To Skip or to Jump

The idea came up a long while back and was dismissed straight away. Surely it would seem churlish to go right by the Galapagos islands and not stop to have a look around. To miss these unique islands famed as an ecologists delight; the birthplace of Darwins' thoughts on evolution; may seem outright crazy to you but it's seeming like a more sensible plan as each day slips past.

We're still here, the other side of Panama in La Playita anchorage. We can't set out until the United States Postal Service gets a wriggle on. For some reason our bag of sail building hardware is dragging it's brass rings.

The whole dynamic was brought home to us as we evesdropped upon two boats talking on the radio net here. They were discussing (illegally) extending their stay in the Marquesas beyond the 3 months permitted for Americans. The rules are more relaxed for us so it emphasised the point that we are trading time in the Galapagos for time in French Polynesia. Add to this the fact that the Equadorian guardians of the Galapagos deem fit to charge visiting yachts through the nose for extremely restrictive permits. We just have to wonder...though money isn't necessarily perilously short we really hate spending it. As we have not arranged a special advance permit we may only stay at one anchorage and will have to join tourist excursions if we want to see other parts of our chosen island or other islands.

We think it's great that the islands are being properly protected from the ravages of tourism. Though many visit, the rules on seeing other than the tiny permitted areas are prohibitive for most. Hopefully this allows the ecosystem to remain preserved. This might just mean though, that to preserve it, we won't see it.

We'll probably push off with open minds; we won't have missed it until we sail right by. If we do decide not to go, we just have to remember; there are many more islands in the sea! 

Pacific Bound

I turned over in bed, wondering how I was going to flush the toilet without awakening our three slumbering guests. I wasn't worried about Duncan; a) he's used to the sucking squelching noise our toilet makes and my weak bladder, but also b) I was pretty sure he was restless with anticipation too... In the end I just got up and put the kettle on. It was light outside after all and as I recall as a backpacker we were always a pretty well rested bunch.

We spent the day ticking off our jobs list. Dunc pedaling off for fuel, one can at a time; it was cheaper in town than dockside. In no time at all Sandro was rowing out to meet Dunc and swap an empty can for a full, retrieving it back where Colin or Tanja would help syphon it into the tank. I promise we didn't make them; they were interested and wanted to be helpful! The solar panels got covered and stored, our new sunshade got rigged up, the tires were rigged up and all fenders were placed, the ropes were unravelled and readied, we read through the instructions again to check we had everything covered and prepared LOTS of food... we were ready!

Our time to meet our advisor was 4pm so we motored round to the specified anchorage and waited, eyeing up the other boats we would be going through with. How to explain the mixture of excitement and apprehension we felt... Several people have enthused to us how they've always wanted to, or remember so fondly, when they went through the Panama canal. I can't say either of us shared this feeling. We wanted to get to the Pacific in one piece and felt slightly anxious about crossing a canal with enormous ships in enormous locks with risks we understand only too well knowing our little English locks so intimately. Whenever I feel like this I have to remember that all kinds of idiots manage to do this.

Our advisor, Moses arrived at 16.30 and we were away! We'd considered that it might be necessary for Duncan to helm the boat purely because we anticipated the canal zone workers to be unused to dealing with women; we couldn't have been more wrong. As I started the engine whilst Dunc pulled up the anchor, not an eyelid was batted and so we saw no reason to change. With Dunc's strength and experience the place for him was to be managing our lines and line handlers and providing the force needed when necessary on the ropes.

We were quietly pleased to hear that as the longest boat we would be rafted as the middle of three. That would mean that once we were tied together, our backpackers could relax and take photos. As we passed the bank where the lock gates for the new locks being built were stored (made in Italy), they were delighted to see a crocodile lounging in the sun. As we approached the first lock the plans changed. 

Duncan says that there are two different reasons people buy steel boats; one is so they can tread the paths less trodden amongst the ice and snow, and the other is that they are nervous. We had one of each with us on this journey and one of the skippers got the jitters and must have requested that they be in the centre, citing that our length on deck was less and they must be heavier too...

From the start this proved to have been a poor decision and there was no doubt that our boat with it's full keel, big rudder and greater weight was dictating the direction of travel. This was exacerbated by the fact that the boats hadn't been tied squarely and their boat had the fore and aft bitter ends so we couldn't alter this; despite suggesting that this may help. As we zigg-zagged towards the lock gate, their advisor; who was therefore the co-ordinator of the three; quickly realised that our tiller was centred as requested, and that he would be needing Impetuous to steer us too if we were to manage a straight course; we got on first name terms and things went more smoothly.

