Ambitions as Some Riders
- labadiemichael
- 2 days ago
- 3 min read
At dawn, after a rainy four-day passage, we reach the harbor of Honiara on the historic island of Guadalcanal. We had been warned that the city was a “shithole,” so we’re pleasantly surprised to find friendly locals, decent infrastructure—and, most importantly, sunshine.
With no well-protected anchorage available, we leave Honiara the very next day and continue sailing toward the Russell Islands. Here, it feels as though we’ve left civilization completely behind. Locals paddle out to our boat in dugout canoes. First one, then two, and soon a whole dozen.
Tony and Felix head ashore to visit the small village, where they play soccer and go swimming with the kids and are shown the remains of a World War II airfield hidden in the jungle behind the village. Meanwhile, Mike patiently answers the questions of a crowd of curious children gathered around the boat and hands out candy. Where are you from? What’s your name? How old are you?
The next village is just as remote. During our visit, the locals show us the skin of a saltwater crocodile they killed a few days earlier—confirming our decision to think twice before going swimming.
After moving at a fairly leisurely pace over the past few months, we now have to pick up the pace if we want to make it north of the equator before the tropical cyclone season begins. At most anchorages in the Solomon Islands, we stay for only one night, and we sail several dozen miles almost every day.
One morning, while we’re anchored in a lagoon working on our autopilot, a local passes by in a motorboat and casually mentions that there’s a World War II Japanese cargo ship wreck not far from our anchorage. Felix and Tony immediately perk up and head out to dive the wreck.
Unfortunately, we have little luck with diving elsewhere in the Solomon Islands. Two dive sites we’re told about turn out to be inaccessible for us, and we abort another dive because visibility is barely two inches. At that point, our crocodile paranoia kicks in.
Our final stop in the Solomon Islands is Munda, a small village that doesn’t have much to offer apart from an international airport with weekly flights to Australia, a hotel, and a handful of Chinese-owned shops.
From the Solomon Islands, we continue on to Papua New Guinea. During the nearly 500-nautical-mile passage, we encounter plenty of wind, and combined with a strong current which is working as a “magic carpet”, it pushes us along at times at a steady 10 knots.
Papua New Guinea makes a surprisingly positive first impression on us. Despite all the horror stories
we’ve heard about “raskols”—the local term for criminals—we feel safe and enjoy the return of crystal-clear, deep-blue water. Best of all, there are no crocodiles to worry about.
By chance, we discover that a cultural festival is taking place, bringing together tribes from across the region to celebrate their traditions and heritage. We head to the festival and are captivated by the dances and performances of the Indigenous communities. We didn’t encounter any of the cannibals we’ve heard supposedly still exist here.
We’re now spending our final days in Papua New Guinea. Early next week, we’ll set sail for Indonesia—and we’re already looking forward to the cultural shift that awaits us there!
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