Up the Mast or Under a Palm Tree: Sailing comms are never easy

If there is one thing that characterizes homo sapiens in the twenty first century, it is our availability. Through our phones, tablets or computers, we are all pretty much contactable pretty much all of the time. If you are unavailable, it probably means that you are asleep, exploring the Škocjan Cave or (most likely) you are out of battery. In all cases, you will soon be reachable again. On the sea it's a little bit different. Obviously the phone coverage does not reach to the middle of the ocean, but even in the islands the situation is not significantly better. In some bays I have to climb to the top of the mast even to send a SMS.

 

 

One good thing about French Polynesia is the presence of telephone booths everywhere, even in the most remote places. Once, we were walking through a tropical forest when we heard ringing from behind a palm tree. I was still slightly reeling in surprise when a tattooed young man came running from the bush to answer the phone.

 

 

I later learned that this was not unusual at all.

 

In the northern part of the atoll of Toau there is a stunning bay called Anse Amyot. Only one family lives there. There are no roads, shops or post offices. They have no internet, no mobile nor fixed line, but they do have their own private phone booth on the beach. Relatives and friends can call them there.

 

If making a call is difficult, don’t even ask me about going online. In the middle of the Pacific everything goes much slower, from the pace of life to the internet connection.

For weather forecasts and emergency messages, we use an SSB radio and a Pactor modem, which at seven o'clock in the evening works at the amazing speed of 500b per minute - at other times it does not reach even this modest speed. (No, that is not a spelling mistake, I'm actually talking about good old bites.)

Before I continue, let me say that for me the lack of Internet is no tragedy. I love to spend a week or a month without news and email. But, (whether I like it or not) sometimes I need to contact the world to send articles and newsletters to my readers. When I need a fast connection, I venture ashore to find an internet café, a post office or a hotel, where I can sit for a few hours and upload my articles. My office is sometimes a porch of a wooden house, a bench under a tree, an ice-cream shop, or even the lobby of the Hilton Hotel.

Uploading 200 Mb of photos can take up to a few hours, that’s why I always make sure to have a comfortable chair and the best possible view.

 

 

My favourite office is a small café on the island of Nuku Hiva, just a few meters away from the sea and the fish market. There is always something going on there. Some days there is a loud card game, some days the locals are playing ukuleles and singing or they set up a big screen and we all watch the football together.

 

 

To give you an idea of what I mean by the words “my office”, I have uploaded a short video.

 

http://youtu.be/0ackD2E-yGs

 

The joyful atmosphere always puts me in a good mood, but unfortunately such an environment doesn’t really help my writing. How could I possibly gather my thoughts, when there is a wild Polynesian concert going on next to me, when children tug me by my sleeves, fishermen hawk their latest offerings, the passing sailors keep asking directions and chickens pluck my toes?