The lines were passed up, the gates slowly shut and we took our last look out to the Atlantic sea. As the lock filled and the boats rose the long lines from our bow and stern were suprisingly difficult to keep evenly tensioned, the forces of the water bubbling up seemed to be trying to push us over to the left. A moment of excitement came when our stainless steel cross bar on the samson post snapped right off. Luckily no-one was in it's path and Duncan quickly got the rope under control again. The offending bar had been bent previously in Belize when we were digging an anchor in with the engine... we really distrust old stainless steel and are delighted that we chose to replace our fatigued chainplates with thumping big bronze ones when we had the chance.

The Gatun locks are a staircase of three, at the top we motored in the dark to all moor up on a big rubber buoy. The heavens opened and we introduced our new friends to the joys of a shower outside in the rain.

Next morning I was up again with the grey dawn, still dehydrated despite all the water and widdleing; it's got to be the adrenaline. The coffee was made for everyone before our new advisor, Carlos arrived and all had to blearily rise to cast off our lines at 7am. Sandro took the helm for most of the 27 miles across the lakes and through the Gaillard cut. Along the way, Carlos showed us the dredging he does as his full time job; both our advisors did this as an extra part time job, described by both as 'for fun' jobs. He also pointed out the jail where Noriega languishes still and an ancient floating crane built by the Nazis which still has swastika stamped into it, which they use to float up the lockgates during maintenance.

With all the spare power we had; running the engine fast for all this time; everyone enjoyed eating icepops we'd been given as a leaving present by Joan in Texas!

Carlos showed us the sheet that he had, detailing all craft transitting that day, saying you're in the centre, right? We chuckled to ourselves and said sure. Rafted up we proceeded to the first lock. Once in, we had a long wait for a big ship that failed to materialise before the powers that be decided there was too much turbulence at the lock gate and sent us down on our own. Inside the second lock we had to wait... for an hour!

Carlos explained that the Canal authority makes a loss on us little boats going through and only keeps the fees reasonable for good foreign relations. The expenses of the advisors, tugs which need to be on hand, delivery boats to ferry workers about, shoreside line handlers and a tiny portion of the maintenance bill add up to more than our fees. We must wait for the big boat; us paying just less than $1,000 each, them paying around the $50,000 mark and the biggest who only just fit alone in some circumstances paying up to $400,000. It was interesting to find out that the volume of rain experienced makes a massive difference to their operating costs and therefore profits; presumably their pumps are very expensive to run. According to Carlos, deep into the rainy season they just about break even with little boats and start making proper good proffits on the big boats. It's easy to see where the money goes though, there were various work boats dotted all over and all sorts of specialists on hand. We watched a fire boat practicing with an impressive plume of water once we'd passed. Hearing how the electric locomotives work, which run alongside the big ships through the locks was fascinating.

Carlos gave us a big build up for the gap between the second and third lock. He explained how there was a current flowing down the locks, the big boat behind would be pushing a current too, the wind was blowing that way and that the fresh water meets the salt water at this point. He said it was very important to go slowly but under control to stay straight and that where the confluence occurred there was a risk of the boats all being spun around as one. I went out to the bowsprit to look at what lay ahead and was pleased to see that it was only a very short distance and there was no widening between the two locks so we would be able to gauge our squareness against the walls.

As the gates opened all three of us at the helms were totally focussed and prepped. Carlos directed each individually to use their engines forward and reverse to keep our speed optimal and we managed to steer our way through without too much problem much to everyone's relief. At the time I was not at all conscious of the fact that this was where the canal authorities has chosen to put the tourist's viewing platform and restaurant together with the webcam; my mind was on other things, but in retrospect I wish I'd washed my hair in that thunderstorm!

Out through the last lock and we all congratulated ourselves and untied. Just a few more miles to where Carlos got picked up and we went on, found ourselves an anchorage and dropped Colin, Tanja and Sandro ashore. They seemed delighted with their experience and we went our seperate ways all beaming with what we'd achieved. Last night we slept very well indeed!

Thanks to our line handlers; Colin, Tanja and Sandro some of whom took some of these photos!

San Blas Pictures

I'm afraid we had no control over the weather, but just to give you an idea here is a picture of some rain.

