SV Footprint (Begonia): Salomon Islands, Chagos Archipelago

[Kyle]From the day that we arrived at Salomon atoll, we knew we would stay for as much of our four-week permit as the weather would allow; our plan was first to enjoy an easy couple of days to rest and get back into normal, diurnal sleep cycles. Each of our last off-watches had only allowed us fitful sleep as we were too excited about our impending arrival to really zonk out. Once we had set the anchor and done all of the requisite stowing and tidying up, it was finally naptime!

Except that neither one of us was particularly sleepy. Begonia was anchored on a tongue of white sand in the gap between Takamaka and Fouquet Islands. Behind and to each side of us, the three-meter shelf quickly dropped into the twenties, where the color of the water at the surface sharply changed from luminous turquoise to deep navy blue. Near the islands, the dark, deep water merged into very slightly darker patches of coral with a tinge of brown in them. Behind the coral were beaches of white sand. Towering above the beaches were stands of tall coconut palms generously speckled with little white dots, which binoculars revealed to be mostly Red-Footed Boobies honking quietly to each other like so many whispering geese. We took one look at each other and instantly decided a swim to the beach sounded like much more fun than a nap.

Since there was a bit of current flowing in over Begonia’s sand shelf, we swam sideways to the slower-moving deep water adjacent and followed the edge to the coral. Along the way, we saw three different kinds of stingrays, two of which had the largest diameter and the longest tails, respectively, of any that we have seen. On the reef, there were large schools of lots of different kinds of particularly colorful fishes. My instant favorite was the Powderblue Surgeonfish. Primarily lavender-colored with sharp yellow, black and white outlines. The colors on them are so even that each one looks like a little swimming lithograph.

After swimming through a lot of debris from the wreck of a much bigger catamaran than ours, we landed on the beach on the northern tip of Fouquet. There, the rest of the wreck is being slowly buried in the sand. The boobies left their perches above in what at first seemed like an overabundance of caution until most of them made several low passes by us to have a look. They weren’t dive-bombing us like they were protecting a nest or anything, just coming down to see what we were.

The water was too inviting to NOT swim ashore - the wreck ashore is the Black Rose, a 60m+ catamaran that dragged in 2012 (we believe)
We found we had a paradise all to ourselves

Our next day dawned too bright and beautiful to spend loafing. We swam to Takamaka and walked as much of the perimeter as we could before rough coral on the other side stopped us. We then doubled back on ourselves and returned home via a drift dive through the Takamaka-Fouquet gap.

Snorkelling off Takamaka

Walking about on Takamaka

We decided that swimming wasn’t cutting it, so we dug out the inflatable kayak and took the dinghy out of lifeboat mode. On calm days, we would load our snorkel gear into the kayak and head to more distant beaches than our local ones. On windy days, we would set up the sailing rig on the dinghy and head out across the lagoon. Eventually, we set foot on each of the eleven islets of the atoll. We even managed to circumnavigate seven of them on foot, ranging from tiny Île Diable (population: about six palm trees) to our much larger neighbor Île Fouquet.

Red-footied Boobies

Wildlife is everwhere (In this case on Île Fouquet).
Amazingly the islands have no bats!

It was on our walk around Île Fouquet that we encountered the first of many, many of what took to calling “fluffies” – baby Red-Footed Boobies covered in soft, white down. Booby nests vary in quality from carefully padded bowls of twigs at the high end, to forks in a branch small enough to keep the egg from falling through in the budget section. The chicks grow up there until they are strong enough to fly. Unable to flee at our approach like the adults, they are left behind to fend for themselves. As we do, they make no effort to hide. Usually, they start begging as if they think there is a chance that we might regurgitate something tasty for them. Apart from the adults being harassed by Frigate Birds or possibly being taken by a very occasional shark, these birds have no predators here. The chicks seem completely trusting and even curious of strangers. It was the same with the Noddies and Frigate Birds, who always seemed to come over to us to have a look when they saw us approaching. Most friendly were the adorable little White Terns. They would hover just above us as if trying to decide on which part of us to land for a cuddle, before giving up on about the fifth try. Then they would follow us for a while until we got too far from where they wanted to be.

Going ashore it was much easier to keep to the beach than attempt to find/make a path through the interior

On one trip to Takamaka, we decided to go inland to look for a well that others had reported years before. If we could find it, we had another laundry day planned. Since only a handful of boats have been here since the 2019 season (and Takamaka isn’t even the main island), the undergrowth has really taken over. Luckily, we were always within earshot of the surf to the east, so we couldn’t get that lost. We never found the well, but did get to meet several spiders by accidentally putting our faces through their webs. Luckily, they all preferred jumping away to safety to taking out their revenge on us for destroying their day’s work. A stick carried ahead like it was flying a banner took care of that problem.

We had become accustomed to the calls of the many seabirds on the islands, but we kept hearing one fast chirruping noise that we couldn’t identify. It sounded like it could be a small land bird or possibly a type of cricket or frog. Bashing through the interior of Takamaka, we finally found the source: a cute little bright red bird a little bigger than a finch. Poring through our guidebooks later, we learned that it was a Madagascar Red Fody. These birds were introduced here and since they are apparently unafraid of flying over water, have populated every island in the Archipelago. They live inland, away from the beaches and seem to prefer the top of the canopy, where they are hard to spot. It became one of our common challenges every time we went ashore to find the little speck of red high in the green foliage so we could match an adorable face to the sound.

