CHAPTER 23 - MAYOTTE (COMORES)

exchange rate 6.5 French Francs to US$1

Su 7/25/99 - Dzaoudzi, Mayotte - 12 46.77 S, 45 15.68 E

0040: Near M'Zambozo entrance to lagoon, Mayotte

0350: heading: wind: calm sea state: lat: 12 43.56 lon: 45 09.36 sails: miles to waypoint: anchored at Baie de Lougon (Port Lougoni).

0400: Bed

After a few well received hours of sleep, we awoke to our first glimpse of Mayotte and the pass we made in the darkness. Mayotte is 375 kilometers in area with 90,000 people. From our viewpoint there were little signs of the population, mostly small green mountains and only a few developments of homes.

Entering the long barrier reef had been a challenge, the documentation we had - an old chart and a more recent pilot book - didn't match the navigation aids we saw. Rather than continuing down the channel between the barrier reef and Grand Terre, the large island in Mayotte, it was more prudent to anchor in the quiet Baie de Lougon then move to the common transient yacht anchorage near the main towns. From a distance the low laying land between the small island, Ile Pamandzi, and the big island, Grande Terre, was interesting, white homes propped on the short cliffs with endless sea beyond.

1145: heading: zzz wind: SSE 20 sea state: choppy lat: 12 43.71 lon: 45 13.78 sails: engine only miles to waypoint: zzz comment: zzz

We motored through the lagoon to Dzaoudzi on Ile Pamandzi. We passed Kingston Rover and Tillerman and yelled our greetings then were shown by the harbor master a spot to anchor amongst the fifty boats here. The harbor master then came on board to request we fill the typical immigration cards when entering a new country and took our passports which would be returned with the visit of the immigration officer.

Opposite the town of Dzaoudzi on Ile Pamandin, across the lagoon, is Mamoudzou on Grande Terre. I questioned the rational of building up the small island, and could only see that the airport location must have precipitated the development. So we were anchored in a small harbor near the airport, out of sight over a hill, and were at the mercy of the ferry system to reach the main island.

We soon had a visit from Sheila, the mad Dutch women, which lasted for hours. She had a severe case of boat fever with Scotty and needed a break from Kingston Rover. In the evening Scotty and Sheila and my crew dined at a cafe on pizza and an absolutely incredible dessert of crepes, vanilla ice cream, and chocolate sauce. This was my indoctrination to the high island prices again - we divided the bill which included wine and water - 100 French Francs ($15.60) each.

Yes, Mayotte is a territory of France and everything French or European can be found here for a price. Since the military has a strong presence, there are many French here. Chris ate this up. His parents live in southern France and he longed for croissants and brie and French coffee and so on.

It is strange, Mayotte belongs to the country of the Comores, but is administrated by France. The citizens are within the European Commonwealth and have a much higher standard of living than their neighbors, many finding comfort living off the dole. A common question is - why does France continue on supporting this island. The population is increasing rapidly because of the financial support. Imagine life if the French left. There would be sudden poverty and hardship, similar to other African countries where Europeans were ousted, like the other Comores islands and Madagascar..

Chris story: Samoa hosts a shark dive outside the Saloman Blue Tuna Company plant. The plant schedules its release of filet by-products so the dive company can ready themselves as well as the great white sharks for the daily feast. During the onslaught, the small brained sharks snap at anything in the bloody furry.

Mo 7/26/99 - Dzaoudzi, Mayotte - 12 46.77 S, 45 15.68 E

A squall came through about 6am, I only barely noticed it in my sleep, and when I woke Chris pointed out that the boat anchor slipped, scary thought. We up anchored and reset it.

I had a kick listening to American country music on 106.2FM, for a little while anyway, until it started the normal grating in my brain.

We all headed for the big island, Grande Terre, on the ferry and I spent most of the day walking around Mamoudzou, seeing the life and taking pictures. In the large daily market near the town center and ferry landing one finds many permenant stalls selling various items of interest to locals such as clothing, toys, and house supplies. More interesting though is the produce market, large women in their bright wraps called chiromani (or leso (Malagasy called lambas), sitting about on the ground surrounded by oranges, plantains, lettuce, tomatoes and so on. I took a few pics from a distance with my long zoom and when a picture provided itself with a close subject I asked permission first. Half the time I was given a "no" head movement. One women I asked smiled friendly and spoke, I returned the smile and tried to convey that fact I didn't seek French, soon we had an interpreter between us, a local m n well schooled in English. By the end of it I had two pictures and ten oranges of which the man took two for commission.

