(The first video is a slideshow of all of our favorite pictures from the trip - the audio has been disabled by youtube's music licensing department, but you can just pretend! : )
Departing Munda Eve – Agnes Lodge, Munda, Solomon Islands – 12.14.2010
What a wonderful place, this Munda is! We all agree that everytime we move from one place to the next in the Solomon Islands, it is nicer than the last, and it hasn’t failed yet! Munda is in the mid-section of New Georgia Island, on the SW facing side of the island. There is one main road that leads from the northern end of the airstrip (where the Japanese landed all of their war-mongering equipment prior to the Battle for New Georgia), and then south to Pt. Munda, where the US Marines landed after forcing the Japanese out of Guadalcanal. The “downtown” section of Munda consists of a Police station, an airfield, a Post Office, four near-identical stores (although one has air conditioning, which is a real treat), the Agnes Lodge, an ANZ ATM, and a wharf for a landing craft to unload it’s supplies. It would take a healthy adult about 7 minutes to visit every one of these places, and buy a betelnut on the way. Once you’re out of town (about 100m), the homes start appearing, and they’re beautiful! They have plants, gardens, nice siding and roofs, and most folks will say hello even if you don’t – a real fine feeling. There is also a significantly smaller amount of rubbish laying around, and in general it is quite a bit cleaner than any of the other places we’ve been so far. Last night when Aimee and I were taking an evening stroll, we were stopped by a man on the side of the road who wanted to show us some of his carving work, so we went with him! Normally, however, I deny myself the pain of such ploys to get money out of tourists, but so far in the Solomons no one had treated us like that, so I was willing to give it a go. And we couldn’t have made a better decision, as we later found out after spending a total of about an hour and a half chatting with Harold, who besides being a great carver was also a Dive Master, spearfishing guide, father, husband, and just all-around nice person. He showed me exactly how he would procure, process, stencil, polish, carve, and finish his work, and he let me look at the various tools he employed to get the best results. Of course, over the course of talking about carving, life, etc, he mentioned some nearby plane wrecks, and how he would go spearfishing off them…..and my eye, ears, and brain went into a tunnel-minded euphoria… : ) I wanted to see his guns (he said he made one of them), and he was more than excited to show them off, much like his carving work, and I just soaked it all in as best I could. I really wish I had had a camera with me at the time, but this gun was epic: nearly 7’ in length, with an 8’ spear, fully hand-made from the full length stock (with intricately carved grip, and “Harold Pao” in the side) to the hand-formed tip. It used a wooden cantilever made with rubberband and a SS pin as a trigger mechanism (Christian, I’ll make you a drawing if you remind me), a PVC tube as a front guide, a 3/16” stainless steel shaft made from a piece of an old fish conveyor belt system, and standard nylon line attached to a spoon handle, which was then drilled and fitted to the shaft as a slider. Amazing. And he said he brought in a 15kg Sierra with this rig, which he had been using for 5 years. Anywho, we bought a couple small carving bits from him, including one manta ray pennant which he hadn’t finished (but that’s why I wanted it). See, I’ve been wanting to get into trinket-making for awhile now, as it would give me something to do in my travels, and allow me to make gifts for friends back home that weren’t of the mass-production nature – something unique. So when we were swapping paper for pieces, I asked Harold if I could have a piece of shell to take home with me, so that I might get some tools like his and try my hand at carving some oyster – and he more than obliged by picking out 4! beautiful, full-sized gold and black lipped oyster shells and giving them to me. Like they say, “give a man a fish, and you provide him a meal – but teach him to fish, and you give him a life.” Same thing with carving – I’m totally stoked to go back home to Hardwicks, pick up a set of files, blades, etc, and get to work! When we left, Harold told us that if we ever do make it back to Munda, that he’d love to take us diving, fishing, and just get to know us better – and the feeling is mutal. He had a beautiful family, they were kind and giving, and I’m already looking for an excuse to come back and go diving….and maybe spend a lot less time at the hotel, and more time with the locals.