This guy would have liked to sell us a lot more Molas for a lot more money. The needle work on them is amazing, very intricate. To be fair, we would have liked to have bought a lot more too. 

Routine maintenance and checks of our new wooden mast always offer opportunity for some great photos. Just glad its Ruth who does the ascending.  

There was some blue sky

We have changed our fishing technique to great effect.

The administrative centre of the San Blas. Not a bad place to work.

San Blas and Beyond

When you dream of desert islands...

where tall coconut palms stretch up in to a blue sky from beautiful white sand beaches. They dot the sea; the azure blue sea, scattered like gems amongst the scars of coral. Populated by an indigenous people that have retained their origins and traditions; that live in pampas leaf huts between the palms and the mango trees, fishing, harvesting coconuts and trading hand crafts. Then you are dreaming of the San Blas islands. They are stunning.

However, anyone who dwells upon such a desert island will be only too familiar; there is always a wet season. The British call it summer, though to be fair its always raining on our blessed little isle and never that tropical. Unfortunately for us, A pot of varnish and brush in our hands, the rainy season has arrived. We're forever chasing the final sunset of the season before transiting the canal in to the Pacific and another sunny predictable season. Hurricane season starts in a week or so and though we were lucky last year, this year we seem to be getting wet. Oh, and its hot, humid hot.

So we delayed our transit by a few days as we fell deeper in love with the San Blas, but only a few days.

Despite the beauty of these islands we're trying to 'get a grasp' of our provisions. We have the time tranquility and the seemingly endless resources that Colon city provides. Currently we're going through tins. Ordering, sorting and counting. Tins for us means only one thing tomatoes; helpful when the labels come off. Argued there are always a few odds and sods to be found artichoke hearts and sauerkraut, if they're small they may be water chestnuts, but generally all are tomatoes.

So we now have 101 cans left, we had 194 when we left America, not bad after 7 months. They haven't all rusted through. Indeed they're fine but, we have a slight list to starborad, its ruining our predominately submerged starboard waterline. We're going to be sailing on a port tack for over three weeks, so stores are getting re orded; shifted to port if they're heavy, and counted.

After re-upholstering the boat we were left with lots of offcuts of foam. With the San Blas on our list of destinations and their famed molas much reverred we stuffed the foam in to over filled lockers with the ideas of using them to make cushions; to liven up the inside and say something of where we have been. So we have been spending our hard earned pennies on beautiful hand stitched embroidered molas.

And finally, the day has arrived. We're back in Colon now anchored just off the hustle and bustle; we have our line handlers onboard, just coming to, after their first night onboard; our adviser joins us at four then its up through the first set of locks. A night in the lake itself then a long motor across (Sailing frowned upon) before we drop down in to the Pacific. There will be a few more blogs on this, hopefully they will be happy ones.

Sorry the photos will come later, were a little busy.

Loose Ends

Alas, in our eagerness to blog upon our enthusiasm about Cuba we have ommitted a lot of recent news. So we thought we would attempt to draw all our loose ends together.

 

Firstly, we left Cuba and sailed directly to Panama. Finally we sailed the right way in the trades. A broad reach; no motoring, not beating. After a slow start Impetuous romped along chewing up the miles, and for a week we relaxed in to our watches and seemingly endless stream of books.

Secondly, yes Panama, that of canal fame. Yes, we will be transiting it soon. We have been measured; the most important prerequisite. A staggering 48 ½ ' in length; the price increases after 50'. Our 38' boat certainly doesnt feel like that big on the inside. A reverse tardis. The bow sprit and Beryl are to be blamed; our self steering gear. We have paid our fee and deposit, requested a date, several weeks hence and now intend to spend the interim.....

Thirdly, we're off to the San Blas islands to relax and prepare for the other side. Fortunately there aren't any strongly pressing jobs to do prior to our transit and we hope to spend our time varnishing, which; and you have to have the right frame of mind to concur with this; isn't really work.

Fourthly, we are delighted and somewhat relieved to have found a source for our much lamented missed Archers episodes. We had caught a trailer on the world tonight whilst catching up on podcasts and though the world seems to be merrily rolling along; Syria, bankers bonuses, Scotland campaigns etc there seems to have been a bomb dropped upon our beloved Ambridge. Just as we were getting ready to write a letter to someone, it occurred that we might Google it... Up it popped through some kind of 'Britain is awesome' site www.adrianbeal.com who as an Archers fan has taken it upon himself to provide all the Archers omnibus episodes for anyone to download. Now that's commitment!