The most interesting prospect of the people here are the women who not only wrap themselves in lambas, two or three that are bright and bold and don't match at all, but also wear facial beauty masks. The masks, called m'sidzanou, are made from grinding sandalwood on coral and come in shades of tan and yellow and red. At first sight they are scary - a big momma with dried tan paste on her face that emphasis the whites of her eyes. But, some are very attractive, of course the younger, not so robust, pretty girls with masks not so caked on. I would spend a lot of time trying to capture a couple of these faces.

Helen, Betty, Sheila, and I checked email then found a nice neighborhood restaurant called Desperado's for lunch. I ordered the "American", a huge sandwich on baguette with raw beach and salad vegetables.

For dinner I fixed myself a can of tuna on baguette with cheese, mustard, and pepper - something I had running through my mind the day long, I guess I was missing my daily tunafish at work.

Tu 7/27/99 - Dzaoudzi, Mayotte - 12 46.77 S, 45 15.68 E

Nearby is a French bakery. The yachts are rotating a bread run in the morning and this morning was Helen's turn. She came back with - yum - baguettes and croissants and cinnamon and raisin rolls.

I helped Chris remove the starboard helm chair bracket off and in the process dropped a 10mm wrench into hull which then took an hour to get out. A yacht cruiser needs patience to constantly work on his boat, I wouldn't want to try a circumnavigation on my own boat - no way!

I went to Mamoudzou with Chris for errands - laundry, welding the helm chair bracket, tried to repair the CD player, bought fishing tackle. Mayotte seems to have everything we may need, the problem is finding it, nothing seems central to the town, many stores and services are in the industrial park in an area named Kaweni, a ten minute taxi ride away. There aren't any buses but the taxis are plentiful and load people in them, charging a flat FF4.50 per person.

In the evening I sat and typed while Chris schmoozed three men in hope of finding a buyer for his boat. They all spoke French and I felt a bit of an outcast.

Chris story: Chris says when he goes on vacation he normally has a quest. Six years ago it was the rare shoebill stork, only six mating pairs left. He flew from Harare to northern Zambia, then four days with guide through swamps and jungle in a dugout to look for the stork - he found them. The hornbill stork is nearly six feet tall.

We 7/28/99 - Dzaoudzi, Mayotte - 12 46.77 S, 45 15.68 E

Helen had done some re-supplying of stores, so I dove into granola cereal with UHT milk and again fresh baguettes for breakfast. It was another happy moment eating.

Today was our last full day in Mayotte and I was frustrated that I hadn't seen the countryside of the island, but that is norm for a short yachtie stops - you spend your time repairing and reprovisioning. To someone unfamiliar with the lifestyle it's an eye opener, priorities driven by maintaining of the boat and not based on obtaining travel experiences. Helen and I worked through some remaining tasks, like buying more groceries at the small nearby store. then set off to rent a scooter and see the island.

We were constrained by time, it was now noon and we still had to hit a bank, Helen the pharmacy, I needed film, and then Chris invited Kingston Rover for dinner of crepes so we had to be back. There wasn't much time left in the day, and then we had to ferry to the big island and when we arrived we found the bank was closed and re-opening at 130pm. We taxied to the scooter rental, the Frenchman wouldn't give us a discount for a half day, and we had to have the scooter back by 5pm, now that gave us three and a half hours. But, we still needed cash and at the bank we sat upstairs and waited for a women to retrieve 5000 francs from each of our ATM cards until ten past two, leaving less than three hours. I was frustrated, but we were finally away to see a small bit of Mayotte.

We barely fit on the little yellow scooter, and I had to be very conscious to drive now on the right side of the road, the first country since French Polynesia eight months ago. After ten minutes of cruising south from Mamoudzou on the yellow circus sized bike, we choose a road crossing the island west over the small green mountains. Once on this road, the traffic lessened, I slowed the scooter, and enjoyed the scenic ride, and finally relaxed after a frustrating day.

On top of the mountain road we passed groves of cultivated trees and I was curious what they were. The air was sweet and we gathered these were the famous ylang-ylang ('elang elang') plants, the nectar of which is used for inexpensive perfumes. Mayotte supplies 80 percent of the world market. Chris had spoke of ylang-ylang a few times, and so we picked some for him and to perfume the saloon.

