Phil and Lauri G. in PNG 2001

SOMETIMES THE BEST WAY TO DESTROY A GREAT DREAM
IS TO TRY TO MAKE IT REAL

-Lauri G. 1993-

This story is written from a totally subjective, personal point of view. It is not an account of events, but a personal account of feelings. I have a great respect for the people of Papua New Guinea, like I have for all people on this planet. I have not used real names because some Misima people were offended by this story when it first appeared in the web. (How did they find it on the web??) If you read carefully, there is nothing to indicate any wrong doing by any of the characters in this story. (Lauri G. September 2003)

Starting on 8 September 2001 Me and my 'brother' Phil, set out to find the meaning of life and donate some new toys to the poor people of PNG

The most common transport on the water in PNG is still the old sailing canoe. Football teams travel out for regional games, families go shopping or to sell their produce in the markets of another island. Hand made. Fast. Leaking. Fun.

Life is a strange thing.
Only if you confine yourself in the familiar suburbs and the same surroundings year after year, can you achieve the illusion that life is safe and predictable. I did not do so when I set sail from Cairns 2001. With hardly enough money to feed myself for a couple of months, my plan was to sail the Pacific in a year or two and finish up in New Zealand. And what happened? Life came up with a plan B without a warning. I say "Life came..." because looking back, there's nothing I would have done differently, so what happened, happened. What will be will be. Shit happens. And so on…

I'm writing this in an air-conditioned room at a 3 star resort in the Whitsunday Islands, North Queensland Australia, only 600km south of 'home' and only a few months after departing for the journey that took me five years to plan. My new $3000 lap top computer is playing the same David Grey CD that made me cry when I was sitting at my first anchorage in Papua New Guinea a few months ago. (Now my credit card is doing all the crying, I haven't paid for the new toy yet.) A lot has happened in the last few months. My big dreams have been thrown out the window and everything in my life has a question mark at the end.

Here's the story as I experienced it. I talk mostly about me, rather than us, as I want to record how I felt. Phil, the dear friend of mine, the brother I never had, who shared the adventure with me, is now in Brisbane looking for work. I believe Phil's feelings were mostly similar.

This page: Pre-departure - Departure - Halfway - Approach - First Anchorage - First Village - Misima - What's the point? - To NZ? - The Theft - Man Hunt - Conclusion - Going Home - Top - New Page: Cruising Guide

July 2001 - Before Departure

Since cruising in Merivuokko in 1994, my dream has been to live the cruising life in my own yacht. Since migrating to Australia in 1996, I've worked 70-hour weeks to achieve this dream. Sonya, my wife, walked out November 1999. The road that we travelled together had gone downhill for some time but that's another story. I can't say that my obsession with my boat and the drive to achieve MY dream was helping us.

I'm working on an Island Resort off Cairns. I'm pushing the working week to over 70 hours and being grateful for every dollar I earn. Going around the world is now out of the question. I decide to spend a year, maybe two in the Pacific area. Guam and Micronesia for the Southern cyclone season and then down to the southern hemisphere next year, back in Australia July 2002, maybe 2003. I'm scared about going alone, but there are no volunteers to join me. Then Phil, my ex boss tells me he would like to share the adventure with me. Phil has all the right reasons to go, not much money and no appointments for the next few years. I've got myself the perfect crew.

Aliisa anchored at Fitzroy Island Resort, 15 nautical miles off Cairns. Australian mountainous mainland is bathing in February rain

I quit work early August to do the last preparations. I have one month to spend as little as I can and do as much work on the boat as possible. I take the mast down and replace the rigging. I cross out 'life raft and HF radio from the shopping list, among many other things. I spend a hectic month with Phil preparing for the cruise.

I spend $1000 a day in the last week and my planned $6000 cruising kitty is reduced to a few hundred dollars. I'm shit scared. In ten years of drifting (travelling) around the world, this is the scariest thing I have ever done.

