Dear Friends;

On Monday February 10, 2014, we returned to Carina from our goodbye visit ashore on Lamotrek atoll with our dinghy laden with bountiful provisions of coconut crab; lobster; red snapper; taro; coconut; sweet potato; banana chips and fruit; breadfruit whole and chips - PLUS gifts of a hand woven lavalava and 100 fathoms of hand spun coconut seine twine. Atop our heads sat bright mwar-mwars of green, yellow and orange, while the intense perfume of plumeria filled our nostrils from the six magnificent fresh leis each of us wore around our necks. Joe Ragmai, one of the village chiefs and elders and a superb host, made a speech thanking us for our visit and our work on behalf of the community, photos were taken, and then every man of Lamotrek shook our hands and wished us a safe passage. The youngest and strongest men then carried the gifts, bailed the dinghy, launched us and waved continuously from shore as we puttered slowly away. Such is the intense warmth and generosity of the good people of the out-islands of Micronesia.

But we are getting ahead of ourselves by telling of our departure; let's go back. Lamotrek Atoll is home to some of the last traditional navigators who still sail their dugout canoes on the ocean. The inhabited motu is only about 0.7 miles long by 0.5 miles wide; really just the tiniest mound of coral, coconut and taro in the middle of the north Pacific, four hundred fifty miles north of the equator.

From the Lukunor anchorage to the Lamotrek anchorage was 497 nautical miles and it took us 122 hours. This is a bit below our average speed because of a particularly slow passage on the first day as we battled light winds, wacky swell and confusing currents as we slowly clawed our way out between the reefs of the Mortlock Island group. After this first frustrating day, the promised tradewinds picked up and we had a great sail with few squalls. On the evening of the fourth day, we hove-to 12 miles east from Lamotrek's southeastern corner and waited through the night, keeping watch for ships. Just as dawn broke, a squall brought a deluge, and a perfectly formed rainbow gate framed Lamotrek Island.

We had a satellite picture chartlet of Lamotrek's south reef but wanted full daylight and high sun in order to navigate the very narrow SE pass. The charts showed the minimum depth at the pass to be nine meters (about thirty feet). Large vessels tend to use the pass on the northeast end of the atoll but that pass faces the winter trade winds and the large swell we were experiencing from North Pacific gales. We weren't particularly interested in having large following seas while trying to enter the lagoon. Another dredged pass farther west on the southern reef was a possibility but we had no good picture of this and our chart had an error of ~ 0.9 nautical mile.

About a mile from the pass, we turned the key to our engine and (miraculously) Carina's capricious starter motor decided to cooperate, though with an agonizing delay. We have the same issue with our starter solenoid since Pohnpei which we hope to correct when we get to Yap. With the engine warmed up and headsails rolled in, we approached the pass with Philip on bow watch, watched the bommie-dotted bottom rise through the swell to only 31', slid between the green coral reefs and sandy shoals and in a short time were clear of danger. Once inside, we were surprised of the size of the waves in the lagoon. At the time, a 20 knot northeast wind was driving water over the reef to the north, the tide was relatively high and the fetch significant. The motu (island) of Lamotrek is about 2.5 miles directly to windward from the pass we used.

As we approached our anchoring waypoint just off the village and protected by the island and reef, the radio crackled and we were hailed by Peter, "sailboat, sailboat this is Lamotrek". He welcomed us and told us there were two moorings that had been installed by another yacht; we could use either one if we decided not to anchor. We normally like to use our own ground tackle and are cautious of moorings of which we have no history. Peter assured us the moorings were new and strong and so we decided to tie up. Our use of this mooring would help to protect the fragile coral system from the damage caused by our anchor chain, so we decided to tie up.

It is an odd sensation to be stopped after a passage at sea. Time seems to nearly stop, silence descends and then, imperceptibly, the concentration of adrenaline in your system begins to diminish and arrival jitters get replaced with slightly foggy feeling. It was in this state and while trying to tidy up around Carina that we began to take a look around and were immediately impressed by the different hues of blue in lagoon's crystal clear water and the graceful shape of the outrigger canoe between Carina and the long white beach. The sheer beauty of the place was overwhelming and we were elated though exhausted and in need of a good bath. Lamotrek is one of those places you dream of coming to when you begin cruising and it was almost difficult to believe we were actually here.

While both below decks rumbling around in our groggy state (and out of the intense sun), we heard a soft call from our starboard quarter and saw a outrigger dugout alongside. In it was a 50-some-year-old mustached man with curly grey hair wearing only a loincloth. He introduced himself as Francis who was sent to welcome us to Lamotrek and to answer our questions. Francis is one of the elders of the island of three "villages" and 300 people. He is in charge of the kindergarten (and also runs workshops in Early Childhood Education from his modern office in Yap during the summer months). We peppered him with questions about protocol and hierarchy in hopes of understanding how best to approach to the village and its culture, so different than our own.

