Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
“It depends on your boat; we have a forty-five footer, and we figured it would cost around
two hundred dollars a month.” he said with his heavy American accent. “We don't mind
staying out there in the anchorage though; it's quite fun. You can anchor anywhere that's
open; just make sure that your boat doesn't hit any other boats when the wind changes dir-
ection,” he said grinning. “There are definitely a couple of characters who you don't want
to tangle with.”
We told them where we were from, in answer to their question, and he advised us to put
away our yellow quarantine flag as it would raise a few eyebrows, particularly with two
customs officials who were notorious trouble makers (the local live-aboards dubbed them
“Cheech and Chong”).
We thanked them and motored slowly down the channel looking for a spot. I tried to avoid
going anywhere near the weird floating “homes;” UFOs, I thought, as we puttered about the
neighborhood. We finally found a spot near “Slipper Island” and dropped an anchor over
the side in fifteen feet of water. I reversed the engine, made sure she was properly set, and
then turned her off. The peace was welcome, and we took in our surroundings. There were
some nice boats in this part as well as a few old tubs that were used purely as live-aboards.
We made a light breakfast, had yet another cup of hot coffee and, after locking up the boat
and putting our dinghy in the water, rowed ashore to collect our work clothes and buy some
staples. We were pleasantly surprised to see how friendly most of the folk were to us. There
were smiles and a friendly wave from most boats though one old man just stared grumpily
at our greeting.
Arriving at the dinghy dock the following morning, we tied up and spoke to the fuel pump
attendant on the fuel dock. He was a tall, dour looking, Asian half-caste named Slim. Looks
can be deceiving though; when we got to know him, he turned out to be one of the better
characters of Keehi Lagoon. We asked him about the price of diesel as we were low. We
also asked him about the safety of the dinghy being left there, and he assured us it was as
safe as any place.
“Yous guys twins?” he asked finally. “Where you from?”
“Yes we're twins; we're from South Africa.” We were amused by his pidgin English.
“Ho, dat's so far!” he exclaimed, pulling a half smoked cigarette butt from behind his ear.
He fished out a battered, old, metal lighter that worked first flick and drew in a lungful of
smoke.
“I sorry, I no have a smoke to offer you's guys.”
