Village Visit

Wednesday August 24th 2022

Once again back in a beautiful bay at Waya Island. It’s early morning and I’m watching the sunrise, casting its deep orange glow across a clear brightening sky; another beautiful dawn promises. As the sun rose gently over the island, the highest rocky peaks were illuminated, casting shadows over the lush green slopes. The heavy scent of woodsmoke from the village, drifts out across the bay in a hazy fog.

For me, Waya is the most beautiful island in Fiji, its stunning terrain comprises of steep, imposingly high craggy rocks and vibrant green slopes, that sweep steeply down towards pink, sandy, palm fringed beaches, with crystal clear water and beautiful coral beds.

Local villages skirt the perimeters of the island, their houses almost invisible hidden amongst the trees, you can just spot glimmers of the colourfuly painted rooftops that peek through the swaying coconut palms, papaya, banana and breadfruit trees, rich, thick, deeply green foliage that’s bending under the weight of the fruit, their foliage glistening as the sunlight reflects off them. The little fishing boats dotted along the beaches are all that draw attention to the fact that there is life there.

I watched a local man, thigh deep in water just off the beach, fishing with a net. He waited patiently each time before throwing the net to haul in sardines, it looked exhausting work, even though the water in the bay this morning was very calm. The morning school run begins around 7:30am, boat loads of children are ferried around to village schools on the other side of the island.

The two islands of Waya are joined by an isthmus which at low tide becomes a stretch of pink sandy beach that enables you to walk from the big island to the little one. A few of the boats cross through the isthmus taking local workers to island plantations and resorts, it’s a faster route than having to take the boat all the way around the perimeter of the island, but when the tide is on the way out the crossing has to be managed with skill; some of them have long poles that they use (gondola style) to push the boat across with, when others just take a run at it, this method I’ve noticed is not always successful as the propeller of the outboard often gets sucked down into the sand and comes to an abrupt halt. But, these people are resilient and eventually, no matter what they manage the crossing.

Yesterday we accompanied Bruce and Kristine across to visit one of the local villages, where we were met by a group of local children who delighted by taking our hands and leading us on a tour around their village and local school.

We walked through the village across the playing field and into each individual classroom where we met a couple of the teachers. We stopped to say ‘Bula’ (a welcome greeting) to the man that I had seen fishing that morning. He was sat on the floor around the fire cooking his catch of sardines, people from another boat in the bay were coming over to dinner on the island that evening.

Bruce and Kristine had generously brought some school supplies to donate, as well as fishing line, snorkels, flippers, and other gifts for the local villagers.

A couple of the local ladies invited us into one of their houses and were happy to show us their jewelry, made from shells, leather and beads, they explained that this is how the ladies of the village make a little extra money. I brought some of my jewelry making bits and pieces as gifts for them. Both Kristine and I bought a few of the necklaces and bracelets, we were keen to support them, and make a donation.

The people we met, and the children were the warmest, most welcoming, friendly people, and I was so relieved that we were not invited to partake in a kava ritual.

Paradise Cove Resort

It was only thanks to that obnoxious, bad tempered little Frenchman, that we had the misfortune to encounter in Manta Ray Bay, that we found this idyllic place. I can’t believe, we’ve been to Manta Ray Bay so many times, over so many years, and we never knew this lovely spot existed, it’s literally just around the corner.

View across to Waya Island

We’re anchored in the pass between two islands Naukacuvu Island and Nanuya Balavu Island; the lovely Paradise Cove resort is on Naukacuvu Island, and nestled happily amongst the coconut palms, you can barely see the resort from the ocean, there are palm fringed tiki huts on the beach offering shade, but the resort itself is tucked out of sight amongst all the beautiful foliage.

view to the resort from Daisy

I think it must be a fairly new resort as I can’t find any mention of it in my guide book (which admittedly is a few years old), but check out their website

Bob and I took lunch there yesterday, and the food was delicious, the staff were super friendly, and the location was just idyllic. We had a table overlooking the ocean where we ate succulent shrimp in a coconut sauce and sipped champagne.