Anywho, earlier today we check out the “War Museum,” which is in fact a private collection of WWII relics that one of the local men put together over the course of the last 8 years. Landing gear from P38’s, Hellcats, etc – tons of helmets, knuckle-dusters, bayonets, machine guns of all sizes, ammunition, grenades, dog-tags, belts, bones, cooking supplies, ID plaques off of machinery (which I found to be quite interesting), shaving kits, a model plane made from scrap metal and bullets, phones, chemical weapons canisters, bombs, wing sections, and all sorts of other bits and pieces from the war that came and went on soil than belonged to neither side. Anywhozzle, after getting quite the history on the area and the battles that were fought here, we headed back to base, I drank my half-frozen Coke I had left in the freezer, and headed off for our final dinner at Agnes. Tomorrow we head off to Tetepare Eco Lodge, where there is no power, so this bit of writing won’t be…well, fresh when you read it! There is the possibility that we’ll be out of phone/email/smoke-signal range for the next few weeks, so we’ll just have to see how that goes. One last, final note: We were walking down the quiet jungle road when an approaching boy walking in the opposite direction passed, singing the latest Eminem song in the top-40 category, and we both were a bit befuddled by the whole scene, recalling how in the 1930’s headhunting was finally fading away, how in the 1940’s this place was bombed and shot to heck, and how even in the late 1990’s it had become a police state because of the violent political unrest – but here we were, walking in the mangos and the local boys know the Recovery album better than I do (which says a lot, actually, as I’m quite a fan).
Anywho, the bugs are biting and I’ve got an early morning of ATM running, Lodge paying, packing, and eating ahead of me!
Cheers,
Danny
Connie’s House, Chea, Solomon Islands, 12.21.2010
Writing hasn’t been a routine thing for me lately, so I’m going to try to do some makeup here for the past week! On the morning of the 15th we all packed our gear up and headed down to the docks in front of Agnes Lodge, and we were joined by some Aussies and Kiwis that were doing research work on reef life in the South Pacific, with the Solomons being one of their sampling sites. Also joining us were two more Austrailia women that were taking some time off from their jobs in Honiara to see the more rural, beautiful, and authentic side of the Solomon Islands. After waiting a bit for our boat driver to do some shopping for the Lodge, we all piled in the open boat and made out way SW, past Rendova Island to the north tip of Tetepare Island, where the Tetepare EcoLodge is located. On the ride over we got the chance to fly my kite while underway, and run the camera up with it to get some aerial shots of the boat, the lagoon, and to give us something to do on the two-hour journey. Fortunately the weather was calm and sunny, and we arrived at the newly constructed jetty without a hitch. After being shown to our rooms which were rather basic: no power, all-natural building materials, shared shower and toilets, etc – but fine for us! The Lodge is also the hub for researchers who work with the local turtle, coconut crab, crocodile, and reef life – so we had plenty to learn, see, and experience while we were there! Margaret was our cook/hospitality manager while we were there, and every meal was the perfect fit for each day’s activities. Fried bananas, sweet potatoes, fish, rice, papaya, pancakes, coffee/tea, bush lime juice, and all sorts of other delicious foods were put out in perfect portions three time as day – pure heaven! After each feeding we would take off to some activity or another – snorkeling off the jetty was our first and perhaps most favorite activity of all. From the jetty you could swim left or right, although most of the time we went to the right, where a series of coralheads are marked with bouys that serve the dual purpose of warning off boats, but also guiding snorkelers to the various sand spots, coralheads, and reef walls. It was during these snorkeling trips that we discovered lobster, moray eels, sea urchins, parrot fish, huge shells, sea cucumbers, green sea turtles, large groupers and jacks, butterfly and bannerfish of every variation imaginable, in addition to goby’s, barracudas, tubefish, and hundereds of other species. Of course the last, and most exciting on this list of critters, is the “Dooooooooogggggonnnnngggg!!!!” – also known as a Dugong, much like a manatee. Dirk and I first saw them on our second trip out to the lagoon, a big one and a small one – and we were totally stoked! On our first trip we had chased them around in the boat a bit (which seemed a bit aggressive to all of us, considering that it’s supposed to be an “Eco” lodge), but after half an hour or so of chasing and then jumping in the water, we had bailed without any real close encounters of the Dugong Kind. So when, on our last day, we all four jumped into the water for a post-lunch snorkel and finally spotted the critters moving through the water, we were elated. This time we all got a close-up view of the critters, and I was able to swim