First Boat: Iiris from Finland is halfway around the world.
Second boat: Aurora Blue: Extensive rebuilding of a yacht that has been sitting on this spot for over a year
Third boat: Aliisa is getting prepared for her first overseas cruise

This page: Pre-departure - Departure - Halfway - Approach - First Anchorage - First Village - Misima - What's the point? - To NZ? - The Theft - Man Hunt - Conclusion - Going Home - Top - New Page: Cruising Guide

September 8, 2001 - Departure

There are no marching bands at the jetty. We are two weeks past the much advertised departure date and all the good-byes have been said during the past few weeks. For most of our friends, we were gone long before the boat was off the jetty. I feel like nobody cares about me sailing away. I realise that life in Cairns will go on without me and nobody really cares about my dream. Of course not. Every one has their own dreams and their own lives. Tomorrow morning I wake up in my boat - like I've done for four years - this time somewhere in the Coral Sea. And you wake up in your bed, to carry on with your life, to pursue your dreams. (I hope) Andrew, a fellow club member happens to be passing by and gets the honour of being the Club representative to push Aliisa off the jetty. We motor out the harbour quietly in the late afternoon. It's time to 'walk the talk'.

There's not much wind and we're crawling towards the Great Barrier Reef, watching the lights of Cairns taking over from the fading daylight in the western horizon. The plan is no plan. Phil and I both agree that we will never return to Australia. There's something very final in this departure. I feel numb and empty.

A leak persists in the water tank despite numerous attempts to fix it. Day before departure I was trying to fix a broken mast head light and all the wiring slipped into the dark hollow of the mast. So we have no mast head lights. We're navigating on a 1974 edition chart and hoping that captain such and such in 1887 did his survey well. Our only substitute for a life raft - a 2.8m Aqua Pro inflatable - is leaking. The outboard motor is dead. There is a sense of adventure.

Blood and guts covered the back deck as we used the largest winch handle for the brutal killing of our first catch

11 September, 2001 - Bougainville Reef

Two days out of Cairns, and I feel like being in the departure terminal. We're still in Australian waters, we still hear the local weather on the VHF, but from here on we will be in places I've never been before. We spend two days attached to a mooring line at the edge of this off shore reef which drops almost vertically down to about 800m. We cook the fish we caught while approaching Bougainville Reef. The boat rolls so much that our $20 Chinese charcoal BBQ falls into the cockpit floor and the charcoals spread around burning black holes through the paint. We laugh about it.

Phil is keen to continue the sail. I want to go home, but as there is no home to go to, we take off late on the second morning. I want to do a sailing start and manage to bump onto the reef before the wind pushes 'Aliisa' off towards Papua New Guinea. From my diary:

Shit loads of dreams. None written down. Big urge to write. Missed Sonya so much last night that my chest was tight. In a dream I had I fell in love with Sari Jaatinen, the old crush from high school in Finland. She was so beautiful in my dream, I was in tears just looking at her.

A group of dolphins appear briefly as we head out from our first anchorage to our first village in PNG

17 September, 2001 - Duchateau Islands

We've been out at sea for a week. The weather is shit. It's gusty and the swell is big. The sky is a grey sheet of rain. I'm about to skipper my first landfall. I'm nervous. I always feel safer in the open ocean than close to land and, of course, reefs.

As the daylight pushes through the thick layer of grey cloud, I see several islands. I'm excited to sight my first land overseas, and worried to death that I'm going to crash into something. I check our position about every five minutes.

Crashing into things never worried me in Cairns. One night when motoring from Fitzroy Island to Cairns, I went to sleep and let the auto pilot drive. (Yes, I know, pretty stupid thing to do…) I woke up two hours past my alarm. 'Aliisa' had ploughed her way over the mud flats in front of Cairns and stopped against a dense mangrove swamp at the airport. When I woke up, the auto pilot was still keeping her in course, trying to push Australia further west. I jumped to the wheel and reversed out. The boat was bouncing off the bottom on an outgoing tide all the way back to deep water. It was fun and exciting. Every time I tell this story to others, they look at me in maze and I'm the only one laughing. Approaching PNG had none of this casualness in it. I was shitting myself! From Diary:

10 miles off Louisiades. A wall of rain surrounds my boat and heart. Through the rain shines R.D. Laing: 'We hope to share the experience of a relationship, but the only honest beginning or even end, may be to share the experience of its absence.'

First Anchorage: Pana Bobai Ana - Duchateau Is

I stop crying for a while as the excitement and stress of anchoring in a 2kn current in the middle of coral bommies distracts me from my feelings. When all is calm and the boat is secured, I open a can of beer, sit on the back deck and cry again. As I wipe off the tears, I notice that I'm joining in with Phil. For two different reasons, we both feel overwhelmed.

