A person who cannot live in society, or does not need to because he is self-sufficient, is either a beast or a God.
-Aristotle (384-322 BC)-
Michele's Louzik is on the prime spot, closest to the beach landing
ARRIVAL
Paula and I are fully aware that there would be a number of yachts in Chagos. We don't anticipate total solitude, nor do we really want to spend several months on our own. Coming through the pass we see about half dozen masts in the distance, at Ile Boddam and one mast behind Ile Takamaka. We decide on some private time to start with and anchor up in a little sandy spit off Ile Fouquet. It is 8 March 2005.
Within moments from anchoring we put the dinghy down and rush to the beach. There's no wind and it's stinking hot. We lie in the shallow water shaded by coconut trees. Paradise found. A few days go by and we make do with a spit of sand and some fishing with the dinghy. But there is a change in the weather and we soon find ourselves on a lee shore, being pushed closer to the fringing reef with plenty of thunder and squalls all around us.
On a short sunny break between squalls we make a move to Ile Boddam, weave our way between some coral and enter the community of Aku Ankka, Cristata, Louzik, Valor, Sunrise, Mopepo and Hornpipe. Katalou and Papagena join the crowd in a few days and within a month Ile Boddam is crowded by 20 yachts, still more to come.
The afternoon get-togethers on the beach gives me an opportunity to finally mingle with the cruisers. Well, I have no choice really. So far we have shyed away from marinas and have had very limited contact with other yachties, trying to meet the local folk instead. I enter into the crowd that, in my mind, has millions of years of experience. Men with grey beards and stories of cruising with sextants and all. (What is a sextant?) Until Mario (35) arrives on his new catamaran "Good Life", I am the youngest captain within a thousand miles...?
Paula and I start learning from the "elders". We learn how to play volleyball. We learn about pickling, and whipping out gourmet meals out of the most basic ingredients. How to make fresh produce from two thousand miles away last for months and months. We make genuine friends and receive an amazing amount of help and support. Back in the yacht club in Cairns I tended to be on the receiving end of unsolicited advice. In Chagos there is no need for that, after all I have made it here so I must have some idea of what I'm doing. I am forced to re-think my prejudice against post-middle aged semi-retired cruisers with 40ft plus plastic yachts. As it turns out, we meet some of the most fantastic people on earth.
Life in Chagos becomes a routine of 4pm volleyball and socialising. Ile Boddam offers some good walking tracks and a glimpse into the past with remains of old buildings and a cemetery. Paula takes up gardening. No plants or gardens are allowed to be grown ashore, a rule vigorously enforced not only by the Brits but also by the island's rats, coconut crabs and various other creatures in the soil. This means that for getting the odd little tomato, some lettuce and herbs, I have to endure a back deck covered in soil and dirt, together with chasing young Charlie-the-Cat out of what she thinks is a great toilet pot.
Ile Boddam at 5pm. Everyone brings their own chairs and drinks. Someone rakes the volleyball court, some others go bush walking, most people just sit around or play volley ball. This picture was taken during a party, most afternoons weren't this crowded.
So how does one fill time in a place like this? Well, there is always the odd boat jobs, but honestly, there are better ways to make time fly. Party. Occasionally the yachts decide on a "pot luck" party with each yacht bringing their dinners ashore and sharing them with others. (Cooking is not done ashore, another rule to protect the environment and to keep the island intact. In other words, a large buffet style feast. There are a couple of old batteries in the sand floor of a little shed behind the beach and I convince Glen from Hornpipe to charge them up. I bring my spare car stereo and a set of speakers. Before I know it, I become the official DJ, spinning discs til dawn. There is always a reason for partying; full moon, someone's birthday, nice weather, the independance day of Mexico, someone departing and so on. And why not? Aliisa is loaded with Malaysian duty-free and there is no reason not to sleep in tomorrow. In fact, there is no tomorrow.
Paula takes charge of fishing. We catch little drummers for Charlie at the anchorage while Paula takes the zodiac for some better ones around the lagoon. Other yachts fish mostly outside of lagoon - weather permitting - and bring back large wahoo and tuna. And so life goes, for three and a half months. Picnics on other islands, painting the decks, having a scotch, lazing around.
UPGRADE
I find myself almost, not quite, the only yachtie without a HF/SSB radio. I've had one on my shopping list for seven years but that's as far as I ever got. In Chagos I notice that I'm more than a little behind with communications. Most people are sending and receiving e-mails daily, with their marine radios hooked up to a modem and a laptop. I thought that such technology was limited to the millionaires. Not so. I must be getting old...
One afternoon I'm having an after-volleyball-drink and learning new words such as "pactor", "ham" and "propagation" from Terry-the-help-everyone-with-anything-gladly. (Terry from Cristata spent most of his days on other people's yachts installing, repairing, soldering, programming, servicing and helping. That day he must have had a talk with his partner Janene after noticing my interest in HF radios. Terry turns to me and says: "We've got an old one for spare that we could sell if you're interested".
After a quick inspection of what turns out to be a 21-year-old, superbly working ham-radio with an automatic antenna tuner, I carry the agreed amount of US cash to Cristata and Aliisa steps in line with the average cruiser. The price - it turns out - includes countless hours of consultation, advise and practical help from Terry and Janene. Within a week the radio is sitting on a plywood shelf beaming out through a 6mm piece of electrical wire hoisted up the mast for an antenna. I have become radio-active!
I'm beaming too, like a 10-year-old on Christmas Day. But things just keep getting better. Keith gives me his old redundant fax-modulator and before I know I'm pulling in weather charts from Australia and South Africa. How good can it get? Well, apparently it can get better. A week later we're playing volley ball on the beach and I hear someone say: "Apparently Frank has a Pactor that he's selling". By now I know what "Pactor" means. A little silvery colored box with fancy flashing greens and reds and it makes e-mails go out and come in via that 6mm wire up the mast. I was off to see Frank.
Well, you guessed it. The price is right and I take the opportunity. Another consultation or ten from Terry, installing software, beaming out my credit card number to Sailmail.com and we're firing off our first e-mails from the comfort of our own floating campervan. It's time I update the Aliisa Specs* page.
So, Chagos was not only a paradise for me. It was the ultimate upgrade for Aliisa and the beginning of a new era in my cruising. As I'm writing this four months later, in Madagascar, Paula is already getting sick of me waking her up every morning at 8am by tuning into the screeching noise of South African weather fax followed by talking to Fred on the 12Meg and then chit-chatting to other yachts on the 4Meg.
Aliisa anchored close inshore of Ile de la Pass at the entrance of Salomon lagoon. Things are calm now, but out at sea it's a different story...
Anyway, June arrives and we pull the chain off the coral bommie that has been our mooring for 4 months. We move to Ile de la Passe at the entrance of the lagoon and spend a private few days getting ready. A long rough passage awaits. Against everyone's advise, we are departing for Ile St Marie in the windy east coast of Madagascar. But things don't quite go by the plan...
