Day 7 - Victorious Arrival!

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.

Day 7 - Victorious Arrival!

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.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.

Day 6 - The Most Frightening Day

As usual we woke up this day at about 5 am. My sleep was intermittent what with the pain I experience not sleeping on a cozy comfy mattress that I'm so used to. No big deal though. Still feeling rested enough to do what we need to do and be excited about it.

I no longer experience the complete dread as we set out to launch the boat. Not that we're impervious to any danger that can befall us. But I feel better and more confident in both the seaworthiness of my little craft and a little bit in our skills which we've been picking up little bits at a time along the way. Seems reflection on scary moments and things gone wrong has its benefits in learning!

We packed up our stuff in the dark. Nobody was awake yet except us. We took the opportunity to grab our sustenance for the day in a couple handfuls of trail mix and one piece each of spicy beef jerky. We snarfed it down quickly in the dark of the hut we were staying in, a teeny bit of blue light from the impending sunrise providing enough for the task (incognito, remember?).

By the time we started moving our gear out of the house two or three young men were there who offered to help us. With torches in hand we made our way down the short trail, to the beach where the boat was and began uncovering him and loading up our stuff. When we were finally ready there was enough of a small crowd (Minus Muni - where was he at anyway?) that it was an easy task to move Shan Skailyn out to the water and shove out into the glassy smooth water beginning to reflect the orange dawn light and broken only by small ripples. There was no wind this morning so we paddled for quite a ways. Here and there, a little bit of wind would pick up, we'd set the sail, move unsatisfactorily, and then add paddle power to create our own wind and achieve a more acceptable speed.

We continued like this for most of the morning, going back and forth between just paddling and trying to use the little bit of wind available to us. Not an unpleasant morning, but we do always prefer to be under sail power. It's certainly much cooler 5 degrees south of the equator when there's a good breeze blowing by you. When there's nothing, and you're doing the harder work of paddling... well it can get plain hot out there.

Eventually we made it out to a place I recognized from my reviews of the coast on google earth as Siroi. I'd also flown over it once or twice over the last couple years or so. Siroi, from the air had always looked like a safe haven, a place sheltered from the sea by a thin finger of land jutting out, in the shape of a bottle opener, creating a protected little bay area. From the air (and from google earth) I'd also seen that there was a dry dock there. We arrived at the entrance to this bay in a dead calm. No wind, no waves, still paddling with the sail brailed up. From closer up, Siroi was not the welcoming place it looked to be from the air. It was dead, unkempt, abused looking. It looked like possibly it was owned and used by a logging company or something similar. We weren't itching to feel solid ground anyway so we decided not to check it out. Instead we floated there, at the entrance to that safe little bay, trying to decide whether or not this might be a good place to try to cross Astrolabe Bay.

We didn't have a map, but Chad had his iphone and so called a buddy of his in the states, asked him to look up where we were at and give us the distance across if we were to cross there (yeah, we're cheaters!). Turns out it would be about 9 miles. Still the thought of crossing open water scared us. Call us wimps, but we weren't totally naive of what could happen out there. But the more we thought about it, the more attractive the thought of trying seemed. Plus we could see across so clearly; as clearly as we'd seen some pieces of land as we were trekking along the coastline. Granted some of those distant pieces of land took a really long time to reach. We also considered that the wind had been against us nearly the entire trip and that would likely not change here on a crossing. We prayed about the decision and still feeling it was the direction to go we started paddling. We figured that on calm water we could paddle about 3-4 miles per hour consistently. We gave ourselves about 3 hours to get across this bay. Shouldn't be a problem, right? We were about to find out otherwise. The answer to our prayer didn't come in the form we expected it... or when we expected it. The answer was that we were going to be stretched a bit!

After paddling maybe an hour or so out, the winds started picking up a bit. So we set the sail and made good use of it. But those winds, they were kind of shifty. We'd be tacking one way and then all of a sudden the sail would start luffing and I'd have to turn out away quite a bit in order to catch the wind again. My first thought when this happens, because of our lack of skill, is that something we're doing, like hiking out too much on a port tack for example, is creating too much drag from the excessive weight on the ama, thus turning us into the wind. But that wasn't the case here. I had learned to focus on a point in the distance which would give me a relatively good idea whether something was turning us off our tack. We remained pointed in the same direction. It was the wind changing on us. Anyway this shifty wind business kept us seeking for a decent tack, and we started to wonder if we were making any progress this way. We continued tacking, and after a while the wind seemed to become more consistent, though it was getting stronger. So were those waves. We pressed on, feeling committed to our course. Not worried, but definitely driven to get us to that other side as soon as possible. I had this voice in my head saying, "Move, move, move! We shouldn't dilly dally out here!"

The winds and waves continued to increase and before we knew it, we felt like we were way in over our heads! Amazingly, we didn't capsize, not even nearly so. We kept Shan Skailyn pointed up into the wind just enough to keep making progress, but it was getting hard to keep him under control. Shan Skailyn's bow found it's way under enough waves that I was concerned about how much water we'd taken in the front section. Faithful Shan Skailyn was always quick to bring his bow up quickly, never to get fully buried. One of the benefits of a bow which flares up toward the gunwale. Shan Skailyn's sail was also worrying me. I'd never seen it pulled so tight on all its seams and grommets. I thought for sure that something was going to give any moment... and that was with us pointed up into the wind. A wrong move would capsize us quicker than we could do anything about it.

At some point we decided together that this was way too much for us and that we should take the fastest point of sail (to get out of there quickly) and high tail it to solid ground. All of us were quite fearful at this point that things weren't going to turn out so good. Chad may not have been so concerned as Sesi and I, but all of us knew we needed to find safety. We turned quickly to a broad reach on a starboard tack, now taking us westward toward the shore we were trying to transverse. I told Chad to be ready with the sheet as we turned, that he was going to want to let it out quite a bit to reduce the strain of the wind. Still, with being sheeted out and Sesi and I hiked out quite a bit on the starboard side, Shan's ama was repeatedly being buried under the waves. It was hard to tell if it was a big-wave problem or a ballast problem, but we didn't like seeing the ama go that deep. We were moving pretty good and so when the ama did bury like that, we could feel the whole thing just dragging us down, turning the boat out from the wind, increasing the force on the sail. Chad was having to pay super close attention to the sheet to keep things under control. Meanwhile, at this speed (wish our gps had been working so I had some solid numbers) our rudder was acting up again, flaring way out and making small steering corrections difficult if not impossible without them turning to major corrections. So this too, Chad had to make up for on his sheet work. I was struggling just to get the rudder to settle at a middle point where it would not try to oversteer us either way. It was nearly impossible at the speed we were going.

The whole thing had me near panic! My mind kept projecting all the negative possibilities this could bring about. My mind was reeling in fear. I was able to settle in the fact that God was still not out of control of this small matter. There's a good and perfect reason we're being pressed like this. For now, all I need to focus on is doing what I can to keep Shan Skailyn moving to safety. Teeth unclenching. Continue pursuing that coast in the distance!

Amidst the wind and the splashes and the burying ama and the bendy rudder, the thought crossed my mind and I yelled to Chad, "If there's ever a time we want video of us moving, this is probably it... if you've got the stones to be distracted from the sheet a bit!" Wouldn't you know it, he managed to get the camera out and have some fun with the thing, getting some great footage and still keeping an eye on the sheet. He put the camera down by the water, hootin' and hollerin' as he filmed, catching the rudder in it's flimsy state, the water splashing and spraying off the bow of the ama... when it wasn't buried under the waves... and big splashes off the starboard side of the hull where the waves were coming at us. I was glad to have watched this video several times before the camera was stolen (read on for details). Sweet footage! While it was happening we were gritting our teeth... well maybe except for Chad who I wondered if he only sensed enjoyment from this kind of thrill... but in hindsight, having lived to tell about it, I'm glad we went through it.