alongside them at a distance of about 4’ for about 10 seconds (which seems like a long time when you’re there). These little sea monkeys are nose-breathers (like the sea-lion), have no dorsal fin, have a single tail fluke, and two rounded pectoral fins. Their faces are rather fat and featureless, but unique and interesting no less. Prior to coming to Tetepare (and throughout our stay) Dirk had been singing his love for this mysterious creature, and by the time we left, we were all droning about Dugongs – and in return we got to hang out with them for a bit! But second to the easy-access and amazing snorkeling (in my opinion) was the interaction we got to have with the turtles in the area. Tetepare is one of the nesting grounds for the highly-endangered (maybe it’s critically endangered – I forget the hierarchy of near-extinction) Leatherback Turtle, and the researchers and locals at Tetepare are doing what they can to re-habilitate the population, and we got to go along for the ride. It just so happened that December is a big portion of their breeding season, and while we were there we got to witness both the laying of eggs, and the hatching of a pre-existing nest. The blacksand beach where they nest is the spot where, on average, seven Leatherback turtles come to nest, but only in 3-year cycles. When they do have their eggs, the female will come to shore at 10-day intervals and lay a batch of approxametely 60-120 eggs, then repeat the cycle about six times before returning to feed for the next three years. On this particular beach, due to it’s blackness and therefore heat, the eggs take about 60 days to hatch after they’re laid, as opposed to the 80-something at other beaches. So the Momma Turtle comes in, digs a 3-foot hole in the sand with her rear flippers, then goes into a trance of egg-laying that lasts for nearly two hours before she heads back to sea. Now, just for reference, we’re talking about a 1000lb+ turtle that is over 6-feet long and 4-feet wide. But when she goes tail-down and starts laying eggs, her “trance” is so focused that the researchers are able to walk all around, catch her eggs as they fall into the nest, and cook them up into omelets, all without the Momma Turtle moving. Ok, so maybe they don’t make omelets out of them, but they could. They actually take the eggs and count them, and then take them to a man-made nest in the sand at a different, more secure location on the beach where the eggs can be monitored and protected by the full-time ranger staff at the beach. Wire mesh grids are places over the nests, held down with heavy rocks, and then the nest is marked and labeled with a post. The mesh grids serve as a barrier against the local Monitor lizards, which have an uncanny ability at smelling the eggs, consuming them, and leaving nothing behind. The Monitor’s ability at finding eggs is so precise that rangers in the past have been able to follow the lizards to washed-over sites of recently-laid eggs and use them as bloodhounds to locate the lost nests, of course shooing-away the lizards before they consume the helpless eggs. After approximately 60-days the baby turtles will hatch from their shells, and begin to dig their way through the 3-feet of sand to the surface of the beach, and then the long-haul across the beach to the open water of the lagoon. The researchers are actually able to tell when the first of the new turtles is about to breach the surface, down to the day, by observations to the surface of the sand above the nest. Once the little critters start moving upwards, the sand above them fills in the voids that were their shells, and the surface of the nest forms a concave bowl above them, indicating their upward movement to those above. It was such an observation that got the attention of our in-lodge researcher that brought us out to the beach for the first time. After having a simple fried-rice dinner, we watched a beautiful sunset and settled in around the suspect nest, waiting for the first signs of movement. At around 9pm, we were told that just down the beach an adult female turtle was making her way up to the high-ground, a sign that she may be planning on laying her eggs that night. With great excitement we moved in a hushed mass towards the spot where it had been sited, keeping our bodies low to the ground, as not to provide a silloette that might scare the turtle away, as there was a near-full moon looming overhead. To our dismay, minutes later the turtle turned around (once it had gotten to the top of the beach) and re-entered the water. But in the hushed words being exchanged by the locals, I thought I made out “she’ll be back” in a matter-of-fact tone: and that was that. Later that night the clouds overhead parted to reveal a spectacle of sparkeles that was the Milky Way, and served as a reminder of how small we all are, in a literal sense. With Orion’s Belt and the Southern Cross looking down on us, we slipped into a light slumber. Not much later, at 2:00am, we were waken with news that indeed the female turtle from earlier that night had returned, and this time was in the process of digging the nest, and was about to start laying her eggs! Once again we shuffled along the beach in