We decided to leave Musket Cove and head to Waya which is part of the Yasawa islands of Fiji. We needed to move on because we wanted to see the Yasawa Islands and because we had already checked out of Fiji and Musket was too popular to hang around for long without getting caught. We hauled anchor and headed West. The most direct course to Waya would take us through some shallow water but according to the charts it looked doable. As we approached the shallow area Naomi went to the bow to look for obstructions. The charts showed one awash rock I needed to avoid so I had our forward seeing sonar sweeping horizontally hoping to spot the rock. I also slowed down to about 3.5 knots and pulled in the jib so we were motoring with the main up. Just as I heard Naomi yell the entire screen on the forward sonar went red. I dropped into full reverse and held my heading as I was afraid if I tried to turn around I would expose the rudder to the up coming coral.

We coasted into the coral field with the engine boiling the water behind us as my hopes of stopping in time were shattered as I felt the boat hit bottom. I knew we were still about two hours from low tide so we needed to get out of the coral field before it got shallower. I could also tell the boat was still floating and not up on anything so our best change of escape was going to be navigating between the coral heads and getting back into deeper water. Naomi ran back to the cockpit and dropped the main sail. She then ran to the bow to see if she could point out a clear path. From the cockpit I could look to either side and out the back and all I saw in all directions was very shallow water and coral heads. Backing out is a near impossibility as the boat wont steer in reverse until it has picked up some speed. This is also very dangerous because we would be leading with the rudder which if it hit a coral head would surly snap off. I nudged the boat into forward and tried to find our way out but after just a few seconds we hit again.

The feeling and sound of the boat bouncing off coral almost made me sick to my stomach. If we couldn't get out soon we would be trapped and eventually the hull would be penetrated and water would start to fill the boat. We could call for help but what could they do? I don't think there is anything anyone could have done to help us. We didn't need to be pulled off a sandbar. We were floating but we were surrounded by coral heads that were only a foot below the water. Also, we had checked out three days ago. I am not sure what the penalty would be for getting caught in the country but I was sure I didn't want to find out.

From the deck of the boat it was impossible to tell what water was deep enough for us to pass and what was not. It all looked way too shallow. Naomi climbed on top of the traveler arch to see if she could get a better view from higher up but it was too early in the day, the sun was not high enough to light the bottom and was reflecting off the surface. Naomi and I had the same idea at the same moment. As I went to grab my mask and snorkel she got behind the wheel. I jumped in and held onto the back of the boat and was looking forward under water. I could easily see all the way to the bow and could also see the maze of coral heads ahead. Just as I got in the keel banged into some coral and the boat spun driving the side of the rudder into another coral head. I told Naomi to put it in drive and turn hard to the right to get around the coral the keel just hit. She kept the boat moving forward at a craw as I looked ahead and yelled directions.

I watched underwater as the keel passed within inches of coral. There was another obstruction dead ahead but I had to wait until the rudder passed the coral to give Naomi the order to turn hard left. This went on for about two minutes until finally the bottom started to drop away and we were once again in deep water. While I was directing us from under the boat I had no idea where we were going. I was just trying to get us out. By the time I climbed back into the boat I noticed we had passed through the shallows and were on course for Waya. We motored away from the shallow water and I went below to make sure the bilge was dry. Thankfully it was. Next I jumped in to inspect the damage.

There was impact damage to the leading edge, both keel wings and to the bottom of the bulb. The keel wing on the starboard side had a golf ball size chunk of lead missing from it and it was bent out of sharp. None of this looked too bad but there was a hairline crack that ran horizontally along the seam where the keel meets the boat. It extended about 1/3 of the way along the keel on both sides. The rudder had impact damage to the starboard side and leading edge. The impact was about 3/4 of the way down and there was a visible crack that was about two inches long. The steering felt normal and there was no play in the rudder post. We sailed to Waya and as the afternoon progressed the winds picked up. We purposely sailed Fearless hard so we could see how things held up. We arrived in Waya, dropped the anchor and I jumped in again to see if there were any changes. Everything looked the same so I marked the crack along the keel so we could track it to be sure it didn't get any worse.

I climbed back aboard and Naomi and I decided we needed a few drinks. We sat for a while and discussed what had happened. What we did wrong and what we did right. The whole thing only lasted about five minutes but I assure you they were the longest five of my life. We decided the damage was not bad enough to keep us from making our passage to New Caledonia and that we would check it again there and decide then if it could wait until Australia to get fixed. The charts in Fiji are terrible but this accident could have been avoided by selecting a more conservative route. I am the Captain, I had the helm and I picked the route so there is only one person responsible. Naomi acted quickly and didn't panic. We worked as a team and at the end of the day getting in the water was the only way we were ever going to get out of there. We were lucky to get away with only minor damage.