There is no turning back, no home to turn back to. David Grey is singing from the cockpit speakers. I have taken a 10m floating steel shell across an ocean to Papua New Guinea. Hundreds of yachts do this every year. I have done 10 000 miles around Asia/Pacific on other people's yachts but this is the first in my own one. For me it is a once in a life time experience. I know that anyone who's ever sailed their own yacht to another country, remembers the feeling.

We spend a few relaxing days at our first anchorage. Weather turns good again. Phil spends his days fishing and I laze around, walk on the island (uninhabited), swim, snorkel and sleep. I start mapping my life. Where did I come from? Where am I now? Where am I going to? From just married to long divorced. Do I want to be here? Where's home? I'm thinking about New Zealand, the destination Phil and I decided for this cruise. I'm planning my next cruise from NZ to Finland via Cape Horn. I miss Sonya and write letters to her that I never send.

I paid $150 for fixing this outboard in Cairns, thank you very much. With a little help from a local mechanic, I managed to destroy it completely

5 October, 2001 - Motorina Island, PNG

Three worlds are colliding in my head. I have Phil living in my private home and now I have Papuan villagers on board. We make coffee or tea and offer a smoke to everyone who comes on board. Everyone is welcome. We start to mingle with the locals. The trading annoys me. Everyone wants something from me, and I feel conscious of their perception of me as wealthy. We're the poorest yachties around.

We go to a local soccer tournament where five teams play each other. Players with shoes seem to have right of way when tackling the bare footed ones. Everyone has a numbered shirt. The third game ends up in a fight and the tournament is cancelled. Back on the boat our rice, flour and pencils are not valid currency. We are asked for cigarettes, music tapes and AA-batteries.

I have cruised in PNG once before, in 1994. The 'external' experience is much the same, but this time there is a much bigger journey happening in my head.

This page: Pre-departure - Departure - Halfway - Approach - First Anchorage - First Village - Misima - What's the point? - To NZ? - The Theft - Man Hunt - Conclusion - Going Home - Top - New Page: Cruising Guide

Bwagaoia Harbour - Misima Island

A full day sailing in a fresh 25kn wind teaches me never, I mean never, to tow my tender behind the boat. Our baby tender 'Titanic', a 5ft plastic tub, gets airborne trying to follow Aliisa but we manage to haul it on board safely. Fortunately the reef that we drifted onto while rescuing the tender had enough water on top of it.

We see the first piece of muddy water in PNG when we drop the anchor in Bwagaoia Harbour at Misima Island late afternoon. We're in some sort of a capital of the area, a government station that has developed a busy little harbour due to a gold mine near by. There are three shops, a bakery, a guest house and even some street lights. One gravel road leads uphill past the air strip and spreads out to the villages scattered around Misima Island. There are half a dozen small cargo- and fishing boats in the harbour They are from Port Moresby and Alotau. The islands nearby bring their vegetables to the local markets and leave their sailing canoes tied up against a decaying concrete wall at the edge of the harbour. The harbour is surrounded by mangroves and a large crocodile swims behind the yacht.

Reason to smile? I've skippered my first yacht on its first overseas trip and done my first customs clearance. We are officially in Papua New Guinea. Charles tells us not to worry about security.

It is time for the official celebrations. We clear customs after spending over a week in the islands. Charles, the customs officer, tells us not to worry about locking the boat when we go out for the day. 'This is not like Moresby (PNG Capital) and nothing ever happens in here' he tells us.

There is a big dinner party at the Misima Guest House. Fourteen people from six yachts are having dinner together. They all sit together at a big table set specially for them. They talk cruising, reviewing anchorages and sharing information. None of them make any contact with the fifteen or so locals who are sharing the same room. Phil and I already know many of these locals by name and we choose to stay with our Misima friends. We play pool and darts and get drunk with the local boys.

Next morning we stock up with a box of mutrus, local tobacco rolled in news paper. This is the main currency for buying fresh vegetables from the villages. I have made friends with a local girl, Jenni, who works in the Guest House. After a six hour friendship she tells me she loves me! I feel that she is ready to marry me. To avoid any further complications, Phil and I head out immediately back to the surrounding islands and villages. >

Not enough problems. Phil took to sow back a piece of velcro for holding the dinghy oar in place...

