(picture above: sunrise sailing)
After almost a year since we decided to
sail to Palau, we have finally reached this beautiful place that has
been ever-elusive to us. If you've been keeping up with my blog, you
might remember that Ali and I left Palawan, Philippines in September,
2011 with the intention of sailing to the country of Palau in the
Pacific Islands. But as circumstances had it, we got stranded, first
in Boracay for 6 months, and then in Carmen, Cebu for 3 months, due
to boat repairs and long-overdue maintenance. Now I'm happy to report
that everything is well, the boat in fair working condition, and we
finally touched down in Palau as of 7am on June 15, Friday...just two
days ago.
Tim, an Australian friend that we had
met in Boracay, flew to Cebu to join us on the sail. An hour after he
had checked into the Philippines, he had to check out of the country
again with us to prepare for the journey to Palau. We bought a year's
worth of food - canned goods and sacks of rice – for storage,
since we knew that goods would be much more expensive in Palau, as
American dollars were the country's currency. After a week of final
preparations, we said our goodbyes to good friends we had made in
Cebu on June 6 and started our sail toward Siargao Island on the
easternmost side of the Philippines – the last island we would be
able to stop at before Palau.
We sailed all day for two days and took
a rest each night by anchoring at islands along the way to Siargao.
The first island we stopped at was a quiet, pretty little island with
clear waters, rocks, and a lot of coconut trees. There were some
residents on the island, but they lived on the other side of it from
where we were anchored. It was a great feeling to be in a peaceful
island again, after 3 months of town life in Cebu. I did love being
around people and meeting new friends in Cebu, of course –
especially meeting the young German couple circumnavigating the
world, Martin and Corina...Corina becoming my best friend at the
marina, whom I spent afternoons playing guitar and painting toenails
with - but that time always comes for me when I just need to retreat
once again from the busy world of people to the silent one of Nature.
And so my little soul found rest at our first island stop.
(pictures above: our first island stop, south of Cebu)
In two days, we touched down in
Siargao, an island best known as a surf destination. It wasn't hard
to see why, as we were met by miles and miles of coral reef upon
getting there...which makes for great surf waves but bad boat
anchoring. It took us hours of tension-filled motoring across the
reefs trying to get as close to shore as possible, hoping against
hope that we wouldn't hear that dreaded SCRE-EEE as the bottom of the
boat hits a reef. We did manage to find a spot without incident, but
it wasn't close enough that a kayak ride to shore wouldn't take at
least an hour. So we took the dinghy to reach land instead. More
trouble came, with the dinghy engine refusing to start, which took
another 2 hours; and then when it finally did start, we had to leave
the dinghy about 10 minutes away from shore and walk the rest of the
way in knee-deep, jellyfish-filled water, as we might have had
trouble if the tide got even lower, leaving the dinghy stranded on
sand. The dinghy is not a light boat. It takes at least four people
to push it back into the water once it's on sand.
Our first stop at Siargao was Bayud
Resort, a quiet, relaxed place, where my brother Johanne was staying
for a week to facilitate a surf-yoga retreat. We got to meet the
people participating in the retreat and were invited for a few
spectacular vegetarian meals after that. Ali, Tim, and I borrowed
Johanne's rented motorbike for the afternoon and checked out the
sites around Siargao, all three of us scrunched together in one
motorbike – Filipino-style. Siargao is a very laid-back island,
with nothing more than resorts and restaurants as a sign of
development. As I've mentioned, it's known as a surfing destination,
so other than the locals, we saw nothing more than surfers upon
entering a restaurant called Ocean 101 for dinner. On our way home,
we found that our problem with the dinghy was just the opposite of
what we were worried about earlier. The tide had gotten high, and the
dinghy was now in deep water. Ali decided to swim to get the dinghy
to shore and fetch us. It was already dark by that time, so he
couldn't see his way very well and had to endure the harmless yet
no-less-painful jellyfish stings...better one person get stung than
all three of us anyway, was what we decided.
The next day, we invited Johanne's
retreat group to come on the boat during their free time. They
brought lunch for everyone, and we all had a generally nice time just
hanging out on the boat, chatting, swimming, kayaking, and trying out
the new paddle board that Ali had purchased online a few months back.
There were many pretty islands around Siargao that we could've sailed
to for the afternoon, but maneuvering around the reefs wasn't a feat
that Ali was up to taking again. But despite that we stayed in one
spot the whole afternoon, everyone enjoyed themselves immensely, just
being surrounded by the ocean. In fact, when it was time to go,
Johanne had a bit of a problem gathering everyone up, as the retreat
people kept bargaining for a few more minutes on the boat. “It's
turned into more of a vacation than a retreat, really,” Johanne
joked.