near-silence until we reached the site where the huge turtle and begun the process of excavating the sand from her nest-to-be. Five distinct lengthwise ridges divided her massive shell, extending from her 10” thick neck to her stubbly little tail, and the flippers worked in practiced precision to form the walls and floor of the nest. Only moments after we arrived, she sighed, breathed some deep breaths, then began the laying process. At that instant flashlights turned on, rangers started moving about and talking, and some started handing the eggs up from the nest as soon as they dropped. Clipboards with paper were brought out, reference photos taken, flipper tags were cleaned and ID numbers recorded, and a tape measure was brought out to take not only turtle dimensions, but also the location of the original nest. From what we were told, once the laying process begins, the surrounding activity has little affect on the process, but I have my doubts still. Perhaps the ol’ girl is only concerned with dropping her eggs and leaving, but even so, I can’t help but thing that the appearance of humans would make any animal (especially one that has been harvested by humans) quite on edge. After the laying was done (something like 110 eggs were laid) the mother used her massive flippers to delicately pile sand back on top of the nest and disguise it from predators as well as possible (of course, the eggs weren’t even in the nest, but she couldn’t see that). Several divots were made in the sand near to the nest to act as diversions to those seeking the location of the nest, but after those were made she began her retreat to the ocean. Slowly, with breaks to catch her impressive breath, she made her way down the beach and back into the sand, returning to the black of the night, leaving us alone in the moonlight. We then returned, tired to a lesser degeee than she, to our places of rest on the beach. After a night of sleeping on the hard sand, with whatever scrap of clothes we brought along as a pillow, we were all thoroughly happy to return to the lodge the next morning for breakfast. Some were a bit sad that we hadn’t seen a hatching, but most were content with witnessing the awesomeness of the egg-laying, and were already looking forward to the next event after breakfast (most likely snorkeling). So after another meal of pancakes, fruit, and coffee or tea, everyone split in their various directions for the day, then re-grouped for lunch later in the afternoon. It was then that talk of returning to the Turtle Beach was discussed, although there had been no interest expressed in spending another uncomfortable night on the hard sand. So the plan was formed to return to the beach after dinner, wait for a few hours for the baby turtles to reach the surface, then return for the night sometime before midnight. Well, just before dinner the call came in on the radio: the baby turtles had breached the surface, and were making their way towards the water. Yikes! We all ditched the idea of dinner (although plenty hungry from the day’s activities) and piles into the small boat (which was about as stable as a slow-spinning top) and headed back to see the little critters make their moonlight journey (although they were in fact a bit early, moving in the light of evening). When we hit the beach there were people already standing around the nest, and a hole that was made the previous night now had a baby turtle in it that appeared dead – not moving at all. A short wave of sadness swept over some, even though we all knew the poor chances that they had from the beginning. But then it moved! With much excitement, we watched with encouraging words as the little critter scrambled his way towards the setting sun, and towards the water. About 30 minutes later we watched our little buddy get smacked by his first wave, then shortly after disappear into the dark water. A bit later another turtle surfaced from the nest, but at the rate they were surfacing, we’d have been there all night – so we jumped back on the boat and made our way back to the Lodge, blasting away at stars with my green laser that I dragged along. The next evening we went out in search of Coconut crabs, but other than one that had baracaded himself in his cave, a crabless night. One highlight, however, was the finding of a glowing mushroom species, yet to be identified. I was able to get a decent picture of the topside of the bell, and the photo should be posted above. Also worth mentioning were the Dugongs, which are similar to Manatee’s, and feed in the lagoons of the Solomon Islands. Tetepare alone was the only place we had heard of seeing such aquatic mammals, and during our stay we were fortunate enough to spot them twice. Both times we were snorkeling when we spotted them slowly cruising along the bottom, keeping their eyes out for the eel grass on which they feed. There was a larger one, maybe 8’ long, and what we could only assume was it’s sub-adult calf, around 6’ in length. The second time we spotted them, I was distanced a bit from Denee, Dirk, and Aimee, and had the opportunity to get quite close (within 4’) of them while they swam past us. Those few seconds (that seemed like ages) of swimming alongside