Our friend Jay on 'Theopolis' pulled in. We still don't have a dinghy so we caught a ride with him to shore to give savusavu to the chief. This is a Fijian tradition where visitors give the chief of a village Kava. Once this is done you are welcome in the village and are in the care of the village until you leave. As soon as we hit the shore a little boy was quick to guide us to his uncles house who he said was the chief.

His uncle confessed that there was no chief in this village but that he was in line to become the chief soon. This is an unusual situation in Fiji so we presented the Kava, he said a little prayer and we were free to roam. The village was one of four on the island. It housed the school which boarded all school age children. We walked around enjoying the quit setting. We stopped to talk to a few of the locals who were making floral leis for the cruise ship which had just arrived. Even here on this remote island a cruise ship came once a week and dropped off a heard of tourists for a few hours during which time the island is transformed from a village into a money making machine. The problem with cruise ships is you haven't a prayer in hell of seeing anything remotely authentic. Several thousand people inundate a place for a few short hours during which time the locals sole goal is to separate them from their money.

I understand why people like them. They are relatively inexpensive, very safe and everything is taken care of for you. They are good at giving people the illusion of having visited a place. Naomi and I did a cruise for our Honeymoon. We had the same impression then as we do now. I do not include any of the places we went to in the list of countries I have visited. Don't get me wrong, it was great. The ships are amazing and they do a fantastic job of feeding you. The problem is there are so many of them that they are starting to go to placed they used to pass by. With each new destination there is a village ruined and a population that looks upon tourists as a paycheck. I am not sure why they need to go to more remote places. The passenger on a whole are not really that interested in visiting a foreign land and getting to know it and its people. They want to be whisked off to some activity or to visit the local tourist bars and buy some souvenirs on their way back to the boat. They are only in a place for a few hours so with this in mind what is the point of stopping at a remote island in fiji?

The next day we pulled anchor and headed North to Vaga Bay on Naviti to meet up with Mark from 'Myah' and get Fearless ready for the passage to New Caledonia. The anchorage was nice with a reef around it and well protected from the wind. There was a small resort on shore but we didn't get a chance to visit as we were busy with pre-trip preparations. The following day we waited until the sun was high to leave. We had to pass through some very poorly charted reefs to get out of the island chain and into deep water. With Naomi on the bow we made our way slowly through the reefs and were soon on our way. Mark was also going to New Caledonia and left about five hours after us. He is in a Nordhavan 55 power boat so we expected him to pass us some time during the passage.

The winds were a perfect 15 knots on the beam. The seas were a bit confused but didn't do much to hinder our speed. It was not the most comfortable passage we have ever had but it was the fastest. We covered the 650 miles in four days which is an average of over 7 knots. When we arrived and got inside the coral reef which surrounds New Cal we were caught in a current that had us going 10 knots with only 12 knots of wind on our beam. This lasted for several hours and is the fastest we have ever gone in Fearless. During the four day passage 'Myah' had managed to pass us and arrived only one hour before us.

We arrived in Port Moselle which boarders the capital city of Noumea. We anchored outside the marina and knew we were a little too late to check in.The very first thing to do was jump and and have a look at the keel and rudder. The fact that they were damaged never really left my mind during the passage. Both looked exactly the same. The crack had not gotten any longer or bigger. I decided the repairs could wait until Australia.

The next day Mark decided to move 'Myah' to the marina so we climbed on board to give him a hand with docking. After that was done Naomi returned to Fearless to await the Quarantine people who were in the anchorage checking in boats. We had been warned that they were very strick so had time to hide a lot of our food before they arrived. Despite this they took all our eggs, onions and microwave popcorn. What the hell are they worried about? How is it microwave popcorn can hurt the island? They are very proud that they have the third strikes Quarantine procedures in the world. I am not so sure why they are so proud of this but they are French, what can you do?

Naomi gave the Quarantine lady a ride in to 'Myah' to check him in. We wanted to get it over with as soon as possible as Mark had meat hidden in his sock draw which was thawing. Despite the advanced notice and the hiding of a ton of food she managed to remove several frozen chicken breasts which Mark still had from the states.