Lastly cruising continues; we have so far been delighted with what we have found here. In our minds we'd always thought of Panama as 'where the canal is' and had failed to register it as an amazing place to visit and spend time. We now no longer pronounce Colón as if part of the bowel or like an aftershave, but as a Col on which to rest upon. Albeit for one who likes to emit an industial scent, the town has a very visceral charm to it. We're currently in Portebello, the old Pirate stonghold and the final resting place of Sir Francis Drake buried somewhere at sea in a lead coffin. Still charming none the less.

Sailing in Cuba

 I'm sure some of you have been expecting this blog for a while, so sorry for its delay. Though Cuba is many things, the land of super fast wifi connection it is not. You may snigger to hear that we are more than five weeks behind in our Radio 4 soap 'the Archers' but on a more serious note we don't really know what's happening in the world given that no independent news is available.  More on communication later...

We spent a month is Cuba.  Not nearly long enough to do it justice.  But certainly long enough to get a good taste of what it has to offer, and also dispel the concerns we had of visiting by boat.

 We arrived in Cienfuegos.  This was a great city that we both took an immediate liking to.   We were able to walk the 20 minutes into town or catch the bus that cost 1 peso national; about 3 pence or 4 cents and easily stock up with all that we needed cheaply at the agromercardo.   The city (large town) had a lovely relaxed and good humoured feel to it, it was relatively quiet and laid back.  

One thing that exemplifies this is the way you may sit in any bar or evening meeting place and whether you buy anything or not you are made to feel welcome.  People hang out in many places along the water edge where you can catch a breeze, you may buy a beer or a bottle of rum in most such places (always for the same price as any shop) or not, no-one's bothered.  If you have a bottle of rum and are sitting at a table it's perfectly acceptable to ask for a glass of ice, the same at an outside kiosk.  We took to joining this custom quickly.  Whatever you had with you to enjoy, no-one was bothered where it came from, the goal of the establishment was not to make money for itself but to provide a service.  

Having said that, due to Cuba's historic problems of 'the special period' where it found itself very suddenly low on trading partners and with a corresponding deficit in it's self sufficiency; there exists a dual economy in Cuba.  The hardship of the 'special period' necessitated extreme action on the part of the rulers, where they suddenly found a place for money making, in the form of tourism.  Tourism did help them out of the 'special period' and continues to support Cuba's economy in no small way.  

In order to make money from tourism and to be able to buy commodities abroad, Cuba invented a second currency.  The CUC is an arbitary currency which is pegged to the American dollar.  The Cuban National Peso remains as the currency for the normal Cuban; most wages are paid in NPs and basic supplies are bought in this.  Over the years the CUC has spread out from the tourist hotels and restaurants by the proliferation of 'dollar shops' where less essential and imported goods can be bought by Cubans and tourists alike.  As the exchange rate is 1 CUC (a dollar) to around 24 National Pesos the difference in prices for similar items can make the eyes water.  A meal in a local place may be around 7-10 Peso Nacionals whereas a CUC restaurant may charge about the same in dollars (CUCs).... that's 24 times the price for what appeared to often be equally mediocre or even less good food.  There are certain things such as transport that are dictated a foreigner must pay in CUCs a different fee although the local buses don't stick to this and many truck drivers offering lifts continue to be offended by an offer of money 'this is socialismo'.  The result is that you can do things super cheap in Cuba if you stick to the normal local stuff.  However, occasionally you'll run in to trouble when someone clocks your skin tone, accent or 'foreign' demeanor and decides to charge you a different price in a different currency, sometimes quite unpredictably.  It's difficult to argue when you've already eaten and sure, everyone knows you could afford it if you had to....  This creates an apartheid which we agree does the Revolutions' admirable goals no favours.          

There was very little traffic in Cienfuegos except a little on the outskirts; all the easier to enjoy some great architecture in varied condition; both splendour and dilapidation.

Our intended cruising ground was to be the Jardines de la Reina; eventually we managed to drag ourselves away from Cienfuegos and sailed to Cassilda. From there we trundled up to the town of Trinidad in one of the many old American cars that still populate the roads along with horse and cart and of course the ever popular push bike. 

