We left Suwarrow, reluctantly.
We were lucky enough to be invited on board Harmonie for supper on
Thursday, together with our friends from Lady Kay. Don was at the
Barbeque, and Anne and he provided the huge, delicious lamb chops that formed
the basis for our meal. As always, Anne and Don looked after us superbly,
and the beer, wine and conversation flowed freely. We were late
home.
We got up late next morning, realising as we did so that it was our last
day. More make-and-mend (there is never nothing to do on a boat until the
day after you sell it) was followed by a lazy lunch before we set off to
snorkell the forbididng looking patch of coral at the head of the channel that
leads into Suworrow's lagoon. We picked up Victor from Wizard, and parked
Cleone's dinghy on top of the reef, next to Williwaw's distinctive yellow
Caribe. The water was warm and clear. The four of us (Norfy stayed
behind on Cleone in case she dragged her anchor, which was well set into
the sandy bottom in the perfect calm of a lazy, tropical afternoon) swam
around the reef clockwise. There was a coral garden on the top of the
reef, which dropped off steeply on three sides, and less so on the fourth.
Sharks swam lazily around, the Grays showing rather too much interest in us,
which some of us found a bit uncomfortable. The Skipper saw a turtle, but
they are shy, and this one dived deeply as soon as he was spotted - they don't
like to be the centre of attention. There were huge parrot fish, and a
myriad of others, some of alarmingly vivid tropical colours. They must
glow in the dark, even if they don't actually emit radioactive rays. There
was little wind, though the constant swells broke quite strongly on top of the
reef, sometimes making swimming quite a challenge. But all too soon, we
had to return to Cleone. There was a skippers' briefing to attend, and
another party to prepare for!
Both were unusual. At the skippers' briefing, following lengthy
discussion, the time of departure was brought forward by a couple of
hours, and a Le Mans type start was accepted; on the gun anchors would be
raised and off we would go. It was getting dark, so the meeting was
concluded because, by popular request and following the success of their
previous efforts, Onelife had again undertaken to cook pasta for everyone.
It was another wonderous evening. Perfect al dente pasta, beer,
wine and all sorts of other delicacies to eat were eaten and drunk in John and
Veronica's communal area, and around the bonfire that had been lit on the beach
by the lagoon. Speeches by Mandy and John were soon over, and conversation
flowed with the beer and wine, and there was Gerry again with his guitar at just
the right moment.
Reluctantly we left the music, the fire and our friends and rowed
back to Cleone, because there was still plenty to do before we could sail.
We were up at 6 am, then it was boom-tent and sail covers off, halyards and
spinnaker gear back on, dinghy washed and stowed, lee-cloths rigged, engine
checked, breakfast eaten and washing up done, bunks made up, and a new
weather forecast to ponder and discuss. But by quarter-to-ten, we were
ready. There was the final blast of a horn on Southern Pricess, and
immediately the whine of electric windlasses could be heard echoing round the
windless bay. Except of course on Branec IV, where Roger could be heard
panting in the heat as he struggled as usual to haul in her warp and chain and
lift the heavy anchor by hand (who'd be in a racing Cat, with no watermaker
or storage, no shower, no windlass, a mighty tiller and huge sails to haul
and trim by hand?). But soon the whines were replaced by shouts and curses
- many of our anchor chains had become wrapped around coral heads. The
starting odds went haywire - much fancied quick-off-the-block boats were left
helplessly attached to the bottom of the limpid lagoon, whilst cheeky
slowcoaches leapt into the lead. As usual, Cleone faced the task with
equinamity, and we were soon motoring out of the lagoon in the middle of the
pack of nine starters. It took poor Harmonie an hour and a welter of
helpers in diving gear to lift her anchor, but now the nine of us are safely on
our way. But the wind which whisked us briskly clear of the norther part
of the reef has died, and now we are having to motor sail towards Niue and more
adventures at a mere five knots. Like the rest of us, Cleone shows no joy
at leaving this enchanted place. Surely we must come back.
We'll report as we go as usual, but we hope to be in Niue in four days or
so.
All well with us, best wishes to all of you.
James, Chris, Elizabeth and Will
Cleone
At sea,
13.20S
163.18W