Encounter with the Natives

The Louisades, Papua New Guinea 28 August 2017

Having chosen to divert a little from our direct course to visit The Loiusades archipelago at the eastern most end of PNG, I was mightily relieved that we managed to arrive at 14:00 with enough time to enter the lagoon and drop anchor for a few hours. Any slower and it would already have been dusk, which would have made it impossible. As always, planning and managing the speed and angle of voyage to be there at the right time is a challenge which is very satisfying if achieved.

During the night we had the alarming prospect of a seeing the lights of large ship bearing down on us with no AIS signal to identify it. I got it tracked on radar and was relieved to see that it would probably pass astern. Nonetheless I called the vessel on Channel 16 to ask if they had seen us, and to ask why they had no AIS (mandatory on vessels over 300 tonnes). The reply in an American accent was " This is Coalition Ship Six. We have you on our screens and will pass two miles astern". Hmmm......a US warship heading north.... I wonder where that's going? Guam probably.

It is exciting and a little nerve wracking approaching land in high seas and low visibility, with rainstorms sweeping through. With Mark at the helm, we found the pass through the reef and sailed through into calmer water. Ahead the outlines of hills were like layers of blue grey through the mist and cloud. 

 As we sailed the 3-4 miles across the lagoon, the nearest hills became clearer with rounded grass covered slopes, and some red earth cliffs. The water's edge below the grass parkland was dark with a margin of trees. A bit like Dorset in the mist and drizzle. We cut between various areas of breaking water on reefs, and turned into a bay bounded by high forest to the left, and with the green grass areas to the right. Through binoculars I could just make out occasional thatched huts under the trees along the shore. One or two white skiffs were anchored off the largest village, and we dropped anchor about half a mile off, prevented from getting closer by coral. As well as huts we could see a large blue notice board on green lawns under a grove of coconuts, with some more modern buildings behind.

With only a couple of hours before we had to set sail again, we brewed a cup of tea, and, as I'd hoped, were soon visited by an outrigger canoe. This was a bit different from ones we had seen previously with a nicely carved prow, and a platform built on the outrigger supports. The carved top rail was sewn onto the dugout hull, and the methods of securing the outrigger were the usual diagonal struts into the log.

The crew were three tiny boys in filthy T-shirts. The eldest, aged 14, called Julian, looked hardly bigger than a six year old, and seemed malnourished. His younger cousin, Paul (12), was even smaller, and little Massaman, aged 6, was tiny. All were shivering with cold, and Massaman's teeth were actually chattering. I don't normally invite locals on board, but these boys were up through the gap between dinghy and transom very quickly. Julian spoke excellent English and explained that he attended Greywalls(?) Primary School to which the blue notice board belonged. He told us that both his parents were dead and that he lived with his sister, presumably Paul's mother. He very politely asked if we had an empty plastic bottle with which he could make a bailer to empty his sinking canoe. We found him a tin, and then he asked if there was a biro or pencil he could have. Once these were found, he followed up with a request for a writing book and a rubber. Sadly I had given all of our store of pencils, crayons and exercise books away in Vanuatu. They would have been much appreciated in PNG where I had the impression of much greater poverty. Polite suggestions for other useful things kept coming up, including specs (already given out in Vanuatu), an onion, reading books (none suitable on board). Toby produced an old T-shirt which they appreciated.

Mark had been flying his drone to get an overview of the area, and they clearly knew what it was, waving at the camera, and later being delighted to see themselves on his phone screen. Julian showed good spatial awareness by being able to identify his landscape from the high aerial shots. From the air it was clear that there was a well laid out village out of sight with tin roofed buildings. As they left with handful of sweets Julian gravely gave us a very small coconut, to my surprise saying "this is a hybrid coconut." Should have asked him to explain, but he said it was good to drink. They retrieved their anchor, which was a heavy swivel wheel off a trolley, and paddled back to the village into the teeth of the near gale, looking very tiny and frail.

Another canoe intercepted them and then came on to see us. There were two teenagers and a small boy, wearing little more than a large Ivory cross and a silver St. Christopher medallion. The teenagers seemed grey and unwell, with bad skin. Their jagged teeth were dyed deep red from betel nut, which gave the unfortunate appearance of having just dined on the last yachtsman. Raymond, Francis and Nicholas asked if we had any spare T-shirts or clothing to trade, and Toby dug out another one in return for a beautiful necklace handcrafted from little shell beads. Satisfied they said goodbye and paddled home, upon which we finished our tea, upped anchor and motored back out to the pass.

As we crossed the lagoon Justin produced an excellent dinner of battered Mahi Mahi, mash and peas which we ate in the shelter of the reef, and then hoisted sail as the sun set at 18:40, and roared off into the boisterous seas making 8-9 knots. Much to Mark's disgust I had to reef in to slow us down a bit to avoid arriving at midnight in Port Moresby, three days hence.