The Republic of Marshall Islands

Our trip across Micronesia totaled just over 3,000 miles. That’s a long way. 

We left Kanton Island in the second week of January and travelled two weeks to reach the Marshall Islands. We weren’t shocked at what we found in Majuro but we weren’t expecting it either. We knew there would be some other cruisers there and that it would be a place to repair our fridge, which had been out of commission since American Samoa, and to do some much needed provisioning – our fresh food supply was completely depleted, I think I had a couple onions and one clove of garlic left. Within 500 miles we began listening to radio network on the single side band radio hosted mainly by resident cruisers in Majuro. When we made ourselves known we were immediately welcomed and our progress to the Marshalls was tracked. 

We arrived in Majuro early in the morning and as we tacked our way down the lagoon to the anchorage we marveled at all the tuna boats and their huge refrigerated mother ship freighters. This is a busy place. As we approached the corner of the lagoon the sailboat masts became visible and we sailed into the anchorage amazed at the 30 plus sailboats at anchor. We expected some but not this many.  For the first time in our trip, we picked up a mooring ball instead of dropping our anchor. The floor of the lagoon is littered with ship wrecks. In fact, our mooring was attached to large sunken fishing boat. We made our way to shore, figured out the transit system of taxi cabs (75¢ per person per trip) and checked in. 

Majuro is the capital of the Marshall Islands. The country is not a territory of the USA but has a “compact agreement” with them which basically means American dollars are funneled in for infrastructure but the country has its own government and the citizens do not have US passports. There were Americans all over the place, more than we saw in American Samoa which is a territory. Mostly everyone speaks English and the Marshallese language is alive and well. The local people are smaller than the Polynesians though just as friendly. I was pretty pleased to find a couple large supermarkets that sold some veggies and ice cream. Before we organized internet, we could access free wifi at the closest supermarket if you bought a generously scooped ice cream cone for a dollar. We at a lot of ice cream and I want to say “those first couple days” but truthfully, we ate it a lot even after we got our own wifi access hooked up.

We were in the Marshsalls  as it was on our route but what we found there was a surprisingly large community of cruisers, mostly from the States, who came up to avoid the hurricane season in the Southern hemisphere. Most of these cruisers have ended up staying for more than one season and explore the 36 atolls and islands that make up the country. The diving in the area is world class and there are also some world class surf breaks (Kelley Slater showed up the day before we were leaving). The resident cruisers have created a yacht club, the Meico Beach Yacht Club, which we joined. The club organizes sailing races, Tuesday night cheap dinners out and other fun little events like beer can racing. The membership includes ex-pats from both Australia and the US who are living and working in Majuro, not necessarily just the cruisers.

 

With the help from a great repairman, our fridge was temporarily mended, but it was broken which meant ordering a new one. We ordered it and requested delivery to Guam by the way of general delivery courteous of the US postal service.  General delivery was very good to us. We got parcels from home (thanks to Cora and Hank, Bob and Sue and Mike!) that cost very little to ship and for future parcels we confidently used the “general delivery, Guam” address. We also ordered a new sail as one of ours tore on the way over from Kanton. Having spares for each sails is, for that exact reason, important. We ordered one to be made by Lee Sails which was absolutely painless and also organized its shipment to Guam so it would be waiting for us when we arrived. A part of our self-steering wind vane had also broke on our passage from Kanton so that was the first thing we ordered and since we would not sail further without it, we settled into to wait for that to arrive in Majuro.  While we waited for the packages from home to arrive, we filled our time with getting to know our neighbours and poking around the atoll. We watched the Superbowl with some Australians, celebrated both our birthdays (our Captain turned 40! He got a pizza dinner out and a Leatherman, he was pretty pleased) and did a whole lot of Skyping. 

Sailing outriggers canoes is a fairly active pastime in the Marshalls. We discovered the local canoe club which builds and sails these original outriggers. The Marshallese are famous for their swift sailing canoes as well stick charts. The original Marshallese developed a system of navigation charts created with only sticks and shells. The club is a non-profit organization aimed at keeping these traditions alive and we heard that you can go for a sail. When we learned this we were determined not to leave until we sailed in an outrigger. We found the club and organized a sail for the coming Thursday. As we left, we were told to dress in clothes we didn’t mind getting wet – we really had no idea how wet.