I then headed out into the city to try to find customs and immigration. I left forgetting I was back in a French territory and paid for it when I had to pass up several taxis for one who spoke English. Normally this would not be a problem but Noumea seems to have a serious lack of Taxis and it was getting close to closing time. I managed to arrive just in time and fortunately the check in procedures were organized and thankfully free. This is the only country we have been to so far that was totally free off charges from customs, immigration, port authority and quarantine.

That evening we had Mark over for dinner and ate some of the meat we had hidden from quarantine that had thawed. We spent several days checking out the city which was the biggest we had seen since Mexico. On Friday night we went out to see how the nightlife was. We ended up in a bar with a live band and had a few drinks while we checked out the seen. Ready for something different we left and as we were leaving ran into some locals who were going to another place on the other side of town. They offered us a ride which we gladly excepted. They were mid 20's and lived in town. Their English was decent and when we arrived at the next club we hung out with them and took turns buying rounds. A few hours of this and we were well drunk and decided to move the party to a hotel room of an English guy we had met at the bar.

As we arrived at the hotel with the English guy we found several of the party goers had beat us there and had already gotten in a fight with the doorman. Having already checked out of the country I decided it best to avoid any confrontation with the authorities. One of the French guys offered us a ride back to the marina which was again very nice of him. Mark who had decided to leave when we went to the hotel was unable to get a cab back. We spotting him walking along the road and picked him up. The marina was still about five miles away.

The next day we didn't do anything.

We had checked out of the country on Friday thinking we would leave on Tuesday. This was the only way to do it as Monday and Tuesday were holidays. With a few days to blow we decided to visit one of the small islands about 6 miles out of town. We invited mark who packed a bag and we towed his dinghy out to the island. It was a reserve so we took a free mooring and spent the afternoon snorkeling and checking out the topless beach goers. We spent the night and headed back to Noumea to drop off Mark and get Fearless ready for her last big passage of 2008.

The whole time we were in Noumea we borrowed Marks dinghy. His dinghy is more like a small boat and has a 40hp engine and a console with a steering wheel. It was very cool of him to let us use it but I am sick of being responsible for other peoples dinghies. I am also tired of constantly trying to figure out what to do about not having one. I am very much looking forward to getting a new one shortly after our arrival in Australia. With the boat ready we headed out first thing in the morning.

The weather which looked like it was going to be great had changed to very light. Having checked out and being ready to go we left anyway. The first day was decent and we put about 120 miles behind us. The next day was as promised and we bounced along at about 3 knots all day. Light wind can be harder on a boat then heavy wind. When the wind is light and there is swell the main sail flogs. As the boat rocks side to side the sail becomes slack and then slams as it fills again. Not only is this hard to listen to all day it is also hard on the sail, rig and lines. After two days of this the main halyard chafed through and the sail came down. We noticed the change of the motion right away.

I would have to go up the mast and feed another line down. This can be difficult when the boat is in the marina and down right dangerous when it is at sea. We fired up the engine and found the best direction and speed to keep the boat as stable as possible. Then Naomi hoisted me up the mast. I had to go all the way to the top to try to feed the line. As I looked out and saw nothing but water and then looked down. To fall out here would be devastating, so far from help. At the top the mast was rocking like mad. I needed both my hands just to hang on leaving none for the job. I had to wait until the boat stopped moving and then work as fast as I could to try to feed the line and then hold on again as a wave came.

I was not able to get the line down and came back down the mast. We tried again later and was able to feed the line and we were back in business. With the winds still light we changed the sail position once in a while to keep the new line from chafing through. The new line was much cheaper then the original and would break faster. We were now three days away and starting to think about timing our arrival. We had to maintain a certain speed so we would arrive on Tuesday during business hours so we would not be charged overtime by customs and immigration. A few times when the winds died we would motor to stay on schedule.

Now it looked like the weather ahead was going to be rough. There was a low pushing up the coast of Australia and we were going to have to go right through it. The forecast was for winds in the mid 30's. About 6 hours earlier then predicted the winds started to build. We triple reefed the main and put the storm board on to prepare. We only had another 24 hours and we would be arriving. By nightfall the winds were in the mid 40s and the swell was steep due to an opposing current.

At about 100 miles out we were hailed by the Australian Coast Guard by name. We didn't see or hear them but they spotted us by airplane and were able to see the name on the side of the boat. They obviously have some decent equipment. They asked us about ourselves and about where we were going and then told us a few of the rules about entering Australia.

