Kiribati first impressions 01 22.067n 172 55.684e See updates from YIT December 2015 (Posted from Majuro March 2017) *** Just in case anyone thinks we are still on our way to the Marshall Islands, these posts are about our trip north in 2015. I'm still getting up to date. A quick summary of the interim time is that we arrived in Majuro in January 2016 and shortly thereafter decided to settle here for a year. Its now March 2017 and we are again preparing to go to sea, to head back to the glorious South Pacific. I will get the upward journey posts up to Majuro, then jump to our journey south, hopefully interspersing this with posts about our time in Majuro. *** Kiribati (pronounced Kiribas), our first northern hemisphere landfall. Check out our position - 01 22.067n 172 55.684e December 17, 2015 David email to friend: What caught my eye on first gazing around our anchorage was the amount of rusting steel. I counted a couple dozen wrecks in various stages of decay. They were scattered on the reef to the west, on the foreshore of the town, and in the sea all around us. These were the visible ones. What wreckage lay beneath the surface? The holding in Tarawa was good but if you look at the atoll and where the main centre, Betio, is you'll see it's exposed from the east through north to WNW. Its a long fetch across the lagoon and a vicious chop is the norm, at least both times we were there. Our little dinghy actually managed it quite well but we always got soaked in unswimmably filthy water, generally had to bail and often felt in danger of being swamped. The dinghy tie-up area is even more filthy still and backs onto a rubbish tip so the air is disgusting. There is a road resurfacing project in which stage one, the removal of all old tar, was complete but no sign of a new surface. In the dry there was a cloud of dust and in the wet vast mud puddles to be forded. Driving is a slow business of avoiding potholes, which is impossible, and carefully easing your vehicle into and out of endless craters. An unpleasant place to be. *** Janet Yes it was a challenge for our little dinghy. Launching it was difficult with trying not to bash it against the side of the boat, scarring the hull. Motoring in to shore was not too bad but coming back into the waves was damp and dangerous as we were usually heavily laden with food, and diesel. Unloading was a nightmare. The land was dusty. It was hot and we sweated and struggled in the heat, leaking fluids by the gallon. Yet there was a certain vibrancy there. There were people everywhere in the streets, walking, unlike in Tuvalu where almost everyone was on a motorbike. And they were active, building the new road, building seawalls (lots of evidence of global warming), shopping, going places. *** We were a fleet of eleven yachts by then. I'll introduce you as these people had been our constant companions since Tuvalu and would be till we joined the larger fleet in Majuro Free Spirit, Lauri and Chuck, American, only together a year, and recently married. Delightfully and refreshingly in love. Anahata - David, South African but now resident in Canada, photographer, Crew - Chris, southern American gentleman from Virginia. Exodus - Deanne and Tim American aeronautical engineers, and their teenage boys Brendan and Alex Eos II - brave little Australian boat. Slade and Lahnee and their two very small and very gorgeous daughters Kiani and Ahia Kai. True Blue V - Australians Leanne and Craig Menkar - crazy French Giles and his professional online gambler son Sylvan Skua - French Paul, Aussie/French Berrenger and her lovely four-year old son Ulysses Clara Catherine - Americans Amanda and Brian (piano accordion player) Arial IV - Swedish, Eric, fleet doctor, and Bergitta Catharpin Blue - Marylin and Sam, American who we never managed to meet up with en route but they were in our daily radio net. Stella - Canadian Bob who we later visited in Victoria =20 We looked out for each other. People gave us rides in to land when the sea was too rough, and we shared information on what to buy where. The group shared a truck to immigration, and went out for dinner together. What a great chance to get to know people for more than five minutes. *** David Janet arranged a tour of the atoll for four yacht crews, on the back of a truck. One couple had the foresight to bring squabs which made all the difference. An absolute highlight. Our driver, Tiitau, pronounced Sitau - s is represented as ti - and his wife, Meriin, were special. They had good English, understood our wishes and did everything in their power to see that these all came true. Fresh produce and eggs, scarce on the island, were at the top of our wish list and we returned with fresh limes, bok choy, pumpkin, bananas, fresh basil, drinking coconuts, pawpaw but no eggs. We never tired of returning the enthusiastic waves of children, open mouthed at a truckload of Imitang, white people driving along the island's one road. At the end of the road not far past the airport we waded thigh deep to the next islet, Tiitau's home island. He explained the custom of visitors brushing their faces with sand, the gesture representing a joining with the new land. Faces suitably adorned we enjoyed a superb lunch of local ingredients, most dishes based around a seafood. No one was disappointed. Meriin and Tiitau, whom we had to arm-twist to join us for lunch, sang a local song in beautiful harmony so, of course Janet and I responded with Tu Tira Mai. We reveled in a couple of hours of textbook island paradise: thatched table looking out over turquoise coral palm-fringed foreshore on to a rippling cobalt sea, mysterious islets in the misty distance. Magnificent food, congenial company. Before crossing back to the truck we were shown through a boat-building yard - all wood construction of vessels ranging from local interisland launches, canoes, to a large trimeran for an Australian client. OSH would close the place in a heartbeat. The skies opened up on the homeward journey. We all got happily soaked and pleasantly cooled. Everyone's number one day in Kiribati. =20 =20 =20