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Fukuoka was to be our next destination in Japan. I have to admit here, we couldn’t stop juvenile smirks every time we uttered the word, and couldn’t resist pronouncing it with a ‘v’ at the end instead of a ‘k’. We left Miyanoura on May 1st – in the rain.

It rained all day, and visibility was poor but we had the sails up and made an average speed of 5 knots. It was too wet and cold to be in the cockpit for long (for me) but I made an exception to look at some dolphins! These were the first we’d seen in Asia and were a wonderful sight. Knowing how intelligent they are I wondered later if they’d appeared to warn us of the conditions to come. We didn’t get a storm as such; maybe ‘heavy weather’ is a more apt description. Paul put reefs in the main and the spinnaker pole in place in readiness for the wind that was forecast through gribs via the satphone. It sounded and felt very strong when it arrived and the accompanying high waves had the bow bashing down onto the water creating alarming hammer blows on the hull again. Watches were abandoned as heavy rain and wind gusting 20 knots continued throughout the night – we used Paul’s alarm to do regular checks above and relied on our trusty equipment as a third crew member.

The rough weather, poor visibility and high waves persisted the following day as we progressed up the western coast close to Nagasaki.  At one point during a watch around 4pm I looked out and it was like a dome of milky white muslin had been placed over us; I could only see a few feet ahead and hoped fervently that no fishing boats were close by (they came later).

The wind increased through the second night and Paul worked hard on the sails to keep us balanced, getting soaking wet in the process. He had a hard night’s slog actually. We were approaching Fukuoka Marina in the early hours of the morning of May 3rd and I could hear the noise of the wind whistling, rattling and banging things above. The rain had finally stopped but damp clothes and slippery surfaces made it uncomfortable up there. Protruding rocks, fishing boats and ferries had to be avoided at the same time as keeping the course and rolling from side to side. The mainsail had crash gibed and he’d had to sort out a tangled headsail and change the spinnaker pole to the other side all while I was sleeping peacefully below.

When I went up to steer us into the wind so Paul could take the main down, the wind was still gusting 20 knots and the prospect of steering into a marina in the dark in those conditions terrified me. The huge city of Fukuoka lay before us with lighted buildings and all kinds of flashing lights which made it tricky to pick out the red and green of the marina entrance. As it got shallower, waves were breaking on the surface and in the pre-dawn light created the effect that water was rushing at us like downhill rapids. I had to steer us around while Paul got the fenders and lines ready. At this point I noticed marker buoys bobbing around next to us and panicked about nets getting caught in the prop.

Needless to say it was a relief to enter the shelter of the harbour and leave behind the strong wind and swollen and billowy sea-state. Now we just had to find a berth. No one was around and we circled around a bit to check for available places.  I shone a torch onto a likely-looking pontoon while Paul expertly guided us in. At 4 30am, I was euphoric to be safely berthed and celebrated with a whisky before going to bed. We moved to a new berth later that day after had Paul checked us in.

In the light of day we could see the area we’d been motoring around in was full of marker buoys, not the few I’d guessed might be around. Paul thought they were probably lobster pots anyway so the lines went straight down instead of across. We also saw the huge ferris wheel that dominates the landscape and serves as useful marker for getting your bearings. A large outlet mall is situated next to the ‘Marinio’ complex and is as popular as any retail outlet on a public holiday (it was Golden Week there, similar to a whole week of bank holidays). We had a look around it because Paul needed new footwear after the wet passage revealed the unsuitability of his shoes. After that we walked to a supermarket and passed a soulless housing estate and a massive golf practice arena; its towering safety nets were billowing in the wind. It looked eerie on the way back lit up as it was, revealing the golfers inside and loads of white balls littering the ground.

We did a three mile walk around the town and its outskirts during our stay, which began with a somewhat incongruous view of a replica of Notre Dame Cathedral near the marina, and ended on the beach area on the other side of a bridge over one of the many rivers that run through Fukuoka.Pics below are from the long walk.

The beach held the fascinating sight of several family groups of cockle pickers working hard digging in the sand for their catch while the tide was out. The sun was setting when we reached the small resort at the end of a pretty waterside walk and we had a drink in the delightfully named Banana Bar before getting a taxi back to the boat.

Before we left Fukuoka we bought a quilt for the bed; quite a change from the single sheet we’d got used to lying under in Malaysia and the Philippines but the nights were feeling decidedly chilly and layers of blankets proved to be fiddly and inadequate. It was a triumph to find one actually because most of the beds in Japan are single, so the majority of bedding on sale tends to caters for them. It was hard to leave the warmth of that quilt the next morning, especially as it was such an early departure to the Kanmon Strait. There would be no more night passages on this last part of the journey to the start of the rally.

Back at sea, the rain fell again and visibility was just two miles, if that. It was also very cold, and Paul felt constantly chilled due to his faulty weatherproof jacket.

We anchored at the industrial town of Kitakyushu at dusk in driving rain. Smoke was coming from factories, there was low cloud, fog, a grey rough sea and an icy wind. I couldn’t help remarking that it was like Armageddon. Apparently this area was the intended target in August 1945 for the second atomic bomb, but smoke from the factories created a literal smokescreen so it was dropped on nearby Nagasaki instead.

After a restful night at anchor the day presented more challenges in the form of bridges, fog, turbulent narrow channels, buoys, and boats coming out of docks. It was all strategically planned for however and my role was to monitor the AIS screen for vessels heading towards us. Doing all this meant I became more familiar with the symbols and signs on the screens. It’s certainly worth its weight in gold in terms of navigation, and so interesting to watch.

Near our next anchorage, at Nakatsu we had marker buoys galore to watch out for while a fine, drizzly rain fell. We anchored at 2 30pm in a sheltered harbour lined with industrial buildings, piles of sand and heaps of gravel. As it was still early in the day we got on with a few jobs, the most essential of which was fitting the new starter car battery Paul had bought in Fukuoka, which served as a temporary measure until brand new ones could be bought and fitted.

More dreary weather the next day on our passage to Himeshima: looking out on the horizon in the milky white air it was difficult to determine where the sea ended and the sky began. It was a short hop in the drizzly rain to tie on to another wall at 12 30 just as the rain got heavier. The rain didn’t stop all day. Rather than sit inside, while a new place was waiting to be explored, we braved the conditions and went for a walk later in the afternoon.

Once again the small town was empty of people. The few retail establishments and one café were closed but bizarrely, a tiny tourist information place was open. We went in and spoke with the very smiley young girl, who spoke a bit of English and enthused very enthusiastically at our answers to her questions. It would be easy to assume this was disingenuous but knowing the Japanese people now, this would be an incorrect assumption. Generally, they are sincerely interested in foreign visitors and not shy about showing it. There wasn’t much she could tell us or show us about Himeshima though – she did produce a quaint map for us which looked like she’d lovingly created it herself and we’ve added it to our treasured momentos.

Our walk revealed a desolate, empty place, yet it was charmingly atmospheric with the weather creating an apt factor to the bleakness, and at least it lacked the smoky industry we’d viewed recently. The beach’s only visitors were black crows who contributed to the eeriness; their loud, repetitive caws breaking the silence. We saw less than a dozen people the entire time we were there, and that includes a visit to a supermarket. Despite this, a regular ferry service is in operation, but for the life of us we couldn’t work out the need for such a frequent service.

When Paul took us out early the next morning the weather had improved. It was bright, warm and clear. He said Himeshima looked picturesque in the early sunlight but I prefer to remember its brooding and silent emptiness. We had entered the Seto inland sea; the region from which the rally we were joining takes its name – Setouchi. We were also close to another World War 2 scene of devastation – Hiroshima.  Again, we had to bypass a visit much to my disappointment. Despite the early sun and the blue sky the day was chilly and I was glad of my thermals. Our anchorage, at a place called Matsuyama was a pleasant and secure spot but the peace was interrupted by a crow scaring device which delivered loud gunshot sounds at two-minute intervals. Even though I knew they were coming I still jumped at each one. Thankfully they stopped at sunset. We were treated to a smack (yes, that’s the collective noun for them) of jellyfish looking for all the world like they were doing a synchronised dance around the boat, so graceful are they in their movements.

Now we were only one day away from the start point of the rally, and all the hurrying could stop for a while. We approached a major bridge we had to go under and got told off by the bridge controller. We should have got prior permission, he told Paul on the VHF. He instructed us to follow the path of the huge cargo ship in front of us and then called again a few minutes later to tell us to speed up! Rules state that vessels must not do less than 4 knots, which is what we were doing. I was annoyed because Paul had to keep going down to speak to him and I had to take over the steering in tricky places, like rapids for instance, and could easily have caused more of a problem than slow speed. The second bridge was a bit more nerve-wracking. Paul had done the sums about the mast height and the bridge height but as we got closer, the familiar doubt that we could fit comfortably underneath it got both of us. It really is most disconcerting.

It was a lovely sunny afternoon by the time we reached our berth at the sea station at Yuge, and we were warmly welcomed by the rally organiser and some of the other participants. Our race to get there was over. The new challenges for me would be quite different in the weeks to come.