Naomi and I were in the cockpit having dinner when we saw a huge wave coming at us. We knew it was going to get us but there was nothing we could do but hold on and hope for the best. As the boat started up the wave I was hoping it would hold just long enough for us to get over it but as we approached the top we could see light blue water through the wave and knew it was going to break. It got us on the stern quarter and slammed into the cockpit enclosure. Somehow the enclosure didn't break but it also didn't stop about 100 gallons of water from coming in and soaking us. It also soaked Naomi's dinner. I had finished mine, being a fast eater has its advantages. The boat righted and turned back on course. I had just started my watch and spent the next three hours standing at the wheel hoping that wouldn't happen again. We have been in higher winds and bigger seas but these sea were steeper then I had seen and I have to say I didn't like it.

When my watch was over I took a quick shower and fell into bed. By the time I came back on watch three hours later the worse was behind us. We arrived on time and entered the North Channel and motor sailed in choppy seas to Manly which is were we were told customs was. I hailed them to find they had changed the check in location to River Gate which is 10 miles up the Brisbane river which we passed a few hours earlier. The weather was terrible and the visibility down to about three miles. We were exhausted and ready to put the passage behind us. Navigation up the narrow river with tankers coming and going was not what I wanted to be doing. We finally arrived at the marina and tied the boat to the slip. The passage took 7 days and was one of my least favorite of the trip.

We cleaned the boat up and prepared to meet customs, immigration and quarantine. Customs and Immigration arrived first and were happy to see I had downloaded most of the paperwork online and had it ready to go. They were nice and were only on the boat for about a half hour. Next to arrive was quarantine. We know we were going to be losing most of our food. He took everything in the fridge and freezer. He also took all of our beans which I was amazed to find was quite a stash. Nothing was overlooked and we even had to give up some dried flowers which were arranged in a fake plant we have. He left about an hour later with a trash bag that weighed about 40 pounds. Imagine someone coming into your house and throwing away all your food. It is frustrating but there really isn't much you can do about it.

With officialdom completed we had a quick dinner and watched a little television before settling into a glorious nights sleep. Its fantastic not having to get up every three hours to do a watch. Having the boat sitting level and still and knowing you have a whole new country to explore in the morning.

We spent a week at the marina relaxing and taking care of some projects. We purchased a new dinghy and outboard, which we got at a very good price thanks to a generous exchange rate and the fact that we don't have to pay taxes on items for the boat. We also scheduled a haul out and a surveyor to fix the damaged keel and rudder at another marina. Every night for the entire week it rained. There were impressive lightning storms and we even got pelted by hail one night. The hail came right through our dodger top window which was on the list of things to fix anyway. Well rested we moved the boat to Scarborough Marina about 20 miles away. We went right into project mode. Our list of things to do was over two pages long and the hope is to have it all done by Christmas.

At Scarborough marina w e spent a week in a slip getting to know our neighbors who we invited over for a pot lock dinner. Then we pulled the boat and had the surveyor take a look. We sonically tested the keel bolts, drilled drain holes in the rudder which had become completely water logged and ground out the keel to haul crack. We decided to get bottom paint while we were out as the keel and rudder were going to need to be painted anyway. We have been on the hard for about a week now. The keel and rudder are repaired and they are just about to start bottom paint. Naomi and I have been busy every day with projects.

We took one day off and went by train to Brisbane with Mark from 'Myah'. Its a much cooler city then I expected. We walked through the Botanic gardens, the art museum and the river promenade. We visited one of the local pubs and had a nice meal at good Italian restaurant. The dollar is strong here which makes most things just a bit cheaper then it is back home. The Australians are nice and quick to ask if we are here on holiday when they hear our accents. They also like our boat much more then Americans. Hunters reputation here in Australia is much better then back home. People will often stop by and comment on our boat which never happens back in California where Hunters are a dime a dozen. We were also contacted by a guy in Brisbane who just purchased a Hunter 450 and wants to cruise. He said the Hunter dealer in Sydney directed him to our web site and we have made plans to get together for lunch next week. I am not sure how the Sydney dealer got our site address.

The projects are going well and it looks like we will be back in the water in a few days. Living on the hard is never fun and we are very much looking forward to moving on. The plan is to move the boat to Manly where we will continue to bang away on projects.

The charts in Fiji are not that good. We knew this and we had seen with our own eyes that they were sometimes inaccurate but in the end even this knowledge did not save us. When we were leaving Musket Cove and headed out to The Yasawas we had an encounter with a reef that probably took a year off of my life. We knew that there was a shallow area coming up: the area on the chart looked to be twenty to forty-five feet deep. We thought we were safe aside from an awash rock on the charts. Brett had me up on the bow as we motored North on the inside of the island chain to keep my eyes peeled for the rock. It was nine in the morning, there were low clouds in the sky and the water out here was filled with some sort of small plankton or jelly fish that gave the water a milky blue hue. All of these things conspired to give me a very low visibility but I was not worried. After all, I had stood on the bow many times and watched for obstacles ahead. I had always seen them in enough time and usually Brett would alter course before I even had a chance to give him direction as he was using the forward looking sonar and had the ability to see under the water as well as the tools of radar and chart plotter.