We managed to get locked into a decent tack for a bit where I could bail some of the water that had come in while trying to maintain our course with the rudder. I looked at the sail again and saw that it was still stretched so tight that I could see little wrinkles fan out from each connection point. I also noticed we'd lost our upper tell-tale.

We continued like this on our mad racing starboard tack for what I initially guessed to be about an hour before we reached shore. While it was indeed a long time, later reflection has me thinking it couldn't have been that long. The math wouldn't quite work. So let's say a 1/2 hour or maybe a bit more before we were close enough to land that we could pick the spot we were going to head to. We were so thankful to see this little piece of land with it's people out there watching us. It meant we were nearly to safety. It was also about this time, maybe about a half kilometer off land that the wind finally tapered off just enough to be manageable, though still strong enough to keep us on our toes and our rudder flopping about making it hard to control the boat well.

The beach we were approaching was a nice, wide open, white sandy beach. The trees were thin where the huts were sprinkled along the length of the beach. A few motos were lay beached upside down, looking as if they'd been that way for a while, maybe out of commission. As we sought where the best place would be to land, we decided to go where the other canoes are at. Most likely that's the area best suited for bringing a craft up on the beach. We turned a bit to port, Chad letting the sheet out more, so that we now ran before the wind for a bit just to bring us in close enough to brail and paddle and do our little landing routine again. While still a ways out, we saw a great number of children, many of them wearing like themed shirts, obviously elementary school kids, pouring out of an area onto the beach. They'd come out to watch us bring our strange craft into their village. Our audience was huge. We hoped our landing wasn't going to make us look like fools. It didn't. All went well and the entire mass began to swarm in as we and a few others quickly hauled Shan Skailyn way up high on the beach.

We immediately launched into an explanation of what had just happened to us and that we had to run for safety and were brought to this beach and needed to rest a bit. Our adrenaline still racing, we exuded relief in our story. It was only about 12:30. We knew that if we played our cards right we could be in and out of there in 1/2 hour, which is what we wanted to do. But we were also a bit shaken and needed to collect our thoughts a bit. So the possibility of staying a bit longer before moving on wasn't too bad. Besides, these folks clearly appreciated our being there and it was a good place to hang out and story for a while. We continued telling stories about our journey over the last few days, working up against the Taleo Win from Wab. We told of the places we'd stopped along the way and the friends we'd made. These guys knew some of the folks we'd encountered. Especially the moto skipas like Gadib from Wab and David from Tookia seemed to be well known among the various places up and down the coast.

We spent a couple hours lounging on the beach there, answering questions about our boat, talking about their canoes and paddles and other stuff. We found out the name of this place was Lalok. We found one old man who said he'd made a canoe that he used to sail up to Madang. It didn't do much for working upwind. So he would paddle out at 3 or so in the morning, in the dark, and catch a little breeze that would blow him right on up to Madang in about 8 hours or so. He said he left the canoe at some other village where his brother lives up the way so unfortunately I had no chance to see it.

About the canoes we've seen up the coast, it's interesting how their design changes from place to place. Sometimes, depending on how many canoes are available to look at it's hard to discern between what differences are simply a matter of individual taste and what differences are typical differences seen between the cultures. Overall, the design is the same. Ama connections are all very similar forked attachments lashed on with heavy mono. Most don't actually have a forked branch, but several hard wood pieces tenoned into the ama to form a fork, crossing in an 'X' or otherwise a 'V' and then being lashed to the crossbeam. All the canoes were surprisingly heavy for their size, but masterfully maneuvered by their owners. One common design feature was a long upper lip on both the bow and stern, under which was a kind of scalloped shape carved in, maybe to disperse waves and keep them from breaking over either end. Paddle size, weight, shape were all things that varied from one locale to the next. Some carved, some narrow and long bladed, some extremely heavy, some extremely light. Of course each place had within it its own variances based on owners. One paddle I envied so much was an 8' long bladed paddle with an alligator carved at the point where the blade and handle meet, and then a woman carved at the top of the handle. It was a very nice paddle for which I contemplated a trade at one point. I never asked (and more importantly, neither did the owner) because it was 2' too short to be used as a steering oar for Shan Skailyn. But it was tremendously lightweight and strong. I also knew the owner used it for a paddle, not an oar, and that a trade for my 10' hardwood steering oar would be a definite downgrade for him. I left my envy to simple admiration. Turns out that the paddle was a gift to him from a friend of his from the Sepik. That would explain the surpassing skill of it's maker over the other pickings of the area. The Sepik folks are known for their skill in paddle making and carving. There were quite a number of other differences I noticed between areas (all following language borders), some subtle, some not so much. Unfortunately, they're differences that I'd prefer to show pictures of and not just try to write about.

We storied a while and were just starting to make some noise about needing to get going when food was brought out for us. Good thing. We were really hungry and didn't feel we could break out our own meager stash without obligation of finishing it off collectively. They'd also brought out some kulau earlier from which we were getting plenty of water. Not sure how many have had fresh kulau before. It's the coconut before it turns brown. There's still a thick green husk on it that has to be stripped off, then you lop the top off with a bush knife and drink. The water is cool, has an ever so slight effervescence to it and is full of nutrients. It's a most refreshing treat in the hot tropical sun. From this trip we've realized that it would have been easy to not bring water at all and just drink kulau and be perfectly fine. You don't have to treat it. It's just a ready made drink God has provided in abundance along the coastal places. Good stuff!

We ate our food with gusto, and as appropriately as possible made to get launching as quickly as possible. It was nearing 3:30 and daylight was running out. We really wanted to make sure we reached Erima if possible. Plenty of folks helped move the boat back out, count the waves and shove out. Once again, we had a large crowd watching as we departed. Once again they were treated to the oddity of this sailing craft going into the wind. It must be so mysterious to them! And once again, as had become our usual departure routine, once we were clearly under way, the people and the beach starting to shrink, we would call out and thank them in best PNG fashion and be on our way.

The weather was much more relaxing this time of day. Just enough to get the boat moving slow and steady. The waves were very manageable and we just enjoyed tacking up into the wind for the next hour or so. It was about this time though that we spotted the all telling ominous black smoke clouds upwind of us with the dark windswept rain underneath. No question by any one of us... we had about 20 minutes to find a landing place to avoid the heavy wind and waves that were about to come. This brought us to a nice black beach at Bom.

We approached slowly, looking for any signs of the best place to land. Again... look for the beached canoes and approach there. That's what we did and it brought us to the best place. Young children, all out of school for the day (we're closer to town now where developments such as schools are more normal) were playing and fishing and hanging out on the beach. We pulled up on the beach just a bit downwind from them, used the waves to hoist Shan Skailyn up higher, out of the reach of the waves. Then the strangest thing happened. Unlike any other place we'd been so far, the kids just stared at us, obviously not sure what to make of us. I smiled and walked over asking them where we were at and the name of the village... The kids RAN like I was going to eat them or something! I wasn't totally sure if they were just being goofy and playing or what, so I approached a little further, asking if there was a big man (village leader) we could talk to... They ran more! I mean every single one of them booked it out of there! They were genuinely afraid of me! What's so odd about it is that here, being closer to Madang town, has certainly had more exposure to outsiders than the other places we'd been. So it was counterintuitive that they'd be afraid because I was a stranger. I wasn't totally sure what frightened them, but I decided not to pursue too much for fear of their fear turning to action leading to my harm (ie. being shot with an arrow or something). I turned and went back to the boat where Sesi was laughing his butt off. He thought it was the funniest thing to see his fellow citizens running from me like that. Ha ha ha!

