2007-08-04 Off to Labasa

Apparently the shape of the island east of our anchorage has the effect of modifying the winds from that direction. When the trade winds are strong, as now, we experience a rhythmic gusting, with a time period of about a minute between cycles. We get about a minute of breeze at around 5 to 10 knots with a slightly shifting direction, followed by an explosive blast at 30 plus knots lasting 45 seconds to a minute. The gust dies out, and the cycle repeats. It's a little unsettling, but in the gusts the wind generator gives the batteries a big pulse of charging current. So I can use the computer as much as I want to right now. A good opportunity to write about the trip Jim and I took to Labasa.

Jim got back from Suva Friday evening, and by Monday announced that we should go to Labasa on Tuesday to start the process of application for my work permit. We would take the Also 5, a 19-foot runabout with a 40 horsepower outboard motor. A one-way trip takes about 2 and a half hours, and $50 worth of fuel.

But there was a hitch. Also Island is entirely dependent on the 28-foot plywood trawler, the Lady K, making a trip to Labasa each Thursday. She carries a cargo of the fish the villagers have caught during the week, and any passengers who want to go to town badly enough to pay the $8 fare and listen to the engine all day. She takes 6 to 8 hours for the run arriving mid afternoon at Fiji fisheries dock. Fish are sold, and ice is bought and loaded for the next weeks' fishing. Rizwan, the Also Island agent in Labasa delivers the goods order for the Also Island store, and 55 gallon drums (375 pounds each) of fuel for outboard motors, kerosene lamps, and pressurized white gas type stoves are rolled out a plank from the dock, then manhandled into the deck house. Friday morning passengers embark, and she returns. Last week the transom platform broke under the weight of two men and a drum of fuel. Also there's been a marginal overheating problem since a repair was made to the keel cooler, and it needs attention. That has to be done before we leave, so the boat can fish for a day, then go on Thursday morning.

We ran her up on the beach on Sunday, and started the keel cooler repair. That turned into new holes in the hull, running copper tubing, making and gluing patches on the bottom, and modifying hose end fittings. It was complicated by the boat lying on one side at a 25-degree angle, and the bilge being well lubricated with old, black diesel crankcase oil mixed with a few gallons of seawater. It required great caution and leg strength not to fall down in the bilge, and took an hour of cleaning for me to see where to drill, and how to glue patches. In the process we found the battery cable had broken off and the captain had just jury-rigged it, never telling Jim there was a repair needed. That was true to his performance for the last months, and was the last straw. Jim changed captains. By Monday that was enough under control to have Pita, the newly appointed captain of the boat, finish connecting hoses, clamp and secure things, and do an oil change on the diesel. Jim and I started cutting away the old transom platform and making parts for the new one. By Monday night we had parts made, the sides of the boat prepped, and a plan for repairing the damage to the sides as we glued on the new supports. No trip to Labasa for us Tuesday, but we had to go Wednesday as a ride had been promised to Ma'am Khatta, the school principle's wife. She goes to town monthly to see her daughter's family.
Tuesday we started assembling the new platform, while Pita repacked the leaky old shaft gland, reassembled the interior, and repacked the cooler of fish we'd had to empty and move to do the cooling line. Working around the tide it took until 4:00 PM to finish the platform and ready the boat for trials. We took a break from construction, and just sold fuel to customers and had a bite to eat while we waited for the tide at 6:00 to float her. At dusk we got her afloat, fired up, and headed across the bay to test the cooling and adjust the shaft gland. Jim got the packing adjusted after taking a few gallons of water into the bilge, and the cooling seemed to be fine. But the shifter had been allowed to fall apart, again with no mention by the old captain. We went back to the beach, and started pulling the controls apart in the dark, using flashlights. By 7:00 we were starting manufacture of a new shift lever, pivot mount, and cable clamps. Two hours of searching out materials, designing, cutting, grinding, and assembling had the shifter better than new. We were trashed. My back ached, and my right knee was swollen and tender. I couldn't imagine leaving for Labasa in 10 hours. But we did. We fueled up at dawn, swung by the village, and Ma'am Khatta, 50 years old and 200 plus pounds, waded out to the boat and clambered over the side to settle down on the floor for the ride. We made one false start, returned after a 5-minute start to get a forgotten paper, then settled in with the outboard howling at full throttle for the trip down. The tide was very high allowing us to take shortcuts over some reef areas. We were winding up the Labasa river dodging logs by 9:00, and just after 10:00 were helping Ma'am Khatta climb into another boat alongside so we could drag it to the half sunk floating dock. Rizwan met us there with the pickup truck, Jim joined him in the cab and I climbed into the canopied bed behind the cab, and we started the day's errands.