the two of them were super-spiffy, and it’ll probably be another lifetime or few until I get a chance like that again. After spending our 5 nights there at Tetepare, we left one afternoon and skirted the southern shore of the island, working our way to the southern tip. From there we crossed Blanche Channel, the body of water that separates Tetepare from Marovo lagoon, and made our way towards Connie’s place in the village of Chea. After stopping once for directions, our boat finally made it to Chea and deposited us on the coral wharf. As we were coming to tie up, we came upon a dugout canoe with two girls in it – and one of them was White Connie! There are, in fact, only two white folks that live in the village, and although she is only a part-time patron of the village, Connie is known by all. Years ago she started coming here, mingling with the locals, and forming relationships that eventually caused her to find herself building a home here in this island/jungle paradise. When she built her place (which is situated above the village, on a hill), the agreement of sorts was that when she isn’t there, the locals could use the house as a children’s school, and in return the family that lives there would do minor cooking and cleaning for the month or two when she visits. Pretty sweet deal for the locals if you ask me! As part of a way to say thank you, and to support the locals at the village, Aimee and I bought this awesome carving that Loister (the mother of the family that stays there) had obtained through what amounts to barter. See, when a local needs some cash in a pinch, they often will barter whatever they have, and in the case of carvers (which there are many), non-complete carvings are often given away at bargin prices to those that have cash. So Loister, being a smart woman, has an assortment of carvings she’s obtained over the years, and one of them caught our eye so much that we had to bring it home. We felt that if we were going to buy a carving, it should be from someone we know and appreciate, and not just from any ol’ carver at the market. This piece is a turtle/shark combo that’s about two feet across, and perhaps 18” tall, and will eventually find itself hanging over our bed in Seattle. When we came here, we were told that you should never be guilted into buying something, or to buy a carving without really wanting it – and with the exception of a little mask and some small nut carvings (all quite inexpensive), we held true to that bit of advice. But enough of carvings! Like I said, Connie’s house is situated on a hill that overlooks the lagoon, the football field, and the fringe reef that protects the lagoon from the raging seas on the outside. On our first day in Chea, Connie took us out to the “Tumba” or outer islands, where the lagoon and ocean meet. Our purpose was to go snorkeling, and although the weather was picking up, we felt we couldn’t pass up the chance to have a local guide show us here favorite swim spot. So we piled into a dugout canoe maybe only 2-feet wide, 20-feet long, and had a 15hp Yamaha outboard strapped to the back, and blasted our way precariously out to “The Wall.” Once we finally got out, Denee, Connie, and Aimee took off like torpedos and left Dirk and I completely in the dust to wonder where our significant others had gone. After a slightly-frantic trip down the length of “The Wall” searching for our sweeties, we finally caught up to the Olympic-grade swim-trio and spent a few minutes actually enjoying the various caverns and valleys that littered the this beautiful coast. That afternoon we returned to Chea, fully exhausted, and were welcomed by a glorious meal that Loister had prepared for us. Now, there are some things in the world that most people can recognize and revere, like a comfortable bed or a good massage, and I think that Solomon Island Sweet Potatos should be officially added to the ranks of unforsakable foods. Along with Fijian Kasava chips and the Popo (mango) soup that you mix with rice, I cannot imagine better island food. Eggplant I could never taste again, and I would have not regrets – but the above mentioned items are what makes life here wonderful. Also we have been so lucky as to sample a variety of reef and peplagic fish, crayfish (spiny lobster), and pork. The piggy wasn’t the best ever, but one can never complain about variety in a place that lacks refrigeration (outside of the big cities). Anywho, about two days later my dad showed up to Chea, and after an hour or two “talking story” with the locals, we all piled into the boat from Solomon Dive Adventures, and made our way south. In the hours before leaving Chea we were witness to the strongest wind and rain we had yet to experience, and none of us were too excited about the 1.5hour ride down to the dive lodge. I wore only my swim shorts, while others clambered around in rain jackets and tarps, doing what they could to keep dry. The odd thing was that the water we were floating on was in the mid-80’s, but yet we were freezing our asses off from the wind chill. Once we stopped (just under two hours later, and in complete darkness) I was able to plunge my feet into the warm water again, and the cold went away instantly.