Just about the time I arrived at the boat we saw some of the adults walking up from another nearby hamlet. They greeted us, we complemented the beauty of their village and setting and explained that we were sailing up from Wab on our way to Madang and saw the storm clouds and headed for the nearest beach to avoid being out in the bad conditions. As I said this, we looked out over the water and could see that the wind and waves were indeed picking up fiercely. It would commence raining in about 10 minutes. During our wait we storied a bit, drank more kulau which they offered us and we waited for the rain. Our stop in Bom was very short, maybe 20 minutes in all. After the rain began to fall, the wind and the waves settled down. While it was still raining even, we hauled back out and began to find our way upwind again to Erima.

By now, it was about 5pm. I wasn't liking the idea of still being out on the water with only about an hour of good light left. We needed to make some serious movement and find where we were looking for. In hindsight, the last place we'd beached, there in Bom, would have been a fine place to stay the night. But we were in a persistent mood that afternoon. The wind was almost too light to work into it. We switched between paddling and sailing, even mixing the two, trying to make headway. We passed by the mouth of a small river, continued up a bit more and noticed some folks on the beach. Seeing as to how it was starting into dusk we decided to pull in and inquire. We were still in the area called Bom. I thought it was a village name, but apparently not. Bom makes up several places and we'd only managed to find another place within Bom. No village was near enough to consider staying the night. Doing so would require leaving the boat unattended... not something we were willing to do this close to town. We shoved back out again after just a few minutes. A few young men told us Erima was just 'right up there'. We could see where they pointed were some structures. So we made to go up there.

As we were shoving out, some of the young men offered to help us paddle up there. Having seen the difficulty of having more passengers, we decided it would be alright, but that we'd only take one. We communicated this but three of them hopped on as we were pushing off. I decided not to make a big deal of it since the seas were calm and we were only going that very short distance. The three men insisted on paddling. One of them took the steering oar and began flailing it around like it was a bent egg beater, making no useful work of it. He wouldn't let go and I had to rather forcefully gain it back from him. Odd behavior, I thought. After asking the guys a few questions, it was clear from their incoherent answers that something was wrong with them. They were on something and not totally right in their minds. This is guaranteed to translate to trouble. I communicated my concern to Sesi (in his tokples so as to not be understood by our guests) and Sesi affirmed that something definitely is wrong here. He warned me to keep a very close eye on EVERYTHING. These guys were going to try to take something or do something when the time was right.

We pulled up to Erima, beached the boat, hauled up with the help of our high friends and then the crowd ensued. It was clear from the get go that the Erima crowd knew these young men that arrived with us. They asked us if they were traveling with us and I said they just helped us from up the beach a ways. Erima's treatment of the young men was not overtly unwelcoming, but the subtle clues were there. I could tell they weren't welcome there. One of them stayed by the boat. I stayed right there by his side, imagining that he was looking for opportunity. After a little while he faded back into the crowd and disappeared. Now I felt I could participate in the unloading of the boat.

We unloaded our stuff, keeping it all in one spot under watchful eye as we talked to various people. After a bit one person came up obviously with more clout and offered to host us. It was later in the evening, just about dark, and I was feeling bad for pulling up on their beach at this time of day and bringing on what would be their expectation that they need to feed and host us. What a pain. We should have stayed back at Bom. They've probably already eaten here, and are winding down for the day and here we are pulling up to their village clearly expecting that we could sleep there. I apologized profusely saying we're probably messing things up for them coming in like this. Our host was very nice. He asked everyone to step back some so we could have space to straighten out things with the boat. We finished unloading everything. Then Sesi, our host and Chad began to take our stuff up to where we were going to sleep for the night. It was interesting, our host was putting us up in a church building. Given how church buildings here are generally looked at as very special places, this totally went outside our expectations. Made us wonder what the deal was... not that we thought it bad. Actually we're indifferent. It's just another building as far as we're concerned. But we know that typically putting someone in the church building may have connotations of defilement to their special place. But whatever. That's where he put us and our wonderment kind of stopped there.

At one point while we were preparing the boat for the night, Sesi brought Chad's personal bag which had my camera attached to it. He set it at my feet and said, "This is the last bag. YOU and nobody else, should carry it up. Watch it carefully." By this time, quite a bit of the crowd had dispersed. I set about getting the boat ready and our host came down and offered to take that last bag up. I agreed, seeing that he was going up alone, feeling like when it came to our host, we should be alright. I remember noting that the camera was attached to the bag, right there in plain sight. I was thankful it was being taken up to be put in the safety of our shelter. When I arrived up at the shelter a few minutes later, our host said we should check to be sure everything is there. First thing I looked for was my camera. It was gone! I thought 'surely not!' But the more I looked, the more the reality hit me that someone had taken it. Digging around more produced the little wrist strap that had fastened the camera to the bag. It had been cut with a knife. My camera, and all the pictures, and all the videos from our trip... all that stuff I was so excited to share with people... it all poofed away in my mind. I would not have it anymore! I was pissed; so much so in fact, I thought for sure I was going to do or say something stupid. I was seething and wanted to lash out and bowl everyone over, doing whatever it took to find the culprit. I don't remember the last time I was this upset! To make matters worse, I was exhausted, hungry and mentally spent from being on the water all day. I had barely a shred of care what I do with this anger.

I immediately backtracked my way to the boat, holding on to my tongue and on to some small hope that maybe the thing would be found in the bushes or nearby brush. A lot of times when someone steals something, they'll avoid being seen with the item by hiding or throwing it nearby in the bushes, waiting till the storm calms, or maybe till it's clear that the owner isn't going to notice for a while, and then coming back later to get it. I found nothing. My anger was seriously going to get me in trouble. It wasn't just directed toward toward a single, unknown, faceless individual who'd taken my camera. It was spilling out, in my thoughts at least, toward everyone there! Seriously! I was about to boil over! I reminded myself that nothing I do out of anger is going to fix this. An insane, angry white man wouldn't produce the culprit. If anything, it would just be entertainment! And it would upset a lot of people. I resolved to shut my mouth and just go back to where Chad and Sesi were. Just get there, sit down, and SHUT UP!

I needed to call Shannon here though first. She needed my evening phone call letting her know I was safe. I called, told her where we were at and what had happened. She could tell I was seriously upset and reminded me not to do anything stupid... does she know me or what!? It's just a camera and pictures, small blips in the whole scope of things. It was good to talk to her.

I got back and communicated to both Chad and Sesi how upset I was and that something's gotta give or I'm going to do something I'll regret. I decided to take some time to put my concerns before God. It was during this time, I found my only solace in the fact that justice will eventually be done to perfection. I know my camera being stolen is a small injustice relative to the many much more harsh abuses going on in the world. But this still hurt me bad. Justice, not just for a teensy tiny stolen camera, but for all wrong, will be done someday, whether it be through the culprit finding and trusting in Jesus' death that paid for it all, or through standing before the ultimate judge and paying the price himself, it will happen perfectly someday. This small event of my little camera being stolen just makes me re-realize my longing for that day when all will be made right again.

I was able to rest enough in this that I could reasonably set about notifying the youth of the village of a reward for whoever would find the camera and return it, and just carry on the rest of the evening, minus the freight train of vengeful thoughts that initially threatened to make an ass of not only me, but probably all three of us. I actually enjoyed the rest of the evening hanging out and talking with some of the folks and having dinner. Twice!

