or two, but time it with the Rai Wind on our tail.
For now, Shan Skailyn rests in his place atop a shipping container, under the hot, dry shelter of corrugated roofing tin. It sits out there while we're back in the bush again where we work. I'll have some minor repairs to make and touching up with paint next time we're out for a break. A few other small repairs will bring him right back up to new again. Much of what awaits Shan Skailyn from here on out will be drastically more tame than what he's already been through; taking the kids out in the calm bay, checking out the different islands... and hey, maybe I'll be able to afford a 'moto' someday.