While we were unloading during a break in the weather, we met Lisa, the owner/operator of Solomon Dive Adventures, and got a tour of the facilities. They had showers and toilets (basic), a nice covered dining area, comfortable private rooms for both couples, and Lisa had made a bed up for my dad in her house. After a dinner of fried fishes, fruit, rice, potatoes, and everything else wonderful, we had a dive-briefing of sorts and made our plans for the next day. We’d start off on an easy refresher-dive at a spot called “Treasure,” then if everyone was comfortable, we’d do our post-lunch dive out at one of the islands off beach. It was so, and it was there that we got our first taste of truly epic diving – world class by no doubt. Fan corals with radi of 8’ (16’-span!), hundreds of reef fish, and nudibranchs plentiful enough to keep Dirk’s interests perked for the entire week! I had just taken my new underwater housing down on a test dive earlier that morning, and I was able to start clicking away at everything and anything underwater, and I love it! Like any true gear junkie, however, I was crying for bigger external strobes within a dive or two, but regardless I was able to take what I thought were some killer photos. 5-dives later (including one chaotic night dive) I was finally able to put the camera down on occasion and actually SEE what was around me, and take in all of the cumulative beauty underwater. On one dive in particular, we were able to HEAR the beauty, in that an active underwater volcano approximately 18-miles away caused tremors loud enough to rattle your entire body while on the dive – and it really made me aware of my surroundings, as I was under a big overhang when the sound of impending death zipped through the water. Of course, pissing yourself underwater goes quite unnoticed, so no real harm was done to my ego. Once Christmas came (on a Saturday, the Sabbath for Seventh Day Adventists, the biggest religion here) everything was shut-down, so we all decided to begin a 10-day anti-wellness fast, where we all got sick for a minimum of 7 days out of a 10-day period. I was the first, followed by Aimee, Dirk, Denee, and Connie. Each of us had our own unique way of being sick, but in general it included: two days of burning fever, multiple days of weakness, a day or few of coughing, and lack of appetite. Missing a meal at SDA was a bummer, because their food was plentiful, nourishing, and we even had a goodie-box packed with cookies, candies, and drinks that we could get into anytime we desired. But after Christmas we left SDA and headed to Cherapoana Island, where the food was substantially less is quantity and variety, and missing a meal wasn’t really an unfortunate thing. Half of us were too weak or congested to dive, so most of our time was spent either reading, journaling, drinking hot beverages, or a combination of the three. But after 5 days and 4 nights of that, we were all back to health and our time was up. So we headed back to Chea with Connie and my Dad, where we returned to the comfort of fire-ant-free bedding (we were eaten by these evil critters, especially Denee and Dirk, at Cherapoana) and Loister’s simple, yet nourishing cooking. The next day was spent relaxing and preparing for our long journey home, doing a bit of kite flying (the local kids just swarmed when we ran up the camera), and thinking about food that would await us back home. On that note, let me say that food was by far our biggest obsession while on this trip, period. While at Cherapoana I dedicated an entire page of my notebook to the various culinary delights that I craved, and I’m still working at fulfilling said list’s highlights. Corn dogs, cheesecake, burgers, Thai, Mexican, Italian – the list easily covers over 50 different items of my desire. Anywho, the next morning we said our good-byes, loaded the fiberglass launch/panga/banana-boat and headed to Seghe for our flight to Honiara. With only a 15hp Yamaha outboard pushing the 8 of us (Roy, Loister, Connie, Dad, and the 4 of us) and our luggage, it was a bit of a late-morning bake, as the sun was out in full, blue-sky force. Once we arrived at the airport dock (funny, right?) we proceeded to the “terminal” (a 25’ x 15’ shack) and attempted to check in. The problem, however, was that we had booked our tickets online, and very few of the places with internet also have printers – so no physical tickets for us. This problem was realized when the clerk/baggage handler/manager/runway staff told us that we needed physical tickets, and that they had no computer system in Seghe. Umm….ok? Fortunatly for us, they were able to contact somebody via cell phone (oddly, cell phones are rather common in the middle of nowhere) when the radio didn’t work, and they got our seats confirmed. Yea! So