First, some women brought out a very large quantity of taro, bananas, yams, and greens with some beans. Then a little while later, they brought out some more of the same, but this time with a small whole fish in each of our plates. We were pretty excited to have fish, though it took a bit of muffled discussion between us to figure out how one goes about eating the meat from a whole fish. Didn't take long. We polished it all off. When later, they came to collect the dishes a bunch of people commented how they had all figured there was no way we would eat all the food they were bringing out. They were amazed that we'd polished it off. To be honest, I was amazed. I was stuffed to the hilt. It was too much, but I wanted my strength for tomorrow and we probably would not be eating breakfast before leaving.

I hung out with a young man later that evening, sitting in the grass outside the church building and enjoying a smoke (the all familiar tobacco leaf rolled in newspaper cigarette) over conversation. He mentioned in a way so much according to their culture (very unassuming, non-accusatory, face saving kind of way) that he wondered if our host hadn't taken the camera. He suspected either our host or the young stoned men with whom we'd arrived. He said he wouldn't put it past them to have pressured a younger kid to do the dirty work for them as our host carried the camera. It could be anyone though. Ugghh!

Later that evening as things were winding down, Chad decided he should go sleep out by the boat, both for security reasons, but also because the soft sand sounded nice to sleep in in his little mosquito netted cocoon. I think he slept more comfortably than any of us. Sesi slept on a hardwood raised floor where a preacher would normally stand and do his thing. I moved some hard wood (and I mean HARD WOOD) benches together and slept on those. I was so tired, that the discomfort barely phased me. My spirit rested enough that the thought of my stolen camera didn't keep me asleep. I remembered wondering as I lay there if there was any possibility that tomorrow we could end up arriving at our destination finally. I longed to be back with my family; my kids, my wife. As I drifted, I had those strange, vivid flashes of strange sea visions again. I wondered why that weird dreaming. Then I slept.

Day 5 - Lili Insanity

As we have been piecing our way up the coast, we've heard repeatedly from folks that we don't want to go past a certain point here because the tide is too strong. It's been very hard to discern what point they're talking about, and also how their warning would apply to Shan Skailyn. But all their warnings have pointed to somewhere there closer to where the North Coast (leading up to Madang) and the Rai Coast meet. The Rai Coast goes from the eastern tip of the peninsula, up along the northern edge, tracking mostly west-northwest (is that the right way to indicate that?) and then right where it curves sharply up north, it becomes the north coast, which then carries on well beyond Madang and on over to Wewak and eventually what is West Papua. Anyway, where Rai Coast meets North Coast... that area is called Astrolabe Bay. It's at this juncture that there does indeed seem to clearly be a tidal flow of some sort. The locals all blame it on the many rivers that find their way into that bay, thus causing the water there to be making a general movement out away from the point where Rai meets North. Whether this is true or not, I'm not sure but the consistent warning about the strength of the tide is worth taking note of.

It was this tide, whatever causes it, that slowed our progress despite feeling like we were moving pretty good today.

We woke up early as usual. The day prior, Sesi mentioned that the way we had snacked on trail mix in the morning before leaving our last destination was a bit of a faux pas. Doing it in sight of our hosts and not offering to let empty the bag with us; that was the error. I knew better. Bad call. Anyway, we'd agreed that if we were going to munch on the mix before heading out we should do it incognito so as not to offend. While still in our room, we each grabbed a couple handfuls of trail mix, a piece or two of beef jerky, snarfed them down, and got ready to head out. We were figuring that as usual it would be unusual to expect to be fed that early in the morning. But our host surprised us this morning. We knew something was up when we smelled burning kerosene. We discussed quietly our conjecture that he must be boiling or cooking something. So we went downstairs and wouldn't you know it, David was going above and beyond and had made us a meal and even served tea with it... thick with sugar of course.

We ate, storied a bit more about what we were hoping to do today, where the 'gutpela basis' were at up the coast where we could land if needed, and started heading down the road. Just as we were heading out, I heard in the corner of my mind, one of David's kids say in disgust "Aghhh! He just stepped in pek pek!" It took me a minute for what he said to register. I was thinking about other things and not watching the ground or even listening. I checked my shoe... wouldn't you know it? I did step in pek pek. I wiped it off and headed down the trail laughing about it with the boy and his friend. Good thing I had my water socks on!

We got down to the main village of Tookia (too-KEE-a) right at dawn, got our stuff which had been locked in a shed built for all the moto skipas that lived there among whom David, our host, was a bit of a big-wig, and headed down to Shan Skailyn. All was well. Didn't look like anyone had messed with him during the night. We untied him, removed and rolled up the tarp, loaded our stuff up and moved him down to the water where we got in and paddled out to the mouth of the river. Once there we had to get out to guide him. The motos can just move through the mouth direct into the sea. Where the water spills out it narrows and is cut into rock. So the water speeds up quite a bit and serves to suck anything within range. It nearly took Shan Skailyn before we realized he wasn't going to fit the narrower channel with the ama. It took a number of us jumping into action to work against the pulling and lift the Shan up onto the beach and over the bank from where we would launch him through the breakers. Another problem free, easy going launch. Off at 7:20am.

The water was smooth this morning. Yet there was enough wind to get us going. Our experience over the last several days was starting to show. We were able to handle Shan Skailyn much better today than we had other days. We were feeling more confident and it seemed we were able to deal with some of the seas conditions better. Not to be cocky though. I mean we're complete amateurs. Anyone with experience could watch us and see all we're doing wrong and ways we could improve our techniques to drastically improve performance. So don't get me wrong. Just saying we were feeling pretty good about being out on the water sailing Shan Skailyn. We were ready for another day.

And a good day it was! It felt like we had a more consistent decent speed this day than any other day. We couldn't wait to find out how far we'd come! Again, without the GPS there is no objective data. But the boat was moving pretty good, pretty consistently.

We moved up the coast past Gowar River, the river that we'd heard about a couple days ago that had been stopped up by a landslide and then flooded, breaking free from its constraints, causing the massive flash flood that had brought all that trash and trees and even people and houses into the bay. Once again, we passed the line that divided the blue of the sea bringing us suddenly into the semi translucent green of the brackish Gowar water. Once in view of the mouth of the river we gawked at the damage. Clearly it must have been a huge flash flood that ripped through there. Life stripped bare, only yellowed tree trunks were left, standing in the midst of a wide swath of brown. What is usually green with life now screamed barrenness. It must have been recent because nothing here stays barren for long. Seeing this, all the logs we'd been seeing floating about and washed up, especially at the beach at Basamuk made sense.

After passing Gowar we went on and moved past the point that was known as Tapalip. You can't find Tapalip on any maps, but that is what every local moto skipa and their moms and dogs call the place. It's a big outcropping of land that juts out prominently from the Rai Coast toward Madang. It is the last place where all the motos will begin to cross Astrolabe Bay to go to Madang. They say the tide is so strong that even on a 40HP moto, you aim for the river just south of Bil Bil Island in order to get to Bil Bil. We have wondered again and again about this tide. If the motos struggle with it, what's that going to mean for us?

For now we were at Tapalip. Also significant to us was that this meant we were off the edge of our map. No we weren't afraid we'd fall of the edge of the world. But since our GPS fried on day 2... or was it 3... we had no map of the rest of our journey. I just happened to have had a printed map of the Saidor coastline. We'd been following our daily travels on that map, which thankfully I'd chosen to attempt to waterproof. By the way, acrylic sealer, the kind you use for artwork, does a treat for waterproofing maps! Use it! 3 coats will do the job extremely well! The thing was soaked all day every day and held up perfect! Unfortunately, treating a map like that does nothing for giving you information after you passed off the edge of it. So we weren't familiar with what to expect, where we were going, how many kilometers we had yet to travel... nothing. Just word of mouth.