At Combani, we turned south to follow the coastal road, the scooter on 'empty'. Mayotte has few people per square kilometer, from a distance there is little population. We occasionally passed through small villages. We then came to the sea and from a height saw the town of Sada sitting in a trough, the tower of a mosque sitting amongst the concrete and corrugated steel houses. We stopped at a grocery store. There a man spoke English well, he had been educated for food services in Colorado, and when asked explained that the closet gas station ("essence") was further south in Chirongui.

We now had two problems - the gauge read empty and the time was getting late. We motored up Sada's southern side to drive parallel above the ocean in an open vista. To my right my peripheral caught a large bird flying with us ten meters to our side, but when I turned to look it was actually a bat, a large fruit bat, a sightless mouse with funny little feet on boney angled wings.

The most curious land formation in Mayotte is the volcanic nipple shaped mountain, Mt. Choungui, laying erroneously erect amidst slightly sloping surroundings. I was fascinated by it's unusual shape and caught a glance whenever it revealed itself.

I put more speed on to make the gas station before closing, but we missed it by five minutes. Helen, with her functional French, talked with a worker there who then sold us two liters from his private store, we were very fortunate.

Now we were far south in the island and needed to make the scooter rental office before it's closing time. I held the throttle open whenever possible and dipped the needle beyond the speedometers maximum of 80 kph, plenty fast for such a small machine. This east coast drive brought us views of many baobob trees, my first sight of the African trees in years. We made that closing within a minute.

We were late for dinner of Chris's crepes, which were great with meats and cheeses followed by Nutella (hazelnut sauce like chocolate), creme, and jams.

Of the few people I've met in this yachtie crowd, Sheila is the most provocative, and when she had a chance she told me, "It's shit, it's not right. Chris and Scotty are talking you and Helen down, then when you show, they're all smiles". Same shut, different place. Sheila and Scotty are constantly arguing and complaining about each other to us, I didn't want a part to hear insults second hand, so I told her, "If you're not happy on the boat, you should leave it", and walked to join the others in the cockpit.

Some people can be so encroaching and judgmental and gossipy, but we all have a bit in us and being stuck on a yacht, even voluntarily, can wear on anyone. I tried to forget about it, but couldn't, and attempted to rationalise the reason for what had been said against me - whatever it was. Chris and Scotty have been acquainted for months, maybe it's their way of camaraderie and blowing off steam. I'm sure Chris has some good blunders to tell of that I made on the boat. And besides, the captain is always and the only one right in the end.

Th 7/29/99 - Dzaoudzi, Mayotte - 12 46.77 S, 45 15.68 E

Chris woke and said we would stay until Monday, he changed his mind during the night, his girlfriend Patricia would fly into Mayotte. Well, here we go again, never sure of what is happening. I actually suggested this a while ago and had said I didn't mind staying, but it was a sudden and unexpected change of plans for we were to leave today.

We all took the ferry to Mamoudzou for email and miscellaneous errands. Again I walked onto the ferry and looked for pretty painted faces to possibly photograph which is terribly difficult with the low light undercover and the motion of the boat. And again I jumped off ahead of most people to walk quickly up the access ramp to watch the locals file off.

In the evening, on the stern of Hi Velocity, I gazed at a mysterious sunset of colors in large fluffy pieces across the sky like a separated jigsaw puzzle.

Chris story: In general practice in London he was physician to Nigeran chiefs with five or six wives all competing for their place with the chief, trying to get pregnant at once, putting pressure on the chief. Exasperated, these guys came to Chris to ask for Viagra.

Fr 7/30/99 - Dzaoudzi, Mayotte - 12 46.77 S, 45 15.68 E

A yachtie Frenchmen named Pierre advertised a Nikonos IV. The camera is about fifteen years old and has hardly been used so I borrowed it for the day. For once I avoided the ferry and instead stayed on Ile Pamandzi to test the camera at a beach named Playa de Moya. From the ferry dock I walked solo along the causeway connecting Dzaoudzi to the main part of Ile Pamandin and extends to the islands furthest southern point into Mayotte's rarely used international runway four kilometeres away. I passed straight through a roundabout with a fork for the airport and continued through the small village of L'Abattoir.