 Established in the 16^th Century Trinidad is an UNESCO world heritage site and as such the oldest parts remain cobbled and traffic free. Just a few blocks south of where the other tourists were photographing old colonial churches and mansions we were pottering amongst the streets of homes and soaking up the ambiance of a different way of living. Song birds in cages delineate almost instead of house names or numbers suspended over the doors prized for their singing, trained and traded. Many homes were simple in the extreme, though the people spring out looking modern, comfortable and light hearted.

From there we sailed into the Jardines de la Reina. We spent just over a week amongst the cays. As these are not inhabited by Cubans there are no guarda fronteras there, so one is really left alone to explore and enjoy. Our overriding concern began to develop that the wind was almost always from the SE and battling into it was chewing up a lot of our time. With intentions to explore beyond Santiago then returning to clear out, we did a big jump outside the reef to Cabo Cruz. 

Cabo Cruz was a stunning destination, located on the southwestern tip of the lower southern coast. A reef protects it and provides rich fishing ground whilst we are still able to benefit from the cooling breeze from the sea as we anchored behind it. Ferro cement fishing boats would trundle out in the morning and return with their catch in the evening. Ashore was a dusty little village with little in the way of supplies but a sleepy restaurant that sold its simple dishes representatively of what the fisherman had caught. Both children and men would swim out hoping to barter fruits and veg for what we might have.

One of the delightful charms of Cuba is money is somewhat devalued; partly because even if you have it, many things are simply not available but also by the fact that the government provides a lot of what they need.  Stuff has more value than money so bartering is common.  What people wanted most was 'Ropas'; clothes.  T-shirts, caps, kids clothes, towels, or useful things like knives, fishing line or lures, rope.  No-one was interested in what we had plenty of, which was like them; rice and beans!  

Those of you who know us will be starting to chuckle at the idea of anyone, far less the stylish Cubans being envious of our clothes.  They just expect westerners to have loads of that stuff.  It was easy to get our position across however; we would just point to the holes and sewn repairs in ANY clothes we were wearing and shrug.  Money was always the least sought reward.  We were able to find a spare torch, knife and give away some fishing line, and laugh when they asked if we had spare ropes, snorkel gear, or mobile phones!  Though we have what we need, we're not in the habit of carrying much that isn't extremely useful to us.  

The stretch of coast from Cabo Cruz Easterly turns ever more mountainous, indeed I believe there is no other place in the world where the height of the mountains drops so sharply in to the depths of the sea.  We saw some beautiful scenery and did some lovely light weather sailing; hugging the shoreline to try to exploit any offshore breeze.  

We stopped in Ensenada Marea de Portillo and after an airless night bothered by bugs, we were welcomed by a delightful Guarda Frontera who had been rowed out to us by one of the villagers.  

So the deal is when in Cuba by boat, you have to abide by some slightly unusual rules.  It is not like anywhere else and so requires a bit of a mindshift and a relaxed attitude to enjoy.  We had been forewarned and therefore found the limitations and rules that were enforced in our direction to be far less onerous than feared.  

When we checked into Cienfuegos we were boarded and checked by around 6 or 7 different officials with or without Spaniels over the first three days.  Since they were all extremely courteous and pleasant and none of them wanted anything but to do their job this was no problem to us.  We then, with some trepidation submitted a proposal of where we would like to visit as was suggested by our cruising guide to the Guarda. He took the document and then promptly went off duty, so when we checked out it was missing.  This was no problem as all they wanted to know was the next place we would be stopping and this was how it continued for the whole time we were in Cuban waters.  

Each place we stopped, if it was inhabited at all, we would make an effort to find the Guarda, or they may visit us first.  At this point they want to see your documentation; Passports, visa, possibly boat registration and 'despacho'.  It's the Despacho that you must surrender when you arrive and find when you want to leave being both stamped in and out by the Guarda and telling them where you will go next.  On occasion we were told that whilst we may go to the next intended place we shouldn't go ashore.  It was never quite clear (thankfully) to us how strict this was so we cautiously flaunted it and had no problems.  However, get caught somewhere you shouldn't be and that isn't on your 'despacho' then you WILL be in trouble and we heard of at least one boat being charged a hefty fine.  These warnings always need to be considered carefully however, as it's quite possible that the place they were found was a military zone clearly 'out of bounds' and they may well have been disrespectful and therefore attracted problems.  