After Francis left, we changed into our bathing suits. The day was hot and sultry and we wanted to feel cool clean seawater against our sweaty bodies. We jumped into the water with our waterproof camera and Les took a picture that will grace the home page of our website as soon as we get somewhere with internet access and we can update the site. Philip dove on the mooring and found we were securely tied with chain to a large coral bommie with a float holding the chain proud so that the attached stout line would not fray. With this inspection, we were confident we would not have to worry about Carina's security while at Lamotrek.

On the second day of our visit, we met Francis ashore for (what we like to call) the island food tour. Every stop we made, we sat down next to an open fire amongst a group of women and someone fed us, or tried to feed us. And since we always love to try new things, we secretly hoped our gut flora was up to the challenge, relished each sample, and were soon waddling through the village. We were also shown handicrafts that the islanders make for their own use but also offer for sale - coconut fiber line, magnificently woven bright lavalavas and fish traps. We peeked our heads into dark cool homes to watch women making lavalavas on backstrap looms, a process that one book advises takes about 70 hours AFTER the fiber has been procured or prepared. For this, lavalavas of traditional materials - hibiscus and banana fiber - are sold for $50, while those of purchased thread are $25. In contrast to the weaving, it is the men who spin coconut fiber rope in diameters of 1/8" used for lashing roofs and canoe outriggers, up to well over 1", that is used for mast rigging on the canoes. The rope is made from husks that are soaked in sea water for 2-3 months and then pounded and spun, producing rope that is strong, light, UV resistant, low stretch and knots very well. 100 fathoms of the smallest line is sold for $20 on island (and according to the islanders), $35 in Yap and $100 in Hawaii.

This island is not the most pristine of islands we've seen. There is a fair bit of plastic detritus on the beach and red betel nut spit is prevalent in the sand since most of the male islanders partake. Also littering the beach is the remains of a bullet-riddled WWII Japanese float plane. The story was that the Japanese tried to hide the plane but US military strafed and destroyed the plane while it was sitting on the ground.

The people of the out-islands of Yap live primarily off the land and the sea with turtle being a favored food. It was difficult for us to watch silently as they slaughtered and cut up a large green turtle, though we did so. Breadfruit, taro, coconut, sweet potatoes, banana are also important. There is a small store, managed by Xavier, the school principal (teacher, church deacon, master navigator and canoe carver) which all islanders are obligated to utilize. Western clothing is extremely rare, almost non-existent. Both men and women are topless with men looking regal in their elaborately wrapped thu (loincloths) and women lovely in bright hand-woven lavalavas. Cooking is done on wood or coconut shell fires away from the main dwelling. Families live in what might be described as an encampment with a steep roofed common sleeping hut, a cooking hut, plus a collection of platforms, shelters, hooks, etcetera for putting possessions out of the way of the ever-present little dogs. Plastic fishing floats are used extensively, including as hanging storage containers where a slice is taken out of the top.

The people here are quick to differentiate themselves from Yapese, though they share a territory with those of that ethnicity. They call themselves "out-islanders" and claim kin to all Micronesians, save the Yapese. The younger men tend to be handsome, heavily muscled, most with intricately designed tattoos on their chest, back, arms and legs. The younger women are pretty, willowy and fair featured. Older men and women show their advancing age by being considerably heavier of upper body. It's obvious that there is an abundance of food on the island, in spite of losing nearly all of their agriculture in a devastating typhoon in 1990. Everyone we met seemed to be healthy, despite a proclivity for alcohol (tuba, a coconut beer), betel nut and tobacco. The children, as all the children of the Micronesia, are uniformly beautiful, happy and healthy. We joked about taking one or two with us when we left. Surely, with so many children, the village wouldn't miss one or two would they?

The islands of Satawal, Elato and Lamotrek, were united under a paramount chief, who was called Queen Veronica. Veronica, reputed to be over 100 years old, was in failing health during our visit and everyone talked very softly as they passed her home. Unfortunately, she died the morning after our departure. Managing the island are the lower chiefs, really elders, who assign responsibility for certain functions to certain clans. There are no police here, individual clans are responsible for enforcement of community regulations - such as a curfew after 9 pm - and penalties for transgressions may be, for example, spinning 100 fathoms of coconut fiber into line. Resources, including food, are shared. Windfalls, such as our arrival gifts of sugar, salt, coffee, tinned ham and milk, are divided up according to the community's needs. Teams of young men are sent out to forage for crab, fish, turtle or octopus and the catch is divided according to the wisdom of the elder men. It seems that men control the resources but it is women who control the land. At marriage, men move to the compound of the wife's clan. Though land is controlled by women, women are almost segregated and few men call their wife by name or introduce her. There are exceptions, but more than once, a man referred to his wife as "that old woman over there" or "some old woman gave me this". Women are also required to show respect to men by remaining at a lower level or bowing their heads.