Rounding Tapalip remained nothing more than an idea which teased us all afternoon long. We'd been on the water since 7:20 this morning. It wasn't long after leaving that we could see Tapalip in the distance. But it only ever seemed to remain a hazy notion in the distance. We pressed on and on and on, wanting that point, aiming for it, trying to get past it. The thought that we'd pursued it all day long without realizing our goal was beginning to become angering! Why in the world, especially moving the way we've been moving today, would that point elude us so.

The answer didn't come, but we continued to press on. Hours more eventually won us that point with the realization that maybe the tide that people had been talking about had been working against us so that while moving swiftly on the water, we weren't making much progress up the coast. But we did eventually round Tapalip and we found ourselves being greeted by another long stretch of rocky coastline. These always made us nervous because you just don't know what the weather is going to do. Once you start your attempt to move past these dangerous spots, you're committed to finish it. If the weather doesn't agree, you press on and hope for the best. The weather right now wasn't the best. It was hard to tell because we'd just come around this point, and we'd learned over the last few days that the winds always seem to be different whenever we come around a point. They were a bit shifty, stronger... the waves were a bit more rough, but not too much to handle. We weren't going back on the other side of that point! So we pressed on.

Having rounded Tapalip, the stronger winds did seem to maybe be in our favor. We were on one of those starboard tacks that, if we stayed pointed high into the wind would be just enough to keep us crawling right up that rocky coast without having to tack out. But it was not to be. Those rocks and the breakers that threatened to splinter grew eerily close and so we tacked out again. What is it with our ideal of not having to tack? Maybe we suffer some OCD tendency there. It's really not a big deal. So we tacked out a ways and then back on our starboard tack up the coast, but now at a safer distance away from the rocks. It wasn't long before we crossed another line into the brack of an unnamed river (I say unnamed because we no longer had a map. This brackish green was different than the others we'd been into in that it followed a completely different pattern. Rather than balloon out into the ocean, this seemed to be drawn in close to the rocky coast, never veering more than maybe a 1/2 or 3/4 kilometer out. This stood out to me because our tack had us following this dividing line between the green and the blue almost perfectly. It would deviate a little bit here and there, making our straight tack take us into and out of the green multiple times. It felt strange to be following this line, wondering what strange phenomenon makes for such a distinct contrast between the waters.

Still maintaining our starboard tack on our search for relief from the stress of this rocky coast, the wind and waves were picking up, making us even more nervous. I also began to notice at this point just how tired I was. It was now about 3:30pm and we'd been on the water all day with little to eat other than a couple handfuls of trail mix and the last few pieces of bread which the PMV driver had given us at Basamuk. I was feeling like I needed some rest and I was sure that Chad and Sesi were feeling the same.

That's about when we noticed among the crags a small break with a white beach. It lay inside a very small bay, dwarfed even more by the massive length of black rock coastline that bounded either side. This small beach was a welcome sight. I mentioned that maybe we should land there to find out where we were at and get a feel for what lay ahead. Without a map, we were totally dependent on word of mouth and our eyes for the remainder of our trip. Who knows how much more of this dangerous coast lay ahead, or how much more of it the weather would allow us to transverse. Chad reminded us that if we landed at this point in the day, we'd in all likelihood be staying for the night. After discussing whether or not to continue on or stop here, it was decided that getting some rest was worth the possibility of being done for the day. While the current stronger winds and waves were manageable, we weren't sure we wanted to be caught between wind, waves and rock if it were to get any stronger.

The approach to this small beach was no problem. As we neared, we began to discern the many trees that spread their branches far out over the beach. One in particular, its branches bare and bleached white, seemed to mark the spot where the waves were the least threatening. We lined up for a landing, brailed the sail and let the waves work us in closer, getting ready to enact our landing routine. But just as we were about to step it into action we realized those branches weren't just restricted to the beach, but they extended well out over the water... and our brailed spars were not going to clear them! We back paddled as hard as we could against the waves, barely escaping that point of no return. Maneuvering Shan Skailyn over to the right a bit we managed to find enough of an opening to land without snagging his spars on the trees. Had we paid more attention further out we could have easily just dropped the sail on our approach.

Pulling Shan Skailyn up out of water's reach on this steep beach was proving difficult for just the three of us. We used the waves to move him up as high as we could and then tied him off so we could check things out. There didn't seem to be anyone around, nor any place. But then we noticed that there seemed to be a little village tucked away behind the rocky coastline to the east of our little bay. We wondered if anyone had seen us come in. Then finally one lone soul came walking up a trail from the west. We greeted him and attempted to make conversation. He smiled big and bright eyed as we told him we weren't really sure where we were at. "Where is this?" Chad asked. "New Zealand!" he responded. What?! Maybe his place name just sounded a bit like New Zealand and we just mistakenly thought that's what he said. "You mean, like the place near Australia?" Chad inquired further. "Yeah, Australia is right over there!" he said pointing south. The thought hit me hard just how Twilight Zone-ish this seemed. For a brief moment I was transported back to my younger, more frivolous days. "Trippy," I thought to myself. Chad asked, "So what's the name of this village over here?" "Sri Lanka!" the man answered with no hesitation and a big ole grin still on his face. Chad said to us, in English, what we were all starting to wonder, "We've obviously got a screw loose here." "So what's you're name?" "Rambo," he said. OK, definitely something wrong. Where did this guy get this stuff?!!! It certainly was an entertaining moment.

As the minutes went on it became clearer that this poor gentleman was indeed 'trango'. He seemed harmless, childlike in whatever you call his state. Eventually three guys, about the same age as the trango man, arrived from the village east of where we landed. They told us just to ignore the other guy, that he's trango, doesn't have a clue what's going on. I wondered what actually is going through the man's head. I found it sad that his peers (and even the children in the community, as we saw later) laugh and poke fun and take advantage of him the way they do. The three men kind of chuckled away at everything he did. I was intrigued. Does he have any awareness of the fact that they're laughing at him? I honestly don't know. He doesn't seem phased by the treatment. We started talking with the men about where we were at, what the name of their village is, and got an invite to stay the night there. We had landed near Lili. They mentioned that we probably wouldn't want to leave our boat here, but should drag it up over by the mouth of the little river next to their village. So as we were getting ready to move Shan Skailyn, the guys called out to trango man to help, but he was preoccupied on the beach, enjoying the waves in child-like fashion, laughing at them, jumping and doing flips over the them into the sea. On the surface, being trango looked unburdened by the complexity we grow into as adults. A small part of me envied the outward simplicity of this guy's condition. But just a small part of me. The reality is that this guy's life is harsh. My thoughts were interrupted as I heard Chad yell, "UP!"... and all six of us, the sane ones, lifted Shan Skailyn by the crossbeams and his bow and stern, and began our short trek over to the river mouth as Muni (trango man's name, as we later came to find out) stayed behind laughing at the waves.

Lili was different from the other places we'd been so far. After we'd been shown where we'd stay and introduced to the papa graun (landowner), we were on our way to wash up in the river. With a bit more privacy Chad and Sesi and I quietly discussed what we were sensing here. We had a hard time putting our finger on it. Were we welcome here? Were we interrupting something in this place? It was hard to tell. We certainly weren't turned away. But the attitude toward us seemed indifferent. Not that we're deserving of any great excitement or anything. Maybe we'd just gotten used to our presence stirring up more curiosity. That curiosity, the novelty of outside visitors wasn't there. The people at Lila were great hosts. Don't get me wrong. We were given a place to stay, food to eat, we made friends and stayed up late that night talking with our hosts as usual. But it was different. It was this difference that threw us off initially. We decided it was just that we were closer to town, where exposure to visitors is much more common, and so while the cultural norms regarding hosting are satisfied, it's not done with a great deal of fuss. Visitors here in Lili must be much more the norm than the exception.