Kathy

 

 

From the fishing port of Boze-Jima, we motored over towards Osaka, where we had a berth waiting for us at the Ichimonji Yacht Club (IYC). A few weeks earlier we had helped a Japanese yacht tie up next to us in YugeShima during the rally, we got chatting and the skipper was keen to know our plans, when I mentioned I fancied visiting a big city like Osaka to work on the engine and provision, he was excited as Osaka was his patch and he quickly whipped out his phone and called the commodore of a club which he knew provided a couple of visitors berths. This turned out to be one of the best bits of luck we had had so far. Ichimonji Yacht club is situated in a slightly barren area, just in between two large bridges on a sort of river/canal area.It’s a long quay, and the club has put out about 40 pontoons for their members and built a clubhouse on the quay.
The location is actually fantastic as it sits just 30 minutes from either Kobe, Kyoto or Osaka using the local train service. The nearest shops are a short cycle ride away, and we were provided with free bicycles by the club to use at our leisure.
The club members are fantastic people, so kind, generous and most helpful with everything we could want. They have built a lovely club here, the buildings are very ‘homebrew’, but provide toilets, showers, laundry room, Bar / Kitchen, club room, office, free fast wifi and a great well equipped workshop.On arrival the Commodore, Vice Commodore and the treasurer sat me down to explain everything, we could have free electricity and water, could use all their facilities and we could stay as long as we liked, however it would cost 300Yen / day ($3 or £2), next we were informed that we would be guests of honour at a party they were throwing for us on Saturday, and they would be very pleased for us to attend. It was all a little overwhelming, they really were going out of the way to make us welcome. When they asked if we had any food or drink preferences, I wondered how they would cope with a vegan and a tee-totaller, but they took that on board without any issue.
So we settled into a week of relaxing around, shopping, sightseeing and doing some boat work.
When the party came around, we both had to make a little speech to the few dozen club members who were there, then food was served, it was mostly cooked by the commodore, on the quay and was fantastic, Kathy thought it was the best veggie meal she had had in a long time, but I expect she will elaborate on that more.After the food, which kept coming and coming, we retired to the clubhouse where the members produced many bottles of whisky and proceeded to have a good time. It wasn’t long before the karaoke machine came out and we watched with great amusement each of the members present murder a great classic.To be fair, some of them actually sang really well. One of the young ladies present explained to me that I had to sing as well, as this was a Japanese custom, and it was not possible for me to opt out, as everyone seemed to be having such a good time it would have been silly not to join in, however I was surprised when Kathy joined me for a rendition of “Hey Jude ” after I had destroyed the song “Yesterday”.

The reason for all the beatles songs was that every time anyone asked where we were from, i.e. Liverpool, then the next words ushered were always “Ah the Beatles”, so they kept selecting songs from their repertoire, not something I would have chosen myself, but at least having heard all their songs at least a million times, I knew the words. We can’t have been too painful, as we got a good round of applause.The next day, several club members came to help me fix the engine and to run me around town, looking for copper washers and other bits. On one such trip, one of the club members bought me a present, some special soap he said would be great for cleaning the cushions in the boat, which made me feel bad about how dirty they had gotten. Keeping things clean is not one of my strong points. Today the commodore dropped of a bag of luxury biscuits as a gift, we have had so many gifts since we have been here, and we really don’t have much to offer back. I donated my new starter battery to the club, it’s only 4 weeks old, but surplus now I have bought the 5 deep cycle jobs.

We spent a day walking around Osaka, we had gone primarily to get my iPad and MacBook fixed at the apple store, they were good, as usual, but it turned out the great deal I got on extended warranty for my new iPad in Malaysia is applecare, and I had thought it was applecare plus. In the UK you only have one type of applecare, as you do in Malaysia, however I now know that the one in Malaysia excludes the accidental cracking of the screen that is standard elsewhere, do Malaysians do a lot of screen cracking? Getting apple to fix it was going to cost the best part of £300, so I declined, knowing I could get it done elsewhere for less than £100, also the MacBook proved to have a screen fault according to their testing, so I might have to have a new one which would make the battery replacement costly, as it turned out they returned the laptop to me the next day with a new battery, and I dropped off my iPad into a “Smart Hospital” for overnight repair.
While we were in Osaka we visited a few megastores and walked around the street markets. It’s a very impressive city, most of it being rebuilt after the Americans flattened it in WW2. I visited the peace museum and saw the horrific devastation caused by the allied bombs. Many accounts in the museum from people, often children at the time, made you appreciate what horrors ordinary people have to go through when there is a war, totally helpless to do anything about it. Photographs show most of the city as a flattened mass of rubble.
Kathy will no doubt write about our visit to the cat cafe, where we got to neck a cup of coffee in record time while stroking a cat, all for a bargain £10 each 🙁
Yesterday we headed over to Kyoto, once the capital of Japan, with the old imperial palace. We visited the Kiyomizu temple complex, saw lots of young ladies dressed up in Kimonos, this was my favourite temple so far (not just because of the young ladies), it had a great atmosphere, despite the throngs of tourists there. Later we walked around the old part of town where modern day Geisha girls learn their trade in special schools, and can often be seen scurrying around the streets, however we didn’t see any, just a lot of old buildings along the banks of a lovely river. Dinner in a falafel place then the express train home.

Today, I stripped down the binnacle to get access to the steering chain and throttle/gear lever. I oiled the chain and checked everything was good, two of the screws I replaced last time were rusting, so they can’t have been SS so they were replaced again. Losing the steering is one of my big fears and if the wheel steering fails we have an emergency tiller we can use, or we would have if I hadn’t lost it somewhere along the way. Yesterday I found a piece of box section steel in the local hardware store and mangled it into a tiller replacement in the workshop here at the IYC, it’s not brilliant, but I think it will work. I just hope we don’t have to steer by tiller for 6 weeks.

Earlier I was summoned to the club house where the vice commodore wanted to show me all the ports we might visit on our way out of Japan, he had thoughtfully brought charts and phone numbers to help. If I understood Mas, the club Treasurer correctly, the VC was previously a commercial pilot and had taken many aerial photographs of Japan and was an expert on the ports around the country.
After we had worked out some good ports we can visit or have as emergency refuge ports I asked how we might get a load of groceries back from the supermarket tomorrow, I was hoping for a taxi number or delivery service, but instead I was told a club member would take us there and bring us back in his car, and what time would I like to go! I tried to refuse their generosity, but they would have none of it, so tomorrow we are off shopping to fill a car with provisions, to give you an idea of what we will get:

48 * 1 litre bottles of fizzy water
several litres of wine (boxed)
48 cans of zero% beer
60 eggs
Loads of Kitchen & Toilet roll

The rest of the supplies we have been ferrying back on our bikes over the last few weeks.

Now we plan to leave on Tuesday morning, around 6AM and do a day sail to Ao Port, then a day sail to Kushimoto, from there a three day sail to Chosi, arriving on Saturday or Sunday next weekend, there we refuel, take on water, buy some fresh food, check out of Japan, and weather permitting hit the big seas.

Paul Collister.

We left Ishigaki on St George’s Day, beating a hasty retreat in case we became embroiled in any further argy-bargy with the coastguards. Paul tried to call them on VHF to let them know our intentions but received no reply, so at 8am we untied from the wall and I steered us out.

For me, the main thing about the night passage that followed, was learning how to deal with the steering on the wind vane. It needed lots of tweaking (much more than the autohelm) and it took me a while to get the balance right but I got there in the end. It’s just as well because that’s what we’ll be using when we cross the Pacific. We managed without the engine all the next day too and had a blissfully uneventful day until Paul said another storm was on the way. Had this one, when it arrived, been the first one we’d experienced at sea, I would have been terrified but the two we’d recently gone through were far worse so I was almost blase about it.  The radar picture shows the extent of it (although some of that is the land mass of Okinawa).

Paul got soaked through up above and it’s become clear that the brand new oily Gill jacket he bought is faulty. Very frustrating as it was expensive and from a supposedly reputable company. I carried out my usual role of shouting out radar, iPad and AIS info – we were perilously close to a couple of fishing boats at one point. I also managed to make a couple of pot noodles which was all we felt we could eat. We had to put the engine on to aid the steering but the storm abated as quickly as it arrived and by dawn we were approaching Yonabaru.

It was a chilly, murky and grey morning on the long, slow approach to the harbour. We had our thermals on and a cold rain was falling. At least the sea was calm. Berthing in the marina at Yonabaru was such a contrast to tying up at Ishigaki. The smiling man who took our lines bade us welcome to Japan and gave us unasked for useful local info and then the manager came out to extend his welcome by showing us around the facilities and explaining the gate codes etc. It made such a difference, and the marina itself was very peaceful.

Yonabaru town was fairly unremarkable but it had everything we needed. The land adjacent to the marina is reclaimed and everything has a newly-built look to it. A wide river runs through the middle of the town and it’s notably larger than Ishigaki. In the supermarket I spent a lot of time scrutinising tins and packets trying to work out what they were, or contained. I had downloaded a couple of apps before we entered Japan that were supposed to translate kanji phrases from pictures on an iPhone. I wasn’t surprised when they didn’t really work. Paul was game enough to buy something different – and it turned out to be a battered sausage on a stick! Back at the marina, Paul went to enquire about wifi at the office and returned to tell me that the manager had been in conversation with a journalist about our trip and plans and wondered if we’d be interested in being interviewed. We planned to be out all the next day visiting the city of Naha so we’d miss him unfortunately 😉

Naha, the capital of Okinawa is a big, lively city which is still home to thousands of US servicemen and their dependents after the post-war American military presence. My guide book informed me that there is a vast selection of army surplus junk such as bullet and shell casings on sale in the centre. We never saw or looked for any of that, or the ‘boisterous nightlife and busy red-light district. Our trip began with some perplexity about how to get there. A plan to simply find a bus stop and get on a bus to Naha was thwarted when we couldn’t find a bus stop! Paul asked a man who was walking nearby and after a brief conversation, he insisted on taking us there. It was so kind of him and he wouldn’t accept any money for the journey. I have a feeling he was chuffed about our plans to visit the castle there because he seemed very proud of it. He dropped us very close to its entrance, with hopes that we had a lovely day.

The castle resembled a Chinese temple more than our perception of a castle, which isn’t surprising really since a lot of the architecture and culture in Japan is hugely influenced by the Chinese. The info leaflet we’d brought stated that the original castle MIGHT have been constructed around the 14th century. The details aren’t known but for approximately 500 years it stood on the hill as a centre for politics and foreign diplomacy until it became a casualty of the Battle of Okinawa. When the islands of Okinawa were returned to Japan in 1972 a decision was made to commemorate the 20^th anniversary by restoring the castle using 18th century Shurijo as the model. I was beginning to get the idea, which was confirmed once inside with the use of words and phrases like ‘reproduced’, ‘replicas’ ‘based on’, that this was a representation of a castle rather than an original one. Some of the interior rooms looked like empty Ikea showrooms. Still, they had done a good job of reconstructing it as a whole, and the grounds were beautiful. It was worth the visit – pics below taken where we were allowed to.

Some excitement for me after that. We went on a monorail to get us to the centre of Naha. I have never been on one, apart from the ones in theme parks and airports. This one was great; so smooth, fast and efficient as it transported us high above the buildings.