Along the white sand beach, dotted with poor little porkers tied by one foot to a tree, are men's meeting houses, open structures with posts of ancient trees that support steep roofs of woven coconut palm. Most protect at least one ocean-going outrigger canoe with their graceful shear line and frigate-bird-tail-design proas. It is in these structures that men (only) gather to drink tuba, spit betel nut juice and make decisions.

Tuba is important part of everyday life and men "cut" their tuba a few times a day. Tuba is yeast fermented coconut sap that takes 4 days to ferment to 7% alcohol. It is slightly fizzy and with a whisper of sweetness, is milky white and pleasant (or at least Leslie thinks so). The yeast culture is an heirloom variety and is already in the coconut shell used to collect the sap. Each evening, the men get together in the men's meeting houses to drink tuba and make decisions. Women of the village are not invited but tourist women are considered guests and are invited. Our first evening, the men's drinking circle included a huge feast which was supposed to be as a send off to those leaving on the imminent supply ship. We were sent home with a woven coconut basket containing a meal of a whole reef fish cooked on an open fire plus taro, breadfruit and banana all tucked neatly under a banana leaf. Philip was told at the first tuba tasting that he should drink four coconut cupfuls of tuba at once. He thinks he was being conned but was game and downed one after the other, smiling broadly, much to the delight of the other men.

Prominent in the village is the Catholic church of Santa Louis. Each Sunday, Xavier the deacon says mass, assisted by two Eucharistic priests (both named Joe). The church would be considered bare to our first world standards - there are no pews (one either sits cross-legged or stands depending on the segment of the ceremony) and little art - but its hollows allow the rich singing to guitar accompaniment to reverberate off the elegant canoe-shaped altar and lecterns of canoe paddles. We didn't understand much, as the service was in Woleaian, but we did catch typhoon and FEMA while Xavier lectured on (presumably) emergency preparedness.

In contrast to the shabby disarray of used things that characterize family compounds, the school office is immaculate and includes laser printers and brand new Macintosh computers. Also, many elders have nice watches and other bits of modern gear such as DVD players, so the islanders have resources despite their seeming poverty due to their adherence to rural living standards. While we were in port, both a school accreditation team and a medical team visited; one on the FSM ship the Caroline Voyager and the other on the Yap State ship, the Hapilmohol or H1. The accreditation was the first ever and prompted by funds from the US Compact agreement being frozen due to non-compliance of the FSM in providing data on education. The medical team was updating immunizations.

The dispensary manager of Lamotrek, Joe, is also one of the master traditional navigators, plus a knowledgeable medical practitioner and a heck of a nice guy. He was patient and generous to explain how they navigate, though he admitted he'd love to have a GPS! The new breadfruit and mahogany wood Queen Veronica returned from her second voyage around the Caroline Islands on December 24, 2013 and Joe was the navigator. He told us of navigating only from memory on the location of land masses and hazards (no charts!) with the help of stars and the sun, a compass, swell direction and current information derived only from dragging a small line in the water from a hove-to canoe. For those interested, a film made by an American named Eric Metzgar documenting a voyage of one of the Lamotrek canoes can be found at: tritonfilms.com

One of Leslie's dreams since we'd learned of the sailing canoes of Micronesia, was to help to sew some of their sails. This was why we were keen to have Lamotrek on our list of ports of call out here where there are dozens of islands to visit. While visiting, we spent three days sewing the panels of three sails from new sail cloth, including helping Xavier while he lofted one on the basketball court. We had lots of helpers, many of them with tiny hands, trying to move the material through the machine, so our seams aren't the best but the sails will be much more functional than those they were using that were assembled by hand from donated old yacht sails. We'd offered to do more, such as sew in bolt ropes along the luff and foot, but this will be done by hand using our donated polyester waxed hand sew thread and forged needle, supplies the island did not previously possess.

Visiting, repairs and sailmaking accomplished and with tradewinds returning and a cultural festival on the main island of Wa'ab, Yap looming, it seemed like time to leave. Intending to leave and leaving are different things. Though we hoisted sail, dropped our mooring, and Philip sounded his triton trumpet horn, our hearts were heavy as Joe's voice on VHF radio wished us once again "bye bye and safe sailing". Despite what our hearts told us to do, we turned Carina downwind and sailed west towards Woleai, an atoll that was home to our friends on Backbeat when they were shipwrecked in typhoon Haiyan many months ago. More later.

Your friends of the yacht Carina,

Philip, Leslie and fat cat, Jake

website: www.sv-carina.org