Two days of pleasant sailing bring us to Puluwat's reef entrance just a tad too late. We have a try but light is too faint and there are quite a lot of breakers hiding the path into the lagoon. We attempt to anchor somewhere outside but everywhere the reef slopes are too deep for that, drifting all night and motoring up to the entrance again in the morning. As we've been cautioned the pass isn't the straightforward breeze described on cruising guides: The calm waters marking the entrance are concealed by the breakers and on the way into it several black patches suggest shallow rocks.
As we approach the atoll some imposing sailing outriggers seem to get ready to go, we imagine they might be coming to guide us in. One pops out without us being able to observe its path. The canoe is about 30 feet long, loaded with people singing and waving. Through shouting we discover they're bound for Pikelot, 130 miles NNW. So many people, 130 miles...on that thing?
The second and third canoe stops in the lagoon as waiting for us to come in.
I hold on steady, boats enter here and this is the passage after all. Gone the rocks and "rounded" the breakers I see it. By hugging the reef and then the beach well to starboard we are in!
The lagoon is nearly circular, all around 4/7 meters with all-white sand bottom...we are plunged onto a calm perfect turquoise mirror, an idyllic sight beyond any picture, video or writing could ever describe. The other canoes go by under full sail, I am exhilarated at the sight of so rough and yet elegant (and fast) sailing machines. This is what I came for: peoples who still brave the ocean on the same canoes that originally brought them here, reading the stars and waves for direction, without compasses or GPS.
I anchor in front of a big thatched roof hut, among swimming children and with swaying emerald palms almost overhead. Soon we are boarded by some of the villagers, eager to know our story. They are very polite and leave us soon to do our chores, after we promise to visit the chief ASAP. We do, delivering our gifts: One of the broken jibs to be re adapted for an outrigger, a large measure of the black netting we got in Noro (Solomons) and some canned foods. The gifts are much appreciated though we still have to pay a one time anchoring fee of 25 USD, no big deal. The chief is young and seems quite educated, he reassures us that we are very welcome to stay as long as we want and that anything we might need to ask him. Ali', another young bright guy takes us around the village for a first look around. We walk up to the internal lagoon, another circular jewel on which children sail their tiny canoes back and forth. How funny to be in a place where sailing is a daily past-time and occupation. We pass a home where people are gathered, someone is very sick, while the only doctor in the island has been sick himself for the last three months back in Weno (Chuuk). So there is a small empty clinic, a SSB radio no-one seems to know how to operate (what good can it do anyway so far from everything), basically the island is fending for itself. We have some blissful days of rest and snorkeling, having Ali' over for dinner almost every day...after months and months of taro, banana, coconut and fish on white rice our pastas must seem incredible treats. The chief is dead set on fishing a turtle to eat for us. We follow them around the lagoon with their weird contraption. The canoes who left in-fact left for uninhabited atolls to stock up on the delicacy, more appreciated here than pig or chicken. A turtle is finally caught, and we assist powerless to its' slaughter and cooking for our and
everyone's culinary enjoyment. It tastes like neither cicken nor fish, but it's chewy and firm, slightly stringy. The big treat is the fat lining the groove in the uper shell, good but not exactly that delicious to us. I am begging daily to Ali' to take me sailing on one of their canoes. At last one day we go on his small one, quite tricky!
We even capsize a few times and swamp the canoe, but it's a lot of fun. Getting friendly with Ali' is a great experience. He is very proud of his culture and history, and is never shy of explaining the various customs and stories from Puluwat and surrounding atolls. For instance we learn that star navigators, due to their closeness to nature have magical powers, thunder and lightning is used to send messages to other islands...everyone seriously confirms us that it is the truth, better not get on a navigator's wrong side. All of this is told in one of the canoe houses (also known as men's houses) by the inner lagoon, when me alone was invited to drink Tuba (fermented palm wine) with Ali's male relatives and friends. I would never leave, but Nobina and Andrew have a set date for their flight out of Yap, so we must rationalize the time in each island.
Another short sail (one and a half days) bring us to Olimarao, an uninhabited atoll. The pass again is not as straightforward as the charts suggest, but with Michela as by now seasoned reef spotter we have no troubles getting in, just the usual stroke of anxiety when seeing bright rocks in the clear water slide under the hull. While motoring up to the beach a loud pop and smell of exhaust...I look at the temperature gauge and it's shooting up to 90 degrees Celsius!
clogged and is what caused the overheating. The impeller is grinded to mush from our "way up" through the doldrums. After quite a sweat and few scratches I and Andrew get it out and take it apart. As I suspected years and years of broken impellers, melted zinc, stray algae and build up are making a mess of it all. During the day just about every corrosive product available on the boat has been run through the lines and it looks pretty clean at last. Another small sweat and the cooling flow is restored.
