Almost without a mast
It was nice in Puerto Galera, but more than 2 weeks in the same place is almost like permanent residence.
It's time to leave this bay and town.
The bay has two entrances and the one we want to use is more favorable to our further route.
We carefully navigate along coral heads towards the exit of the bay. Frel is on the bow and I have an eagle eye on the depth gauge and the reefs left and right of the channel.
Suddenly and almost simultaneously, the locals start shouting and waving as Odin steers to starboard and leans slightly on his side.
Shit what's going on now reef rammed?
Run over fishing net?
A mooring in the screw?
Almost simultaneously with this train of thought, within a split second, I slam reverse into full force and Odin acts normal again... but WTF?
Frel and I look at each other, look down, left, right what happened?
Maybe we shouldn't have paid so much attention to shoals and corals, but should have looked up.
Two lonely unmarked power lines cross the canal. Barely visible in the sunlight and not listed on the nautical chart, this "short cut" could have cost us the mast.
Phew....lucky you. The shock is still in our bones days later. However, we have no luck with the wind.
So hour after hour we motor across the flat peaceful sea.
There is no wind in sight in the near future either, so after more than 20 hours under the engine we call at the island of Conception.
What a stroke of luck.
A wonderful, crystal-clear bay with a sandy bottom offers us protection from the smoldering and when the anchor lands in the water, the "welcome committee" comes paddling in their outrigger canoes.
Memories of the South Seas are awakened.
Lovable and curious kids ask us questions and invite us to their village for the next day.
The small town is magical and green and blooming everywhere.
They give us bananas, invite us to school and we decide to spend a few days here in this bay, which is so far away from all the crazy hustle and bustle in the world.