11 October, 2001 - Oisi Village

Oisi Village is so popular that nobody goes there anymore. In all our photocopied cruising guides and mud maps it is mentioned as one of the best anchorages and friendliest villages in the area. That's why we decide not to go there. We are at Leu, half way between Misima and the main cruising ground known as the Calvados Chain. (of islands) I wrap some spuds, onions and vegies in aluminium foil and we row ashore to have a beach BBQ. We meet two young men from Bagaman Island. One of them wants 'sexy books' but I lie to him and say that I have none.

The boys promise to dive some crayfish for us as soon as we get to Bagaman Island and anchor at Oisi village. I feel sceptical and want to give the 'most popular village' a miss. Phil loves crayfish and wants to go. So we decide to check out the crayfish and next day we drive the boat as close to the village as we dare and drop the anchor.

There is nothing particularly special about Oisi village. I'm sure there are hundreds of similar ones in the nearby islands. Some may be much nicer. I don't know. I'm not in a hurry to visit every village and because we feel comfortable here, we decide to stay for a while. I'm well aware that where ever you are, if you only stay for a few days, you won't get to know the place or the people. I'm also lazy, so knowing that I can make a mess in the galley and not worry about cleaning it up suits me well. A true cruising yacht is really just a seaworthy house boat. So we make ourselves at home and I make a mess in the galley.

There are no other yachts here and I think it is because everyone wants to avoid the place where everyone goes, to find the ultimate private unspoilt experience. We are happy here. Phil goes fishing. The boys from the village come around in the evenings to listen to music or play guitar and sing. We make tens of cups of coffee every day for the visitors. We walk around the village, learning the local language.*
From Diary:

'How the fuck will I last a year of this?'

Over a week in Bagaman Island and Oisi Village. We trade with mutrus. Once the box of 180 is traded out, we lose some 'friends'. A few boys turn out to be friends beyond trade. They go and get smokes from other yachts and then come and share their 'catch' with me. (I've run out of tobacco and quitting is not going by the plan…)

Life's pretty good. Having two dinghies make Phil and I independent. We both live our private experiences and talk about them at the end of the day. Two divorced guys in their mid thirties out here, supposedly cruising the Pacific. In reality, we're both sorting ourselves out. We're taking a break from life to find out what it's all about.

I'm having massive amounts of dreams each night. I feel very alive, but there is something that troubles me. I learn that I'm not the only one thinking a lot about New Zealand. Phil and I decide not to go to Guam. Skipping a 1000 mile detour will give us a relaxed schedule and time to get 'stuck in places'. Phil pulls out my old Tongan language books and starts studying. Tonga is still eight months away! I join him in the studies and get excited about meeting some old friends from 1993. (I lived in Tonga for a year during 1993-1994)

This page: Pre-departure - Departure - Halfway - Approach - First Anchorage - First Village - Misima - What's the point? - To NZ? - The Theft - Man Hunt - Conclusion - Going Home - Top - New Page: Cruising Guide

14 October, 2001 - What's the point?

I wake up but I don't want to get up. My dreams are exciting and I turn over in the bed to dive back into the unconscious. Later I write my dreams down to find clues about what's going on in my head.

Dream from my diary:
I'm out in the snow sailing a small resort catamaran.
I sail on tracks made in the snow.
Key words: Snow - home, childhood.
Sailing - to travel.
Tracks - restricting my freedom.
Meaning: 'I'm stuck in my childhood tracks while trying to explore the world inside me.'

12 October, 2001 - another island, another village

Every day is filled with lazy activities. The water is crystal clear and everything around us is nothing short of a paradise. Yet, the whole cruise seems pointless. Do I want to move from village to village for the next year? Meet people that I never really get to know? Visit worlds that I don't belong to? And where do I belong to?

Paradise found?

I miss contact with loved ones. I've written three letters to Sonya but not sent any of them. I push all expectations from other people aside, to allow me the total freedom of life and to make a decision. I remind myself that there is no failure in shortening the cruise. I went cruising to be free and part of that freedom is to change plans to my liking.