Feeling a bit more at ease after having thought it through (we didn't want to impose, or be putting anyone off by our being here) we washed up and headed back to our house. The house was perched up high, a spindly set of steps providing the entry on one side, and a fuel drum standing on end providing the make shift entry on the other. The floors were the split palm variety. We laid out our floor mats, hung the mosquito nets and hung up our washed clothes to dry as much as possible before morning. We went outside in the dusk to hang out in the trimmed grassy place just outside the house and interact with the kids and the folks there. Muni was there the whole time obviously enjoying our presence, laughing at the most inopportune moments, and providing cause for derision, especially from the kids. Muni would often just stare at us, smiling, as if he were looking at something he'd never seen before. Here and again, I'd steal a glance at him, raise my eyebrows or nod at him with a smile, or some other mundane gesture, eliciting great approval and sometimes a chuckle from him.

We were beginning to feel relaxed, enjoying the company, having enjoyed some local brus (tobacco) given to us by Muni, when food was brought out by a couple women from the adjoining hut. We took it up into our house, sat down and polished off the tasty meal of taro and greens and bananas. An hour or two later, another round of food was brought out... this time with chicken! During both meals, Muni, who had also been served with us, sat there across from us watching and being entertained by us rather than eating. Only when we were done did he start working on his own meal.

One thing we noticed upon our arrival and getting situated in our house was that there was a massive generator (guessing 7+ kw) right under the hut we were going to stay in. Right about the time our first meal was being served I noted someone under there fiddling with the machine, apparently getting ready to run it for the night. I wondered if we'd be sleeping much that night. Who knows how late that thing would run. When it was started, it was so loud that it was difficult to converse without raising your voice quite a bit. Also, that generator seemed to be a bit of overkill for the total of 5 fluorescent lights it was powering. I wondered how much petrol these guys go through for such a small benefit. Was a smaller, less fuel consuming model just not available when they bought this? Still, it was nice having some light... though at the expense of peaceful quiet.

After we'd finished our first meal, Sesi just crashed. Nevermind the screaming generator; that man was tired. Even later, when the chicken was brought out and I called several times to him ('cause I know his appreciation for chicken would be enough to interrupt his slumber) he didn't stir. That gave me hope for my impending sleep as I was starting to feel so tired I had a hard time thinking let alone talking about much. We had company though so I continued to hang out and talk-slash-yell-over-the-generator a bit.

Chad and I talked a little bit about the possibility of crossing the bay. This was an idea I'd thought of a long time ago and had made the decision to not do it. It was too risky to be out on the open water over a 20-30 mile stretch. Anything could come up and there'd be nowhere to go. The moto skipas took their passengers through this every day. Motos also frequently sink out there. But here we were, for some reason, contemplating the possibility. I think it was the fact that this trip was taking so much longer than planned that motivated us to consider the possibility. We texted Chad's father who is also working in country to ask what the distance is between here and Madang. He responded with information about the forecast calling for high seas, 1-3 meter waves, 25-30 mile per hour winds. Didn't take much to dissuade us. We would later, further up the bay where the crossing was much less (only 9 miles) decide to cross... even that being a mistake... but a story for tomorrow!

It wasn't too long before people started to clear out. As they were leaving one guy came in, indicating he'd been waiting for folks to leave so we could talk. He took some time to look at and admire the paddles we'd been using. He asked how I made them and told me how he was a paddle maker, but that he makes them all out of one solid piece. We talked a little about the different styles and methods. My eyes were burning and I think I could have slept standing up there. But he kept talking. Somehow he tied my paddle making to an ability to make guitars, and he asked if I could make a guitar and send it his way someday. The connection was so absurd and out of the blue that I still wonder if I dreamt it. I declined and said I don't make guitars. I remember having to tell him that several times because he had a hard time letting go of the matter. It was odd and uncomfortable. His friend who was now standing in the room with us, caught on and told him that they need to let us go so we can sleep. Within 2 minutes I was under our mosquito net, generator still roaring, and well on my way to sleepyville. The sound of the generator, nor the strangeness of the request for luthier's skills I do not possess weren't enough to keep me awake.

I do remember that night though, and also the night previous, that as I was falling asleep, I would have these sharp, flashy mental images that would kind of explode in my mind as I started to drift. They would come and go, there one second, gone the next. The images were borderline scary, keeping me awake as I wondered what prompted the unusual occurrence of visual imagery like this. Waves crashing, faces in the water, perceiving the sea as if it had a life and will of it's own, working against us... strange indeed. But still not enough to keep me from falling into a deep sleep.

Day 4 - Spongy Rudder Resolution

We woke up in Badet about 5 am. Chad seems to sleep like a log on pretty much any surface. He didn't care to bring a ground pad. I brought my thermarest 3/4 body length mat which served me well in the backpacking days of my youth. It still serves me well 15 years older only in that it doesn't leak. But my body doesn't handle the rougher conditions and pretty much aches all night long. The floors we've slept on vary from place to place from split bamboo (definitely the softest to sleep on) and split palm. It all reminds me how soft we are as westerners with our select comforts and what-not. Makes us rather inflexible when it does come time to up and travel. So here I am aching all night long, sleeping in spurts until the burning pain in my shoulder and hips require me to roll over; a task eliciting even more pain. But then relief... for a bit. I must then do it again, the time between each turn over getting less and less as the night wears on. By this third night, I'm so tired and exhausted I no longer feel sorry for myself. It just is and I sleep as I can and feel good enough in the morning to carry on. Chad and Sesi... those stinkers just lump through it all! Sesi being used to sleeping on bamboo and split palm floors must be in heaven now since I brought a ground pad for him. Chad in his prime must not be suffering from the same softness that I've been enculturated with.

We woke up, grabbed a few handfuls of trail mix, cut into a pineapple, talked a bit about the plan for the day while looking over the map. I took a couple ibuprofen and we headed out. We got the boat uncovered, loaded up all our gear and were ready to go. By this time a few others had joined us on the beach ready to help us shove out, but most likely really wanting to see how this thing works. Shan Skailyn is an interesting contraption. It only loosely fits some of the categories that are the norm in their world. From a distance, they can see that it's an outrigger, but the fact that it's out on the big water throws things off. It doesn't fit what they know. Listening to people describe what they saw when we sailed by, they almost always mention the conundrum they face when determining what it was, asking themselves if we have a motor, or how we are moving so fast. They know what a sailboat is, but that too only has certain elements of meaning to them which Shan Skailyn's sails don't fit. "How in the world are they going upwind?" Their sails, in the rare case where someone ventures to make one, only work for going downwind. When they see Shan Skailyn going up wind, once again, it throws them... we must have a motor (pronounced 'MO-to'). High floatation 'samans' (amas) and the dynamics they bring also throw them. So really, only in shape and form is Shan Skailyn readily recognizable. But watching it move on the water is fascinating to them. And watching a bunch of know nothings try to work him on the water brings both the fascinating and the comical together into something not to be missed. So we usually have a crowd either watching us come or watching us go. This morning at 7 am our crowd was limited to just 3 or 4.

But then I forgot that yesterday I had noticed the collar on the steering oar, comprised of a super tight turk's head knot, had somehow begun to become undone. The collar was loose enough now that there was a real danger of losing the oar from the oarlock when things got rough. It really needed to be retied. So I set about doing that while Chad spent some time interviewing folks a bit, trying to acquire a bit of data about their language and place and situation. About 45 minutes later, the knot was done, worked super tight and made to not be able to slip again. Chad finished as well and we were ready to launch.