At the far side of the village were signs for Badamier and Playa de Moya, but I was uncertain which way the sign for Moya pointed. I asked two grubby workers, "Playa de Moya?", and pointed and they agreed. So I walked a distance again, an incline, and reached a large antenna tower. I swore when I thought this the end and that I had been handed a bum steer from the locals. But the road continued, up. I cross a hump through overgrown ploughed fields, coconut palms, and bright flowering shrubs. I labored along this hump of low mountain and came to another communication tower and this time the end of the road. Damn. I was as high now as possible on Ile Pamandin, which was good, but a bit lost, which was bad, and continued through the dry bush on a trail. I could see off to my far left an attractive crescent beach set within steep and round headlands. I guessed this my original goal but continued on for the adventure. After a couple of bad turns I crested the flatish top and walk until I found a bushy cliff hundreds of feet above the ocean.

A tree hung over the cliff with branches that invited me for a better view. I climbed up and out on a branch for a slightly better angle on the crashing sea below. Here, I took in a deep breath, and rested. I was alone, a rarity since joining the boat, my body was happy for a break from the heat, and with a fine dizzying view I was content to relax and enjoy the moment. To my far right, west, was the main island and it's profile of rounded mountain tops punctuated with volcanic peaks. Below the green mountains sat the blue waters of the lagoon and then the runway, a thin rectangular protrusion into the lagoon. I looked down the hundreds of feet. Just below and right and running to meet the horizon was the coral reef line, an extension of Ile Pamandzi that continues around the whole island, over a hundred kilometers long. The reef line was interesting to view, one side the placid and safe lagoon, the other the open sea, two hundred miles from here to Madagascar, calm now but with potential power to destroy a small yacht. Waves crashed upon the reef to signal it's location. Below the water appeared very clear, bright to dark blues patterned by sand and coral on the sea floor.

I was happy with my perch and thankful for the beauty and peace it offered. I looked closer at the tree that provided for me. There weren't any leaves, strange. And it hit me - no leaves, it could be dead. So, I abandoned my nest, determined to find the beach.

I spotted the beach a couple of kilometers away and tried hard to find a road through the forest to it. I walked the trail back to the first tower, the road over the hump to the second tower, and down a steep hill to find a junction. I originally missed a dirt road forking left and assumed this to access the beach. A few cars passed and raised dust for me. A small motorbike cruised by with two young locals, a boy with a pretty girl behind carrying a colorful two foot high hour glass shaped musical drum over her shoulder.

I made the beach late in the afternoon. There the water was filled with sediment, not clear, but I borrowed a mans snorkel and mask and beat myself up trying to reach the outer point of a headland against the incoming tide. The coral wasn't good, the water wasn't clear, nothing jumped out and asked, "Take my picture?". I dove below the surface for a self portrait, my only underwater photo. Later I would find it didn't come out.

Sa 7/31/99 - Dzaoudzi, Mayotte - 12 46.77 S, 45 15.68 E

Since we had more time in Mayotte, Helen and I wanted to scooter around to see a bit more of the island. At the agent we were told the minimum length of time was the weekend, so without much choice we agreed to two days. We had the same small yellow scooter made in Taiwan, number 8. I wore a helmet with deep groves carved into it and a broken strap from a previous accident.

From Kawena we followed the coastal road south through the big town of Mamoudzou and around the island's bottom and west. For no special reason we chose to turn off at the village M'Bouini and quickly came upon a large ceremony called a debas (literally, 'debate'), an ancestral manifestation. We parked the scooter across a funky junction and moved quietly to avoid any interruption.

A naked young man walked to us and held his hand out to Helen. I laughed, then saw the boy must be retarded. He walked on.

Across the narrow road from the ceremony women were cooking rice and popcorn and other foods. There Helen asked about the happening and only derived 'debas'.

Women sang in an open building made of poles and decorated with a large skirt hanging around the roof edge of red and green and white cloth. One women with a bad squeaky voice sang into a amplifier while two sets of twenty or so young women separately returned with lovely harmonising voices. Each group of girls dressed similarly in bright costumes, adorned with shinny jewellery about the neck, and swayed as they sung, their hands making sweeping motions in unison. We were struck by the performance and stayed on for fifteen minutes observing.

The retarded naked boy and other children invoked a sense of primitiveness. Further along in the village was witnessed an unbelievable sight. A boy, maybe with water on the brain, sat wobbling with eyes rolling between other boys. His top half of head was four or more times normal size.

We were recommended the southern part of the island for a scooter drive. Occasionally we passed through villages, but much of the ride was looking at distance ocean scenery and low mountains in the interior. The villages were often of plain houses, concrete and corrugated roofs, although some homes were painted brightly.

Helen and I stopped just north of Kani Keli, at the beach said to be the best on Mayotte, a brown sand beach, brown from Mayotte's volcanic origin, and not terribly exciting. We both slept in the cool breeze.

