A Day in our Life at Anchor

Sunday 12th August 2016

Of course a large part of the charm, and the challenge, of our life afloat is that we don't really have typical days, but sometimes it is good to take ones eyes off the highs and lows of life and focus on the everyday.

Saturday we were anchored off the beautiful island of Navandra, we had arrived the afternoon before, sailing north to escape the crowds and choppy waters at Musket Cove. I find I wake early most mornings and love to catch the sunrise, this Saturday morning, the sky was streaked with high clouds that lit up long before the sun appeared above the hills on the eastern side of the bay. The sea is calm but overnight a swell has begun to creep in. Navandra is a remote uninhabited Island and the early morning sounds were restricted to the childlike bleating from a couple of goats somewhere on the island and the distant roar of waves crashing on the reef. I search with the binoculars but I can't spot the goats on the shore or perched on the large rocky outcrops that poke out from the undergrowth. They sound close and must be hidden amongst the trees.

I make myself a cup of tea, turn off the anchor light, unfurl our ensign and settle down to check my messages and look at today's weather forecasts. There is only a weak 3G signal here so things are slow, but it soon becomes clear that despite the roll we are anchored in quite a good spot. The tall mountains on the main island of Fiji, Viti Levu cast a wind shadow that, depending on the direction and strength of the wind, falls generally across the Lasawas. Its size and exact position changes from day to day and appears on the wind maps in blue, representing light winds. Today a thin finger of blue stretches out and falls over Navandra, either side of us is swathed in the oranges and reds of forecast high winds. When Rick wakes we take the decision to stay another night in the bay.

Unfortunately yesterday when we came in, keen to tuck as far in as possible out of the wind, we anchored a little close to the reef, we were probably fine but all night we were slightly anxious of our position, especially if the wind direction changed. If we wanted to stay and relax we needed to move, so we pulled the anchor up, motored backwards and reset it a bit further out.

Once settled we got on with some jobs, Rick checked and topped up the engine oil and then turned on and checked the newly reinstalled watermaker high pressure pump. I wash a line that was used to attach us to the mooring buoys in Vuda. Sitting submerged in the unclean marina water for the month we were there, it has languished, avoided, in various spots on the boat looking and smelling disgusting ever since. As the boat swings with the breeze we are turned broadside to the swell, which rocks the boat uncomfortably, my bucket sloshes soapy water, Rick wedges himself to avoid spilt oil.

The white beach beckons but we can see the surf rolling in and know from experience that, in these conditions, it will be too difficult to land and relaunch the dingy with just the two of us, so we opt instead on going snorkelling. It feels refreshing to be in the water, we have great visibility below the surface and the view above the water is stunning. It's a pleasant half hour, we see nothing particularly spectacular, I spot a large grouper however I can't catch him for a close up look and the coral is not in good condition but there are plenty of reef fish. Particularly abundant are the pretty striped surgeon fish that seem to be everywhere we look.

Snorkelling in Navandra Bay

Back onboard Raya it's time for a beer and to make some lunch. Rick knocks up some French Onion soup while I make some cheese scones. I carelessly, in these rolly condition, tidy last nights wine glasses to a basket on the counter. Just as I am about to put the scones in the oven, the boat lurches, the wine glass tumbles and the scones are lightly sprinkled with shards of broken glass. We are much more conscious of waste than we were before we entered the Pacific and instead of rejecting them we spend ten minutes picking over the tray before popping them in the oven.

We survive lunch without lacerating our mouths and spend, as we often do, a few hours in the afternoon relaxing. It's not easy laying on the bed when it's rolly, Rick lies star like across the bed to read his book, I take a brochure, about the delights of spending the cyclone season in Australia, on deck and start planning our period 'down under'. I look up every now and again to marvel at my surroundings. In the mid afternoon sun the colours seem to have, if possible, intensified, the trees even greener, the beach even whiter, the sea even bluer. The only sign of activity is a group of children from some of the five other boats in the anchorage clambering on the rocks and running on a far away beach, now at low tide even the surf is quiet. The swell however continues to roll in.


Bracing against the rolling of the boat

The sun sets undramatically behind a build up of cloud on the horizon but leaves behind a splendid pink glow that fills the sky. We had read of the dramatic Perseid Meteor shower due over the next few days, so as soon as it is dark enough, with all lights extinguished, we sit on deck to see if we can spot some shooting stars. With the moon yet to rise it is a spectacular scene, Jupiter shines brightly low in the sky, Antares a red twinkle to our West, the cloudy expanse of the Milky Way stretches above us. We spot the Southern Cross and the plough, upside down this side of the equator, but no shooting stars. (We learn later that the shower is only visible in the Northern Hemisphere).

We tidy and check everything is shipshape on deck, lock on the dingy and go below to begin watching the TV series of the Crown, which with the cheap telephone data here, I managed to slowly download while in the marina. Rick has the last of the cheese muffins and with an uncomfortable crunch finds the inevitable chip of glass that slipped us by.

Then at what is commonly known as cruisers midnight – 9pm, we jostle for enough bed space to assume our star shapes and attempt to sleep. Rock and roll, rock and roll.

2 thoughts on “A Day in our Life at Anchor

  1. I loved reading this blog! You wrote it like a thriller writer!. I was held in suspense wondering what was going to ruin this idillic day… then felt relief that all was well save from a shard or two of glass in a scone which seemed all the less important after the majesty of your simple yet utterly beautiful day. Cruise on.. x

    Liked by 1 person

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