The beach is soft white sand and the water crystal clear. It’s apparently a great spot for divers and there is also a wreck just waiting to be explored, not far from the resort. We usually only stop for a night or two on our trips around the islands, but this will be our fifth night here, which shows how much we love it.

The only downside, if there could possibly be one (for us out in the bay on a yacht) is that the helicopter bringing guests in and taking others out, is flying in several times a day and it’s noisy, other than that, this is Paradise it’s perfect…

Weird Things happening on a Full Moon

Wednesday 13th July 2022

I’ve been loving this anchorage, flat, calm water with plenty of breeze to cool you down, beautiful views all around and new beaches to explore. At dusk each night the bats (Flying Foxes) on the Island take flight in their thousands, its jaw dropping to watch; last night it was a full moon and seeing all the bats flying in front of the moon was just incredible.

I found what I think is the skeleton of a flying fox head, that sounds a bit macabre, but I think it’s beautiful, and it’s in perfect condition, I may have to frame it when I get back.

The full moon was so incredibly bright last night, it was almost light enough to read by. A full moon always brings changes in the tides, exceptionally high and low tides, it also affects the wind. The wind had picked up a bit last night, gusting around 25 knots, and oddly the boat was hanging stern too, to the wind and waves, totally the opposite way it would normally hang at anchor. A boat always faces into the wind (that is unless its a weird full moon night!)

The waves were crashing and banging into the stern (where our master cabin is) and every few seconds there was a deafening thud, as if we had crashed into another boat, each time a wave hit us the entire boat shuddered. Needless to say, we got absolutely zero sleep. We both went up on deck at different times throughout the night to check that we were still hanging ok on the anchor. It was so odd as the anchor chain was hanging limp, while we were being slammed by the waves and the wind from the stern, I thought the white caps on the rolling waves looked ominous, maybe they looked bigger than they were due to the moonlight, Bob said all was fine, hmmmm…

It was a miserable, sleepless night, but the effects of the full moon continue today as we’re still facing away from the wind, the current must be so strong in this pass to keep us facing in this direction, I’m really hoping things go back to normal tonight.

New Location

Tuesday 12th July

We had planned on stopping off at Mantaray Bay on our way up the Yasawa’s, but plans quickly change when on a sailboat.

We enjoyed a lovely sail up, and arrived just in time to drop anchor and get settled before lunch. However, there were two other boats in the bay, one of them which was quite large, maybe 70′, was right in the middle of the anchorage, the majority of the bay is over 100′ deep, and the only places to anchor (unless you have 500′ of chain) are in a fairly limited area; larger boats usually anchor further out leaving the shallower anchorage for smaller boats, This big ugly boat had anchored smack in the middle of the bay, leaving little to no room for any other boats. Daisy only has 300′ of chain, so we really can’t anchor safely in more than 65-70′.

Over the last 11 years of coming here, we’ve managed to anchor in Manta ray Bay many times, sometimes with around 4 or 5 other boats, but we’ve all anchored with consideration for one another.

The boat anchored in the center of the bay was one of the ugliest boats I’ve ever seen, aside from its vile colour, which was a really bright, dreadful shade of aquamarine,(I didn’t know aquamarine could be such a distasteful colour) it had such a wide stern it almost looked like a catamaran, but the front had a huge bowsprit, it appeared as if whoever built the boat couldn’t make up their minds as to what type of boat they were building, it was as though they had cut a catamaran and a monohull in half and then stuck them together, it truly was a monstrosity, of course there’s probably an official name for such a boat, its just not something I’m familiar with, Bob would know, but then if I ask him he will want to know why I asked, and then tell me not to write this.

Over the past 20 plus years of sailing, I’ve found sailors to be the warmest, friendliest and most helpful people, and Bob and I have made some really lovely friends among the cruising community, but as with all things, there’s always one bad egg!