This page: Pre-departure - Departure - Halfway - Approach - First Anchorage - First Village - Misima - What's the point? - To NZ? - The Theft - Man Hunt - Conclusion - Going Home - Top - New Page: Cruising Guide

16 October, 2001 - To New Zealand

I drag myself out of bed late morning. Phil is out snorkelling. I feel strangely depressed, so I play Dido on the stereo - loud. When Phil comes back, I'm sitting in the cockpit drinking my third cup of coffee and smoking a Mutrus. I have watery eyes and Phil asks me what's the matter. We talk about everything.

Later in the afternoon I pack away the charts from here to north Pacific and pull out a South Pacific Chart with New Zealand at the bottom of it. I punch the waypoint in the GPS and it tells me: 1894 nautical miles to 124 degrees. We laugh. There have been many little things that we disagree about, but amazingly Phil and I always feel the same about big issues. Now we are laughing at the fact that we have decided not to spend a year in clear, warm tropical paradise but instead spend a month sailing non-stop to the stormy higher latitudes and end up in New Zealand by Christmas.

18 October, 2001 - Bwagaoia Harbour

We count our money - $800 Australian, $200 US - and wonder how that would have ever seen us around Pacific. It is time to get the boat shipshape again. My mind gets sucked in the upcoming voyage. 3500km in one hit. And I've only just done my first crossing from Australia, only 1000km, in the comfort of tropical seas.

At midday I'm patching up our inflatable which once again has collapsed. Joseph drives past in a fibreglass boat. His brother Robert is with him. We met Joseph some weeks ago in Bwagaoia and I had once seen his brother. I'm not sure whose idea it is, but the boys end up visiting us with a carton of beer. It is party time. We play guitar and teach each other songs. I start writing the tablature for Cavatina - the theme song from 'Deer Hunters', which Robert wants to learn. We show the boys inside the yacht and Joseph is almost crying when he says that we are the first dim dim (foreigner) who let them inside their yacht. We call each other 'taliu', the local word for a 'brother'. Phil and I shout the second carton of beer. Robert goes out to get it and disappears for an hour. The party continues.

At sunset we all decide to go to the Guest House to play a game of pool and have a few more drinks. Robert disappears again, to go and get money from his mistress. We end up in 'The Club' to watch a weekly darts competition. At ten o'clock Jenni, the girl from the Guest House, wants to go to the boat with me. I make sure she understands that I'm NOT going to marry her! Phil stays with the boys who promise to take him to the anchored yacht later on their boat. Jenni and I get to the yacht, which is a mess. I'm pretty much sobered up now and I feel surprised about the mess we made earlier in the afternoon.

A weekly darts competitions in 'The Club'. At the time I took this photo, our gear was in the process of changing owners.

Then I notice something that makes my heart jump. The EPIRB* bracket is empty. So is the hand held VHF bracket. The boat is a mess because every locker has been opened with its contents pulled out on the floor. We've been robbed.

*EPIRB - Emergency Position Indicating Radio Beacon.

The Night of Anger

I'm furious. 'Fuck! Fuck! I'm going to fucking rip the cunt's head off!' I tell Jenni as we're rowing back ashore to see the police. In the dark gravel road going past the police station and up to the club, I see Phil returning with Robert and Joseph. I tell him what has happened and Phil's reaction is the same than mine. We find the police at his home and wake him up. The night is a blur. Screaming and swearing. Robert acts suspiciously and disappears. Later we find him at the harbour, where a small crowd is now gathered to follow the drama.

Phil and I turn into monsters. I have never really known that side of me. The anger brought up a different Lauri. I wanted to kill. I was smashing my fists against a fence to vent my aggression. And I don't even know yet how much was stolen. (If I knew then, I would have killed someone) Phil pulls Robert aside and gives him a very serious talk. We both feel that he had something to do with this and Phil explains to him that he is dead meat if we find him guilty.

Police lock up Robert for the night - as a suspect - but make no other interviews and do not check any of the visiting cargo boats in the harbour. Phil and I return to the boat. Anger comes out in tears and we start a stock take. I sleep for an hour early in the morning.

In the morning I make a list of stolen items. My heart is black from sorrow, anger and despair. My life is threatened by the fact that most life saving gear is gone; EPIRB, All first aid kits, Flares, Emergency grab bag, back up VHF, EPIRB and GPS. My personal space has been violated. Phil has lost two large bags containing all his clothes, wallet and personal items. Apart from a few hundred dollars, all cash is gone. My favourite David Grey tape is gone. My toiletries. Spare parts, screw driver set, socket set, other tools. Binoculars. The list goes on. We add up over $6000 in lost items. That is a lot for someone who's cruising kitty was only $800. We can not safely sail anywhere. The cruise is over.