We got off at a stop recommended to us by a guy we asked in a tourist office. He must have had us down as wealthy because we found ourselves in the heart of a designer mall, which was eerily deserted. We passed shop after pristine shop; Fendi, Prada, Marc Jacobs, Cartier and the like, with immaculately coiffured staff standing behind counters with nothing to do. Nothing for us there so we went in search of some lunch. A Subway inside a bookshop made for a pleasant lunch break and a chance to consult our maps and guides. Naha’s main street was recommended as a must. Named Kokusai Street, it stretches for 2 kilometres through downtown Naha and boasts restaurants, cafes, bars, souvenir shops, boutiques and department stores. It had all those and more, and reminded me of The Lanes in Brighton. We visited the huge public market too and by 4pm I was in need of sustenance in the form of wine.

Getting a bus home proved to be something of a challenge. The internet provided info regarding numbers and routes but we stood at the wrong stop for ages before we realised. Once we found the correct one a helpful lady told us the procedure for buying tickets. You take a ticket when you get on the bus and the zone you’re in is stamped on it, than as the bus travels into new zones, the price on the bus display changes. When you get off, you put the fare currently showing on the display into a machine that counts the coins. We’d never have worked all that out without her help! People really are very willing to help in Japan.

We left Yonabaru on Friday 27th April for a three day passage on the East China Sea to Miyanoura on the island of Yakushima. An uneventful passage apart from my falling down the steps and first, bashing my knee on the metal coat hooks and then when trying to right myself, with one leg still in the cockpit, slipping again and bashing it on the wooden grab rail. A few swear words were uttered at the ensuing excruciating pain. Nothing was broken but it caused me to limp for quite a while and six weeks later, still hurts at times. It showed me that no matter how complacent you feel about nimbly moving around the boat in rocky conditions, the force of a wave can unbalance and injure the most careful of people. Still, I managed my watches by moving very slowly and sitting still for as much as possible. I did my first night watch in a warm woolly hat during that passage, while the moon was three quarters full and created a shimmering golden path on the surface with a comforting amber glow all around.

Paul saw a submarine surface during one of his watches – a sight I would have loved to have seen. He said it looked like a black rectangle and seemed to follow us for a time. By chance, several of the books I was reading at the time were all sea-related and one in particular resonated with his description. Jules Verne’s ‘20,000 Leagues Under the Sea’ focuses on the fictional submarine journey of The Nautilus, a vessel used by Captain nemo to take revenge on civilization by ramming and sinking ships. The other books were ‘The Old Man and the Sea’ by Hemingway, about a man who has trouble catching a fish, basically ;), ‘Lord Jim’, a brilliant philosophical story by Conrad, which contains this apt phrase:

‘trust a boat on the high seas to bring out the Irrational that lurks at the bottom of every thought, sensation, emotion’.

Coleridge’s ‘Ancient Mariner’ is a constant reread for me; several of its lines come in to my head in the manner of an earworm, only more welcome. I also enjoyed ‘English Passengers’ by Matthew Kneale, about a voyage to Tasmania in the 19th century. On we went, alternating between port and starboard tacks. Early morning fog and mists made an appearance and reminded me of the autumnal mornings in the UK that I’ve been missing so much. As we got closer to Miyanoura, a huge oil tanker from Singapore, which according to the AIS was ‘drifting under no command’ and should have given way to us, blasted its horn 5 times which Paul explained meant ‘show your intention’ but sounded more to me like ‘get out of my bloody way!’.

Our first view of the island of Yakushima, on the morning of Monday 30^th April was through a fine drizzle of a showery rain and low-lying cloud. This made the mountainous terrain beyond the bay even more atmospheric and attractive to my eyes. Paul was togged up in his oilies and rain pattered on the hatches as we neared the wall we intended to tie to. It turned out to be too precarious for the boat once we were tied to it. There was a lip jutting out that would bash the wood at low water so Paul went off to investigate other options and we moved to the harbour wall just round the corner.

I loved Miyanoura from the moment we got off the boat. It was as if we’d landed in Alpine Europe, complete with pretty chalet-style houses.

Yakushima Island is proud of its World Natural Heritage designation, and a visit to the village information centre revealed all the pursuits and attractions on offer. There are mountain climbs, forest trails, wilderness hikes and information about the legends, nature and culture of the area. As we walked around the largely deserted, quiet town it continued to rain softly and the river, in the dusk light looked spectacular. No apologies for taking lots of pictures of misty, magical Miyanoura.

We ended our day there by stumbling upon a restaurant near the harbour in the style of a country pub, just as we’d given up hope of finding anywhere to eat in the empty town. We were its only customers and typically, it looked as if it was closed at first. The food was a bit pricey but nice enough. I would have loved to explore Miyanoura further but the start date of the rally was fast approaching and we needed to make progress to get to the venue.

Kathy

 

My first view of Ishigaki, on a grey, drizzly Tuesday morning mid-April surprised me by how big it was. Tall skyscrapers in the distance conveyed a busy metropolitan inner city, while an industrial environment dominated the foreground.

I felt colder in the cockpit that morning than I had in a long while as we approached the harbour, and Paul briefed me on what to expect. This included tying the boat against a wall – something we hadn’t done for a long time, that it would be quite shallow in the harbour, and that we would be visited by customs and quarantine officers. Our yellow quarantine flag was duly hoisted and we made ready to dock. On the way in, we passed several Japanese Coastguard boats: huge vessels and visibly well-maintained, they dwarfed any boats near to them.

It wasn’t obvious to see where we had to aim for exactly, but after some motoring around we saw a guy on a quay gesturing for us to come to him. The wall looked terribly high and it was a bit nerve-wracking but I threw the line to him and almost immediately three other officials appeared on the wall peering down at us. I put my hand out to push us away from the wall but was told not to touch anything yet by one of the men (presumably until we’d been quarantine-cleared). Unfortunately this meant that the wooden cap rail suffered some damage from rubbing against a concrete shelf that was jutting out until Paul got the fender boards fitted.

We didn’t stay there long anyway. Two guys in a coastguard dinghy escorted us to a different wall; this one nearer to the town. We were instructed to remain on the boat until our inspections had been completed. The first of these was the quarantine officer who according to Paul, fell quite drastically when he attempted to come on board because the tide had dropped so much. While he was on board, the team of six customs inspectors lined up on the wall to await their turn. The quarantine guy was keen to get away after his ungainly entrance, so as soon as his bit was done he left us with a terse command to ‘take down your flag’. Four of the customs officers interviewed Paul in the cockpit while two came down into the cabin to swab surfaces and to look inside various cupboards and lockers and swab the interiors. We’d heard about the meticulousness of the authorities and now we were seeing it in action. They were all nice and polite at the same time as being serious about their duties. Paul was asked if he had ever been to North Korea in the boat and he had to declare precise dates concerning arrivals and departures regarding the countries we’d visited so far. After customs, it was the turn of immigration. They were waiting with transport on the road above the wall, which due to the tide continuing to drop seemed even higher and looked totally inaccessible to me. In the end, I had to suffer the indignity of being pushed up from the rear by Paul while the immigration guys pulled my arms to haul me up! We were driven to the immigration building where we went through the fingerprinting, photographing and form-filling procedures now so familiar to us and were then driven back to the boat, all legal…or were we!?

Late in the afternoon we walked into town. We began from a dockside, industrial area so we saw grey, square concrete buildings and factories on the way. We also saw some of the ubiquitous drinks’ vending machines that are situated on virtually every street. The odd tree had blossoms on it but we had arrived too late to see the famous Japanese blossoms.

We had two missions to fulfil in town: finding an ATM to draw out some money, and to obtain some mobile data. Knowing beforehand that ATMS in Japan are fairly few and far between but can generally be found in Post Offices, we located a Post Office. It looked surprisingly similar to a UK Post Office inside, right down to the queueing system and packets of brown envelopes and string on sale – here, though they stay open until 7pm. In a scenario that would become all too regular, Paul’s card was not accepted in the ATM so we had to use mine. It turns out his card can only be used in machines in a 7/11-type shop called FamilyMart for some reason.  We had even less success getting mobile data. It turned out to be a convoluted and pricey business so we put that on the back burner for the time being and continued using Paul’s Malaysian data plan.

Ishigaki, away from the docks was quite charming. There were gift shops, wine shops, a colourful market street with a plethora of neon signs, but with fewer people than I expected to see (this would definitely become the norm the longer we stayed in Japan). Some of the buildings were hard to identify. They could have been a shop, a café, a bar or even a house, and it brought home to me how tricky it’s going to be to decipher things with so much of the signage in kanji.  Supermarkets are less of a problem, however, especially when you just need fresh produce and once we’d bought a few essentials we walked back to the boat, stopping on the way to have a drink and a snack in a trendy ‘eaterie’ area near to the docks.

Our mornings at Ishigaki began with the blasting of ships’ horns and tannoy announcements from the captains of the coastguard boats as they prepared to leave for duty. Our first morning, however, had the addition of another succession of visitors. The first of these was the coastguard who also needed to know precise details concerning where we would be going…and when…EXACTLY!  More turned up later and the cry of ‘captain, captain’ from the wall became a familiar refrain.  A discussion about fuel formed the basis of one visit. They wanted to know how Paul would get it into the tanks without any spillage. From my position at the cabin table I could see more legs appearing at the windows above me and a discussion going on as more joined them. One guy came on board to look at the fuel gauge, while outside some shouting was going on which sounded alarming to my ears; perhaps ‘barked commands’ would be a more apt description. The visits and questioning continued throughout the morning, with the fuel issue culminating in one of the officers threatening to revoke Paul’s licence to travel if he overfilled the tanks. In fairness, they looked and sounded more threatening than they actually were but it was still a bit unnerving after the laid-back attitudes in Malaysia and the Philippines.

After the diesel had been delivered satisfactorily  we took a taxi to the Department of Transport office where Paul had to apply for a permit to enter Japan’s closed ports (a requirement that was soon to be abolished as it turned out). That done, we went to the town library expecting to pick up some wifi there but although they didn’t have it, a helpful member of staff told us where we could get it. Ishagaki’s waterfront is lined with cafés and bars and one of them, called The Blue Cafe offers free wifi as well as wine by the glass and a host of other delights. It became a regular haunt during our time there. I had a look round the library before we left for the cafe and was impressed with its layout and comfort, even if I couldn’t work out what was what.

