« Hawaii to Tarawa Voyage, Update #78 | Main | Tarawa Basecamp. Update #2 »
July 19, 1999
Tarawa Basecamp. Update #1
19 Jul 1999
Tarawa atoll, Kiribati
Latitude: 01deg 21N
Longitude: 172deg 56E
As Jason rounded the westerly point of Tarawa we were able to talk briefly by VHF radio and established a rendezvous point at the outer marker buoy into Betio Harbor.
April, who bicycled with Jason through the Western U.S, had just arrived by plane and we were both were a bit worried about tides and currents and the fact that Jason had had little to drink for the previous 42 hours due to the broken water makers. We were glad that we had the Tarawa, a 40 foot local fishing boat ready to help guide him into safe harbor.
But as is the case here things seldom move on schedule, so our anxieties mounted a bit more when the crew showed up a half-hour behind the appointed meeting time. Our anxietiesgrew even more as we discovered the VHF radio on board wasn't working properly.
But we were able to relay a radio message to Moksha and soon we were motoring across the lagoon. In very little time we saw Jason, quite safe and sound bobbing gently just outside the channel. Needless to say we felt a great sense of joy and relief in equal measure.
We tossed Jason a liter of cold water and in a couple of hours Moksha was tied up in the inner harbor. In addition to a crowd of curious locals Moksha was met by a contingent from the Kiribati Customs and Immigrations Departments who were a tad bewildered as to what to make of this strange vessel. But most of Jason's documents seems to be in order and soon we were able to pass Jason some cold coconut milk for a proper welcome to his temporary Island home.
Maurice
Support Team
Staring across an azure blue reef, I feel quite settled in this place. That's what a week in paradise will do, I suppose. I must admit, arranging travel for this South Pacific adventure to a remote location was not as easy as it might seem. No vacation package deals here! And, never having ventured beyond U.S. shores, for me to be writing this update in a setting taken from Tales of the South Pacific is nearly beyond my wildest expectations.
But the magic, the spirit of this place lies, not in the white sand beaches stretching toward aqua waters, but in its people, the I Kiribatis. As Maurice and I made final arrangements for Jason's arrival, the local people, quite curious about the Expedition, were readily available to assist. I sense it is their nature, genuinely wishing to lend a hand when needed. And, the Expedition, as is its nature, is the catalyst for developing connections wherever we go. As Moksha entered the harbor in Betio, the pier began filling with silent people, pointing, nodding their heads in amazement. As Jason emerged, the people presented him with a fresh coconut, as a symbol of welcome and quiet recognition.
With a bit of a guilty conscience, I've spent most of my time playing games with local children, learning jump rope jingles in Kiribatis, being the source of giggles as I attempt to speak their language. As we climbed around a rusting gun placement, its monstrous barrel pointing toward the lagoon, this, for me, was a haunting reminder of what took place here over 50 years ago. For these children, it is a playhouse and I was snapped back to the present as my new best friends yelled, 'Imatang! A...preel! See you tomorrow...' And, at that moment, I felt as though my neighborhood in Colorado had simply stretched its boundaries. My home, nearly half a world away, wasn't very far at all...
April
Support Team
Perhaps the most symbolic point of any voyage is the actual stepping off from boat to shore - the transition from one very different world into another. On the one hand of course I was so eager to make this transition. It was my 73rd day out on the water and the Terra Firma of Tarawa that had been visible from a distance for over 24hrs during the final approach was now only a few tantalizing yards away. But when it actually came to making that great step, it struck me hard how I was now parting company with the greatest friend I had for the voyage: the one that safely guided us through the dark days and nights when the ocean was storming or the current was pushing us back faster than we could pedal forward. The one who actually carried me safely from one side of the mighty central Pacific to the other: Moksha. I hadn't realised how closely I had bonded with my life support machine of wood and resin. I felt like flinging my arms around and thanking her for keeping me alive all that time.
But that might have looked a little odd to the welcoming party of local Tarawa fishermen who stared down at me from the pier. An amphitheatre of intrigued brown expressions rose up and around me as I gently brought Moksha to rest alongside the support craft. Somewhere from the midst of this bemused crowd a coconut appeared and was thrust out to me on the end of a dark, weather beaten arm. It was ice cold in my hand, thoughtfully chilled for the occasion. Having been fantasizing about water for 42 hrs by this point, I was blown away by this ultimate gift. Words are too cumbersome here - but I'm sure you can imagine how good it tasted.
It was an unusual arrival with an unusual bunch of people to welcome me. At the time I wasn't sure how to respond to the whole situation and even felt a little self-conscious as I stood there supping my coconut while the fishermen looked on in silence. But when I thought about it all later that evening, I realised how apt the whole scene was: being met by descendents of the some of the greatest navigators the world has ever known - the Polynesians - who still depend upon the ocean for their livelihood. Their expressions of sober intrigue were, as I have found out since, not an indication of disapproval or unfriendliness, rather an honest but neutral display of polite indifference until the opposite party either ventures some form of greeting or not. For the people of Tarawa who I have met since arriving - starting with the fishermen - are the most friendly, ready to smile folk I have ever encountered in any of the countries the expedition has passed through. In this regard they have far surpassed my expectations.
When Eena - the customs officer - had checked my passport and given me a moderate slap on the wrist for not having clearance papers from Hawaii (we've never been asked for such things since departing the UK 5 yrs ago), I finally got to clamber over the support craft and step onto something solid and immobile - the pier. The first step was a shaky one. Having used my legs for nothing other than pedaling for so long, I felt drunk as I lurched into my first few baby steps. My eyes were also swimming as if I'd indulged a little too much grog. Then I just stood there for a while; gently rocking back and forth in time with an ocean that still existed only in my imagination, slowly taking in my brave new world in small sips. Being reborn back into the world of humankind cannot happen just like that. It takes a little getting used to.
Now as I write it has been three days since arrival. My re-adaptation back to life on land is proving much easier than previous voyages. Why this is I do not know. Perhaps the more voyages I do, the more tolerance is built up. Whatever the case is, things could not be better here. Maurice and April did a fine job of preparing for the expedition's arrival, making many local contacts and finding us somewhere to live at least for the short term. The beach photos were taken yesterday just 20yrs from the back door of the house we are staying in. Moksha is safely roped up in the marina waiting to be hauled out of the water sometime this coming week when we locate a trailer. There is so much I'd like to share with you in the next few weeks as we begin to explore the island and its secrets. So log on in a couple of days for some written and photographic 'first impressions' of Tarawa.
From Tarawa,
Jason
Posted on July 19, 1999 6:05 AM