In Cabo Cruz we were requested to not stray too far from the boat if it were unattended for security reasons by the friendly Guarda there, who was happy to fill our water bottles and gave us a lovely strong sweet coffee.  We were told at other times that we wouldn't be allowed ashore so... some rules are a little flexible. Aside from the entrance fee previously mentioned in Cienfuegos, we never had to pay any of these officials for any of the checks that they saw fit.  Boats do have to stay in a marina if there is one in that place (by no means everywhere and stays can be kept to a minimum if preferred.  Even if you choose to anchor in such a place they will prescribe where, charge you for the pleasure and require that you only leave the boat via dinghy through the marina gates.  The main reason that boats are so carefully watched is that the Cuban authorities are very concerned that no Cuban has an opportunity to leave the country illegally; a boat being a possible escape route... 

  

Anyway, back to Marea de Portillo, the Guarda had been informed of our presence and so visited us.  He wanted to know when we would leave so he could come back to stamp us out again.  His office was around 10 miles away and he had no boat of his own at his disposal, so given the lack of any obvious overseer you would have thought he could just do both at the same time but diligently he wished to revisit.  As we were vague and didn't know how long we wanted to stay, he just turned up the next day to check; and I'm sure would have happily, each day until we were ready to depart.  

    

Our last port of Cuba was Santiago.  Though a vibrant city, on a boat, this is far from ideal as a place to stop.  The whole big bay of Santiago is off limits currently for Sailboats (and has been for some time).  You have to stay in a small marina which is in poor repair and cramped by the mouth of the bay and so not always brilliantly sheltered.  The bay proudly sports an enormous bilious petro-chemical refinery so after a few days there, we're now on day three of scrubbing to remove the yellow spots allover our decks; we finally found that phosphoric acid gets it off.  Also Santiago marina is at least 10km from Santiago town. There are buses which are exceptionally cheap but not especially reliable or frequent.

We ran out of time at the end of our visit and decided to postpone our visit to Baracoa, my (Ruth's) favourite part of Cuba.  The wind was too much against and our minds were turning towards the Pacific.  We will definitely be back and first priority will be beautiful sleepy Baracoa.

Cuba has a gentle yet quirky charm that is greater than its constituent parts; its Spanish origins and its socialist ideals. People seem happy and content; they have a sense of purpose and a belief in their system (mostly). It all seems to produce a heady mix more relaxed than their Spanish cousins, with more time to find fun and enjoy the finer things in life.  The lack of emphasis on material wealth shared by the majority (though by no means all) produces an atmosphere which is unlike anywhere else either of us have been.  

Cubans have excellent (free to them) healthcare and a ruling power which tries to exert moral influence over its' population.  The ethos which is nurtured is that family, education, pride and patriotism are what makes Cuba great.  However we cannot gloss over the fact that Cubans are not free.  They are encouraged to make choices and take pride in their decisions to a point... but they do not have unbiased information sources, they may not travel freely or do as they wish unless it falls within what is permitted.  The controlling force is not - as in the West (largely) money and opportunity but what is decreed from above, facilitated by community enforcement and peer pressure (backed up by stronger state enforcement when deemed necessary).

'Granma' is the national newspaper which does report on world issues but it's hard to take seriously what may well be perfectly sound reporting when you know (and can tell) that it is the official line. Internet and international phone calls are prohibitively expensive in Cuba and are definitely not affordable to the average waged Cuban who would be spending half their months salary on 1 hour (slow connection once you've waited in line to use it) internet or 5 minutes of international phone call time.  I find it astonishing that the government can effectively keep the internet and all it offers from the Cubans whilst still enthusiastically encouraging high levels of education for all.  Cubans are often extremely overqualified and their expertise are generously donated for free to assist other struggling nations.  There is a national pride in the work that their aid teams of doctors, engineers, scientists and military offer to assist other countries. 

The atmosphere bred by the state's moral view is palpable day to day though of course complicated.  Just cast your eyes down a street and you will see people being treated with respect and dignity, young and old. There is an integration that they prosper within, where race, sex, age and disability seem to honestly matter less than in many other communities.  Where difference does not appear to be exalted particularly, merely accepted and enjoyed in a low key way.  Families and wider communities are seen together, interacting in a normal but very cohesive way which is seen less and less in our modern world.

Just in case you were wondering, all the photos are entirely how they came out from point and shoot with the occasional crop.  We have no photoshop skills and haven't changed any colours.  We have however found the 'straighten' button on our photo editor to be exceptionally useful when failing to take straight pictures from a rolling sailing boat.