Thursday came and Thursday was windy and grey. But the Marshalls are incredibly hot. We’d been there for a couple weeks and spent most of those days sweating unless we were in a restaurant or the supermarket. So dressed in t-shirts and shorts, we arrived at the canoe club and met the captain of our little ship and his first mate, both who spoke little English. We launched the canoe on the little beach, jumped aboard as the mate swatted at the kids swimming there who kept trying to hang off the canoe and set sail into the lagoon. The duration of our sail was to be an hour which would be plenty of time to slide across the lagoon waters to the other side. 

These sailing outriggers are how the Marshallese found, explored and travelled among the atolls. There were families on these boats so some were much bigger than the one we were on but they don’t have a dry, cozy cabin like our boat. There’s no galley or head or sleeping berths so I am astonished that they travelled for miles and miles like this. Amazed because I truly know what kind of things the ocean and weather like to kick up and it’s not just a fine spray now and then. So in honour of these determined and courageous early sailors, the weather gods decided to give us a little taste of what it must have been like.  

We cleared the beach and the wind began throw up a sharp little chop. Our captain said to us, “big wind.” We laughed and agreed with him as the canoe picked up speed. I sat just in front of Brad and we laughed some more as few splashes of warm lagoon water sprinkled over me. Five minutes later, after a few more “really big wind” comments from our captain, we were screaming across the lagoon. Our boat would never travel this fast. We were flying! And we were getting soaked - absolutely drenched. Wave after wave was smacking me in the face. While I wanted to laugh out loud, I couldn’t since water would have streamed straight into my open mouth choking me. We flew past our anchorage and reached a point where it was time to turn around and head back. It was blowing 20 knots. That’s a lot of wind. That would be a lot of wind for us sailing Suuhaa (cruiser friends in the anchorage later told us they saw us and marveled at the little canoe that would be sailing in such weather). Tacking the canoe is a straight forward process; one simply lifts and changes the position of the mast. Our captain and mate managed this easily without our help and the boat began to sail back towards the club. It began to sail and then we heard a little pop. Then another and then a series of rapid pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pops! And the sail of our little canoes ripped away from the mast. Done. No more sail. Not totally a surprise I guess, considering that it was only stapled on to the mast. There we were; no sail and 20 knots of wind blowing us away from the island and threatening to send us down the middle of a very large lagoon. The captain and his crew seemed quite calm as we excitedly chattered about what would happen next, how would we get back to shore?

There’s some decent windage on these boats and with the rudder in the water, the captain began to steer and slow we started to move. Forward only though, parallel to the shore, not towards it. Skiffs with locals motored past us and waved but there was no attempt from our captain to wave anyone down for a tow. We had learned that in these islands, as in Kiribati that it will not do to ask for help. This is considered unacceptable; a sign of weakness, so no one will ask and no one would dare to offer help. We heard stories of people, men mostly – I don’t believe that this extends to women, dying or being lost at sea since asking for help is simply not done. Slowly we made progress and for the first time in months and months I began to get cold. But the captain did it, while I thought he wasn’t heading for shore because he couldn’t, this was not the case. He brought us to the only other beach landing on the island. We came to the landing and with the help of a bunch of other Marshallese canoers on the beach; our canoe was pulled up the sand. We said our thanks and goodbyes to the captain and his mate and shivering, walked to the curb to hail a taxi to take us back. We paid the driver with the sopping wet bills from Bradley’s saturated wallet and zipped back to the boat for dry clothes. We had to go back to the canoe club to get our backpack and the woman there was very surprised to see us in dry and different clothes. When we told her what happened and where the canoe and crew were she seemed properly worried and asked if we knew what to do. We told her the guys were fine and the canoe was on the beach but after that, well, we didn’t know what she should do either.  Anyway, we left that piece of problem solving with her, assured her that we had a fantastic time, paid our money and went back home to our sturdy, comfortable and dry boat.

The yacht club maintains groups of moorings at little islands around the lagoon. The cruisers treat these areas as “get-away” spots, places to go to for the day or the weekend to leave the bustling city life of Majuro behind. They are beautiful spots and they are only an hour and half sail from the main anchorage. We spent a long weekend at Edamanet. We swam, scrubbed the boat and drank sundowner cocktails with ice! Ice is a luxury in these parts and with our fridge temporarily mended, we had ice again. After this lovely weekend, we arrived back in Majuro to discover that all our packages had arrived and so we began to prepare for the next passage to Guam. We did our boat repairs with the parts that arrived and stocked the cupboards, we checked out with Customs and Immigration and then sailed over to the other little island with moorings to wait a couple days for Saturday to come (we never leave on a Friday). Enico is yet another gorgeous spot and we kept company with two other boats. 