This page: Pre-departure - Departure - Halfway - Approach - First Anchorage - First Village - Misima - What's the point? - To NZ? - The Theft - Man Hunt - Conclusion - Going Home - Top - New Page: Cruising Guide

The Man Hunt

We sit down and work out a strategy. Phil has lived nine years in PNG and I wasn't born yesterday either. PNG is very different from Australia and Bwagaoia is only a small place with perhaps a thousand people on the whole island of Misima. There are people in the village who know where our stuff has gone. The police are pretty useless. I wouldn't be surprised if our stuff was locked up in the police station.

The plan is to give the thieves an opportunity to return our things anonymously while putting out a serious threat to their lives if they don't. My personality changes as I enter a role that I must play in this show. I would much rather just leave and forget about it. But I won't. So I go up to the police station and issue a written statement. In the statement I give 48 hours for the police, the community, or the thief to find all stolen items and have them returned. I will ask no questions and we will issue a reward upon the return of the goods. Sounds pretty naïve, I suppose, to think that someone would bring back our stuff. But the statement continues with a threat. If our gear is not back in 48 hours, we will start a man hunt. Blood will flow in the streets of Bwagaoia. We will also contact the office of foreign affairs, and all relevant authorities to make sure no more visiting yachts will be seen in the area. (The villages in the Louisiades depend heavily on an increasing amount of visiting yachts. More about that in the Cruising Notes)

The next day I spread the message. Everyone knows what has happened and the whole community is, at least seemingly, upset about it. Everywhere I go and start to talk, there is soon a large crowd of people listening and shaking their heads at what I'm saying. 'We have lost everything. We have nothing more to lose. We are not afraid to go to jail, or get killed. We WILL find the thief and rip his head off. I hope we find the right person. There will be blood on the streets. We will not leave until we have punished the thief. We don't care what it takes.' And so on.

Robert is released, but taken back in after a few days. I have no way of knowing if he is involved in the crime or not, but too many things are suggesting that he is. So Robert receives an extra dose of intimidation from me and Phil.

I plan to use fake black magic. Jenni from the Guest House is so excited about my idea of using black magic that I have to stop her from going to get a chicken for me to kill. They all believe in black magic but I know nothing about it. When I first mentioned painting some symbols in blood in Robert's room, and how sick he would be the next day, Jenni turned pale and started shaking.

Every time I see Robert at the station, I look right into his eyes and give him a vicious smile. I lick my lips like a beast about to eat its prey. I tell him to be afraid. Phil sneaks into the room in the police station where Robert is kept. Phil tells him about his friends in Sydney, who belong to the Lebanese Mafia. We have already contacted them. They will be here within days, and Robert better start talking, or he will wish he was never born.

All this is a load of shit, of course, part of our play, but Robert is now very afraid. Not a single item turns up. Some villagers offer to give Phil some of their clothes and a lady brings us lunch at the police station. The people are seriously upset about the theft and want to help us.

A few days later I ask Police Chief Lucas Labuan if he has sent his men out to find information and search for the items in the villages.
'No, not yet' said chief.
'What!? It's been four days!' I yelled.
'Yes', chief continued with his calmness contrasting with my raising blood pressure. 'We are going to talk to an officer today, but he is sleepy'
I don't know if I've heard him correctly. Surely this is a joke.
'Sleepy?' I ask. The chief police looks at me with a grandpa-like smile and says:
'No, I didn't say sleepy, I said he is sleeping'
By now my water is boiling over.
'Are you fucking joking!?' Chief looks at me with the same serenity and says: 'no'.
I flip. I loose it. I pull out a knife from my pocket and wave it at the police chief's face. 'Well go and fucking wake him up! Or I'll go and wake him up with this!' I throw the knife on the wall and carry on screaming and swearing and abusing the police. In any other place I would have been locked up by now. But Chief just looks at me calmly. Eventually I calm down and sit down, shaking. Two police officers walk out carrying shot guns and disappear to one of the villages.