It was one of the easiest launches yet. The breakers were so small we hardly had to worry about them. Not really much needed to say about it. We only barely paddled into the bay before the breeze picked up and we were able to set the sail. As had been the norm the last few days, the Taleo Wind worked against us, so we tacked up into it and out of the bay in little time on small rippled water. Today we suspected might be slow because we were having to work our way up a section of coast to a point called Mindiri, a section of coast which veered out more northward bringing us more directly into the wind. The points seem to affect the wind, making it a bit more shifty and difficult to maintain tacks. Our strategy for these involved staying out away from the coast more to get more consistent wind. But today did prove to be difficult. While we were moving and tacking well, it took us 3 hard hours just to move 10 kilometers. Each point we pass like this is such a relief when it's done. We feel like we've accomplished something and are ready to mark out the next goal. For some reason though it seems whenever we round the point like that the winds start picking up and seas get nastier. Today was going to be no exception.

Mindiri is actually the name of a small town developed on the tip of the middle peninsula of three small parallel peninsulas that jut out north from the coastline. Each of these is lined with rock. We understand there are some smallish 'basis' through which we could land, but we also understand the place to be riddled with crime, being developed and abused by the Ramu Nickel mining company that finds it's home nearby in Basamuk. We'd wanted to avoid this area altogether if we could. As it turns out, God had other plans for us.

On our way there, we passed the mouth of a bigger river called Yaganon. From here on out, the rivers we'd pass would grow increasingly large. There are hundreds of them along this coast, among which are a good handful of larger rivers. Their presence is clearly announced by sharp contrasting brackish water, much more green in hue than the surrounding rich blue water of Astrolabe bay. There is no transition between these waters. Strangely you simply move over the point where the two waters meet, seeing a sharp line dividing blue and green. This line has lots of trash that seems attracted to it almost as if magnetically. When the light is right, this green water can almost appear to luminesce, giving off a surreal feeling as the glowing green water contrasts against the darker blue sky on the horizon. This surreal place is where we found ourselves at one point on our way to Mindiri.

Just before rounding Mindiri the winds began picking up. Not unmanageable yet, but keeping us on our toes. I began to notice that Shan Skailyn's rudder was acting funny when we were under greater speed. The pivot mount was flexing much beyond what I was comfortable with, making rudder response slow and exaggerated. It was hard to just make little corrections in helm without the rudder flexing one way or the other to what I guessed was a good 30-35 degrees. I mentioned it to Chad and Sesi, we talked about it a bit and decided we needed to land somewhere to check it out. The wind was picking up quite a bit anyway and the faster speeds were making Shan Skailyn unmanageable. Whitecaps were now all around us. Afraid the rudder attachment point (see Gary Dierking's Ulua kickup rudder design) was going to snap off, we did what we could to keep the speed down and get around the last and smallest of the three little peninsulas into a bay to land at a place known as Basamuk, right across from the mining company. Sesi had been there years ago and said there was a good beach to land on. We pussy-footed our way into the bay, found the beach and headed there only to find it strewn with massive logs which we later found out came from a major flash flood on the Gowar River. Apparently a landslide dammed up a huge section, then massive rains broke the dam, taking countless trees and who knows what other stuff (houses and people included) and spewed it all into the ocean. A small piece of the aftermath lay before us on the beach and made us think twice about landing there. But our rudder called our attention again and we decided on the necessity of landing so we could assess the situation.

We pulled up to the beach which had big steep breakers. We were going to have to approach, get out and brake the boat and hold it there until we could elicit some help. Thankfully there were people there who were happy to offer their assistance. The waves threatened to push Shan Skailyn's bow up into the huge logs, but we all worked to lift the boat up, carry it up over all the logs, which took some acrobatics, and then set it down out of the water's reach. By now the wind was blowing strong and steady. There was no storm, just strong wind and big ocean. Had the rudder not gotten spongy, perhaps we could have carried on around and beyond the mining company. But here we were.

We talked a little bit with folks about what brought us in, took a look at the rudder, saw that there were no cracks or anything looking like it was going to break. But the washer where the bolt tightens for the whole kick up assembly was obviously making it's way mashing deeper into the plywood. By the way, lesson learned, plywood is not the material to use for Gary's kick up rudder. The design is good, but I used a plywood material that was too soft. We removed the rudder and went and sat down on some concrete drainage tubes that were retired and serving duty as benches under the shade of a large tree now. Others filtered in and out through the day, waiting for a Public Motor Vehicle (PMV) to pick them up or otherwise being dropped off. This was the local bus stop for both land and water craft.

We were at a loss for what to do with this rudder. So we just sat there for a good hour or so thinking about it and occasionally sharing thoughts about the situation. To be honest, I was experiencing a bit of relief at this point. I was seriously starting to think this rudder thing was the end of our trip and part of me was glad because I was tired of the stress and the storms and the wondering if we were going to make it to safety. Who knows what we'd do with the boat though. Would we hire a motor dinghy to tow us? Maybe we could disassemble Shan Skailyn and load it in a larger dinghy to take us back to Madang? There are no PMV's out here that run all the way to Madang. All the long distance roads are out right now what with rainy season and the constant flooding. I thought, "You know, I really need to make sure I put my all into trying to find a solution for this rudder." So I asked myself what would help. As far fetched as finding it out here would be, what is it that's needed? I told Chad that if we had some larger piece of steel or aluminum or even a much larger washer that could be placed under the current washer to help distribute the load on that pivot point, I think it would get us by. We talked about me walking over to the mining company to ask if they have a machine shop where I could pay someone for a real quick little piece of work. But that idea was shot down by the locals. They said that they wouldn't take kindly to me going over there. With that I'll take you on a rabbit trail.

Within 10 minutes of our arrival, an employed local came by in an 'emergency response team' vehicle, snapped some pictures of us and the boat and left without saying a word to us. We were told by those sitting around us that the mining company is uneasy with our presence there and that the guy taking the photographs was standard when lighter skinned strangers show up out of nowhere. A couple hours later two police officers showed up, still not talking to us, but talking to others in the area about us. Apparently the mining company had them come out to investigate what we were doing there. It made us really uncomfortable being there. Even more so to consider the prospect of staying the night.

So back to the rudder. We needed something to spread the load. My idea of going to mining company was shot down. The guys were unanimous that the company employees would be upset if I went anywhere near there. I told them what we were hoping to find and one chimed in saying that there's a trash disposal place where the mining company throws a bunch of scrap stuff, including large washers, where they tell all the locals to take it away and make use of it for whatever they can think of. I thought that there's no way there's going to be what we need there. Again the idea of my accompanying him was poo-pooed because it would involve me going into mining company territory. This was very serious to them. So he took my bolt, took Sesi and they went off, coming back about a half hour later with a huge wire string of about 50 different large washers! Inspecting each one, we saw none of the large diameter washers had the right diameter hole for the bolt. It needed to stay nicely centered around a 1/2" bolt. However the biggest washers (about 2.5" dia) had slightly tapered holes. I found another washer that was just a touch larger than the hole on the larger bolt and then ground it down, rubbing the edge of it back and forth on the cement 'benches' we were sitting on. We got it fitting in that tapered hole just perfectly! I installed the rudder again and it was stiffer than ever! Unbelievable that we were able to get what was needed to make that happen! Seriously! Rudder problem solved! Now we just needed to wait for the wind.

All this time we'd been talking and storying with the locals who were hanging around. We'd met quite a few already when an older gentleman (the one who found the washers for us actually) said he needed to go. He said if we were unable to make it out of there by that evening, we could pull our canoe up further into the center of the little hamlet right there where it might be a little safer, and then we could walk over a ways to Mindiri where his house was and stay there the night. He said he'd be happy to host us there and that he'd come back around 3pm to see if we'd been able to take off or not.