We saw the accountant, the doctor, the hospital (blood tests and x-rays), the police, the notary, the Internet parlor, and the machinist who does fabrications and repairs for Jim. The discussion with Rizwan was almost entirely about how to obtain materials and have them delivered within our lifetime, without costing triple in transport what was paid for them. It seems that frequently the customs agent will "lose" a package for a while in the warehouse. The record time for this is a bit over 2 months, with the agent being called twice a week to look for it. When it was discovered in the warehouse, it was shown that Also was spelled “Aslo”, so they could not have been expected to find the owner (despite phone numbers, addresses, and return addresses and phone numbers). Each day, it seems, it had been in the way, and had to be moved with a forklift. Each move with the lift was charged at $15, so for 10 weeks the charge was $750, plus standard storage of $3 per day. This was the maximum example, but NOT out of character. I looked in the stores, and talked about materials for boat building. Fiji Forest Industries now exports ALL of its grade one marine and exterior plywood. We can buy seconds when they are available, but there is no reliable supply. I was feeling the desperation rising. I had estimated 5 months to build a 40-foot catamaran. Clearly, I couldn't even get the wood in that time. I pretty much hurt all over from two days of climbing in and out of and wading around the Lady K. The police were a bit uncertain about the work permit, but I definitely needed a certified birth certificate sent from Massachusetts. Desperation slid toward depression. All afternoon it rained torrentially, and the water blew thru the truck canopy, soaking me, as Rizwan skittered over the potholes from business to business. By evening I was dropping hints to Jim that I couldn't see how we could get anything done in a year. I slept from about 10:00 PM until 4:00 AM, then lay awake trying to visualize how I could even get the hull shape I wanted on the boat, even if I could get materials and permits. My brain wouldn't work right. At breakfast I told Jim I'd go thru the motions of the work permit, and submit the $650 application fee, but I doubted if I'd stay beyond the 6-month temporary permit. I felt hopeless. He just did what he's done here for almost 6 years now. Plod on and see if it can be salvaged. I spent 2 hours on the Internet, forgot to check two of the sites I had wanted to see, and failed to get two others to open. The emails I wrote were not cheerful.

By noon we were running cargo between shops and the dock, loading and fueling the Also 5 and talking to Pita who had just arrived with the lady K. His trip had been good. I couldn't imagine how, in that worn out old trap of a boat, but it was apparently the best it's been for a year. They only had to bail it twice, and add cooling water once. Good grief!! They'd head back in the morning. We got Ma'am Khatta in the boat, at 1:30 and headed down the river on a low tide, dodging floating logs and all manner of other vessels running along the channel. With the extra weight of cargo, the boat was down about 20% in speed. But it wasn't raining any more. I took out a small-scale chart to track the trip and try to memorize the shoals.

At some point I started mentally designing again. Maybe we could downsize the cat and still have a viable boat. Every decrease in size improved the chances of completion. As we dodged mudflats, sandbars, and then reefs, I could see that what was needed here was a water jet drive, with a bulletproof Kevlar shoe on the bottom of the cat. With the absolute minimum draft of that arrangement, and the ability to bounce off rock bottom without significant damage, the boat could make a far better average speed, and could run at night with reasonable safety. I started to talk (yell) with Jim over the noise of the outboard about what would work best. I tracked progress, noting dangers to navigation. He could see I was swinging back toward interest in the project.

At Silivakatini, about 10 miles from Thawaro (by the way, in Fijian, C and TH are interchangeable) Jim called in to report our position. We couldn't hear the Island radio yet, but were fairly confident they could hear us. 5 minutes later, Jim mentioned that he couldn't find the inshore reef marker, it must have come down, and that made him nervous. 2 minutes after that the water flashed from gray/green to yellow/green, and with a great crash the motor kicked up on the transom, howling at full throttle with the prop spinning in the air, and the boat skidded to a stop. Jim slammed the throttle shut and hit the kill switch. A quick inspection showed that the foot and prop seemed to have survived largely intact. I poled the boat back to deep water from the 2-foot deep sandbar; we reassessed our position and direction, restarted, and headed on. The boat was a little slower, and had a vibration. I diagnosed it as prop damage, and sure enough, a closer inspection showed a wrinkled leading edge on one blade. But it was good enough to limp on home with.

Karen was bubbling over with news from her days at the kindergarten, in love with the children, in need of a couple of projects from me to secure their materials storage and improve her dinghy anchoring on her morning commute. I may not get the cat done, but we're obviously going to stay a while. There's plenty to do. And if the Bainimarama interim govt gets things cleaned up a bit at Customs, maybe we can import what we need. Maybe we will get a boat built.