“...until you see this place!” Pete exclaims as we sip cups of Post-Soggy-Passage-Celebratory-Coffees in Sonrisa’s cockpit. Having nestled our anchor into a patch of soft, white sand and greeted our three resident sharks encircling Sonrisa’s hull, Andrew and I had just begun cleaning Sonrisa from the tossing she’d been given over the last three days when Pete and Jen radioed that they were heading in to explore the nearby island.
Resident shark, circling Sonrisa’s hull.
“Yeah, we’ll have to save that for a bit later. Grin is still lashed down and I just discovered Sonrisa has had a leak.”
“A leak?!” Pete says over the radio, as I simultaneously exclaim my own discord.
“Yeah, the whole bow bed is soaked in salt water, I think. Could be fresh with all that rain I guess, but... I think the sealant in the through pipe for the anchor rope worked its way loose.” And so, Andrew set about tearing apart all the bedding and storage compartments to determine just how far the water had infiltrated.
I, on the other hand, discovered a most unfortunate fact that my husband had installed into our freezer a bag of “frozen” chicken he knew to be steadily leaking chicken guts and salmonella juice. I opened the freezer to plan for dinner that night only to find a veritable waterfall of chicken goo coating every last item in the freezer from top to bottom.
“You knew about this!? And you put it in there like that anyway?”
“Well! I put it in two more shopping bags!”
“With holes in their bottom!”
“I double bagged it!”
“You need a refresher course on fluid dynamics, buddy.” I say as I pinch the two “double-bags” between my fingers toting them from freezer to garbage can. I obviously couldn’t leave the freezer in this current state, so this necessitated that I remove every thing from the freezer from top to bottom and clorox the whole mess while Andrew tears apart the forward bunk.
Katherine Hepburn was helping Andrew put away the mainsail when Pete and Jen arrived at the side of our hull to come aboard and share the great news:
“This place is really special!” Pete says, we just walked around one corner of that island, and I think I’ve seen more endangered species here than I have in my entire life. I watched an eel chase a crab up and over land!
“...and I found the perfect spot for the yoga studio!” Jen adds.
“Were there any coconuts? I want to make coconut milk,” Andrew asks.
“There are a million coconuts! Coconuts everywhere!”
This pleases Andrew inspired as he is by our friend Kadari aboard S/V Island Time, Andrew has decided to expand his devotion to coconuts tenfold. “I demand fresh squeezed, wild coconut milk in my coffee every morning!”
Pete and Jen left us titillated with suspense about going to shore, and also three soggy blankets lighter as they have a washing machine on board and generously offered to help us wash out the salt water, otherwise we’d probably never get these things clean enough to avoid mildew. Ever so grateful, we turned back to sealing up the area Andrew suspected was the leak, installing fans to dry out the storage lockers, and me to finish mopping up chicken guts.
An hour or two later, the Fisheries Officer from British Indian Ocean Territory a.k.a. Chagos a.k.a. Diego Garcia arrives shipside in a rib with British military members also taking the role of immigration and customs. A greeting, a few inquiries, and soon they are stamping our passport. I experience a small tingly sensation as I run my thumb over the quick drying and deep-water blue ink: “Diego Garcia”.
While Andrew wanted to sail around the world so he could get Thai Food, I thought we were sailing around the world to visit far off places we couldn't reach any other way besides sailboat. Half way around the world, and I’ve found the world of transportation to be far more expansive than I expected. Everywhere we've been so far has flights, ferries, or trains to move tourists there if they absolutely feel they must. But, this place is different. Unless you are British or American military, military contractor, or a scientist paying to research here, the only way to arrive in the British Indian Ocean Territory is by your own sailboat - after acquiring insurances, applications, and approvals.
“More people climb mount Everest every year than visit place we are in right now!" Pete says, a bit giddy about the whole thing as he reaches for an appetizer olive.
With Mark and Susan facing their own post passage repair problem: a fridge/freezer on the fritz, Pete and Jen ready to bring our blankets back over, and with some sort of post-passage delirium setting in, I got the idea to invite everyone over for dinner aboard Sonrisa. Spanish Citrus and Tarragon Marinated Chicken Strips over Saffron Rice and honey glazed carrots. It was great! Until around 8:15 p.m., when in a narcoleptic fit, I almost fell face first onto the navigation station.
When the lantern is lit, it’s a party!
About the same time, Pete was posing one of his famous thinking questions: “After being here, today, how long do you think you can manage to stay in this one small atoll: with no people, no grocery stores, and...” (he pauses for effect) “no internet?”
Andrew shrugs and looks at me. I shrug, “I don't see why we couldn’t stay all twenty-eight days.”
“You guys don't count, you could spend twenty-eight days next to a cement plant.” Pete clarifies, turning toward Mark and Susan. I’m beginning to think Pete thinks we lack discerning taste in anchorages.
I roll my eyes, “We’ve never anchored next to a cement plant. I draw my line at tuna fish canning factories.”
Pete takes his poll around the table, then announces his own punchline, “I really think I could stay every single day of my whole permit. This place is rare and perfect! It's the most paradise of paradises we’ve sailed to so far.”
Andrew and I sneer like evil super villians across Sonrisa's salon, lit warm by LED lights, the dying heat of cooking menagerie, and the sparks of enthusiasm flying out of Pete’s ears. Since we have known the Steel Sapphire crew, they have been pointing blame in our direction as the infectious agents responsible for slowing their circumnavigation progress. While I might argue it's the natural pace that fate and circumstances have seen fit to place them on, they insist we bedevil their plans. And, admittedly, it's more fun to sail with them so...
...we think we use our powers for good rather than evil.