We continued to watch the wind and waves out there. Still whitecaps all around and a very stiff breeze. There was a stand of bamboo near us and we noticed all the ends were blown nearly horizontal. That became our point of comparison as we waited the afternoon out there. At one point, some folks came around with a great deal of produce that they clearly intended to sell and some market. The manager, who we overheard talking to the people around him was clearly a rougher kind of fella, throwing around English profanities in a way that indicated their meaning to him was slightly different than they are to us. He seemed to spew them out almost as if he knew people were entertained by the persona. Watching him, I actually was entertained! I approached him and asked if he'd mind selling one of the hands of bananas to me even though he wasn't at the market. He quickly said no, to which the many people around him started telling him something in tokples. After a good number of comments, some of them kind of harsh sounding, he then grabbed a hand of bananas and walked up to me smiling and offered them for free! I thanked him profusely and took my loot and we each snarfed down a few of those potassium rich perfect snacks. A little while later, the local PMV driver, who'd been coming and going since we'd arrived, stopped and said he wanted us to know that if we stayed in Mindiri that he'd be happy to take us there later at no cost. It was a ways away so we were grateful for the offer. Then on his next round he brought by a large fresh papaya and 3 loaves of some of the freshest bread I'd ever had here in PNG! How great was that?! We cut the papaya up into long wedges and shared some with our friends who'd been sitting around there with us. We also munched on some pieces of bread. A young teen brought us some kulau to wash it all down! Sweet! We continued to lounge around laying on the cement benches between conversations, as we watched the afternoon blow by in the wind.

Sometime around 4pm, we saw that the wind had died down a bit and there weren't nearly as many whitecaps out there. This place was far from ideal to leave the boat overnight so even though we only had a couple hours of light left, we decided we should shove out. Even if all we could do is get out of the bay, round the point and make it up to the next village, it would likely be a better place. We'd been treated so well here, but you We elicited help to perform the needed acrobatics again to get the boat over all those logs and into the water. The breakers were big so we took on a bit of water in the process, but otherwise not too difficult a launch. The water was shallow enough that Chad and I stayed in and manually turned the boat around before paddling out. The wind was still pretty stiff, also a bit gusty, and as it had been up to this point, still blowing against us. So we tacked our way out of the little bay into the open water and headed out around the point with no problem. The waves were still big, but easy rolling and so we were constantly feeling the slowing as we climbed one wave and the rapid increase in speed as we surfed down the other side, then slowing again, then speeding again. We did this for a while being able to maintain mostly a starboard tack up a once again rocky coastline.

It didn't take long for the winds to slow. Those big rolling waves became smaller, but more of a nuisance. They were now consistently slapping up over the starboard gunwale. The wind was calm enough... almost too much, in fact, that it was easy enough to take the time bailing. Once the wind shifted a bit more southward though we were able to turn up into the waves a bit more, putting an end to the waves over the gunwale thing.

After those winds slowed down so much, we found it difficult to make much progress. Around 5:45 we figured we should settle on a place to land so that we didn't get caught out in the dark. We saw a motor dinghy approach a place in the bay we were just about to cross so we decided that if a 'moto' could make it in there then it would be good enough for us. As we approached we saw that there was a steep black beach next to the mouth of a small river. We approached slowly, looking for the best place to land. A crowd was already starting to gather to watch us come in. They pointed over to an area on the beach so we pointed there and made our way for it. Sail brailed, we approached and did our typical landing routine without incident. We had plenty of help to carry the boat up to where the steep beach leveled out and was bedded completely with some kind of low crawling plant growing in the sand. Once over the top, we saw that the river that flowed out ran parallel to the beach just on the other side for just a bit before winding up ward into the jungle.

The name of the place was Tookia. It sits across from, nearly facing another larger place in the same bay called Ganglau. Tookia was a beautiful village perched on a slightly raised rocky buttress with a slow clear river flowing behind it before turning up, going around the villaged buttress and spilling into the sea.

Once we'd made introductions and talked a bit about our being there, and having been offered a place to stay the night it was decided that Shan Skailyn should 'sleep' with all the other boats in the normal place, not here on the open beach. We agreed and moved him down into the fresh water just on the other side of the beach. We then slowly paddled him up the river a few minutes to a little beach outcropping where a number of other canoes and also some 'moto' dinghies were placed for the night. Shan Skailyn was hauled way up and tied off. They said it was going to rain tonight and we didn't want him down by the water if a flash flood came ripping through.

Our host, David came down to meet us. He was a 'skipa' of a moto dinghy and came across as pleased as could be to host us in his house. His wasn't located in the main village of Tookia, but up the way a bit. Turns out he's not 'as ples', but rather came from the islands region and bought a parcel of land here to build his home and raise his family. I assume (because I can't remember from our conversation) that he married into this language group and made the slightly out of the norm decision to move to her home, rather than the other way around. We walked for about 10 or 15 minutes, up a dirt road that paralleled the coast and then up a short steep hill to David's house. David had a wonderful family, kids that seemed to respect him and others, a wife that seemed happy and content. David himself was an exceedingly gentle man which you could see in how he interacted with others. He was always calm and smiling, his voice and tone at ease all the time. This kind of trait stood out to all of us as we stayed up late talking with him and his family.

This night, instead of bathing in a river as we'd been doing, we washed using a bucket behind David's house, the only thing veiling us from sight being the darkness of the corner of his house. It was something I looked forward to after our travels each day; getting out of my salty clothes, washing myself and my clothes and putting on a clean shirt and shorts. Ahhh nice!

Regarding David's house, this was the only house we'd seen on the entire trip that wasn't a hut. David, apparently of some relative wealth, had built a house in the same style as those we see closer to town. Kopa (corrugated iron) roof, cement board siding, screened and glass louvered windows, steel posts, a small veranda with stairs leading up to it... all these made up this house rather than the standard local bush materials, grass roofs and bamboo. It stood out sharply among the rest there in Tookia. Inside, rather than bamboo or split palm floors was either plywood or tongue and groove flooring covered with linoleum. The house was completely unfurnished. The only thing breaking the empty and monotonous sky blue interior were some religious pictures hung on the wall. A lone LED lantern on the floor provided the light. We were shown the room where we would sleep where we saw there were some thin foam mattresses that had been prepared for us with sheets. Wow! What a treat! We took our stuff inside and then spent the rest of the evening sitting out under a massive tarp that had been affixed as a permanent tent just outside his house. Some old pallets made the centerpiece around which we sat in plastic chairs and did our storying for the night.

Chad, being a super smooth pidgin speaker ended up storying quite a bit about his own experiences in the sea, traveling around the islands region, as well as other stories he'd heard. Chad had been adrift for a night at sea with a small number of other people after the motor dinghy he was on sunk. He has quite the story to tell. David's family sat entranced as they listened to this survival story, a genre all too familiar but never less fascinating to David the Skipa. He's heard many such stories not ending so happily as Chad's.

We were given a massive amount of food that evening, plus tea with copious amounts of sugar. And then when we just couldn't possibly fit any more food in our bellies, nor stay awake anymore, an aged mama brought out more food! This time, there was chicken!

After eating and drinking, bellies aching with fullness, we sat around a bit more. Our tiredness was beginning to show and our host mentioned that we should go to bed, which is just what we did.

Tomorrow we were once again hoping to arise early and make some good progress. I missed my family. I wondered how my posterior would handle another day spent hiking out, shifting around on our narrow canoe. Since day 2 I'd begun developing a sore right around my tailbone area. That sore was getting more and more painful each day. Now it was so bad that sitting or sleeping on my back were very difficult, if not impossible at times. I turned on my side and fell asleep.