So even though I could only see about eight feet in front of the boat I was not worried. We were looking for one rock and even if I saw it at the last moment we would be able to steer around it easily. When I saw the water turn from blue to splotchy brown it was no rock. It was a wall of rocks, what the yachties call "bommies" or large rock outcroppings covered in hard coral. I saw the bommies when they were about nine feet in front of us and it took me about one second to realize this was not good (one second equals about three feet). I screamed at the top of my lungs for Brett to hit full reverse and waited the agonizing seconds while the boat slowed.... and then hit. We had only been going four and a half knots when we hit reverse but full stop is just not possible in one boat length. For the first time since owning Fearless I heard and felt the sickening jolt of metal on stone as the keel slammed into the bommies and Brett tried desperately to get the boat out of the minefield. He yelled to me to drop the main so we would not get pushed further into the field and I scampered over the deck and dropped the main as my life flashed before my eyes. As my body did what was required of it my mind was racing. I saw land and knew that we could swim for it if anything happened to Fearless so it was only our home that was in jeopardy. Only, yea right .

I tried to get a higher vantage point, standing first on the railings on the bow and then on the aft arch. It did not matter where I went: in the brief moment that we had taken to get into the bommie field we were surrounded. Backing out with the rudder exposed was not an option. Desperate to find a solution and with my mind groping I turned to Brett and yelled that maybe one of us should get in the water but as I turned towards him the words stuck in my throat: he was already putting on his goggles and I was running for the wheel. During this frantic scramble I had been of two minds: one doing what could be done and the other searching for a solution to this problem, now my mind was wiped clean as I concentrated on the wheel, the speed of the boat and Brett's commands as he hung off the back of the boat. Two things became my world: the speed of the boat and the angle of the rudder as we slowly moved through the water. The slow motion ballet of turning the boat around obstacles I could not see, Brett watching as the keel and rudder skimmed bare inches from bommies as we had no way to go but forward. From first sight of bommies to escaping the field had to take a span of seven minutes but it seemed like an eternity that I will never forget.

When we got to the anchorage we both dove the boat and looked at the damage that had been done. The keel looked bad: chunks of lead missing from the wings on the side of the bulb and a small crack on the rudder. The hull had not hit and we had taken on no water so in that respect we were doing pretty well but now we were faced with a decision: go back to Fiji and have the boat hauled right away or continue on and plan on getting it fixed in Australia. Sailing a damaged boat does nothing for your confidence but at the same time we knew we would not get the type of professional service we wanted in Fiji and we might even get trapped up there for cyclone season so we took a photo of the bottom, marked where the cracks were so that we could monitor their stability (here's to hoping they do not get any bigger) and we continued on our way. We were a little shaken but feeling confident that Fearless was going to come through in flying colors: she has not let us down yet!

The Yasawas are supposed to be the most picturesque beaches in Fiji and also have some of the more remote villages that still practice the old customs. After all of Brett's stories about his time here and what fun he had in the villages of Fiji I was really looking forward to putting our recent drama behind us and participating in a kava ceremony. I wanted to meet some of these famously friendly local Fijians. A friend of our's on Theopolis named Jay was there as well and we took our small landing party to shore. We found a small village and we all went there to perform the ceremony of sevu sevu, the donation of kava to the chief of the island.

As soon as we landed the dinghy a small boy came up to us and offered to take us to the chief. When we arrived at his hut we were ushered into some chairs and "the chief" sat on the floor. Already we knew that something was wrong. According to Fijian tradition you are never to sit higher than the chief so Brett asked him why we were seated in chairs and he was on the floor? We discovered that though he was the son of the chief there had not been a chief here for a year, but he was the next in line. If we came back next year he would be the chief for sure. Okay, I guess, although it seemed a little fishy. He was unable to really explain to us why there was no chief for a year since his English was very poor (to be fair it was better than my Fijian) but after some discussion (though no invitation for a visit to the village for a kava ceremony or a dinner) he told us that we had presented sevu sevu and were free to roam the village.

