Monday Dec 19
I awoke at 8am and for some strange reason felt rather human without even a hint of a hangover; decide a quick swim and a coffee would be the go. Climbing back on deck after my morning refresher I see a body paddling furiously towards the yacht. It’s young Taj who must have been up at first light just waiting for someone to show themselves up on deck, the signal that it’s ok to come and visit.
As soon as he arrives the others follow, soon the water between the yacht and the island is a washing machine of activity and as each reach the yacht they find the highest accessible structure and throw themselves off it. After letting them know we’d take them all sailing they all swim back to shore to tell their parents and see if they wanted to come too.
Within an hour we’re underway with parents aboard, the girls all jostling for position at the bow doing their very best Kate Winslett. Soon we get each of them at the helm and after initial trepidation some of them actually show good sailing instincts. The smiles of course are priceless. We find out later that of all the time the kids have been on Cocos and all the yachts that have visited probably in the hundreds, no-one has ever invited them to go sailing. As Peter said, after an ocean crossing for most, going out for a jolly wouldn’t be high on their priority. The only downside of the day was the fact that a few of them got a touch of the mal de mere, poor Taj, he of the most enthusiasm, copping the worst of it. (And we have the pictures to prove it)
Arriving back to our anchorage Ash informs us that we are to be his guests for the night on West Island, apparently being Monday night it will be quiet and we can chill out for a relaxing evening, then we can provision on Tuesday and be ready to go.
This time the ferry is operative, the last being 3.30pm. So we take the tender to Home Island (about 1mile away) we get the ferry from there to West Island (about 5miles) then the bus from the jetty to town about 6k. And let me tell you, short of having your own sizable runabout and car, there is no other way to do the trip. (Me thinks Jose planned the transport service many years ago to deter yachties)
Quiet night huh? The plane carrying people from Perth to Christmas Island then to Cocos then back to Perth has arrived but has mechanical problems and won’t be leaving until daylight. Quiet night at the club now has local regulars, incoming Christmas Islanders in transit and those departing from Coco to go to Perth and a trio of sailors. Let’s just say that by 1am the last of us staggered out having solved the world’s problems, laughed ourselves stupid and made a sizable dent in the Cocos Clubs alcohol supply. Meanwhile I’m now privy to a whole new catalogue of tall tales and true, infinite gossip and a hand full of new jokes! There were some there that night who marvelled at just how many people knew us, and all the information we’d acquired within the space of 2 days.
When I alluded to the ‘heads up’ we’d been given in Freo, not only was there a chorus of the culprits’ name even before I’d said it, not one person was surprised that his information was at best jaundiced. Special thanks to Cat for the new arsenal of jokes, Belinda for the visual “what am I” ones and the gorgeous Mandi for the sensational swimming spot. As we all staggered home at various stages of the new day I was hardly surprised that Peter did his usual let’s-sleep-where-ever-my-body-physically-stops, in this case the comfy chairs in the front yard of Ash and Kylie’s house less than a half a dozen steps from the actual bed made ready for him.
Tuesday December 20
Back to serious business. Shopping – now I have never considered that a term to use loosely but has anyone ever been forced through circumstance to provision a yacht at a Muslim run grocery store. Let me tell you the options are limited. (Where’s the bacon?) Next it’s off to see Steve our Federal Police Officer who will clear us from Cocos. Passports stamped we head back to Ashley and Kylie’s place where-upon Ash decides we could do with a swim before we have to catch the ferry; our destination is Trannies Beach and to get there one goes down Heartbreak Drive. On first hearing of this location one could conjure up a tale of love born of palm trees and tropical seas, with a matrimonial proposal on the as yet unnamed beach, a resounding yes from the dusky maiden with one proviso. A long held secret has to be revealed to her suitor a secret that may quite possibly change the wedding music from “Unchained Melody” to something from the Pet Shop Boys Catalogue.
I’ll let your imaginations finish the story. Truth be known, Trannies is named quite unromantically after the Transmitters near by.
Loaded up and ready to go we head to the jetty first to drop off our provisions and leave them there unattended, not the slight concern is given to anything left around by someone. One can leave a wallet on the bar and wander around the room all night without fear of it being lifted. Cars are left unlocked, often with keys in them. Houses are rarely locked at all and kids can go and play anywhere in complete safety. These folks have it made. Of course if you want to see a movie, go to a restaurant (well there is one on Home Island but I was told it only opened on Wednesday nights), or purchase furniture or even a birthday or Christmas present then that’s a whole new ball game. Yet despite all this I personally would back there in a flash.
In classic Ashley or perhaps Cocos style, we are driven to Trannies and upon arrival are handed a cold beer out of the esky in the back of the ubiquitous twin cab ute. Speaking of which; when we first arrived and were given a lift into town, we were asked by others “who gave you the lift?” we said “we’re not sure but they drove a white twin cab ute,” “well that narrows it down to just about everyone on both islands” came the reply. So beers in hand we sat waist deep in crystal clear water in a small bay ringed by reef and watched the surf crash against it as the sun slowly baked our skin. Some time and a few beers later we hear a motor droning, Hugh thinks it’s the ferry but it can’t be that late already. A quick look at a watch on shore and our idyllic afternoon is shattered by a mad dash to the jetty. It IS that late! No matter how laconic and laid back this island, this is the last ferry, it leaves at 3 and it waits for no man especially not yachties.
Wednesday Dec 21
A miserable night was had last night, D.I. deserted and all the fun a world away. No sign of our fuel container which had been organised to be on the boat when we got back so no chance to do the long dash back into town. All three of us suffering Cocos withdrawals so after a futile attempt at watching a DVD – the owners’ lack of care with his property extends to his movie collection many of which are in poor condition and when played tend to stick, so it’s in bed by 10pm.
Morning greets us with dismal skies but we have one thing to accomplish before we depart, a creative addition to the beach structure on shore at D.I. Peter and Hugh in the mean time go for a dive and on return discover I had been busy constructing a rather rudimentary ‘totem’ pole featuring our good selves replete with fluorescent eyes, bright green hair and earrings, our names and that of the yacht signifying our presence in 2005. (See attached / or soon to be upcoming photo).
A trip to shore to install said totem pole reveals our fuel had in fact been left as promised under a water tank. After the obligatory photos the skies open with a vengeance and all but our immediate surroundings are obscured by the deluge. Our hope that our Cocos friends may make it over to wish us goodbye are dashed with the inclement weather.
North to the wide ocean we go our clothes saturated in the constant downpour. Bye-bye Cocos (Keeling) Islands and all upon her. Joshua Slocum was right and had he met the locals (even Jose’) he may never have left. Next stop Phuket Thailand, but first we have an equator to cross and celebrate and of course Christmas Day and current calculations have them falling on the same day. Stay tuned, you may not want to miss the next lot of enthralling episodes.
Detlef Bauer.