Bob motored slowly around the bay in search of a safe place to anchor, and decided to drop just past the stern of the ugly boat, planning to drop around 200′ of chain, so we would both have plenty of swing room, but just as we were attempting to anchor the guy on the ugly boat came out and started shouting at us, I waved and smiled, not realizing at first that he was basically telling us to f**k off. Bob tried to explain what we were doing, but the guy on the ugly boat just continued to shout at us, waving his arm and storming around like a crazy person, marching up and down his decks telling us to go anchor somewhere else, as if we had so many other options! I couldn’t help laughing at him, (he looked like a deranged Fred Flintstone, all fat and farts), OH one thing I forgot to mention, he was French!!!

Now I love the French, I have some wonderful French friends, but recognizing that all nations have their share of misfits, this nasty, bad-tempered Frenchman was absolutely one of them, he was a horrid little man with a really bad attitude. I was at the front of the boat with the anchor while Bob was back in the cockpit, so I called back, “can we please go somewhere else, I’m not staying here next to that”.

So we upped anchor and set off, as it turned out we only went around the head, where Bob located another anchorage next to the lovely Paradise Cove Resort. We had never used this anchorage before, even though it is a charted anchorage, it was in the pass between two islands, with a beautiful view across to Waya. It turned out to be a lovely peaceful, flat anchorage with no nasty neighbors; we will use it again when we come back to this island.

Lunchtime Laughter

Thursday 7th July 2022

We’re still all at Musket Cove; Paul and Trish check out tomorrow, to continue their sojourn with the third Oyster World Rally. Their next stop New Caledonia, and then on to Australia, while we remain here in the beautiful Islands of Fiji.

We planned another (our last together for a while) lunch out. Paul found a resort restaurant on Malolo Island that we hadn’t visited before, and thought it would be fun to try. It was only a short walk from Musket Cove. I’m not going to mention the name of the resort we went to for lunch, but can’t resist sharing our experience there.

We arrived early, and chose a table outside overlooking the bay. There was a man playing a guitar and singing (quite loudly), and our table was quite close to the pool, (with all the happy, screaming children). With my rapidly declining hearing, I struggle these days with conversation in loud locations, and can’t help but wonder why music has to be played so loudly in restaurants where people are attempting to enjoy a meal and have conversation.

After a while, having given up waiting for a waiter, Paul went to locate the menus, “for how many people?” the waitress asked him “four” Paul replied, so she handed him two menu’s!

The menu choices were sparse, and when eventually a waitress arrived to take our orders, the choices Bob and I had made were not available, so I decided upon a pizza, thinking they couldn’t be out of that!

Having looked at the wine list and made our selection, we were told none of the wines we wanted were available, they had one bottle of Sauvignon Blanc (only one), so we had that, but I think the bottle must have been left out in the sun at some point as it really wasn’t good, (it was a well known wine, from a reputable vineyard), we drank it anyway.

When we later tried to order another bottle of wine, we were told there was only one available, and it was the most expensive bottle on the menu! It was our last meal out together for a while, so ‘what the heck’ we ordered the wine, disappointingly, it wasn’t great either despite it’s enormous price tag. However, what was fantastic was the company, and what was plentiful was the laughter. The guitar player had taken a break, but was now back in his corner, fully refreshed, and singing at full volume. It’s rare that I hear someone singing more off key than myself, I can’t sing a note, I sound like an alley cat with a sore throat howling at the moon; I have rhythm, and I can dance, but I have never been able to sing a single note in key, this didn’t stop me though, the four of us joined in with each song and applauded loudly after each one. The man with the guitar singing, seemed to appreciate our solidarity. The food was not great, the wine was terrible, the location was noisy, the service a long way from brilliant, but despite all of that, we had a really fun afternoon laughing our way through.

Beam me up Scotty!

Thursday 11th August 2022

Oh dear God where do I begin!

So far the last 2 months aboard Daisy have been miraculously, for me, (the reluctant sailor) amazing. I’ve loved everything, the beautiful beaches, the fabulous resorts, the fun days and nights hanging out with wonderful friends, even the sailing, it’s truly been a dream. The sort of things you dream about doing if you won the pools, or the lottery or were just disgustingly rich; however, as they say, ‘all good things come to an end’, and well this hasn’t actually come to an end, but today has been the first day (since I arrived) that I’ve honestly thought that going home can’t come soon enough.