The afternoon we arrived was beautiful and we joined George and Ute on the beach for sundowner cocktails. The next morning the wind began to pick up and it also began to swing. I know that most people worry about us when we are at sea but we have learned that it can be just as perilous being at anchor. At home we have cozy and safe bays and coves and harbours to hide in from nasty weather. In the atolls, you don’t have that. The wind blows easily over the reefs and islands separating the lagoon from the Pacific. Brad is a diligent captain and he always swims down and checks on our anchor regularly and in this case, on our mooring. The mooring we were attached to looked healthy and while close to a coral head, it still seemed secure. When the wind swung out of the South, he actually felt better as it would swing us away from that coral head. The wind continued to increase and the rain began in earnest, plopping away on the roof of the cabin so we were doing what the others were doing. We were inside watching a movie, with the sound turned up due to the volume of the rain.   

It was just like being at home on a rainy day until the radio cackled and our neighbor called “Suuhaa Suuhaa! You’re drifting!”  Bradley shot out of the cabin and HOLY SHIT we were drifting toward the beach. Brad cranked on the engine and slammed the boat into gear as I ran to the bow.  Directly beside us was a massive coral head maybe two feet below the surface and in front of us was all kinds of reef. But by the grace of Neptune, within sharp turning distance was a blessed pass between the coral reefs. I screamed and pointed and Brad pushed the tiller hard over and we motored out towards safety.

Holy, Shit.

We sat bobbing in the water stunned and shook up.

We had come terrifyingly close to ending up on the beach. We would not have been hurt; there was no chance of drowning. But the damage that Suuhaa may have sustained might have changed our trip. We caught our breath and pulled ourselves together and went back to anchor. The mooring that we had been tied to had broken. It had trailed beside us, dangerously close to the prop but I was able to pull it up and on to the boat, ensuring that it would not tangle as we motored. Our neighbours on Cherkoee Rose who alerted us came to find out if we were ok. Michael had only spotted us because as they too sat below, happily out of the rain and wind, his swim ladder had started thumping against the hull of his boat so he had come up to put it away.

The wind had swung all of us around on our moorings but ours had caught some other coral head and snapped. With the wind, the rain and the chop on the water’s surface, we had not felt the change in the boat and it could have only been moments, mere moments between when it broke and when Michael saw us drifting. We were incredibly lucky. We were so alarmed at what had happened we actually considered skipping the final western part of our voyage, wait for May and head straight to Alaska from the Marshalls. We spent the next day gathering our nerves and checking on the boat. She does have some scratches on the keel but those are best described as “skinned knees.” Our boat is a tough boat and she, probably more than we, was ready to set sail at any time.

We did leave on the morning tide and we charted our course to Guam. We headed north through the Marshalls and checked the weather. The weather was not looking too good. There was a tropical depression in the long term forecast between us and Guam. We decided that waiting a few days would be prudent and pulled into Kwajalein Atoll to wait. Kwajalein is a major military base. But we didn’t get to see it. I was dying to poke around. We heard that it’s like a huge country club with tennis courts and a movie theatre. But you have to be sponsored to visit so we were anchored off of Ebeye, the Marshallese island in the atoll. This is a small island in the atoll which has a population of somewhere between 10,000 and 16,000. It’s packed. There are at least 1,000 jobs held by the Marshallese on Kwajalein. These employees are ferried to and from Kwajalein every day, a few times a day. We can confirm this since the ferry waked the boat every time. After a day or two, our presence in the atoll was confirmed and we proceeded to check in to the Marshall Islands for a second time. Every person we dealt with was wonderfully helpful and kind. We wandered around the island one day and I have to say that this is probably the poorest place I’ve ever been to. The houses are densely packed and people have very little. It is a very dirty place with garbage everywhere. We did watch children playing in the puddles on the street with pieces of plywood as skim boards. We also saw older children surfing in the waves on even larger pieces of plywood. We were impressed at their surfing as they wrangled these misshapen pieces of wood to successfully stand up on them and ride them into the beach. We also watched a talent show of singing and dancing put on by all the local children. Our impression of the island is superficial, it’s only what we gleaned from one afternoon of wandering around.

After a week had gone by the weather looked better; the tropical storm had finally decided to do something and moved out of our path away to the north. Once more we readied the boat, set the sails and began our passage to Guam.