(pictures above: my brother with the yoga-surf retreat group)
The next day, we decided to go for a
bike ride around the island. We had sold our motorbike in Cebu and
had purchased bicycles instead...much easier to get on shore than a
motorbike. Tim had also purchased a bicycle for himself, which he
could readily sell in Palau before he left. We had a drink at Ocean
101 and walked to the surf spot to check out the waves and surfers,
and possibly do some surfing ourselves. Ali and Tim wanted to try out
surfing; I, having been surfing a number of times in the past with my
surf-enthusiast brothers, wasn't too excited for it anymore, as I
knew all-too-well how much muscle-work and endurance it took to get
past the waves and far enough out, just to get a few seconds' worth
of riding the waves. I was open to the idea though, in case they
decided for it, since I do recall the excitement I felt once I was
out there. At the surf spot, a long boardwalk had to be crossed so
that the surfers could be in deep enough water to avoid getting towed
by the waves into the shallow reefs. It was mid-afternoon and
extremely low tide, and we found no surfers around. We had to get
back to the boat by late afternoon to start our sail to Palau, so we
decided to abandon the surf idea and stick to our bike ride instead.
The roads around the island are mostly
dirt roads along the coast, and we were having a pleasant time
enjoying the quiet scenery of shores and little shops in the towns,
when my one of my bike pedals broke off. We spent a good while trying
to fix it, Ali and Tim coming up with all sorts of improvising, but
nothing worked. In the end, Ali and I exchanged bikes, and he rode my
bike on one pedal. He was not a happy camper by the time we got back
to Bayud Resort, let's put it at that. Well, so much for China-made
bikes. I'll just have to get a better one at some point.
Once at the resort, we found the dinghy
now stranded on the shore due to extremely low tide. We waited for
the tide to rise and relaxed at the nice resort. The tide didn't rise
until 7 p.m. though, which meant that we could no longer start our
sail to Palau that day. It would be too tricky getting past the reefs
in the dark. So as always with life on a boat, a change of plans was
necessary. We rose at 5 a.m. the next morning (okay, Ali and Tim rose
at 5 a.m., and I rose at 6 a.m.) and set out for the 4-day/4-night
nonstop sail to Palau. We decided that we would each take 4-hour
shifts in watching the boat. I got first dibs in choosing my watches,
so I chose the 6am-10am and 6pm-10pm shifts. That would give me a
proper night's sleep, from 10pm-6am, which was my usual bedtime
anyway. Ali chose the 2pm-6pm and 2am-6am shifts, so he could catch
the sunrise and sunsets. That left Tim with 10am-2pm and 10pm-2am
shifts, which he was happy to take, since he liked to go to bed late
and sleep through the morning. So we were all content with our
shifts.
(above: taking pictures at chilled out Bayud Resort while waiting for the tide to rise)
Except for hours of trying to maneuver
around the reefs and out of Siargao, our first day was a clear,
sunny, and relatively uneventful one. One of the boat engines did
break, but there was enough wind for us to sail without engine. We
just had to forgo the speed we originally intended to go. By my night
shift at 6pm, Ali went to bed to get his rest before his early
morning shift, while Tim accompanied me on my watch. Later in the
night, a guy from a cargo ship in our vicinity came on the radio,
greeting us in Filipino with “Kabayan...over” (“Fellow
countryman...over”). We decided to have a bit of fun, so Tim
radioed back, saying, “Magandang gabi” (“Good evening”).
The guy greeted back, and then a guy from another boat joined in as
well, saying something in Chinese. We decided to abandon the radio
then.
Weather-wise, everything went
lethargically the first day, but by my morning shift the next day,
the winds got stronger due to some small storms lurking around. This
was good news, as long as the storms didn't hit us directly. The
winds got the boat sailing a little faster so that we were able to
make up for lost time during the first day.
We had set up a couple of fishing rods
at the back for trolling when we left Siargao, in hopes of catching
some tuna, but had gotten nothing except false alarms so far. When
Ali called us for about the tenth time in two days that he thought a
fish had been hooked, Tim and I started joking about “the boy who
cried wolf”. Wouldn't you know it. There on the hook when Ali
reeled the line in, was a big, fat yellow fin tuna, about a
foot-and-a-half in length; more than enough for the three of us to
have a proper meal. Unfortunately, in our excitement to get the fish
on the grill, none of us remembered to take a picture. So I'll just
have to leave that to your imagination. We decided to stuff and grill
the head part of the fish, and make sashimi out of the tail
part. It was a glorious lunch that refueled our bodies and spirits
for the arduous journey. By the second day, there were no longer any
islands around us – just sea and sky – and we knew this would be
a constant for us in the next few days. So we were grateful for the
gift from the sea.