This page: Pre-departure - Departure - Halfway - Approach - First Anchorage - First Village - Misima - What's the point? - To NZ? - The Theft - Man Hunt - Conclusion - Going Home - Top - New Page: Cruising Guide

A Week after the Theft

The police chief have found a packet of noodles in the bush and wants to visit my yacht to see if my noodles are of same brand. I think it's a joke. I row him on board and he has a cup of coffee, smokes two cigarettes and tells me that he was going to go fishing but he didn't because he went the other day and caught some silver fish.. 'You know?' He holds his hands out to point the size of his fish. Phil and I look at each other and feel that we are in a Monty Python show. I take the chief back on shore.

Trevor and Susie from yacht 'Southern Lights' call us on VHF. When we had dinner in their boat two weeks earlier, I felt like being home with mom and dad. They have heard about our misfortune and continue to treat me like a son. They send their flares and an EPIRB to make sure we can safely sail back to Australia. Thank you. Blessed are the people who's lives are touched by those who care.

Phil and I talk about leaving. We have no leads, no suspect and no idea. We can't go on making threats and we certainly are not going to go out hurting people. We speak to the Australian High Commission in Port Moresby and they warn us about doing anything silly. I want Robert to be guilty. If he's not, I've got nothing. The thought of us intimidating an innocent man is disturbing. I've turned into a monster and I spend all my days looking and feeling angry. A week ago everyone in PNG was a 'taliu', a brother. Now everyone is a suspect. I can not trust anyone and hatred has made a home in my heart. This is not who I am and this is not the Lauri I know.

Phil and I make the last attempt to convince people we will return in a few weeks with the Lebanese Mafia. In reality we just want to put the whole episode behind us. The customs officer suggests that I should pay duty for the stolen equipment, as I'm not taking it out of the country. He's not joking. I don't have enough anger left in me to tell him to fuck off.

28 October, 2001 - Departure

Phil pulls the anchor up. We sail to an uninhabited island nearby. It seems crazy to sail back to Australia without spending more time in the villages and anchorages. But we have no desire to meet any more Papuans. We know they are all friendly, but our experience and the fact that our cruise is finished, has killed our spirits. Only a day before we left Bwagaoia, we heard about a yacht that was lost on the reef in Rossel Island. A single hander was on his way to Bwagaoia by local boats. The young customs guy said he would have to charge import duty on the yacht. I suddenly feel embarrassed about all the drama that followed the theft in my yacht. If I felt that I've lost everything, now I realise that I still have almost everything. Just not enough to spend a year cruising the Pacific. I remember the 40.000 children in the world that die of malnutrition today. And tomorrow. Our loss was really nothing but an inconvenience and as we know:

An inconvenience is an adventure wrongly considered
An adventure is an inconvenience rightly considered

We decide not to return to Cairns. Returning to any other Australian town, would at least mean that we didn't travel from A back to A. Something new must come out of this. On 6th November we clear customs in Townsville, 360km south of Cairns. I do not have enough money to pay the $132 fee for quarantine inspection. Phil's birthday is on the 8th, and I buy him a Far Side card where the great Cow Guru sits wearing his saffron robe and gives his advice: 'Wander aimlessly and eat a lot'

Good bye Phil

Phil leaves the boat with the remains of his belongings. We walk to the bus station together and hug goodbye. I stay in Townsville for a week and follow the advice on Phil's card. I'm tempted to return to Cairns but decide to sail a bit further south to Airlie Beach, in Whitsundays. But that's another story.

29 November - New Beginning?

I've clocked 1554 nautical miles since 8 September. I now work in South Molle Island Resort front office. 'Aliisa' is anchored at the island but I'm still drifting. I felt a need for a break from the boat, so I'm living in one of the cheaper rooms on the island. I've used up all available credit limit on my amex and have a brand new lap top computer. (The old one was dropped on the floor by the thieves in PNG.) I want to be a writer.

When leaving Cairns, life after cruising seemed worlds away. Now I feel like an astronaut, stuck in space between his departure and the new world somewhere in another galaxy. Will I go cruising? When? Where? Should I sell the boat? Will I stay here or go back to Cairns? Or Finland? I don't know…

The final chapter was written a year later. I call it PNG Lost and found

Every night I die.
Every morning I'm born again.
Every day is a life.

January 2003, Aliisa is in her mooring in Cairns Harbour. The city is seen in the background