We were in one of my favorite anchorages, just across from the fabulous Paradise Cove Resort, and we had our friends Bruce and Kristine next to us on their boat. We had all enjoyed a fun evening together on another friends boat, with some amazing food and a little too much of the happy drinks, followed by a great night on our boat, and a delicious lunch at the resort, followed by a walk around the island leading to the islands lookout, amazing, incredible, beautiful views.

Paradise Cove resort, Island lookout.

Such a beautiful day.

So all had been really lovely, and then the sky clouded over and the wind came; gradually our perfectly calm, comfortable anchorage was under siege from building waves and wind, our boats were bouncing up and down in a see-saw motion, as they faced into the wind and waves. It was approaching the night of the full moon! need I say more, and as the evening progressed the rain came, a torrential downpour, “at least it would clean all the salt of the boat” I thought, trying for a positive outlook.

The following morning it was worse, the seas had been building all night (I’m sure helped along by the full moon), we had about 2 meter waves (my guess) white water and howling winds of 30 – 35 knots.

It was horribly uncomfortable, I was as giddy as a goose with the constant up and down motion, Bruce and Kristine had, had enough and upped anchor to head over to Waya Island, Nalauwaki Bay, we said we would follow. Bob spent about an hour working on the anchor switch, so ‘yours truly’ doesn’t jam up the anchor and destroy the mechanism (again)

And then we headed out!

Leaving the anchorage was a challenge in the conditions, Bob decided he would bring up the anchor, while I took the helm! The waves were constantly crashing over the bow drenching him, as the bow of the boat seemed to take off and then come crashing down again with such force, and we were getting perilously close to the reef, I was trying to steer to give some forward motion that would enable him to lift the anchor, which was pulling so hard I had to drive the boat forward so he could bring it up without over stressing the windless. The anchor appeared to have gotten itself wrapped around a rock and was proving a nightmare to bring up, it was a stressful, difficult, very wet procedure.

Once he finally had the anchor up, I tried to steer us out into the bay away from the reef, but I had to reverse to do that, we were then so close to the reef and the waves were so big, I had huge pooping waves crashing over the stern of the boat into the cockpit, throughly drenching me and everything else, so much for the boat cleansing rain!

Bob had to leave the anchor loose and come back to take over the helm, as I was struggling to bring the boat around, without too much trouble, he steered us safely out of the pass, and then handed the helm back to me so he could go and finish tying the anchor down, ‘another drenching’.

Foolishly, I had hoped that once we were out of the pass and motoring things would be calmer, Ha, what do I know! We hit consistent 39-41 knots of wind the entire way over, Bob wanted to raise the jib, but I said “not in this bloody wind you’re not,” visions of our recently shredded sail still fresh in my mind. So to keep ‘her indoors’ happy we continued under motor.

Under normal conditions it should only have been about a 45 minute passage, but we were into the wind, waves and current, and even though we should have been doing 7-8 knots we were only doing 2-3, consequently the passage took us about 90 minutes. I felt as though we were on some sort of crazy fairground ride, the alarming amount of water that came crashing over the bow as Daisy pitched up and down would previously have had me running for the vodka bottle, and diving under the covers, but oddly enough I wasn’t concerned; I wasn’t comfortable, and I certainly wasn’t having fun, but it was good for once not to be scared for my life..

It was a horribly rough passage, and when we arrived in the “sheltered bay!” we hit 45-50 knot winds gusting to 55 knots. There were several other boats in the bay taking shelter under the cover of the island, but as we approached the anchorage looking for a safe place for the night, the wind just kept blowing, also the bay was deep, so we had to get close to shore to be shallow enough to drop anchor, 75′ is about our limit. There wasn’t much choice, and as we tried to drop anchor behind a ‘catamoron’ he came out yelling at us that his anchor was there. Bob turned and motored around to try and find another spot but there wasn’t anywhere, so we went back over towards the catamoron and I called across to the woman sat on the stern that we were dropping behind them, and she put her thumbs up to say OK, the miserable old catamoron git (Captain) was not in sight at this time. So we dropped anchor and put down enough chain to hold us secure, the wind was still blowing 35-40knots.