Further on, Helen pointed and shouted, "Lemurs!". I braked hard and turned around, excited to see these strange primates native to only the Comores and Madagascar. A group of five sat curiously in a tree, hunched towards us in a pose showing curiosity of in the strangers. The were brown with large off yellow eyes, cute.

We motored over the mountains from west to east, stopping to nip some more ylang ylang, and search without success for a coconut.

While we were motoring around, Chris fetched his girlfriend Patricia from the airport. Patricia has been working in Paris for a London based law firm for twelve years.

Su 8/1/99 - Dzaoudzi, Mayotte - 12 46.77 S, 45 15.68 E

Today would be our third scooter day, and although yesterday wasn't too exciting, today would be better even though we would start late.

I helped Chris repair the forestay with parts Patricia brought until the 1pm ferry. Just north of Kaweni we stopped at the inviting Le Couba for lunch, followed the coastline north and around the island's top, passing the poor dusty villages of cinder blocks and corrugated roofs, some made much prettier with bright contrasting paint. Every village has incomplete buildings under construction, a result of the 12% per year population increase. We passed coconut palms, tropical flowering trees, laundry lining the road to dry near small streams, and later in the afternoon the standard huge fruit bats. High ocean scenes, islands and lighthouses off shore were all very scenic, especially in the north-western most area.

Mo 8/2/99 - Dzaoudzi, Mayotte - 12 46.77 S, 45 15.68 E

Helen and I went to the big island on the 830am ferry to return the scooter by 9am. We checked on the CD player, picked up the heavy propane bottle, and waited for Chris who held our passports at ferry terminal because we needed to withdrawal money.

We eventually gave up and went back to the boat for lunch. Chris and Patricia showed an hour later, Helen and I grabbed our passports. and again we ferried to Mamoudzou for the bank.

In the late afternoon, all four of us visited the port captain, Philip, to check out. It's strange entering and leaving countries by boat rather the airplane.

We spent the remainder of the night on the boat. Chris scooted across for brochettes from the stand nearby the ferry ramp. With them, fresh bread from the local French bakery, fresh vegetables in a salad with cheese from Paris, and South African red wine, we had a nice meal on board, the first together and on board for days.

Chris story: He has met - the Queen of England, Charles, the Duke, Lawrence Van Der Post (house in Seychelles).

Tu 8/3/99 - Iles Ajangoue, Mayotte - 12 50.29 S 45 14.84 E

We started out for Madagascar in the morning. Chris suggested a dive nearby on a channel entering the lagoon, Passe Longogori, inside one of the marine reserves. We motored from our anchorage about 8:30am and rounded Ile Pamandin to head south within the large lagoon. Chris had made a friendly acquaintance in the local diving man, Michele, and he pulled up along side in his long blue powerful open workboat full of divers. Between them they shouted over the motors and Michele directed Chris to the channel. The area around the channel had the depth to take Hi Velocity at high tide but not low, so we tucked in to Iles Ajangoue, the closet spot available, and a pretty one at that.

950: heading: zzz wind: zzz sea state: zzz lat: 12 50.29 lon: 45 14.84 sails: engines only miles to waypoint: zzz comment: zzz

At anchor wfe prepared the dinghy by lowering it from the davits, pulling it around to the bow by painter and yanked the fifteen horsepower Yamaha outboard from a forward locker and carefully lowered it to the dinghy. The girls had pulled the dive gear (BCD's, regulators, fins, snorkels, masks, weight belts, air tanks, wetsuits) out and sorted it all in the cockpit. The dive gear, hats, sunglasses, lotion, and people were loaded into the dinghy and we finally set off. It's a lot of work, but worthy of the effort, and not similar to paying a dive company fifty US dollars a bottle to cater to you and watch over your shoulder.

Because we had pulled away from the harbor, away from the main congestion and civilisation on Mayotte, we were now at anchor with an extreme wide view of the green mountains and ridges and shoreline of Mayotte. Lapping waves ten meters away was a very small island, a clump of stone covered by dry grass and curiously just one baobob tree. Breaking the distance view of the sea to the east was the reef - a line of white with intermittent rises, crusts of sea tossed to the air after meeting the reef. The wind was light, so the water's surface faded away quietly.

The dinghy ride to Michelle boat's was twenty minutes - the dinghy was low from the weight and we were fronted by a light breeze. We choose a mooring buoy just south of Michele. Chris and Patricia donned their gear first and set off. Helen and I fell overboard to snorkel to the nearby shallows.

