[password] abcisme

[position] 22 22.8834S 166 54.8166E

[status] Sitting in drizzling rain at Anse Majic. Updating the blog with
our latest story. Making plans to head for the abandoned Prony Village
and penal colony.

[blog] title: Paddle Overboard! …and we meet The Killers

We’re on our way south, more or less, slowly making our way towards Ile
De Pins.

At Baie De La Torture, some friendly Aussies popped over to torture us
with their accents. They had spotted us out by a reef where Michelle was
sunbathing on the dinghy and I was spearfishing.“Did yeer keel
anything?” they asked. We shook our heads and conceded we hadn’t speared
a thing. These Aussies, however, were fair dinkum killers, so we agreed
that we would head over to their place for a feed of Billaroo aboard The
Cray Trout… no, wait, it was a feed of cray and trout aboard Billaroo!

The Killers suggested that we come along with them the next morning, to
a spot a few miles away, where we could dive the reef with the experts
and fill our freezer with sea bounty. We made a plan to leave at 8am or
9am or talk in the morning on channel 16 or channel 72 or… something.

At around 8.30, the killers up’d anchor and putted away. We discussed
this for the next hour and half and wondered if we had made some
inappropriate joke, or just missed the departure call, or what? Maybe
they had decided to have a quiet killing session all by their lonesome?
Maybe they tried to call before we turned on the VHF? Maybe the Sheila
had gotten itchy and killed the geezer in the night and was making a run
for it? Our wild hypothesise were finally interrupted by a call on the
radio.. “Are you guys having a big sleep in, or do you have some kind of
problem?”

OK, we clearly missed something. We whipped up our anchor and headed out
of the anchorage towards the reef. Only a hundred meters out from the
protected bay, the wind picked up so we cut the engines and sailed along
at 5 knots with only the headsail. With only a couple of miles to
travel, I decided this was my perfect opportunity to try out Paddle Ski
Sail Boarding! I grabbed a rope, threw a paddle on to the board (just in
case), and made a spectacular running start. 5 knots is less than 10kph,
but when you’re bouncing around on the waves and trying to step from a
boat to a paddle board, it’s a bit entertaining. However, I made it over
and was soon enjoying the views from my giant inflatable single ski. It
was great fun and my technique was improving. I was carving it up and
then the just-in-case paddle left the board. My brain froze for a
moment, but I had to let go of the rope and stay near the paddle or it
would be lost forever! I yelled something to Michelle, let go of the
rope, and watched as the boat sailed away. Now I was too far from the
paddle to reach it and the boat was sailing away at a fair ole clip!
Michelle was prepared for this and pulled the boat into the wind, furled
away the head sail and started the engines. I made some half-hearted
attempts at a surfer style paddle towards my floating stick, but I was
rapidly being blown downwind and my mind had created a school of hungry
sharks that were waiting just below the surface to devour my limbs. So,
I bravely crossed my legs and sat on the paddle board and yelled
confusing instructions across the water at my rescuer. “Come and get
me!”, “Keep an eye on the paddle!”, “I’m over here!”… What ever would
she do without my helpful guidance? Libertalia was now somewhere near
the lost paddle, but her skipper was demanding rescue, so Michelle
dutifully left it floating and came to pluck me from the hungry jaws of
my imagination. In my defence, the sharks were reaaally hungry, and I
figured that two crew on board was going to make everything a lot easier
and safer for part 2 of the rescue.

Fifteen minutes later, I radioed the killers and told them of a rare and
wild carbon paddle fish that could be caught in these waters. This was
enough to lure them to our aid and four people aboard two boats spent
the best part of the next hour hunting this elusive creature. We zigged
and zagged, prayed and peered and beat back the demons that wanted to
steal our hope and play the blame game. Eagle Eyes was clinging to the
mast and scouting from atop the boom. I forced myself to keepsome kind
of search pattern and scouted with binoculars. We raced downwind to some
playing dolphins and asked if they had our paddle,, but they were
playing their own game and had nothing useful to contribute. The killers
suggested we go back to the scene of the crime so we headed back upwind
toward a spec of sea that looked just like all the rest. Our GPS guided
us and we slowly drove the boat straight towards a waypoint that would
later be renamed to “Davy Jones Paddle”. Billaroo was weaving some
strange aboriginal trail behind us and leaving great S trails in their
wake. They mostly avoided our track, figuring there was not much point
in covering exactly the same patch of water.

Then the radio squealed something… I played the noise back in my head…
wait, I think that was a Sheila… what did she say? I played it in my
head again… “Eeets hee-ar!”… I rolled the sound around in my head again…
“It’s here!”. You have got to be kidding me!? They found it!? I spun my
head and it looked like the killers had slowed down. They were not far
off our starboard stern and I played the sound over one more time to be
sure before calling out to the admiral “They’ve found it!”.

We stood on the foredeck, clapped and cheered as our paddle was plucked
from the sea and brought safely aboard. The needle had been found! The
haystack was no match for the diligence of our new friends. We must have
passed by the paddle only 40-50 meters away.

This is why we have AIS PLBs inside our lifejackets. If a person goes
overboard at sea without one, there is little hope of even finding them,
let alone saving them. The first rule of ocean sailing is “Stay on the
boat”, but if you ever do break the rule, I hope you have every bit of
technology and know-how you can muster, working to keep you alive. I
pray I never have to search the sea for anything more precious than a
paddle!

;;

With our paddle safely in their possession, The Killers decided we would
need to prove ourselves worthy before any transfer could take place. A
vague destination was agreed, the sails were hoisted, and we danced for
12 nautical miles. Of course, we were just having a relaxed cruise, but
the sails were trimmed just right and there was no time for idle banter.
The lead changed hands numerous times and we jostled for position.
Libertalia took a longer course, looking for more wind out further from
land. It paid dividends, but then we got distracted and lost our wind at
a critical juncture. We were neck and neck going into the final few
miles and we made another move that cost us boat lengths. Their bigger
boat accelerated past 9 knots, reaching in the higher winds. We were
pointing high and fighting to keep in the game as our courses converged.
The end was in sight and Billaroo was barely ahead as we entered the
long Bonne Anse inlet. We were accelerating again and only the exact
placement of the finish line would determine who would collect the honours.

…but of course, we were just having a relaxed cruise, so we meandered
into Anse Majic, dropped our sails and prepared our boats for the evening.

We had proven ourselves worthy and Davy Jones Paddle could come home
with his paddle-head held high.[END]