Definitely a memorable passage, but not in a good way.

I’m writing this at 9am the following morning, and its still blowing 35-40 knots out there, tomorrow is supposed to be better, so we will head back to the safety and calm of Musket Cove, to wait out the next storm that’s predicted to hit us on Tuesday. God help us, I just want Scotty to beam me up and take me back in New Zealand…

Meeting Una

Sometime in July 2022

With Daisy fully provisioned and cleaned, we left Denarau marina and headed back over to Musket Cove, just for the night. The plan is to work our way slowly back up the Yasawa Island chain, we have no schedule, no dates to meet, no visitors to pick up, our time is totally our own. First stop, Waya Island, I love this beautiful little bay and the anchorage is always easy.

There’s an isthmus between the two halves of the island which at low tide is always loaded with shells, my quest to find a particular shell means I like to visit this bay as often as possible. There are two houses right on the corner of the main island, either side of the beach, away from the villages, the last time we were here, Bob met the owner of one of them, he has a small stable next to the house where he keeps his little horse, and that morning while riding across the isthmus, he stopped to chat to Bob, meanwhile I was busy conducting a serious search of the beach. With my head down scouring the sand for shells, I had wandered to the far corner of the beach past the other house. While there, a lady came down the beach to say hello, she introduced herself as Una. We quickly got into easy conversation as she told me of her fascination with collecting shells, (well why not she lives in the perfect location); Una told me how she walks the beach every morning in her search, and asked if I would like to see her collection.

Sat around the table on her porch overlooking the ocean beyond, I couldn’t help but think what a perfect location this was, Una brought out a large box of her prize shells, and with just a few exceptions I was able to name most of them. Una said how she wished she knew the names of them all, so I offered to bring my shell book over next time we visited the beach. There was one particular shell I’d never seen before, I had no idea what it was, other than possibly a type of Volute, it was a really beautiful example, absolutely perfect, “you can have it” she said, I was so grateful and delighted.

So, (10 days later) back in Waya, I took my shell book over and left it with her to look through, while I searched the beach for any shells she may have missed!

Both Una and her sons were absolutely fascinated by the book, I felt she was almost reluctant to hand it back. So, I said if she gave me her address I would order one online for her, but later as I tried to place the order with Amazon, they needed a post code which she hadn’t included, so I decided to order one to be sent to my house in New Zealand instead, and the next morning I took my book over and gave it to Una.

I’m not sure who was the happiest, Una with receiving the book, or me for the sheer pleasure of giving a gift that seemed to mean so much. What a lovely lady she was to meet, I’ll look forward to visiting her each time we come back here.

Legal Narcotics!

Friday 29th July 2022

We just spent an exceptionally busy 3 days in Denarau Marina, doing all sorts of essential (!) boat stuff!  Cleaning, laundry, re-provisioning, refueling, refilling the liquor cupboards (absolutely essential), fridge, freezer and pantry, having Daisy washed, and polished to within an inch of her life, picking up our newly repaired Genoa, dealing with post, and other landlubber nonsense that we seem unable to escape from, before we’re able to once again set off heading out for distant shores,  Daisy is now all shiny and lovely again.

Our plan is to head slowly up the Yasawa chain of Islands, looking to discover anchorages new to us. I’m still hellbent on finding the elusive “Precious Wentlewrap shell” cause thats what I do! but I really want to visit Islands where there are NO villages.  

When you first visit a bay in Fiji with a village, it’s expected that you go ashore to meet the chief of the village (apparently to receive permission to be there) and share in the (to me, totally  disgusting) “kava ritual”, this is where the chief and all the important members of the village congregate, reclining in a satisfied stupor around a large bowl of kava, which is a truly disgusting, narcotic mud water drink. 

The roots of the kava plant which, as a visitor to the village, you have most likely brought and offered to the chief as a gesture of friendship, in a request to be allowed to set foot on his beaches and swim in his ocean, is made up for you all to share, from the same bowl! UGH! it’s passed from person to person (pre Covid). Although we’ve discovered that Covid has not aparently prevented the everyday occurrance of this sharing ritual. 