The battle with the port authorities continued. Paul returned from a trip to the office one morning with a story far too complicated to relate, about his efforts to change the status of the boat to make it easier to enter closed ports for our onward journey. Naturally, none of it is made easier on either side with the language barrier. The little I gleaned from these episodes is that life seems to be made a lot more complicated for all concerned due to all the bureaucracy involving rules and the associated paperwork, instead of making it more organised, which is surely the point. Paul pointed this out to the manager in a more tactful way, adding that it was almost as if they wanted to deter yachtsmen from visiting their country and he looked most offended by the criticism. Coincidence that shortly afterwards the whole system of closed ports was abandoned? Probably. Anyway, that day it took almost the whole afternoon for Paul to provide the required information. When we could finally get out, we visited the peace bell area in the town and took a few pics before heading on to the café to upload, post and research to our hearts’ content.

Problems with officialdom began to mount up and by April 20th had become even more frustrating. We were told we couldn’t refill our gas containers, and that due to those convoluted regulations concerning closed and open ports we were unable to check out at ishigaki’s port. Our plans to hire a car were also thwarted by a barrage of complications. On it went all morning, with Paul mulling over various options to try to override it all. Finally, he worked out a way to change the boat’s status to Japanese. In the manner of the word ‘Rumplestiltskin’ magically making everything alright with the world in the fairy tale, such was the case here. Paul said the guys wanted no more forms, no more questions to answer and we were free to go wherever and whenever we liked. Now we could concentrate on the mobile data problem!

For this, we got on our bikes. We pedalled along the coast road, intending to go to the airport where we’d been told it might be possible to get a SIM card. On the way we stopped to look at a shop called The Exciting Bookstore. Unfortunately it didn’t live up to its name but while I browsed, Paul discovered that the airport we were heading for had moved to a location ten miles away. We did, however, manage to get SIM cards in a small mobile store which were a bit pricey but worth it to have access to up to date information, especially for the weather.

On the afternoon of Saturday 21st we set off to have a look at the Yaeyama Peace Memorial Museum. It was created to construct a centre that conveys the truth about wartime malaria. Many people were forced to leave their homes under orders from the Japanese Imperial Army during World War 2 and had to settle in malaria infested areas. The museum was full of information on how they managed to eradicate the disease. It was heartening to see that the overall message was about peace.

We continued our bike ride along the coast after that. It was interesting to spot a group of children playing a baseball game in one of the parks we came upon. It’s a game that’s very popular in Japan and I was surprised to discover that it began here in 1872 – not, as I assumed, as a result of the American occupation. It’s currently one of Japan’s favourite participatory and spectator sports apparently. The afternoon was cloudy, and airless which gave the deserted beaches and resorts an eerie, rather soulless atmosphere. Great to be out on the bikes though.

Halfway through a nice, leisurely Sunday morning on our last day in Ishigaki while we were drinking coffee, catching up on news and internet stuff as you do, the pleasant silence was broken by a klaxon-like alarm emanating from my phone. The picture shows what came up on the display, and despite the word ‘drill’, it was the disaster bit that I focussed on, especially when Paul said we should probably get ready to leave the boat! We didn’t, but I was beginning to get the feeling that Japan likes to be prepared Boy Scout fashion for all eventualities. I’m still not sure why it flashed up on my phone like that, and probably wouldn’t even if it was explained to me.

It was time to provision and prepare for our next Japanese destination. The following day we would be back at sea for a couple of days, on our way to Yonabaru.

Kathy

 

Having arrived at a safe place close to the big cities of Osaka and Kobe, I decided to take on the engine repair. Based on the fact that if (or more likely when) I mess up, I can call in the professionals.

The job required the removal of the fuel injector, and trying to figure out why exhaust gasses and fuel were leaking out from it.
In order to remove the injector, I first had to remove the high pressure fuel return lines from all the injectors, so I could get those pipes out of the way. This was easy, the supply pipe for the bad injector was next. A few other bits of engine came off to help with acesss, then I could try to pull the injector out.
I expected this to be difficult, and when I tried, it was just completely seized in, I guess this was to be expected, carbon buildup on the inside is normal. I believe there is a tool to help pull these injectors, but there was little chance of me getting hold of one. I visited a local hardware store to see if I could build something, but I couldnt find a bolt with the right thread to screw into the injector, so gave up. I put the whole thing back together and thought if nothing else I might have learnt how to remove the high pressure lines. Amazingly the engine still worked, and I couldnt see any fuel leaks. So nothing was lost.
Chatting with the locals here at the sailing club, one member with experience of engines came along to help the next day. I stripped it all down again and he had a go at removing the injector, he couldn’t extract it, but did manage to rotate it a degree or two. I had assumed the injector was keyed and so didn’t try to rotate it. I’m very conscious that an injector is a very high precision device and I’m worried about damaging it in any way by using too much force on it. However after the engineer gave up, I continuing to wiggle it back and forth whilst applying liberal amounts of WD40, eventually it paid off and the injector pooped out.

Here you can see the copper washer close up, there is a chunk missing, perhaps 0.5mm deep which I hoped was the cause of the problem. A trip to the local hardware store failed to find anything close to the right size so I need to order the correct replacement. In the meantime I carefully sanded down the washer to make it flat again.

My problem with this approach was that both sides are not parallel now, something I have had problems with going right back to my first days in woodwork and metalwork at school. I tried to smooth down the higher side, but knew I was on a looser as that would give me a round side, so I got it as close as I could and hoped that the compression that would be applied would flatten it out.  I annealed the washer, this should make it more malleable.
I reassembled it all, after a lot of meticulous cleaning of the injector socket, not at all sure if it would work, but it started first time, with no need for bleeding, and the horrible noise that I had before of the gas escaping had gone. The engine was sounding much better, but closer inspection revealed a small amount of gas still escaping from the injector. the seat that the injector sits in looked like it could do with a polish, but it’s very difficult to access. At least I know how to dismantle it all now, and hopefully when I get the new washer I can try that, however I may get a mechanic in when I reach America/Canada and get that and a few other jobs done on the engine.

While here I managed to get a few more batteries from amazon, they had a limit of 3, and I needed 5, now we have 5 new batteries, and from the pic below it looks like I’m praying, probably that I get more than 3 years out of this batch.

I had actually decided to go for Lithium Ion batteries, but they aren’t available here, so I worked out that these 5 batteries came in at about £450, and if I get a couple of years out of them, hopefully technology will have moved on in those two years and I will be able to save that much on the Lithium Ion batteries. At least we have power for the passage and don’t need to worry about that.

I have started an inspection of the boat now, working from the tip of the  bowsprit to the back of the monitor wind steering checking everything, looking for frayed ropes, split wire, loose bolts or anything that might not be 100%. It didn’t take long to find that the block (pulley) that feeds the furling line onto the staysail drum had split and I only had half of the  sheave, which itself had sharp edges and a chunk missing. That explains why I was finding the furling to be stiffer than normal recently. Soon I will climb the mast and do the same checks there.

On the way here I ran the watermaker, however it didn’t live up to its name, as it wouldn’t make water, it seemed to have trouble drawing sea water from the hull fitting, but when I put the maker into bypass mode it drew the water, then switching back to normal mode it continued and we made 20 litres of good water in a couple of hours, so that’s good. We also managed to decant some propane gas into the spare cylinder from Ken, our neighbour in Onomichi last week. so we have gas. We have bought a small portable stove and a dozen butane cylinders, as a backup.

So with gas, water, electric and a much improved engine all fixed, the main concerns are gone. I’m also focussing on the human side of things, like warm clothing, bags of chocolate bars etc 😉 and brushing up on my basic weather forecasting skills.

We have found a massive supermarket just a short ride from here, next to the two massive DIY / Hardware stores, so we will provision fully here, tomorrow I go to the Apple store in Osaka to see about a new display for the iPad (Main Nav device at the helm) as I dropped it the other night, and new batteries for my MacBook, which can’t hold a charge for more than an hour now.

If all goes to plan, we will be ready to leave for the big passage in about 5 days time, so then it’s just a case of working our way east, stopping along the way if the weather changes, then off.

Paul Collister.

 

We arrived into Le Shima early afternoon and tied up in the small sea station (Marina) after being shown a figure of £5 per night, this was higher than the last sea station where we should have only paid 60p per night, but there was no one there to pay. However it turned out to be £5 per metre, with extra for electricity and water, making the total around £70. After nearly paying 60p the day before, I explained to the lovely lady at the reception that I was just a poor old man sailing around the world, and I couldn’t afford such high rates, she understood and wished me well. We left to look for a place to tie up to a wall, but couldn’t find one, I then headed out to find somewhere to anchor, however the volcanic nature of the islands means that it gets deep quickly as you leave the shore, also all of the shallow areas are covered in fishing nets, so you can’t get near them anyway. I saw that there where a couple of other ports within a mile or two, so we motored over to them, the first one I entered was a serious fishing port, and normally they won’t let yachts in, however a kind gentleman in a fishing boat was happy for us to raft up alongside him as long as we were up at 7am to let him out. this was all negotiated via google translate on each of our phones.

This was a fishing port that was doing well, one of many hundreds if not thousands around Japan. It’s not until you get here that you realise how much fishing is part of the culture and daly life of everyone here. The supermarkets and even the 7-eleven local shops all sell pre-prepared meals of fish / sushi as ‘lunch boxes’ along with a huge selection of fresh and cooked fish.

As I have noticed on my travels, a lot of boat owners take a lot of care of the presentation of their boats, others just let them rot away.

Looks like they have an exciting time once the fishing is over

Sadly, I think these machines scrape the sea bed for crabs/lobsters etc, I don’t know much about it, but I understand it’s not a great way to fish as they tend to kill a lot of other marine life in the process.

These two boats have a net strung between them and are moving fast, maybe 10 knots, I have never seen this before.

Also these two boats are towing the bigger boat, and I think it’s more about catching fish than moving a boat, but quite how this works is beyond me, perhaps the big boat has net hanging from it?

Wherever there is fish, you will find these guys.

And of course you need slipways to haul-out the boats for repair, this place has 6 slips, and a big workshop to repair them in.