The snorkel wasn't spectacular, the bleached coral story again, but after Chris and Patricia returned with good reviews for their dive, Helen and I found more impressive sealife. We saw many small colorful fish with enchanting names like Moorish Idols and Bullethead Parrotfish and Emporer Angelfish. The coral was better also, but not brilliant. There were a couple of good bommies and areas of soft coral.

Late in the afternoon, after refilling the air bottles on the loud compressor, Helen, Patricia, and I dinghy-ed for a dive. We choose the closest mooring ball to us in the reserve and by the time we arrived Patricia was uncomfortable with something - sharks, air, waning light, or something - and decided to forgo the dive. Helen and I looked forward to the dive, only our third in the month since I joined the boat. Even in the late light the dive was very good, better than our earlier We stayed shallow, only set a maximum of eleven meters, and because the sea was heading toward high tide, the coral tops were below the surface here. There were numerous coral columns and bommies to swim between. We swam in and out and around these columns and I compared the site to the Casbah. here were more fish than previously but we were excited especially to see lobsters and Lionfish. As we approached a column with an overhang over a sand patch, we unintentionally stealthily came upon a large green turtle, neither he nor we knew of our rendezvous. He caught us from his side and glided gracefully from his sandy rest spot.

At our peaceful and remote mooring, we had a dinner of tuna quiche Helen baked and talked lightly before retiring early for an early morning departure.

We 8/4/99 - Mayotte, sailing south toward Madagascar

Chris woke me gently before starting the port diesel beneath my bed. This may be the real thing - we're going to Madagascar, the forth largest island in the world, once a French colony and therefore a land where French is frequently spoken and English never. I wonder again how I will deal with the language problem. It's probably silly to consider entering the interior without a French speaking companion - where's my niece Amanda, I could use her? From all I gathered, the Comores with Mayotte, and Madagascar are great places to travel to with a knowledge of French. The people in Mayotte were incredibly friendly, but Mayotte was comparatively expensive, Madagascar inexpensive even compared to the neighbouring East African countries, has great varying landscapes, and is one of the least populated countries I've visited this walkabout (after Australia and New Zealand).

We lifted anchor about 600am from our cute little spot for the night within the large lagoon east of Grande Terre and made our way SE through Passe Bandele then headed 120 degrees for Nosy Be. Watches were now divided by four people, Helen assigned 10am-noon, 6pm-8pm, and 2am-4am.

0800: heading: zzz wind: 150/6 sea state: mild swell lat: 12 53.90 lon: 45 18.19 sails: engine & main miles to waypoint: 175 comment: zzz

1600: I found a yellow fin tuna on the port line, small so probably tasty. I hand pulled him in to the stern and as Helen said "Don't lose him", and Chris said, "This is where you (we) lose them". The fish flipped off. Damn. I was so bummed.

1800-2000: Bob's watch: To the stern, a very bright light hung above the horizon, probably a planet - Mars, Venus? As it set, it turned a yellow-orange.

Chris story: Chris' sister is the god child of the late Jacque Cousteau. As a child dove with Cousteau's son, together they tested equipment designed for youngsters.

Th 8/5/99 - Sailing between Mayotte and Nosy Be (Madagascar)

0000: heading: 120 wind: zzz sea state: flat calm lat: 12 56.51 lon: 46 38.95 sails: engine miles to waypoint: 98 comment: zzz

0200-0400 Bob's watch: Boat passed to starboard, looked like a single white light moving along the horizon in reference to Hi Velocity and the stars. A few shooting stars, nearly half moon, clouds covered sky before end of watch.

1000-1200 Bob's watch: Walked out to the cockpit to find a small Great Barracuda dragging on the port line. Patricia spent her watch laying on the couch, I wonder how long the poor bastard (aye, sea talk) was out there.

1240: heading: 120 wind: 180/2 sea state: slight swell lat: 13 04.41 lon: 47 09.02 sails: engine miles to waypoint: 32 comment: zzz

1400: Lunch - barracuda in white wine sauce with smashed potatoes, peas, and corn

1800: Hans from Alk (Amsterdam) guided Hi Velocity to a mooring buoy in the days last light in Crater Bay, Nosy Be. We're in Madagascar! Motored all the way from Mayotte.

1815: heading: zzz wind: zzz sea state: zzz lat: 13 23.86 lon: 48 13.03 sails: zzz miles to waypoint: moored 7 meters comment: zzz

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