Kava (for those of you interested)  is derived from the roots of the Piper Methysticum plant (pepper plant).

The first time I came to Fiji, not knowing any better, and long before the social distancing days of COVID, I was stupid enough to partake in this kava (narcotic, mud water) drinking ritual, because I didn’t know any better, and thought it polite to do so, so to be agreeable I did, (big mistake), and apparently chiefs don’t appreciate guests spitting out their precious dirt water and pulling a face that looks like they’ve swallowed acid. I was allowed to slither silently away from the gathering, where I could vomit in peace over the roots of a banana plant!

I have no words to acurately describe how truly, unhygenic, unhealthy and disgusting this drink is, (please just give me vodka). What is wrong with these people?

It’s like (if you’ve ever done it) drinking from a thick muddy puddle of water, but with a disturbing, numbing of the lips and tongue effect, followed by eventually (if you drink enough) a brain numbing drunken stupor.  Well each to his own, and whatever floats your boat, so to speak, it’s definitely not for me, and I will go to extraordinary lengths to avoid it, at all costs, sod the politeness of it, I’m not doing it, period. So our search continues for isolated islands with no villages….


Fiji, July 2022

Yes the (miss)spelling is deliberate, and I know it won’t win me any fans, but then thats never been what my writing is about.

I would like to start by saying that I have friends who have catamarans, and they’re very responsible, knowledgable sailors, considerate of the sea life and coral reefs. It just always seems that whenever I witness some ridiculous or irresponsible behavior, 9 times out of 10 it’s from a catamaran, why is that?.

In over 20 years of sailing, the most dangerous, reckless and idiotic behavior I’ve had the misfortune to witness, has been almost exclusively from people on catamarans, admittedly they’re mostly ‘credit card captains’ who rent a catamaran for a vacation, with no maritime knowledge or experience,  zero regard for regulations or safety, and then proceed to drive (yes drive, not sail) the cat around as they would a car in a parking lot, dropping the anchor wherever they please, with no thought of the damage they’re inflicting upon our precious coral reefs and sea life, it makes my blood boil. 

This morning, for example; Bob  and I are anchored in a beautiful secluded bay nestled between two islands here in Fiji. The bay is quite large, with plenty of room for many boats to anchor safely,  but it shallows very quickly toward the beaches, and has tremendous coral reefs that reach a good distance out into the bay, the safe anchorages are not difficult to locate if one pays attention to the charts.  That being said, one does actually require the knowledge to read and understand a chart!

Bob is always very careful to drop our anchor far enough out away from any coral, not just for our safety and the safety of the boat, but in consideration of the coral reefs. The majority of damage to coral reefs is not from the actual anchor itself, but from the chain dragging, as the boat swings, sometimes 360 degrees it drags the chain over the coral, and this is what does all the damage, many people (mostly the credit card captains) fail to understand this.

We’re the only boat in the bay here today; the sky is clear blue, the sun is blisteringly hot and the wind is blowing about 25 knots, which helps to keep us and the boat cool. It’s all peaceful and lovely.

I’m sitting up on deck reading when I hear engine noise, at first I thought it was a sea plane approaching; but I look up to see a catamaran flying past us heading straight for the coral reef at about 6 – 7 knots, unbelievable! They were going so fast I didn’t even have time to stand up and shout a warning. I honestly thought they planned to ride the cat up onto the beach!

There was a woman on the bow, doing a very plausible impersonation of Boadicea, I watched in disbelief as the cat proceeded to plough straight into the coral, with Boadicea almost toppling over the bow from the abrupt halt; if it all wasn’t so tragic it would have been amusing.

Then it was all panic on deck as they both rushed to lean over and detect any damage, as if they could see anything from the deck anyway, (idiots) I can only imagine the damage to the reef.

A quick reverse and turn around followed, before they dropped the anchor almost immediately, I’m sure they were still over the coral. 

