A constant droning infiltrates the sweet night air as we sit on the deck of Sea Dragon, chatting over dinner.
We’re anchored not far off the coast of the main town of London, in remote Kirtimati Island. It really is an isolated island paradise – white sandy beaches , coconut trees, coral reefs and slow, island life.
But the droning that manages to carry its way across the water, slightly overpowering our conversation, isn’t coming from the villagers, or the island.
Look in one direction off the boat and you just see moon glittering on the water. Look the other direction and six monstrous fishing vessels sit – so out of place – where there should just be ocean.
It’s an alarming site which just adds to the dream-like reality of being here. I’m having trouble comprehending how life exists (at snail’s pace) so far from anything.
During the day I-Kiribati ride lazily about town on push bikes, an occasional van drives by, full up, with island-tunes pumping out the windows. Workers knock off at about 3pm, the pressing issues of cooking dinner and relaxing take priority.
Meetings happen when people are free. Downpours that soak you in two minutes flat just cool you down as you wander along. Kids walk barefoot down the coconut-lined roads, or tracks, to get to school. If you’re sick you don’t go to school – instead you go snorkelling – it helps you get better, or so one teenager told me.
Yet the presence of the parked-up fishing boats is an indication that not quite all is laid-back. One of the crew on Sea Dragon, Jasper – a Danish guy who has spent time fishing the Baltics and the North Sea – explains (in a nut shell) how their offshore operations work.
Basically, the fishing rights for Kiribati’s EEZ are brought by international bidders for a pittance. They are sold cheaply because, well, Kiribati has practically no other industry to draw revenue from. And also, if they don’t sell them, the companies and countries which are responsible for these boats will pretty much just fish the waters anyway.
The crew almost never go ashore. Instead, workers from poor countries, trying to earn a living to send back home, live and work aboard the boats in almost slave like conditions. Some boats have close to seventy crew. According to Jasper, management would rather employ more cheap labour than needed, than run the boat efficiently.
What is the I-Kiribati going to do about the boats in their backyard anyway? Scare these sea-monsters off by charging at the vessels with their dingys? It’s either take what you can get, or get nothing. Such is life when you’re bang-smack in the middle of the Mare-Pacificum.
Japan is a strong example of this. The neighbouring country to the far-east has fishing rights for waters around Kiritimati. To sweeten up the deal though, and for the sake of ‘friendship’, the Japanese invest in building schools and some infrastructure on the island.
I guess it has some benefits for the tiny nation. We visited a high school one afternoon and learnt that the Japanese had paid for an internet café to be built in the school. Japan also takes one of the island’s only exports – salt. The lagoon is so extensive here and there is so much solar energy beaming down, that there is ample opportunity to create the condiment.
On the northern side of the island, a small area of the lagoon is pumped into five holding ponds. These ponds are then drained for around three months, leaving the pits with raw, Pacific salt. Around 45 locals work on the farm, harvesting dried sea salt with crow bars – apparently the crushing machine is on its way… months from now I’m sure it will finally arrive.
The raw salt is sent over to Japan for refining. It is a good thing the lagoon has pristine waters to draw from, because at this end of production there’s not really much quality control over what goes into the ponds.
Speaking of the pristine sea, today I snorkelled in the most electric blue waters I think I’ve ever seen. We caught a ride around the semi-sheltered lagoonon this classic little orange and red catamaran-type dingy and were lucky enough to anchor just off a wildlife sanctuary to check out the waters.
It was just stunning. Like you’d imagine the tropics to be. Rachel, the oceanographer on board, is diving several times a day while here. As part of her PHD project at Scripps in San Diego she’s mapping the state of reefs along the Line Islands and has been for the first time, looking at the quality of them in the Cook Islands as well.
Apparently out where the fishing boats are anchored, and on the coast out from London – the main village on the island – the reefs are in pretty bad shape with hardly any fish.
But where we were, about a kilometre or two away, the water and the reefs are healthy, flourishing cities of sea life. Kind of like on Finding Nemo! Just incredible to have such a host of amazing underwater scenery right in front of your eyes.
When we finished snorkelling, our lovely guides took us by boat around the sanctuary (a little island, named Captain Cook, after its discoverer) – so, so, so many beautiful and rare birds nest there. I wish I was a bird watcher so I at least knew the names of these squawking, quibbling, somehow graceful creatures.
So far Kiritimati Island has been an experience of extremes. On one hand, it’s an isolated beauty – the wildlife and oceans are in pretty good knick. And the people are so welcoming and lovely. A nod of the head or shy ‘Mauri’ is always offered when passing by.
But this simplicity is contrast with these massive monster ships, glaring their lights into the tropical surroundings like a monster eyeballing its prey. I’m astounded. But I guess that’s part of this experience – learning that not everything is as you imagine, and even what you imagine is probably not close to reality.
Ok, off to bed – am sleeping on the deck of the boat tonight because it’s too hot down below, and I figure that while we’re anchored – why not?
More on island life soon.