Anchor graveyard. These anchors aren’t sophisticated, but seem to work ok. They must think me mad for spending a fortune on my Spade anchor, and having it shipped half the way around the world, when you can just weld a load of rebar together.

The big pipe is used to deliver ice blocks into the hold of the fishing boats.

A lot of fishermen take their game very seriously and have used their powerful lobby to try to stop yachting activities in Japan, they often seem to come racing at me when I’m out sailing near their nets. unlike everywhere else in Asia, they rarely wave back when you give them a passing wave, more often they turn their backs on you and ignore you completely. However, thanks to yachting groups here, and the Setouchi rally can count as one, the government seem to be warming to the yachting world, probably as a source of tourism revenue. Since we arrived they have abolished the closed port system, which was quite a pain, I still have to apply to visit ports, but I don’t need to say which ones they are, just my first port of entry, and I get a permit to visit any port in Japan for as long as I’m here.

Saying that, the guys we met in the harbour here were great and very friendly and helpful, as have been quite a few others we met on our travels.

Paul Collister

As we moved further north up the western coast of the Philippines we were still enjoying the warmth of the tropics. Near Luzon, at the very tip of the islands I stood and watched the sun rise while sea birds dived into the water for their breakfast on a flat calm sea, and noted that it was scorching hot by 7am!

That evening, anchored for the night in a calm bay, the first incident involving an ongoing battery problem occurred. We became aware of a pungent, sulphurous smell and couldn’t work out where it was coming from until it dawned on Paul that one of the batteries must have failed. He was worried it was going to catch fire or explode so we had to clear out the quarter berth pretty quick so that he could get to them and disconnect the one that had failed. It was extremely hot to the touch and very heavy but posed no further danger once it had been removed. Unfortunately his prediction that if one failed, more were likely to proved to be correct.

The next morning we left early for the Batanes Islands, a small group of islands in the northernmost province of the Philippines, 162 kilometres from the mainland. It was calm and peaceful and the heat in the cockpit meant we had to keep moving around to sit in the cooler shaded parts. The highlight of the day was watching the phosphorescence in the water when it got dark. Endlessly fascinating, it was like a cloak studded with glittering diamonds being dragged along beside us.

Friday April 13th saw us making for Port Basco on the northern tip of the Batanes group, which we reached at 8am. Closing in on the shallows, we spotted cultivated hills with animals that we couldn’t identify grazing on them. With the lighthouse and rugged coastline, the whole vista reminded me of parts of Cornwall or Scotland.

Next, we had to find a sandy area to drop anchor. The first likely place was too windy and the current was pushing us towards rocks so we headed for the harbour, using the depth sounder to locate a smooth bottom. Two huge ships were tied to a nearby jetty but hardly anyone else was around. Paul had a feeling we would be called on the radio, though and sure enough we were. The harbour master called on VHF and asked Paul to come over with the boat’s documents. Thinking we’d finished with the dinghy and outboard it had all been packed away, but out it came and off he went in it.

He returned half an hour later and told me that he thought they didn’t get many visitors here but we were allowed to stay anyway. I set about preparing food for the next few days (pasty fillings, soup and roasted veggies). Paul had been poring over weather forecasts and it all seemed negative. Decisions and choices were discussed and mulled over in order to avoid the worst of the weather; stay put for a few days or leave in the middle of the night. Eventually he decided we’d leave at 5pm so I quickly finished the cooking and stowing and freezing. We’re still not sure when the roughest part will be but at least we’ll be prepared.

Paul asked me if I missed the internet. I had just remarked that the days have no distinction out here, in the way that Sundays for instance, have a certain ‘feel’ to them at home, and the only way I know what the date is, is by the previous day’s journal entry. I told him that I do to a certain extent, for family and friends’ pictures and updates, the radio and news, but I don’t miss the distractions it brings. We were near Taiwan on Saturday night, a country that had once been on our agenda to visit because that’s where the Baba was built. Unfortunately we had no time spare to go there. Night temperatures were getting cooler and extra layers were coming out of lockers and drawers to combat the chill on watch.  There wasn’t a lot to see or do on my afternoon watch, but looking out around 2pm I saw a huge amount of flying fish dance across the water, followed shortly afterwards by a flock of seabirds who descended on the scene as if from nowhere. I tried to get pics but wasn’t quick enough unfortunately.

For dinner, I was chuffed to be able to make some pasties for dinner using the pre-made filling and puff pastry sheets from our little freezer. Once cooked and cooled a little, we held them in our hands and ate them in the cockpit. We’ve noticed things are seeming to feel a lot damper inside the boat now.  Soon the days will be slightly longer as we pull away from the equator. Paul woke me at 4am clad in his oilies for the first time. Poking my head out I realised the days of sitting up there in flimsy clothing are gone. The seats were wet with damp and the breeze was cool, though not yet cold. The stars were blurred, shrouded as they were by murky cloud instead of the sparkling diamonds on a coal-black background I had come to love. There was no moon to be seen and lightning was flashing on our port side. As it began to get lighter and there was no sunrise to view, it looked like we were heading into dark, rain-filled clouds. It turned out to be a bit more than just a rainy day at sea, however. When I mentioned the darkness to Paul he said it was just the early morning light making it appear that way. We stood for a while watching a big black and white bird that had apparently been with us throughout the night, circling the boat and perching on the spreaders. By 7am rumbles of thunder could be heard and just as Paul was hoisting the Japanese flag, rain began to fall. The wind had picked up so he put the mainsail up as the thunder got louder. I wondered if this was the storm that Paul had warned would cause ‘uphill’ sailing. Our ETA changed from Sunday evening to the early hours of Monday, meaning we had another night (or at worst, 2 or 3 more) to do.

Conditions got steadily worse after 8am and all thoughts of a few hours dozing were pushed away. With the words ‘strap in, a big squall is on the way’ another period of battling against the elements began. Paul togged up and took over the steering as the rain poured down. The waves increased in height to 9 or 10 feet, creating high walls of water and we were thrown, bashed and pushed in all directions. I put my oilies on in case I was needed above but my role was to watch the radar and relay to Paul what direction to go in to get away from it. However, it seemed to hover ominously over us continually like the proverbial ‘dark cloud’. The noises were ferocious; waves banged against the hull, the wind whistled and roared, which combined with the noise of the engine meant we struggled to hear each other, and the rain pelted on the roof. For well over an hour Paul struggled above in those conditions. My heart sank when he told me he’d checked the forecast and we were in for this rough time for days! I couldn’t imagine how we’d cope with so little sleep in these conditions. Waves started to crash over the sides with alarming force.

After a while of stressing I just accepted our plight and got on with the business of adapting to it. It wasn’t dangerous and we’d just have to sit it out. Which is what we did – literally. Paul closed the hatches after making sure things were as secure as they could be and we sat in the warmth of the cabin and listened, talked and dozed. We used the AIS as a watching device and there was little likelihood of fishing boats. The force of the wind and waves first caused the boat to go nowhere and then backwards towards the Philippines. Then the birds came!

I looked up from my position on the bunk and saw a brown and white pigeon perched on the hatch peering in at us. It had a ring on its leg and didn’t fly off when we went up the steps, just shuffled around the cockpit. It was obviously intending to stay for a while. Paul put our mosquito mesh in the hatchway to prevent it coming in and flying around. I spotted another one perched on the guard rail at the stern and noticed others flying around looking for somewhere to land. In the end we had 5 or 6 pigeons and one tiny black and white bird perched at various points around the boat. The tiny bird didn’t hang around too long but the pigeons stayed and weathered the storm with us. I found some seeds and some oat-based muesli to feed them. Three huddled together in the cockpit, and two were on the coach roof. All of them had rings on, so they were clearly racing pigeons. Paul remarked that surely they were cheating by hitching a ride with us.

As it got dark, neither of us felt like eating much and the storm raged on. With the hatches battened, the birds asleep, and the equipment set up to alert us about other boats, we dug out some warm blankets and slept. It was one of the best and most memorable nights at sea for me, despite the conditions. It was cosy and warm in the cabin, and the presence of the birds sheltering with us added to the unique experience.  During the night the wind reached 25 knots so Paul braved the elements to put the wind vane into operation and we all slept really well – birds included.

In the morning, it was a lot colder and the sky was heavy with cloud but the wind had dropped and although we were still being thrown around, the sea was calmer too. At 9 o’clock while I was on look out and Paul dozed, I saw all our five birds fly away, one after the other over the starboard side.

At last, we began to make steady progress and our new ETA for Japan was Tuesday morning. Watches were resumed and chores (cleaning up pigeon droppings being one of them) were carried out as the sea got calmer. Paul said he could see Japan at lunchtime, a far-off island hard to distinguish from the clouds, but could just about be picked out with binoculars. Our last night at sea before reaching Japan was a dark one to say the least. No moon or stars and heavy cloud cover. Visibility was poor but AIS, radar and the Navionics course on the iPad could all be viewed from the chart table so all we needed to do was have look out every so often from the warmth and safety of the steps. At some point in the night, our phones had added an hour on, revealing that Japan was 9 hours ahead of GMT.  Soon, we were approaching Ishigaki, our first port of call in Japan.

At 9am on Thursday 5th April we slipped our mooring at Puerto Galera. The wind behind the main and head sails was soon propelling us along, but for the first time Paul had to use the spinnaker pole to stabilise the headsail: often a precarious and finicky job, especially in rough weather when the boat is rolling. It was great to be free from the noise of the engine but in the busy shipping lane we had to cross, the VHF radio was continually relaying interaction between vessels and the port authorities in Batangas.  Interference makes the stations crackle loudly, and when impatient captains repeat the same requests over and over, it can be an assault on the ears, but it petered out as we drew away from the Batangas area. During the afternoon the wind dropped and slowed our progress considerably, but for once it was a positive thing because due to a slight miscalculation, we would have been arriving at our destination in the early hours of the morning at the speed we’d been making. A few hours delay would hopefully have us there at the more convenient hour of sunrise instead.