We explored and found a village that was quaint and unassuming with a small footpath that led between rows of neat houses. The laundry was hung out to dry behind each house and there were women everywhere doing their daily chores but we seemed to inspire very little interest which was unusual for an island that is this far out of the way and too small to have a paved road. There were flowers growing on either side and a young boy selling leis, which was curious. Why was he selling leis in this miniscule village with nothing but a dirt path to speak of? It did not take long to discover why. A cruise ship had just arrived. So much for the whole remote island bit, hugh? We walked down to the end of the trail and saw there was a pack of about forty tourists with their guide. On one of the more remote islands that we visited in Fiji we were beat to the punch by a gaggle of tourists, cruise ship tourists. Generally speaking these are the worst kind of tourist since they are so insulated from the culture of the places that they are visiting that they are more likely to wear inappropriate clothing, say inappropriate things and generally make a bad name for foreigners in general. They swarm the islands they visit in large groups and socialize with each other and then they all return, en mass, to the ship from whence they came to continue drinking and eating incredible amounts of food. All of the sudden the disinterest we had met with on our walk through the village made more sense and we hustled away before we got trapped in the moving tide of humanity and snapping cameras.

On our way back to the dinghy we did manage two interesting encounters. We met Ebbie, a boy who wanted to know if we drank kava and eventually invited us to drink kava with him and his friends. Provided that we had the kava and he would prepare it. It was arranged. We then met a young woman who informed us that John, the man that we had presented sevu sevu with, was not the next in line to be the chief at all. There had been no chief on the island for over twenty years and there was no indication that John would ever be chief. In fact he was not even the head man of the village. Tony was the head man of the village. In short, John had just scored some free kava. Oh well,the loss of the kava was no big deal. I was about to find out what Brett had been telling me all along: kava looks and tastes like tepid, muddy water and its allegedly "narcotic" effects are not even as strong as a good cup of coffee.

We had arranged to meet with Ebbie for kava at eight in the evening and it was nice and dark when we motored up in the dinghy to the beach. In contrast to normal "island time" tradition he was waiting for us at the appointed time and had a light for us to follow him to the place where we would drink. We hustled into a small shack with grass mats and the kava preparation began. This entailed taking the ground root in a mesh bag and squeezing the juice into tepid water. It was muddy in color and tasted like it looked. Many of his friends showed up and soon we had a proper circle going. I was the only woman present and was doing my best to be a "good girl." This entailed sitting with my legs tucked together to the side (it is impolite for girls to sit cross legged) and being mild mannered and demure. My legs were cramping in no time and my tongue was getting a deep groove in it from all the biting it was receiving but I battled through it all to try and get a glimpse of the Fijian culture I had heard so much about.

The conversation was kind of like pulling teeth. We would ask questions about kava, their village, their traditions and their conspicuous lack of a chief (which they seemed unwilling to discuss and maybe even a little embarrassed about) and they replied in broken English with short, curt answers and then continued talking amongst themselves in Fijian. I was hoping that the kava would be a bridge to understanding their culture but when our friend, Jay, started to yawn a little they made it very clear that it was okay if we wanted to leave. I mean, really, if we wanted to leave it would be just fine. Really. After their third urging that if we wanted to leave it would be fine we took the hint and left. It was a vaguely disappointing encounter with the culture of Fiji: a sham chief, a remote island paradise that has been invaded by cruise ships and a kava ceremony that was graft for free kava and a swift boot for us once they had what they wanted. I left feeling disappointed.

This is the taste in my mouth that stayed with me after our departure from the Pacific Islands. It seems that the caucasian culture has infected these remote islands, and not in a good way. While the islands themselves are stunning and there are so many beautiful places and amazing things to do (the mind boggles at all the possibilities for fun and adventure here) the culture seems to have been subverted with Christian ideals until there is not much left of what was originally so unique and wonderful about the people who live here. There is a undercurrent of resentment for the way that their islands have been stripped from them, and who can blame them? We are seen as either an interloper or little more than an opportunity to make some cash. Of course there are exceptions to this rule and I did have some interesting encounters with islanders, the younger people had less of this negativity and I certainly had experiences in the last year that do not conform to this stereotype. But when I remember the year as a whole the best times that I remember are with the other yachties or are in places where the tourist influence is so great that it was practically like being in a western culture with an exotic backdrop. So this may have something to do with me and my lack of understanding or it may be a larger symptom of a culture that is in its death throws and struggling to maintain its individuality while embracing the twenty first century. Whatever the reason there is a sadness here that is just under the surface but that exposes itself in subtle but ever prevalent ways when you least expect it.