that ordeal snuffed out, we went through security (wait – no we didn’t! there is no security for the small planes here), laid our bags on the grass and coral runway, and we waited. One warm orange soda later the Dash-8 landed and began to disembark a group of pasty whiteys – something we could say after being thoroughly bronzed and sun-bleached for the past two months. : ) But seriously, there are some pretty freaking corpsey-lookin’ folks that come off those planes – even by PNW standards! Anywho, as the plane was coming to a halt, a previously-observed crazy person began his routine of throwing trash around, yelling, and moving in quick, jerky movements. This fellow then began sizing up the disembarking passengers like a mother hen as they claimed their baggage, still moving in erratic, jerky movements. It was about then that we noticed the writing on the back of his shirt, which stated in bold letters “OFFICIAL” or some other equally authoritative title, obviously not meant for him. But those tired passengers didn’t know any better, and it made me laugh. Minutes later we said our good-byes, loaded onto the plane, and took off over the serene tropical islands. Leaving this place is a bitter-sweet: I craved food and homelife, but knew that I was leaving behind one of the most exotic, wonderful, and beautiful places in the world (with not known date of return). It was a feeling like getting married, I suppose, in that you think it could be the last time you ever do it, but there is a slight possibility that you may have a second chance. Or third, fourth, or fifth. I don’t mean to knock marriage, it was just the first thing that popped into my mind when searching for something you do with little chance of repeating again. I suppose getting crabs or shooting someone in self defense could be other examples, but we’ll just leave it at that. Getting back to our travels, the four of us got off the plane in Honiara and within 30 seconds of entering the airport I spotted the cabbie that picked us up when we flew in from Fiji, and he gave us a ride back to our hotel. The first time we came in, he drove us all around town trying to find a place that had two rooms, and after an hour or so of failed attempts at cheap lodging, we ended up at the Quality Inn (from Hell). The Chester house, where we stayed after the Quality Inn, had two rooms reserved for us, beds made, and Holy Crosses removed for us heathens (seriously, the room had a removable cross on the door, and ours had been removed, just like the last time, in different rooms). Weird. That night we treated ourselves to what we thought would be sushi, but actually turned out to be a Japanese restaurant that was out of sushi – but we ate their anyway, as we had some remaining Solomon dollars that we needed to spend. Speaking of Solomon dollars, we got (at best) $7.5SBD for every $1USD, but when we sold them back at the Westpac bank (we later found out that they were the worst exchange rate in town – who knew) we got $1USD for every $10SBD. As it turned out, the remaining cash we were left with was spent (every last dollar, except for some change I forgot to get rid of) on trinkets at the airport: a book on warfare by Tom Clancy, some coconut soap bars, and some jewelry for Mom’s birthday. Later that afternoon we were in Nadi, Fiji, drinking our first decent beers in over a month, and checking emails via wifi. We were one flight away from our home lives, school, work, my boat and truck, and food – limitless food. After loading up around 11pm local time, we taxied and leveled off at 42,000ft, and did our best to get some shut-eye. And by that, I mean we watched movies until 2am. : ) When we woke, it was about 9am Pacific Coast Time, and soon the California coast came into view – one more flight and we’d be home. Oddly enough, even though there are millions of flights per year, I still feel that making it to your destination without a fatal component failure due to laziness of some airline minion is a miracle. I don’t mean to demean airport maintenance folks, but I’m pretty sure they don’t pay those guys enough to REALLY give a damn, like say a Professional Engineer might (these “Professional” engineers, architects, etc have to go through ridiculous testing for YEARS before they can put their stamp of approval on something, and once they do, they become HUGELY liable for any failures, etc). Anywho, with relief we landed safely, but with frustration we were delayed by understaffed and over-worked customs agents, and therefore missed our flight to Seattle – by no close margin. Thankfully we made it on standby status on a flight that had us in standings 11 and 12 – a real miracle in my book! Three hours later we were picked up by my Uncle Jim at SeaTac and taken home. Our home.
