Christmas at last!

We finally sailed into Flying Fish Cove at 2 a.m. on the 1st of October, out of the wind and waves. Shockingly the engine wouldn't start, so we prepared to pick up moorings under sail. Then I eventually tracked the problem down and the engine was fine. (Turns out that it was the battery isolator switch we changed in Panama. The three switches all have a red handle that slots in and turns to make the contact. Normally only the house batteries are on, and the off switch handles are dangling from strings. I picked one of the two, plugged it in, and turned.....NOTHING! Luckily I tried the other one, and it worked. The new one is very slightly deeper, and the old handle doesn't push in far enough to close the contacts.)

Coming into a harbour at night is exciting because one is struggling to make out shapes in the dark against bright shore lights. We nearly rammed a huge metal mooring buoy for cargo ships. Then I dug out our high power spotlight and swept the harbour in a blaze of light. The most extraordinary thing happened. Wherever the beam went the water erupted with a dense arc of silver fish, so that as I swung it round there was a constant rainbow of fish ahead of the beam! It was even better than "painting" the sea full of luminous squid as we did a few nights ago.

The mooring we picked up was adjacent to the only other yacht, and we toasted our safe arrival with a tot of the best Black Label Mount Gay rum.

The following (Sunday) morning I was up at first light, excited to see where we were. The cove has undercut coral cliffs, upraised by previous volcanic events.

Undercut coral

At one end of the harbour a jetty and big crane link to red dusty covered conveyor belts which come down the hill from the phosphate mines. A modern jetty in the middle of the cove is backed by a row of low 3 storey apartments crowned with a densely packed line of identical satellite dishes, like oysters lined up in the Walrus and the Carpenter. With a cup of coffee in hand I grabbed my sketch book and had a happy hour before the crew woke, drawing the picturesque headland with the old District Officer's residence.

Flying Fish Cove, Christmas Island

I rowed across to our neighbours, Ullar and Ellen aboard TROLL, their Amel yacht from Estonia, and found that they had suffered an engine seizure, and we're waiting for the crankshaft and bearings to be machined in Perth before they could, depart. Ullar was repairing gouges in the glass fibre round the bows. They had arrived when the World ARC fleet were here, and as all the moorings were taken they had to use the big metal ship buoy with painful results.

Ashore we found a neat well appointed community. Barbecues and picnic shelters on the cove are provided with gas and electronic ignition, separated into halal and non-halal areas. The apartments are all growing vegetables in their front gardens, and seem to be occupied by Muslim families. There were stalls selling delicious home cooked food along the harbour front.

Tin Tin T-shirts on display

We met Neil McGovern, the charming ex-harbour master of Flying Fish Cove, who, in his soft Islay accent, told us snippets of the history in his 22 years here. He had now come on holiday to visit his Muslim family, and when we enquired about diesel supplies it turns out his nephew runs the company.

The Tourist information office was still open and Karen was wonderful at helping us sort out various needs including wifi, of course. The shop is full of Red Crab hats, soft toys, posters, T-shirts and other memorabilia. One hundred million red crabs are about to emerge from the forest in the next month and swarm into the sea. It's a major event!

We tramped some hot roads and were delighted by the huge red road signs, reminiscent of alpine signs designating which routes were open or closed due to red crab migration.

It being Sunday the supermarket was shut but we found a cafe for a toasted sandwich for lunch. Here I made some phone calls and hired a car to explore with and soon we were off exploring on the excellent roads.

Our first stop was signposted The Grotto. A track led downhill through forest, and we met our first red crabs, hard to see in the dappled shade on the path unless a sunbeam illuminates one. About four to five inches across they emerge from holes and under rocks, bright red with black and white marking that resemble a scowling face. Amazing!

Red Christmas Island crab

I reached the grotto ahead of the other two and clambered down a knobbly limestone hole to a pool of clear water above fine white sand. A great whooshing noise and a blast of fine spray came through the cave as the swell pushed through the submerged tunnel from the sea. By the time Mark and Justin were silhouetted against the cave mouth I was floating naked in the pool, determined as always to never miss a opportunity for a strange swim. The last one was subterranean pools in Niue, I think. A very similar island of upraised coral.

The Grotto

The rest of the day we explored and discovered the huge Robber Crabs in the forest, fluffy Booby chicks waiting amidst sharply eroded pinnacles of limestone for parents to return with food, frigate birds harassing boobies to steal their fish. We also were amazed by giant fruit bats soaring like crows amongst the boobies and frigate birds on the updraft at the pinnacle of Margaret's Knoll, where a platform on the cliff top gave us a view out over the immensity of the Indian Ocean and far below us a pockmarked plain in the forest showed where the phosphate miners had been.

Booby and Fruit Bat soaring the updraft

We headed back to a bar where rowdy Australians, some with yellow and blue painted faces, were watching the grand final of the Rugby League on the TV and drunkenly hurling crude insults at the opposing team. Melbourne absolutely hammered Northern Queensland, while we knocked back a few well deserved Victoria Bitters.

At 6 pm we all made our way to the Chinese Literary Association Mooncake Festival for free food and entertainment. There were singers, a dramatic Lion Dance with two great furry yellow beasts leaping an cavorting to the drums and clashing cymbals of the Kung Fu Club, and then the exquisite dances preformed by the Singapore Dance Troupe. We queued for some delicious food and thoroughly enjoyed our welcome to Christmas Island.

Monday is a public holiday for Territory Day, commemorating the handover from British rule in 1957, so no shops and no diesel available. I have to wait till Tuesday morning to restock. The Cove is going to be the focus of festivities with raft races and water sports, so we will have a grandstand view from our cockpit! The perfect opportunity to get out Michael Constant's full set of beautifully made ancient signal flags to dress Tin Tin overall for the first time.