The shipping lane near Manila had us negotiating our way around huge cargo and container vessels, but the AIS provided reassurance about collision likelihood. The other benefit of going slowly under sail was the huge saving on the amount of fuel we used, but best of all, no engine means no danger of fishing nets getting caught in the propeller. As darkness fell, more fishing boats appeared and we had to manoeuvre around them. One of the crew on a boat on our starboard side got quite agitated. He shone his torch at our boat in a sweeping motion, then pointed it on the surface of the water.  He probably couldn’t tell we had no engine on, but we could only guess he was worried about his nets. It was unnerving not to be sure he wasn’t alerting us about some unseen peril we were heading for, but that’s probably more to do with my overactive imagination 😉  After a dinner of veggie burgers and fried onions in buns (great al fresco fare), we began the night watch. I took the 8 until midnight one and for the first time, felt chilly enough to put a coat on. By the time Paul took over a few hours later, we were almost there. I had intended to stay awake to help with anchoring but I woke to the sound of the anchor being dropped at 3am. Paul had decided we could wait in Benanga Bay and catch up on some sleep so that we could find the marina in daylight.

It was a glorious morning to set off in a few hours later. There were the usual things to look out for, such as fishing markers, nets and boats and it was pleasant to stand on the side deck to watch for them with a cup of hot coffee in the warm, gentle breeze. We passed some picturesque views, all of which were interspersed with industrial sites of shipbuilding yards, dry docks, and construction sites.

Both the marinas Paul called were full but one said we could anchor outside the yacht club. It soon became clear why they were full when a succession of yachts came motoring out of the marina with banners and flags displaying the name of another regatta. As Paul commented, we saw more yachts in an hour that morning than we’d seen in the whole of the Philippines. The spot outside the yacht club didn’t appeal to us and was too far away from where we wanted to be. We returned to the beach area that we’d noted as a possible place to stop and were delighted to be confronted with lots of little optimist boats with youngsters from a local sailing school having a whale of a time. They used our boat as a marker to go around, which made steering a bit tricky as there were quite a few of them. We were hoping to tie to one of the mooring buoys. A guy on a nearby boat, who Paul asked whether they were for public use wasn’t sure and suggested we just use one, then check with a man at the large bar/restaurant establishment on the shore. This time, I steered us towards the buoy, the sailing school gang still sticking perilously close to us. Paul hooked it and once secured to it, dinghied over to check if it was ok to stay there. He returned with the news that not only was it was fine for us to stay, it was free too.

Researching Subic Bay online, one  site referred to the wide range of American food on sale, apparently as a result of a US base situated there after the Second World War. The only hint of this we saw, however was a profusion of fast food joints. These diners were located behind the glitzy waterfront buildings and were part of a series of square, austere concrete complexes advertising ‘fries and steak’, ‘BBQ ribs’, ‘breakfast pancakes’ as well as the usual hot dogs, burgers and pizzas. This then, seemed to be the American fare mentioned online because we found little in the supermarkets that differed from standard products we’d become familiar with.

We were in the duty free area of Subic Bay so several outlets were advertising chocolate, cigarettes and alcohol as we strolled along in air heavy with humidity. Google maps showed us the way to the next town, Olongapo which was only a short distance away, but required us to cross what looked like a border patrol and I wondered if we should have brought our passports but no one stopped us. Olongapo was a busy, traffic-choked little town  but we enjoyed ambling around it, and managed to find everything we needed to buy there.

The book I’d been reading about prisoners of war on Palawan had revealed how much the Filipino people had respected and helped the Americans during World War 2, often risking or losing their own lives to do so. The plaque in the picture is just one of several memorials to them I came across in the Philippines. The Oryoku Maru was one of the so called ‘hell ships’ used to transport prisoners and conditions on board were unbearably hard for the men crammed into the holds. It’s hard to read the inscription on the picture but this Wikipedia extract provides an adequate explanation of what happened.

The Oryoku Maru left Manila on December 13, 1944, with 1,620 prisoners of war (including 1,556 American, 50 British and Dutch, 7 Czech, 4 Norwegians and several other nationalities) packed in the holds, and 1,900 Japanese civilians and military personnel in the cabins. As she neared the naval base at Olongapo in Subic Bay, US Navy planes from the USS Hornet attacked the unmarked ship, causing it to sink on December 15. About 270 died aboard ship. Some died from suffocation or dehydration. Others were killed in the attack, drowned or were shot while escaping the ship as it sunk in Subic Bay where the ‘Hell Ship Memorial’ is located. A colonel, in his official report, wrote:

Many men lost their minds and crawled about in the absolute darkness armed with knives, attempting to kill people in order to drink their blood or armed with canteens filled with urine and swinging them in the dark. The hold was so crowded and everyone so interlocked with one another that the only movement possible was over the heads and bodies of others.

In the evening, back in Subic Bay and stocked up with soft drinks, wine and chocolate, we went out to find somewhere to eat. The bars and restaurants that lined the waterfront vied for custom with the usual food and entertainment enticements advertised outside, but the one that appealed (to me at least) had a live band on a stage. The singers and musicians were performing western pop songs Filipino style, and the dancers were great. We sat outside on what was a very humid night and watched while eating tofu (for me) and fish (for Paul) meals before heading back to plan the next passage.

Paul had worked long and hard on the schedule we’d be keeping to for the journey to Japan and had planned it so that we wouldn’t have too many night passages. The next part began this morning (7th April) with a 6 30 departure for an anchorage at Palanginan, north Philippines. The trip took 10 hours but we were able to do most of it under sail and anchored at 5pm in a bay that proved to be a lot busier than Paul expected. No less than three bancas came up to us before we’d even got the anchor set. The first one dropped their anchor very close to us and I couldn’t stop myself asking ‘do you think they could be pirates?’ This isn’t a foreign tourist destination so they were just curious to see us and the crew on most of the boats we saw gave us welcoming smiles and waves.

As darkness fell, fires were lit on the beach opposite and music began to boom out. We were beginning to get the idea that Filipino holidaymakers love to party. The music and the celebrating went on all through the night. When the flaky wifi connection let us look things up again we discovered we were opposite a place called ‘Lindamar By The Sea Resort’ on Iba Beach, a popular place for beach entertainment.  At 6am the partying was as rowdy and lively as if it was midnight. At that early hour on a Sunday morning, besides the karaoke, music and dancing going on, we spotted swimmers, people playing beach volleyball, kayakers and motor boats departing for trips across the bay. It was as if all the benefits of the resort’s activities could be enjoyed at any time during a 24 hour period. We sat in the cockpit enjoying our morning coffee and a breakfast of delicious Filipino mangoes watching it all before we left for another night passage.

By the end of the morning, however the wind was pushing us along at such a speed, Paul thought we’d arrive at midnight! We alternated between port and starboard tacks all afternoon with no engine, so that the ‘zigzag’ route slowed us down sufficiently. Very few vessels at sea until the fishermen came out at twilight, and the usual ‘eagle-eye’ lookouts went into operation. This is a lot easier with the comforting light of a full moon but it was a half-moon that evening. Fishing boats don’t tend to use AIS and a few times, Paul had to shine a torch across the water separating us to alert them to the fact we were nearby, as had been done to us previously. Apart from that the night passage and on into the following day went well. The swell and the rolling prevented us from doing much activity. In my case, it creates a kind of lethargy where it’s too much effort staying upright to move from one end of the boat to the other. I did manage to cook a tofu stir fry in those conditions however, using my legs and back to pinion my body against the wooden galley corner as I cooked.

Late in the morning of Monday 9th April we were approaching San Fernando in heat and humidity that soaks you with sweat within minutes. A banca approached with a guy sporting some strange headgear (see pic below) who offered to sell us some fish. Paul declined but asked if he could take his picture, which he was happy to pose for. He also offered to guide us to San Fernando but Paul told him we could probably find it.

Another banca appeared shortly after we had anchored, with three guys on it this time. A family,consisting of dad and his two sons, they ended up being our personal assistants for the whole of our stay and the father was a huge help. After talking with Paul, he shot off in their boat, Zamorna, on a mission to get diesel and water for us and returned very quickly with it all.

Once again, there was the ‘how much?’, ‘well, however much you think it was worth’ interaction so Paul gave generously. This might have been why they took it upon themselves to look after us so well because when we dinghied ashore later to check in, the same crew of three were there waiting to help us pull the dinghy onto the beach. No sooner had we secured it than dad ordered the boys to guard it while he led us up from the beach through the town’s fascinating backstreets. Here, we saw very basic living: rundown shacks, poor drainage, mud tracks instead of pavements, and goats, chickens, dogs and puppies mingling with the children outside the huts. Lots of people were around and though they stared at us unashamedly, they invariably smiled as our guide hustled us on through the narrow dusty lanes. Quite a few held their hands out for money, but even if we’d had a mind to give any, we wouldn’t have had time to. I would have loved to take a few surreptitious pictures but was afraid of being left behind. After a few minutes we were invited to wash our feet at the communal tap and we emerged from the village onto a patch of waste ground. This appeared to be the place for villagers to gather and socialise. It reminded me a little of areas at music festival venues. People were cooking on open fires while games of football and basketball were being played. Others were sat around chatting. It was lively, vibrant, rudimentary and brilliant.

The heat had increased by now and I felt overcome by it after rushing through the village. I hoped the immigration place wasn’t too far away. Once we were on the main road, our man pointed us in the right direction and left us to it. Not far away there was a kiosk with an official looking man in it with whom Paul double-checked we were on the right road for immigration. We were, but today it was closed for a public holiday, he informed us apologetically. Rather than return to the boat we elected to walk on into town, but via the shady back streets out of the glaring sun. Google maps showed us the way and we had another fascinating walk away from the mainstream. You kind of get used to people staring. We do look conspicuous in our sun hats, and with phones out taking lots of pictures, not to mention Paul’s height. It’s very hard to convey the combination of all we saw, heard and smelled. There were cockerels crowing, trikes and motor bikes roaring along with horns honking, the smells of fried chicken and other unidentifiable aromas –some good, some not so good. We saw turkeys, dogs, cats, cockerels and goats in the run down roads and streets, and more dilapidated houses, and tiny shops with wire frontages.  It wasn’t quite subsistence living but not far off it.

 

 

We stopped for a drink on the outskirts of town and sat at a table on a dusty roadside before walking on into the centre of San Fernando.

