To the paradise of Cocos Keeling
Passage: October 15th - 22nd
Cocos: October 23nd - 26th
We find we need to mentally prepare ourselves for these longer crossings. They’re a combination of beauty, monotony, excitement, fear, anxiety, reflection and lots of reading. Our first night after leaving Lombok has little wind. We motor. Lots of cargo ship traffic to avoid. On the bright side, the full moon is magnificent! At one point, the moon is blocked by a large, dark grouping of clouds. The intense light cast by the moon can’t penetrate the clouds toward us. Instead, it is directed downward onto the ocean, illuminating the water in the distance like a massive stage waiting for the main attraction. The water glowed white, but only in one specific area.
Our first four days/nights of this passage are uneventful. Stand outs include one night an unusually large wave hit the bow of Jolie and dumped water through Ellie’s hatch, dousing her and their room with water. What a rude awakening! When I woke up in the morning to see their mattresses strapped to the life line, I knew something was amiss.
While we’d had no luck fishing the over-fished waters near Indonesia, as we sailed further away, we caught a couple mahi and lost a few big, undetermined “monsters.”
The full moon, and subsequent waning one, really makes our night watches more pleasant. To be able to see to a certain extent around the boat, helps to orient you inside the cockpit. Meaning, when it’s so dark around you, as the boat rocks and rotates, and all you can see is inside the cockpit, you feel a little disoriented, especially if the seas are rough. However, these days with the shining moon relieve this sensation. The timing of the moon rising is almost perfect with the sun setting and rising. If on the 4-6 am watch, we see the full orange, rusty-red moon set in the west and shortly after the orange, yellow, rose-hued sun rise in the east.
Our last four days of the crossing are quite wet. Lots of rain, day and night. Our off-shore foul-weather gear becomes part of our daily clothing ensemble. The helm and cockpit on Jolie is not well protected from the elements, so we get wet. Sometimes very wet. I grow deeply attached to my Helly Hanson jacket, overalls and boots. They thought of everything - waterproof pockets for phone, earbuds, glasses and felt lined pockets to keep hands warm. Later I discovered a concealed waterproof zipper across the butt of the overalls to alleve the need to undress everything for potty breaks. Lots of thoughtful, useful details.
Our last 24 hrs of sailing before reaching Cocos are especially rough. High winds, rain, large swells (close together) cause our autopilot to start kicking out.
Running North from a powerful front.
The difficulty with this happening is the boat swings so far off course the autopilot cannot recover. Thus, the helm wheel turns hard and fast in the wrong direction and can be very difficult to turn the wheel back to the proper heading. Rob doesn’t want me to take a night watch because he’s afraid I don’t have the physical strength to steer us back on course if the autopilot fails.
Honestly, I hate not pulling my weight with watches, but I know how treacherous it feels when this happens in foul weather. Part of me is relieved.
We arrive in Cocos (Keeling) Islands, an Australian external territory, around 9 pm. In the darkness, it was quite tricky finding the correct passage to the only permitted anchorage, especially since reef marker warning lights weren’t working. We anchor far out deciding we’ll wait until daylight to move in closer. Despite the rough, windy evening, Ed from Aurora, dinghies up to welcome us with a pizza delivery and a beer or two. The camaraderie on this trip is wonderful!
Next morning, we move Jolie in closer to anchor with the rest of the fleet in the small bay on Direction Island.
Of the 27 small coral islands in Cocos, this is the only one where we’re allowed to anchor. The islands form an horseshoe-shaped atoll around a lagoon. Approximately 600 people reside on these islands, most being on West and Home Islands. Uninhabited Direction Island has a lovely, white sand lined bay with palm trees and a couple areas with tin roof covered picnic tables and big stone grills, as well as a bathroom.
It’s a very popular area for boating kite-surfers, as well as snorkeling. Today is the Oyster-sponsored lunch party on the beach. It’s been awhile since all of us have been together. We have a fabulous time catching up on our experiences, sharing in Anne (Rock Lobster) and Dave’s (Sydney Rock) birthdays and simply breathing in this beautiful, remote gem. A few of us stroll down the beach to the area where some of the crew are kite-surfing. Suddenly, we are harshly reminded how quickly a glorious situation can become tragic. James, the captain of Babiana, gracefully takes off on his board, pulled up easily by the kite. After he’s further out from shore, something happens and the lines to the kite become tangled. He’s unable to release the kite and it remains in its fully powered mode. He is violently thrown through the air and dragged under water repeatedly, like a rag doll, for a very long distance toward open ocean. Finlay and Alex, both kite-surfers, run to a dinghy and power out to him. At that point, he’s so weak and confused (and naked - the violent pulling of the kite stripped him of his swim trunks and board on the first pull), he’s unable to help get himself into the dinghy. Thankfully, he recovers completely. Which seems miraculous after witnessing what his body was subjected to by that kite. Sobering. We’re so removed from any sophisticated medical help.
The following morning, we pick up Toby and Nicole from Skana at 6:30 am to dinghy over to Home Island, to catch the ferry to West Island. Toby has arranged a sourdough bread baking lesson and lunch with Tony, the owner of Sally’s Cafe, and the local bread man. Nicole heads off for a kite-surfing lesson while the rest of us (Rock Lobster, Babiana and Dobra from Shanties) head over to bake.
We get the feeling this is an impromptu bread baking class for Tony. He must be the most industrious person on the island, involved in the catering for our Oyster lunch, the pizza’s for the night before and all the provisioning orders. And he makes a decent cappuccino!! Really enjoyable day baking, eating and strolling around West Island. Another evening of sundowners and BBQing on the beach. We miss Martina, from Altaia, who stayed on their boat to rest after falling down the stairs during the crossing and suffering a concussion. That really could be any of us - passages can be so treacherous.
Our last full day at Cocos, Rob and I start early by snorkeling “The Rip,” a fast moving current between two of the islands, known to be one of the best snorkel sites in this area. A little tricky to walk over the jagged dead coral-lined waterfront, the current takes you as soon as you push into its grasp. It’s fun gliding above the coral and fish below, trying to take in as much as you’re able to see as you pass over it. We enjoyed it so much, we returned in the afternoon with Phil/Sarah (Hermione) and Carsten/Cedric (Altaia).
Concluded the day with another BBQ on the beach with the remaining boats. Attempted to set up a beach movie - Couples Retreat - but had sound issues, so we huddled all together to listen for about 20 minutes, then gave up.
Departed Cocos at high tide so we could clear the reef, just after lunch. Are we ready for the 14-day passage ahead of us? Our three days in Cocos was so lovely and passed so quickly. I have to admit, to have a rough 7-day passage and then a 14-day passage with only 3 days between to recover, is a hard turn around for me. Only 2400 nautical miles until our next stop. Doesn’t make me feel any better. But, off we go!
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