When we left for New Caledonia the wind was perfect and we had an excellent passage. We did the entire 650 miles in four days. When we arrived in New Caledonia there was a kite-boarding competition going on and the horizon was swarming with colorful kites against a azure sky and intrepid boarders hanging on for dear life. The buildings were modern and the shopping was very cosmopolitan. There was a real big city feel to the place and I could sense the we were inching closer and closer to civilization. It seemed that from the Marquesas onward there had been a steady trend towards modernization and multicultural cities. Our first task was to dive the boat and take a look at the keel and rudder. We were satisfied that both seemed to be in the same condition that they had been in right after we hit bottom: a good thing. At least the damage was not spreading.

It was a brief stop but we managed to go to the aquarium, see a jazz festival, and to top it all off we had a crazy night on the town with Mark from Myah that sent me reeling. The night began sedately enough with a band playing sleepy french songs but we quickly decided to look for another place to go. While talking to the bouncer a group of kids came out and after a short discussion about the best place to go they offered us a ride. We hung out with them at the next place and it was not long before everyone started buying rounds. I was the closest in age to any of the kids there who seemed to be ranging in ages from 21 to 25. My people. It was too much fun dancing for the first time since Tonga. I probably had one or two (or three) too many, I'm afraid. The night seemed to go by very fast and the bar was closing before we knew it so one of the kids, an English exchange student named Tory, offered up his place to go and party. A large group of us went on our way to a meeting point where we would pick up another car and then on to Tory's place. We hung out at the "meeting" spot for some time and no one showed up so we figured there had been a miscommunication and went along to his apartment. Well, apparently the rest of the group had gone directly to his place and had been arguing with the doorman for the last half of an hour. There was a lot of yelling (all in French) but it all came to an end when the doorman announced that the police had already been called (a phrase that did not need interpretation). Party over.

We were supposed to go out to a small island the next day but I was in no condition to go anywhere. Delay of game. Instead, I held down the bed all day. When we did get out to the island the next day it was a speck in the ocean with topless sunbathers and a beach perimeter that could be circumnavigated in ten minutes. We enjoyed the calm ocean breezes for the next few hours but it was not long before we were feeling the boat yanking underneath us in the building wind. We tried to sleep but whenever I would start to drift off the boat would jerk underneath like it had just been hit. After the experience with hitting the bommies we were both a little jumpy and this was doing nothing for our relaxation. At about two in the morning Brett and I went on deck and got a longer rope for the mooring. The additional stretch that provided was enough to reduce the yanking sensation and let us sleep in peace.

It was time to leave New Caledonia and as usual we had been keeping a close eye on the weather and had checked out of the country when it looked like some good passage making weather was on the way. But as soon as we checked out of the country the weather fell apart. We headed out in flat seas with no wind and watched as the weather reports kept promising less and less wind. After calculating our arrival time for Australia we realized that we could only go five knots or we would arrive on the weekend and be subject to overtime fees and so even though the wind was light and we were making slow progress it was better to sail than to arrive early. Fearless is a good light wind boat and she was holding up well, making good time even in wind as light as seven knots. But when the wind got variable and was not enough to fill the sail she was getting flogged unmercifully and there was more than a bit of smacking and banging. In the midst of the steady banging there was a really loud one that woke me from sleep and Brett called me up to drop the sail asap. The boom-vang, which is the part of the boat that provides the upward and downward tension for the boom, had broken. We got the sail down and the wind was behind us enough that we were able to sail on the jib alone so I told Brett I was going back to sleep and we could fix it when I got up.

By the time I woke he had rigged a rope pulley on the boom for the downward tension and all we had to do was provide an upward tension by rigging a backstay. That meant that Brett would have to go to the top of the mast and drop the line down the hollow center. Going to the top of the mast is not fun. We were in light swell and what is a mild rocking on the deck becomes a wild pendulum swing at the top of the sixty foot mast. He is secured by the same line that we use to pull up the sail and when he gets to the top he is relying on me to both bring him up and drop him down. For obvious reasons this is a very stressful situation. I know that if anything happens to me (i.e.: I fall overboard) there is no one to turn the boat around. We can't stay still for the maneuver since staying still would make us rock more, we reduce the rocking by trying to keep pace with the mild swell, in short there is no way that I would be able to keep up with the boat if we are motoring and this is really freaky. Brett tried to feed me the line but it was not coming down the mast and eventually we had to give up. We decided that the sail itself provides some lift for the boom and we would probably be okay with the jury rigged pulley and the sail fully raised. We were wrong.