The End.
Epilogue: January 15th, 2011.
The diving was epic – out-of-this-world-AMAZING. Turtles were sweet, Dugongs awesome, water temperature: 85-degrees Fahrenheit. Food: basic, but nourishing. Beer: total crap (in the Solomons – Fiji Bitter all the way!). People: poor but friendly (more friendly in Fiji. Economy: Sad in Solomons, think developing nation.
But in the end, we are back in Seattle with less than 8 hours of usable daylight, sub-freezing temperatures, and back to wearing long-undies and gloves on a regular basis. I bought my first French press coffee brewer (it’s a mini – 12oz) last week, ate a lot of unhealthy but thouroughly satisfying junk food, worked on my 4Runner, organized my tools and storage unit, and Aimee began school at Seattle Central Community College, where she’s taking Painting, English, and Math classes. I bought a new bottle of Johnnie Walker Green Label Scotch, a new Hookah (twin-hose with a wide and heavy base), and ended my moorage contract at my marina on Westlake Avenue. Concerning that last item, I’ve decided to give up my moorage on Westlake because they informed me that they had made a mistake in my contract, and that I was paying about 40% less than I should have for the past year, and that my rate would be corrected for 2011. On top of that, I didn’t really want to renew a year-long contract when half of that year would be spent at Delta Marine Shipyard hauled out while I replace rigging, put in a new engine, build a pilothouse, and rebuild the interior of my sailboat. I’m a bit sad about it, as it was quite affordable and I have great neighbors, but cash is king, and I’ve got to save it. So I’ll be hauling the boat out in late January (my contract ends on the 31st) and continue working on it in a covered environment until early summer. Eventually I’ll re-launch and begin living aboard, and Aimee will be able to call “our apartment” “my apartment” once again. I’ll eventually be looking for work, as I won’t be returning to the summertime Alaska work with American Safari Cruises – so if anyone sees a job posting that I might be interested in, or know of work that is available for a person such as myself, feel free to contact me by leaving a comment below, or calling/emailing me! : ) I’m currently entertaining a position at a local boat building company, guiding whitewater rafting trips, caretaking an island in Connecticut, photography jobs including teaching, driving boats in the Seattle area, and anything else that allows me to stay in Seattle, pay the rent, and keep me off the crack. Ok, the crack part is an exaggeration – I’m pretty sure I can’t afford a habit like that anyway. : )
Currently I’m at 30,000ft, southbound for Santa Barbara, California, to visit my Mom for her 50th birthday – yay! I’ll be here for 4 days, then back to Seattle until late February when I fly down to south of Puerta Vallarta, Mexico, to spend two weeks with my friend Christian on his sailboat. Other than that, I don’t have any travel plans scheduled, and I’ll be doing the 7am-5pm shift, working on Rafiki until I start working at said unknown job in the early summer/late spring (when the boat is back in the water, and I have time for work). Anywho, I must go, as the process of editing, uploading, pounding the keyboard, re-editing and re-uploading has driven me a bit to my wit's end - so Kana Tabua!
Cheers,
Danny