Maybe the fish meal was an advanced
compensation for what was to come, because later in the afternoon,
the radar broke, and Tim, having good background in electronics, had
to try and fix it. Repairs being in vain, Ali resorted to climbing
halfway up the mast to try and fix the sonar. That didn't work
either, so we hoped for good weather at night, at least, since
without the radar, we wouldn't be able to see the direction the
storms were headed and would therefore not be able to avoid them in
time if they came our way. And that night, starting on my shift again
(I did think for awhile that it was some kind of joke being played on
me that things should start happening on my shifts in particular),
ominous clouds started looming overhead. That kept the boys up all
night, while they allowed me to snooze through the rest of the night
once my shift was over. I must have been very tired, since I slept
soundly despite the hard rain and the waves rocking and banging
violently at the boat.
(picture above: Ali climbing up the mast to fix the sonar)
The third morning awoke me to a very
tired boat crew, but a bit of hope, with better weather and the
exhilarating sight of ten or so dolphins feeding by the boat and
swimming a bit of the way with us. Our third day, though wavy, proved
to be all sunshine. We each got to rest well that night after our
respective shifts, as the sky was clear and stars were fully out.
(pictures above: a relaxed third day at sea)
The fourth day brought an overcast sky,
so we kept on our toes for possible storms. A few were brought our
way, but thankfully, nothing more catastrophic than some large waves
knocking kitchen stuff over, with a glass bottle breaking and
spilling cooking oil all over the floor, while I held on tightly to
the pan and kettle of water simmering over the stove, which had
threatened to fall over too. What else could we do except finish
cooking the dinner over slippery, oil-soaked floor filled with shard
glass, while cleaning up the mess. The storm got worse at night, and
again, Ali and Tim both stayed up all night, relieving each other of
duty every 2 hours by turns. I left my shift half an hour earlier,
got out of my rain-drenched clothes and into some dry ones, and went
straight to bed at 9:30pm. I was thankful that Tim was with us, since
of course he had far, far more strength and endurance than I did,
which allowed me quite a bit of slack from the boys regarding my boat
tasks.
(picture above: sailing past storms at 6 knots with the tiniest bit of sail ever!)
By 5 a.m. on the fifth day, we finally
caught sight of the island of Palau. We were overjoyed by the sight
of land. We could feel a proper rest getting closer and closer. Tim
woke up still shivering from the night before, when hard rain
unluckily fell for a very long time on his watch, but he was equally
happy that we had finally reached our destination. It had been a long
journey that had felt like weeks, with the boat continuously on the
move day and night. Towards the end of the journey, we had started to
ask why the sea was giving us such a hard time; there had been more
storm than good weather. The answer, of course, is that the sea was
simply doing its thing, as it always has, and we were the guests who
had decided to brave its many moods; what right or power did we have
to make it other than it was? The sea is what it is. A woman, they
say, in many ways. One can never completely predict its moods, yet we
love it anyway.
(picture above: WWII shipwreck at the reefs on entering Palau)
Palau's breathtaking beauty of rock
islands scattered across still, green waters let us know that our
journey had been well worth it. We passed through quarantine, and I
held my breath in fervent hope that Customs would not confiscate my
plants - two of which I had been taking care of for 2 years already.
Ali saved my plants by telling Customs that I had painstakingly grown
them from seed. So Customs ended up asking us to take the plants
inside the boat, and took our fresh fruits and vegetables instead,
which held the possibility of carrying insects and/or possible
disease into the country, should we mistakenly bring the food to
shore. And then finally, we were able to anchor at a peaceful, pretty
lagoon, where other yachts were also anchored.
That night, the typhoon that the
weather forecast had warned about prior to our sail finally hit Palau
with a vengeance. It simply passed over during the night and headed
toward the south of the Philippines - the course we had been on. So
we suddenly realized just how lucky we actually were to have gotten
to Palau in time. It wouldn't have been possible had it not been for
the smaller storms that gave us good wind, and therefore speed, along
the way. Our sailing troubles immediately turned into blessings that
had spared us from the big typhoon. Nothing can convince me now that
what we see as troubles are not actually blessings in disguise!
So here we are today, in Palau, after a
very long and patient wait – 9 months, to be exact - sitting in an
open Internet cafe called The Drop Off, in front of close-by islands
with lush forests and a tranquil sea of green. As I write this blog,
I'm enjoying a refreshing iced coffee and a burrito that I know I
won't be able to finish. After a bit more rest, we will be ready to
fully explore this wondrous country of outstandingly friendly
Palauans and a maze of picturesque islands to get lost in. Our
sailing adventure from the Philippines to Palau has now come to a
close, and a new one is about to begin. And I will be back soon to
tell you of it!