If only the companies who rented these catamarans could insist upon some sort of sailing qualification or experience, our beautiful reefs might stand a chance of survival. 


Tuesday 19th July 2022


We’ve had more than our fair share of wind this week, while traveling up the chain of the Yasawa Islands.

We had dropped anchor in a lovely bay alongside a very long deserted beach, with no village and no other cruising yachts; my first thought “maybe I could find that elusive shell I’ve been searching for, for the last 6 years”,  a Precious Wentlewrap,  I’ve no idea how it came by such a strange name, but the shell itself, while it’s not a large shell, at about 2”,  is absolutely beautiful in its eccentricity, it’s apparently not rare, although for all my searching, I’ve yet to find one. 

The elusive shell!

Anyway, due to the excessive wind in the bay (30-40 knots) Bob was reluctant to leave the boat and venture ashore, he was concerned that with the strain on the anchor because of the strong wind gusts, there was a possibility of it dragging over the reefs, or the snubber breaking; we had put out as much chain as was possible given our proximity to the reefs around us, and we were in a very isolated spot, miles from anywhere, not an ideal place to run into trouble.  Consequently we decided to stay aboard and wait it out. That didn’t work, the wind just got stronger,  there wasn’t much sleep to be had that night, Bob was up every hour checking the anchor. So the next morning we decided to up anchor and head back down the island chain, in search of a calmer anchorage. My shell hunt would have to wait…

It was a blustery 4+ hour sail back, with 30 – 40 knot winds the entire way, but the weather otherwise was lovely. We eventually arrived back in our favorite bay on Waya Island, which is a fairly sheltered spot, but even in the bay we still had white water and 30 knot winds, so we ventured into the far corner of the bay, an anchorage we’ve not used previously, near the village, which was much more protected, and the water was calmer. 

There were two other boats in this part of the bay one was a catamaran, and the other a monohull. The guy on the catamaran appeared on deck shouting at us not to drop over his anchor (which we couldn’t have been anywhere near), while the guy on the monohull waved and smiled, and as soon as we had the anchor set he came over to introduce himself, how nice.  Why are so many people on catamaran’s such bad tempered morons?

Sunrise & Sea Shells

Friday 15th July 2022

I’m sitting here in the cockpit watching the beautiful sunrise for the umpteenth time, with a warm breeze on my face, sipping my tea, and watching the water glisten and sparkle as if sprinkled with diamonds, it reflects the colors in the sky that gradually change as the sunrise becomes more vibrant; I can’t help but feel blessed, it’s such a privilege to be here in this incredibly beautiful part of the world, so far away from noise, pollution, traffic, politics and the cold. Daisy bobs gently on the rippling water, the wind has not come up yet, all is still and peaceful.

The sky behind the Island glows, in a mixture of deep red, sunburst orange (excuse the pun) turquoise, yellow, blue and green, a rainbow of colors. The puffy white clouds are tinted with orange and pink from the sun, I wish I could paint them, but I could never do justice to their exquisite beauty. The Frigate birds and Boobies are taking flight over the tree tops, where the flying foxes all rest, having safely returned before sunrise, I couldn’t see them it was too dark, but I could hear them as they returned to their treetop resting places.

I’ve been collection shells again; a pastime I absolutely love. Shells are like nature’s little treasures, unbelievably complex in their multitude of shapes and colors. Mostly I bring the shells back to the boat, where I can identify them (through my collection of shell books), I photograph them, write where I found them and when, and then return all but a few special specimens back into to the ocean.

Our lives are very simple when we’re on the boat, we make our own water, Bob recently installed a new water maker that fills our tanks in 2 – 3 hours, previously it took us all day to fill the tanks. We sail to our destinations only using the engine when we have to, so our fuel consumption is very little. We catch fish, but only what we can eat. We’ve recently started collecting garbage from the beaches, and taking it where it can be disposed of properly, the garbage is almost always plastic bottles, plastic bags and odd shoes. I will never understand why people throw their plastic waste overboard, or leave their garbage on the beaches when they leave? What kind of person does that, and why do so many people feel it’s ok to do that? It makes me sad…