In a huge, old wooden building the market was located.  We went there to top up our supply of bananas and mangoes. As we walked round, traders urged us to come to their stall by calling out such things as ‘yes sir’, ‘yes madam’, ‘have a look’, ‘you try’.

 

I was captivated by it all, despite feeling exhausted from a long walk in the heat. Arriving back on a trike I was amazed to see the two boys from Zamorna waiting for us on the waste ground outside the fishing village, where people were now settling in for the evening pastimes.

They were there to guide us back through the higgledy-piggledy lanes to our dinghy. Nice as this was of them, I’d been hoping for a more leisurely walk to have a closer look at the ramshackle houses but once again we were rushed through and almost bundled into the dinghy. Paul ordered some wood from the dad once they’d escorted us back to our boat.

The sounds of Cockerels crowing, and the barking and howling of dogs greeted me when I woke early the next morning. I went above to watch the beach come to life as the sun rose. It was already hot by 7 30. Paul gathered the papers and forms ready to take to the immigration building. We decided he’d go alone and I would wait for the delivery of the wood and more drinking water from our Zamorna guys. The wood was for fender boards which would be needed for when we’d be tying up against harbour walls in Japan. While Paul was away I labelled and stowed some canned food for our Pacific crossing. Any paper labels have to be removed because they could block up bilge pumps if the boat were to flood with water for any reason. Then they have to be sealed in plastic bags to prevent rusting. We were ready to leave by 5pm after grateful farewells to Zamorna. I steered us out into the path made by the sun’s afternoon rays on the water while Paul put the main and headsails up. We were bound for Japan in earnest now and there would be night passages and overnight anchorages for the next few days. We hoped to arrive in Ishigaki, our first port of call in Japan at the weekend.

We arrived in Yuge for the Setouchi the day before the rally began and had a warm welcome from the organiser, “KC” and some other rally participants who were already there. Above you can see the bridge we passed under as seen from our berth on a small pontoon in the town centre. Yuge Town, is a small affair, you can walk all around it in about 20 minutes, it’s very sleepy and although it has a population of 6000, I only ever saw about five people out at any one point.  Below you can see the other rally boats on the pontoon.We have an Australian couple, Ken and Belinda, on the big cat who are just wrapping up and heading home after spending 5 years touring the Pacific islands. We have Rob, a Canadian who has left the rally early to get up to Kushiro ready to sail over to his home town of Vancouver. We have scrapped plans to leave from there and instead will leave from a lower latitude of 35deg North where we hope to ride the bottom of the depressions heading east. It will be interesting to see who gets there first, however Rob plans to visit Alaska on the way and may well stop off at the Aleutians if he is close and fancies a rest. The other boats are all Japanese crewed, and mostly a lively bunch who enjoy their sake. The big motor boat is owned by a successful businessman who is also a sponsor of the rally. He has invited 6 Australians onboard as well, so they are enjoying a level of luxury we can’t quite match on Sister Midnight, I’m not sure our deck wash spraying into the cockpit well would be as good as their Jacuzzi on the top deck. However at least we don’t have to worry about staff here.

Across the island is a lovely bay with a small harbour at the end, mostly used by fishing boats, but there are a few sailboats there too.

The highlight of our stay here was the collaboration between the local technical college, which is a residential school specialising in Marine tech and the rally folk. We all met at a reception and each of us had to introduce ourselves and explain a bit about our past, our boat and our plans. We were supposed to do the is Japanese as well as English, Kathy had prepared a crib sheet for us both and we did a reasonable job of introducing ourselves in Japanese, but I did the bulk of our story in English.
Later we were paired off with students from the college who would look after us during our stay, We had Mai, Yuri and Suzuki. These were all lovely 19 year old ladies from the college who took a great interest in us and our boat. The next day we all headed off for a sail around the bay, I showed them the workings of the boat and each of them had a go at helming for 15 minutes of so. One of their teachers took pictures from the bridge above.

Later that day the students put on a wonderful barbecue for us near the beach and plied us with alcohol and food for several hours.

The next day rained so the bike ride around the island which the students had planned was cancelled and instead everyone went off for an Onsen, which is like a Turkish bath affair, however the Japanese have taken this to a high art form, the bath can only be taken once you are spotlessly clean, you cannot enter the bath if you have tattoos, as this implies you are in some way gang related, and there’s a stack of etiquette just around how you manage your hand towel. As you can imagine we didn’t follow much of this. Still it was a very pleasant relaxing experience.

Yuge has a few shrines and temples and this is typical of those we have seen here.

These are typical fenders used around here, huge polystyrene affairs, often wrapped in cloth, often not, and shredding waste into the sea, most un-Japanese.

The next day most of the rally boats left to explore the area, but we booked into the pontoon for another five days just to chill and do some boat jobs.

On one of our days we cycled around the island and on another we left the island on our bikes via the huge bridge to the next island, then another bridge to another island then across a short pass by boat to the destination island, which had a hardware store (Home Depot/B&Q) and a big supermarket.

So far everyone we have met has been wonderful and keen to help whenever possible.
More boats arrived over the next few days and our neighbour got chatting to us in quite good English, I do admire how hard they try to speak to us in English, especially when we are so rubbish at Japanese, and he proceeded to present us with a gift of a bottle of sake, this has been a common occurrence where we are presented with gifts, and feel awful as we don’t have anything to reciprocate with, other than a lot of bows and Aragatos. This same neighbour was keen to know our plans, and when I explained I had to find a marina near Osaka that wouldn’t break the bank, he whipped out his mobile and started calling around for me. Within minutes he had secured me a place in a yacht club in Kobe, which is quite close to Osaka and I was speaking to the president a few minutes later who explained that they had 3 berths for visitors and that one would become free for me, He would help me find an engineer for my injector problem, they would provide free electricity and water, showers, laundry as well and that it would cost me $2 a day. They also had a couple of bicycles for us to use if we wanted. Apparently this level of generosity is not at all uncommon here. As our Australian neighbour said “you can’t out-gift the Japanese”.
So after a fairly lazy week we slipped our berth and headed south to join the rally again at the small port of Nio on the southern island of Shikoku, the smaller of the four main Japanese Islands. There are nearly 7000 Islands in all here. It was a short 4 hour passage and the main hazard was crossing the shipping lane that ran east west, so we took a long route which took in a few islands and allowed us to cross at right angles. However we had to deal with a couple of big ships also joining the shipping lanes just were we planned to cross. With Kathy manning the AIS and calling out CPAs to me we got across just fine. The wind then picked up and by the time we closed in on Nio we were flying along, close hauled (Sails pulled in tight) at about 6 knots in a 16 knot wind. Once in the marina the wind dropped, and the sun shone brightly, an easy mooring and Kathy was soon sipping her wine while I enjoyed a Asahi Dry Zero beer, I must say the Japanese have got a lot of things right, and there alcohol free beer is the best I have ever tasted.

That evening we were entertained by the Nio Yacht club and the local rotary organisation, we were given free food and drink and then asked to go on stage boat by boat and talk a little in Japanese to the audience and also to sing a song. Oh they do like a good sing song here, of course Kathy has gone white now and I’m checking she is still breathing! In the end I go on stage and make a pathetic apology that we brits don’t do sing song, but I do a bit of bowing and thanking our hosts and just about get away with it.
Our hosts organised some dancing entertainment for us which was Hawaiian themed, a little confusing but very good.

One thing Nio is famous for is sunsets, and the view from the yacht club was stunning, We’ve seen a few now, but this was good.

The next day, (today, Sunday) the yacht club organised a coach trip for us all to the top of a local mountain where we had a fantastic view across the inland sea. Neo sits at the end of a peninsula facing north so we had a great view all the way from the west around to the east. I hope the video below gives a little feel of it, the colours are quite striking. On the mountain we were presented with lunch boxes, something else they love here, and we sat in this lovely spot munching away on all sorts of things I had no idea of, but not for the light hearted, and definitely not for the veggie.

Tomorrow we leave here and we have a few days to kill, I’m hoping that the very recent changes in the regulations here means I will get my ‘go anywhere permit free’ pass tomorrow, so we will wander around the islands before we rejoin the rally in ‘Bella Vista’. Our first stop is to a place referred to as Cat Island!
All the time I am studying the weather systems in the North Pacific and also reading up on weather forecasting. we may be departing these shores for the big ocean in about 3 weeks time, so there’s lots to do.

Now for the boring technical stuff, We lost another battery yesterday, So our house bank of four is now three and our engine starter battery is only just up to the job if the engine starts easily. Given that we have lost two from a batch of 5 the odds aren’t good for the other three lasting long. This is a major problem, I don’t think I can afford to replace them here, the first look on the net for replacements have them coming in at around £800 each and I need 4 to do the job properly. I’m going to get more details after the rally when we get to Kobe, but I’m thinking that we may just have to go easy on the batteries on the big passage and I can get a decent price when we reach America.
Water leak on port tank, Not a lot, but too much for our passage, I have to investigate.
Accumulator Tank, I think this may be failing, it’s been subject to a leak before and is quite corroded, I have been expecting it to fail at some point, its job is to make the water run out the taps more smoothly and also to reduce the cycling on the pressure pump, but I can bypass it if needed, what I don’t want is for it to fail and fill the bilges with our drinking water on the trip.
Rudder clunk. I have just noticed a small clunky noise coming from the rudder / autopilot area when hand steering, it’s only quiet but I need to feel 100% sure about this before we leave.
Gas issues. We have been unable to fill our spare & empty gas cylinder, the other one is about 50% full, or 50% empty, depending on your disposition to such matters, I think we can get across the pacific on this, but not if Kathy wants to bake bread frequently. They use the same type of cylinders here, but for ‘Health and Safety’ reasons, no one will touch our cylinder. I’m still hopeful I can find a back street supplier, but we may end up having to buy a portable camping stove and a few dozen bottles of camping gas.

On a more positive note, the boat has been performing well, all the systems seem to work well, I’m getting better at sailing it, I have messed with the spinaker pole a bit and feel I can handle that now, have even jibed the headsail with it ok. I fitted the new gasket to the eberspacher heater and fixed a hole in the exhaust and now we have been able to heat the main cabin up until it was quite toasty, without gassing ourselves. A few days ago Kathy and I spent a day cleaning the outside, the tropics take a toll on the brightwork, but now she is gleaming again, the boat that is, I managed to slap some varnish on, and also removed the slapped on varnish from the gelcoat from the previous varnishing. I also re-bedded the port chainplates, having done the starboard ones a few weeks back. it took me 6 hours to do that, and it should be good for 5 years or more I hope.