It took two days for the halyard (the line that holds up the main sail) to chafe through. Now we had no backstay and no halyard. Brett was going to have to go up the mast again and this time there was no option but success. We had to rig something or we would not have any sail at all. It took two trips up the mast and probably three more years off my life. The entire time he is up there I am imagining him plummeting to the deck and breaking his back, me falling overboard and watching Fearless sail away with him stranded at the top of the mast with no way to descend. The list of things that can go wrong during this procedure are varied and gruesome and I found myself crab walking on the deck and holding white knuckled to whatever I could get my hands on. We were finally able to get both the halyard and the backstay rigged and the sail continued on seas so flat you could see the reflections of clouds in them.

On our final approach into Australian waters the weather kicked up and we had steep waves and heavy wind. We were on a spare halyard with a damaged keel and rudder and so we made a mid ocean detour and came into Brisbane instead of Bunderberg so we would be closer to the boat yard where we were going to get hauled out. With the swell up and the wind whipping us we were enjoying our dinner in the cockpit when a large wave started to crest just off of our port aft quarter. I looked at the wave and said "crap, that's going to suck" Brett turned and looked at it and had enough time to agree with me that yes, that was going to break on us and there was nothing that we could do about it. We could see through the wave as it came up to about three feet above the deck and watched as it broke on the dodger and blasted through every available hole. One hole that a sheet comes through, the zippers that were not entirely zipped and the spaces between the zippers themselves became a sieve that allowed water into the cockpit and soaked us completely to the bone. It was cold and the weather was bad enough that even changing clothes was a chore but the slow motion comedy of it all did not escape us and we sat and cracked jokes about watching our doom approaching and getting slapped by it anyway until I decided that I was going to finish my soggy sandwich below and nap off the rest of my break. Brett made the bizarre decision to tough out the rest of his watch in soaking wet clothes and when he came down to wake me was blue from the cold.

It became clear that we were entering more civilized waters when we were hailed by name over the VHF with not a boat in sight and nothing on the radar. As I scanned the horizon to try to find the boat that had hailed us Brett talked to the Australian Coast Guard and discovered that it was not another ship that was hailing us but a plane that we could neither see nor hear. They had spotted us from the sky and wanted to know if we had obtained our visas and if customs had been informed of our arrival. All of our paperwork was in order and we signed off with the coast guard feeling a great weight lifted: we had been in water that was not patrolled for so long that knowing there were boats and ships close at hand was a great comfort.

We have been here for a few weeks now and have gotten the boat up on the hard, again. The keel and rudder have only cosmetic damage and we have had the boat surveyed, ex rayed patched and gone over to be sure that we are in a save vessel. We still have a long way to go and confidence in Fearless is crucial to our state of mind. At this point I am sure that we have done everything that we can and that she will be in as good a shape as she ever was when she goes back in the water. We have replaced our dinghy and outboard, sanded down the toxic stench in the fridge and recoated it with gel coat. Of course we broke the cooling plate when we tried to get it out of the freezer but we were able to get it all fixed in a timely fashion and will have the fridge up and running again soon... This is only a small sampling from the three typed pages of Things To Do that we have been working off of since we arrived in Australia. We have decided to spend the first part of our time here doing chores and taking advantage of the great chandleries here. We figure that if we are going to be miserable while up on the hard we will at the very least get all of our chores done so that when we get put back in the water we can really enjoy ourselves and all that Australia has to offer.

Thanksgiving was a day of rest and phone calls to family with the boat full of turkey smell. I could only find a seven pound turkey (I guess Thanksgiving is not big here) but that did not stop us from having all the trimmings and our own private day of gluttony with three pies and ice cream to top it all off. Other than that we did manage to take a day and explore Brisbane. After all we had heard about Brisbane being not that special we were surprised to find it a very beautiful city with a lot to offer. There are world class museums, a manmade beach with a kiddy pool in a public park, great places to shop and world class dining. Since there are so many things about Australia that are the same it is fun to discover the differences and the quirks that make this place unique. The Australians have not disappointed when compared to their reputation for a warm, friendly group who are without guile and who really just like to have a good time. We are surrounded by really nice people. Christmas here is different, though. The frantic pace of shopping at home is not even scratched here. We discovered this when we tried to go to a mall to get some cheep dinner last Sunday (fridge is still out of commission so we have been eating out for most meals) and discovered that the mall closed at 3pm. This is under three weeks before Christmas, thank you very much, and we were both shocked and amazed that this land can be so similar but then so different in such a fundamental way. It is going to be a grand adventure once we get back in the water and I am getting really excited to go exploring after all this work on the boat.