Do the Sumba and the Tonga

Tribute's crew is down to two and the boat has grown, partly because Peter and I travelled together for 25 years and have reached that matrimonious nonverbal state. With no-one to please but ourselves and 10 days to do that we tacked and gybed and plotted our way through the Komodo archipelago, doing a bit of reading, photography and snorkelling on the way. To translate Nescio: 'I am nothing and I do nothing. And even that is doing too much. I don't think either, thinking is for dumb people. It is best to gently fade out'.

Excitement there is little, although I came close to suffocating in an attempt to have some scuba-divers discover me sitting on the seabed at 14 m in lotus position, hidden just around the corner of a bommie they dived on. And at an anchorage on Rinca there were SIX dragons on the beach. A plague of them!
With so few goals in life we created some. And curiously, after not meeting a boat for over a month we immediately ran into the Dutch crew of 'Kolibrie' at Komodo and quickly broke our vows of not smoking or drinking. And the next day the Oz crew of 'Bonnie' left a pack of cigarettes behind for Peter which was the end of his asceticism. It obviously was not meant to be and he has accepted his karma.

Karma,dharma and general laid-backness have a numerical value on Tribute, it displayed on the speedometer. I have not been able to help BUH understand that if you're going nowhere in particular, then there is no need to rush the departure or to laboriously squeeze every fraction of a knot out of the boat. Just accept the number on the screen, om mane padme hum. The quickest way to get to a destination anyway is to decide that it is here. Consequently, the boat has two speeds under motor: 6.5 knots is cruise, 4.5 knots is a psychological band-aid. The latter has been used a lot because it is so hard to lie still or go slow. Peter and I have now managed to endure hours of sailing at four knots which is a new Zen record.

These biodegradable non-directive wanderings have landed us on Sumba, an island where headhunting was practiced in living memory. The Lonely Planet is lyrical about it but there is not much I can say yet except that the coastline looks a bit like the landscape North of Geraldton. We spent the night anchored near a ferry terminal and were not keen to go ashore. There are no published anchorages so we are feeling our way along the coast, making sure to inspect possible spots that we could get back to later. With the promise of a fuller report later I wish everyone fair winds, I trust that 14 knots just aft of the beam would suit all?

PS: That was it for Sumba. No anchorages in the past 30 miles, three hours of light left, nothing conceivably anchorable within range. C-map useless, the pilot written two centuries ago 'Anchorage achievable with local knowledge... line up a conspicuous tree and a rock and anchor in 60 metres of water' and even the paper charts were published in 1904 by the Nederlandsche Hydrografische Dienst. We have tacked, turned North and are preparing for a night-sail across the Sumba Sea!