So all in all the boats doing quite well and we are having a great time in Japan, the climate is lovely, cool at nights and quite pleasant during the day.

Pul Collister

 

 

 

Sunday April 1st

As planned, we were away by 6am just as the sun rose over the hills, for the long trip to Puerto Galera. Paul warned me that anchoring might prove tricky there. An Easter regatta was taking place in the area, so all the mooring buoys would be taken up by participants. Furthermore it could be crowded in the anchorage area, which might have coral on the sea bed (neither of which possibilities filled me with joy). No chocolate eggs for us that Easter Day; in fact there was nothing to indicate that it was Easter at all apart from notes on the calendar. Our Easter Sunday was spent mostly at sea; a sea with increasingly high waves that created a bucking and rolling motion and was very generous with its spray! Paul got the Iridium phone working to enable us to send and receive messages and calls during our Pacific voyage later this year, while I stayed below reading, writing and typing. We didn’t have a guide book for the Philippines, but an internet search informed me that Puerto Galera means ‘the port of Galleons’ in Spanish, dating from the Spanish settlement during the 16th century, and the town proudly boasts an entry in the ‘Club of the Most Beautiful Bays of the World’. It also has a lively nightlife and is a popular resort for divers and snorkelers. One of the more interesting facts that caught my eye is that remote parts of its mountainsides are home to indigenous tribes which have virtually no contact with the outside world.

Anchoring proved to be thankfully easy when we arrived. On our second attempt we were secure in 13 metres of water in a coral-free spot with no other boats around, in the lee of abundant forested hills dotted with  holiday dwellings. I was fascinated to see a small low-flying aircraft coming in to land over the water at the nearby airport just after we’d anchored. We watched it land and take off several times during our time there.

Keen to see the yacht club we had heard about from other yacht owners before it got too dark, we lowered the dinghy to go ashore. It was quite some distance away and the water was murky so we didn’t see the rocks near the surface as we neared the jetty where other dinghies were tied up. Our dinghy bounced on them with a harsh grinding noise, forcing us to switch to rowing pretty smartish. This was all witnessed by a small group of resort staff waiting in one of the shuttle boats who must have foreseen the end result of the route we were taking. They helpfully directed us away from the rocks, pointed out the correct way to go for the return journey, took our tender and directed us to the yacht club on the hill. On the steps leading up to it, we met a group of rather inebriated yachties from the regatta, one of whom informed us that they were on their way to The Rock and Roll Bar on the other side of the shore. ‘See you there’, he grinned as if it was the accepted thing to do after visiting the yacht club. The club had everything we wanted – drinks, wifi, a book swap facility and local information from the helpful staff.

By the time we came to cross the channel to Puerto Galera’s shore it was dark and we were careful to follow the correct route to avoid the rocks (it was clearly marked by coloured wooden poles as it turned out). The Rock and Roll Bar was easy to spot from its prominent position opposite the dinghy park along with the hubbub of noise emanating from it. The regatta guys were too busy discussing the day’s successes and enjoying more refreshments to notice us strolling past. It was too dark to see the town properly but the narrow, lively main street looked intriguing, and was different again from any other place we’d visited. We ate in an Italian restaurant of all places. Sitting at a table in the busy street, we ate pizza and pasta and I had a huge glass of red wine while watching the shopkeepers clean and close up their stores, and the antics of kids and dogs playing in the street. There was certainly no shortage of things to look at.  Returning to the dinghy, we discovered that our earlier encounter with rocks must have caused the pin to split in the propeller again so it was a long tiring row back to the boat for Paul, but great exercise  😉

Easter Monday

Our excursion to Batangus to check in, began at 10am on a beautiful sunny morning – and at 25 degrees, notably cooler than those we’d become used to in Malaysia. We parked the dinghy near the ferry terminal ready to board the 10 45 ferry. We had 30 minutes to wait, along with several other people who like us, had been guided to the ticket kiosk by a staff member from the ‘Father and Son’ line to catch the first ferry due. It was a great place to sit and people-watch. I am becoming more enamoured with the Philippines the more I see of it. There is a ‘no nonsense’ but friendly attitude inherent in the people generally that makes it pleasant to interact with them even with a language barrier; I think it has a lot to do with facial expressions.

The ferry arrived 20 minutes late and boarding was more of a chaotic free for all compared to the orderly process we comply with for health and safety regulations in the UK. We were amused to see a couple of staff members with ‘elderly assistance’ on their tee shirts. In order to get further along the boat you had to clamber over waist high, plastic partitions so anyone infirm would struggle for sure. Once we were all seated and underway, vendors selling little packets of salted peanuts and bottles of water picked their way through the passengers and we bought some nuts to share on the way. The seats weren’t uncomfortable exactly but were hard and there was considerable engine vibration that sent some people to sleep. Staff moved along the windows securing waterproof screens to protect us from the spray as the boat gathered speed and for the next hour or so most of us settled down to staring at our personal screens, as passengers on public transport are wont to these days.  At around 12 30 the engine slowed and people began gathering their belongings ready to disembark.

More food and drink vendors, along with taxi drivers and trikes were clamouring for custom once we were on shore. We could see the customs building across the way from us but we had to keep to a designated, coloured pedestrian walkway to get to it. Inside the air-conditioned building we were informed by a genial guy that officers were all currently occupied inspecting vessels but we were welcome to wait until one of them returned. This we were happy to do, as a welcome respite from the heat. It wasn’t long before an officer appeared and invited us over to his desk. Apart from the fact that we discovered we’d have to return there to check out, all went smoothly with paper and forms being passed back and forth, studied, copied and stamped in the way we’ve become used to. Immigration was next and it was some distance away. We were told that taxis or trikes could be hired just outside the building to take us there. Bearing in mind we’d been inundated with offers when we got off the ferry, not a single one of either was around outside the building, despite a nearby security guard assuring us that one would ‘be along soon’. After 20 minutes in the heat, I was thirsty and becoming impatient so we walked back to the port area and hailed a trike there. There followed a heart-in-the-mouth fast ride along a busy, bumpy main road where cars and lorries whizzed past alarmingly close to us, but the driver was unfazed and soon we drew up outside a small building where a limping dog was scavenging in some rubbish and a boy of about ten approached us with his hand out for money. The driver said he’d wait for us and after another quick and trouble-free process, we were on our way to a supermarket recommended by the lady who had dealt with us in immigration.

What we’d seen of Batangus hadn’t inspired us to linger and explore it further. Puerto Galera had much more to offer, so another trike was hailed for a ride back to the ferry terminal. A chaotic series of events to obtain tickets ensued when we got there. Keen to get the 3 30 ferry, Paul asked a man where the ticket office was. He immediately (and kindly) took Paul under his wing and proceeded to lead him at quite a pace, through the throngs of people, along pavements and around corners while explaining what he needed to ask for. I struggled to keep up and keep them in sight. To be fair, I think he thought Paul was on his own, but with his help we made the ferry on time instead of having to wait another hour. Fewer people were on board this time and with a different company on a faster boat, the journey was shorter. It was low tide when we reached the dinghy, which was well and truly beached on the mud. With the help of a French guy, who happened to be tying up his dinghy, Paul managed to get it back in the water, watched by a little girl who looked a bit doubtful about the success of the mission (see pic below)

We moved to a new location the following day as the regatta had ended. It was much closer to the shore and meant we could take advantage of the free service boat provided by the yacht club. It wasn’t easy grabbing the mooring buoy, which had no rope on the top of it to catch with the boat hook. The force of holding it almost pulled me over the rail and it took both of us to hold on to it while Paul threaded the line through the metal hoop. Our first task after taking advantage of the handy shuttle service, was to find a laundry. Quite a heavy load had built up over the weeks so I was amazed to be told that our huge service wash would cost less than £2.

While ambling around the town for a proper look at it in daylight I spotted roosters in cages, with signs attached advertising them as good fighters, or with details of the next fight that would take place. Cock fighting is a popular sport here, not one that we were keen to see, obviously. I also noticed several stray dogs with ‘street’ wounds such as torn ears and patchy coats and the females looked like they had had litter after litter of pups. When you come across clearly unneutered animals it makes you realise what a rare sight they are on the streets at home. Before returning to the boat we walked down to the beach where it was quieter so that I could make a phone call. A couple of boys nearby were having great fun using stones and empty bottles playing at being barmen and were thrilled when Paul took their picture.

Paul made an early morning ferry journey back to Batangus to check us out on April 4th. I was glad I wasn’t needed, having plenty to catch up on on board. He returned at 1 30 with a tale of the usual confusion he’d encountered involving authority and hierarchy issues. Apparently, when he presented himself at the place we’d checked in at, he was told that to check out he’d have to go to the customs guy downstairs. Once there, the officer was outraged that the other people had checked us in in the first place because only he had the authority to do that, and if he had, then he would have checked us out at the same time and we wouldn’t have had to come back. It seems they may need to communicate with each other about consistency in their procedures 😉

We had laundry to collect so called the service boat for a pick up (could easily get used to that handy service). On shore, we returned to the fresh market we’d walked around the day before and bought some of the gorgeous mangoes we’ve taken a fancy to here. The town was very busy and noisy with the roar and thrum of various motor engines. I’m getting used to the nifty trikes now, though which are so much cheaper and more available than taxis.

Our third call to the service boat took us to the yacht club later that evening. Wednesdays are curry night there and judging by the amount of people, it’s very popular. It was all laid out in self-serve heated containers at the end of the bar and after paying, you simply helped yourself from a choice of seafood, beef or vegetable curry, plain rice, papadums with all the traditional Indian accompaniments. Both of us went back for seconds, it was so tasty. We were joined at our table by two elderly Swedish sailors and their young Filipino companions. They gave us useful advice regarding our imminent trip to Subic Bay, and were entertaining dinner companions, both having plenty to relate from their sailing experiences. Time to move on in the morning, although we agreed it would have been lovely to see and explore more of Puerto Galera. The images below show only part of its charm.

Kathy