Burned a little more fuel on the way to Surrow than we wanted but fortunately made it in before dusk, the entrance is not marked and there are numerous reefs to negotiate through the pass and into the lagoon. Flew the spinnaker most of the night before trying to coax maximum speed out of a fluky wind to cover the miles without the engine. Noticed 2 small tears about ¾ of the way up on matching sides and wondered why the symmetry. Some observation showed that it rubbed on the furled Genoa at times, which was probably the cause. We were sailing almost dead downwind at the time so eased off the sheet to try and let the spinnaker fly out a little further, didn’t work as one of the tears grew larger, but still reasonable and since I was tired and still wanted the speed, left it up. About 3:00AM it caught on the furled sail and promptly ripped down to the clew, about 60 ft. of torn sail, THEN I found the energy to take the whole thing down and bag it.
Surrow Atoll is not particularly unique, but is removed from the atolls of the Tuamotus and most other island groups being some 685 NM from Bora Bora and 446NM from Pago Pago, there is that echo again. Unless one is traveling between these ports the possibility of a visit is quite remote and prior to GPS, somewhat difficult to find. We found the break in the reef, lined up the breakers at South Reef and a distant motu on the opposite side of the atoll at 165 degrees true and headed in the pass. It’s always a bit heart stopping when one moves from 9000 ft of water to 18 ft. all within in 2 minutes. Watching the bottom with its’ coral and boulders side by definitely brings you to full alert. Made it through, turned between the South and East Reef finally getting into 160 ft. of water on the way to the anchorage behind Anchorage Island. Found a spot in 60 ft. of water and placed the anchor in a nice sandy spot as I could see it all the way down. Dinghied over to our friends on Yia-O-Terra, had some wine and a pot luck dinner. Next morning went to check in with the caretaker Tom Post, who is a Cook Islander and spends nine months a year on the atoll, leaving only during the peak cyclone season. He used to have his wife and children with him but since the children are starting school he left them at home for this last year of his contract. Assisting Tom are Tom (Tom Tom, the second Tom) and Sante an aging spindly man who didn’t get along well with any alcohol. Found Tom in Tom Neal’s original house, which had been enlarged over the years, baking bread. We sat down in the next room, which was the “office” stamped my passports and filled out a crew list, one of the easiest check in anywhere. Tom was dressed in his uniform of dirty shorts, a very torn fish net tee shirt, the usual flip flop shower shoes and was probably one of the nicest people anyone could meet. That evening, he and his helpers would be hosting the cruisers in the anchorage with boiled coconut crab, smoked Tuna and breadfruit, we would fill in with other dishes and drinks. Everyone started coming ashore around 5:00 but didn’t start eating till 9:00 PM and broke up around midnight.
The coconut crab is a cross between a crab and lobster, quite large, darkly colored and has a pair of claws that would send a Maine lobster running for cover. They do in fact eat coconuts but will eat most anything that is available. It takes them almost a week to open the husk and shell of the coconut to obtain the meat they crave, but the result is a flavorful island delicacy found nowhere else. While at the dinner we met a young French girl who had broken two fingers on their boat about a week ago. We had heard about her from other cruisers and that the fingers “looked pretty bad”, but the hand was bandaged at the time with some dirty gauze and sticks. I offered to take a look at the hand the next day and she agreed but I guess I shouldn’t have joked about the pain involved in setting or even possibly re breaking the fingers since she never came. A second day passed and I was concerned that she might have some permanent disability so I offered again. She came on the 3rd. day and fortunately only one finger was broken and it was in good alignment, so I just gave her better bandaging materials and started her on some finger exercises.
The lagoon was huge, had crystal clear water to about 60 ft. in most areas and plenty of sharks. Mainly black and white tip reef sharks anywhere from 3-5 ft. long which didn’t live up to their reputation for aggressiveness. I was in the water daily for bottom and prop cleaning and while they were present, I never felt threatened. It was, however, always impressive when standing on the edge of the boat with no sharks in sight to throw in a few fish scraps and have 6-10 sharks there in less than 15 sec. I tied some chicken skin on a fishing line, no hook, and held it overboard. Within a few seconds a black tip shark swam by, the chicken was gone, and I never felt a tug on the line. The island was only 300 ft. wide and ½ mile long so walking from one end to the other was easy on the beach or along the reef, but the interior was so choked with vegetation making it almost impossible to explore. There is nothing on the island, no water, provisions, fuel, or telephones. What is there are coconut crabs, a lagoon teeming with life, a neighboring island with thousands of nesting terns and a few boobies and of course plenty of coconuts. However the whole picture of the island, Tom and his helpers, the nesting birds, the placid lagoon with the surf breaking on the reef just a short distance away was quite special.
Surrow, a very special place, not magical, and no I didn’t feel the presence or oneness with Tom Neal’s spirit, in fact I am probably the only one there that hasn’t read his book, it’s just very special. I hated to leave.
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