Red Fody (bird) is destinctive in colour and song, so quite easy to find

This was unfortunately when all of our cameras started failing one after the other. First it was the one with the good zoom, then the underwater cameras started packing it in. It took Maryanne a frustrating week of digging through the whole boat before she found our backup for the former. Then she was determined to go ashore and finally get a decent shot of a Fody. {Maraynne: We had FOUR cameras die on us while in Chagos, AND Kyle's PC screen broke, leaving only 4/5ths functional. Thankfully we had spares enough to keep us going for now, but we'll have to reinvest once we reach South Africa}

Kyle was keen to break out the sailing kit for the Portland Pudgy - so another trip ashore (this time we walked all around Île Fouquet). That is turtle tracks in the last picture of this group.

A trip to Île Anglaise for the day (across the Atoll) we investigated a lost NOAA Buoy, and snorkelled some more

Farthest from both Begonia’s anchorage and the pass entrance is the largest island of the Salomon group, Île Boddam. It was the main population center in Salomon Atoll before the residents were relocated/removed to either the Seychelles or Mauritius in 1973. It is the only island that has any remaining infrastructure beyond partially buried foundations. On our first trip there in the sailing dinghy, I lost a shoe. That curtailed our exploration somewhat. Most of the undergrowth was surprisingly soft and, in some cases, my bare foot did better than the one in the sandal, which always seemed unable to shed some pointy, annoying little piece of gravel. My main concern was the many broken bottles strewn about. Still, we walked about half of the length of the island between the old church and the graveyard. Most of the walls were intact and a couple of the buildings even still had holey rooves.

Our first (short) trip to Boddam revealed some remnants of trails and lots of buildings being reclaimed by nature, visiting boaters have made one of the ruins a 'yacht club' where many boaters leave mementos of their time here. But the visit left us somewhat dejected, knowing the history of its ejected inhabitants. There was evidence that some of the Chargosian people (also known as Îlois or Chagos Islanders) return occassionally, primarily to visit the remains of their families, although it seems unlikely the island will ever be repopulated (even once ownership disputes might be settled).

It had been a long day already when we set off for the sail home. About a third of the way, we got hit with rain squalls that drenched us and filled the boat faster than we could bail. Poor Maryanne looked especially miserable because she was under the foot of the sail, which poured water on her in sheets. The double-hulled Portland Pudgy floats just fine when full of water, so we just kept on sailing the bathtub home until the rain decreased and we could put the water on the outside with the rest.

We have no idea where they all were the first time, but it wasn’t until our second trip to Boddam, this time on a light wind day in the kayak, that we saw the island’s ubiquitous Coconut Crabs. Hermit Crabs were everywhere, but not the bigger versions that had outgrown the protection of any shell. These creatures only instinct of self-preservation at our approach seems to be to flee and hide, despite having massive, powerful claws. Still, it can be quite a shock to come around a corner and encounter one unexpectedly. They are the world’s largest terrestrial arthropods and are believed to be at the upper size limit for what exoskeleton physiology can support with Earth’s current atmospheric oxygen concentration. I am so glad they are scaredy-cat crabs and not venomous spiders. Using the technique that I learned in Suwarrow, I picked a couple of medium-sized ones up by the carapace. The really big ones, though, were so big, with leg spans over a meter, that they would to need to interlace legs if two of them wanted to sit on Begonia’s salon table. They were just too scary to approach. Maryanne even found a pair who had unknowingly burrowed in an oven in one of the ruin’s kitchens.

A subsequent trip to Boddam - when Kyle had both shoes - we were able to explore a little deeper. We found more ruins and plenty of coconut crabs of all sizes. Somehow, we failed to find the plantation owners house.

For most of our stay, we alternated between snorkeling and kayaking. I’ve never been much for swimming as exercise, but I quickly found that the forty-minute up-current swim from Begonia to the buoy marking the wreck of a big monohull near Fouquet made for a nice morning workout. Maryanne would come with and then we would “coast” home along the coral reefs to the Takamaka/Fouquet gap, where the current would zing us back to the boat.

Our best kayaking day was when a large pod of Spinner Dolphins came into the lagoon to fish, as they seem to do every two or three days. They were in the deep water just behind Begonia’s shelf, so we went out to see if we could get a closer look at them. They sensed our approach and submerged for a while. We were just about to give up and go somewhere else when suddenly we were in the middle of the pod. We paddled hard to keep up with them and they kept slowing down and circling back to stay with us. The water around us was all churned up with their wakes. It felt like running with a herd.

Kayaking in the lagoon - was even more fun when the dolphins joined us

Then they started showing off with leaps and tail slaps. Maryanne got what would have been a great photo of three of them jumping in unison right in front of the kayak, except that the autofocus on her camera focused on the end of the paddle she had put down in front of her to get the shot. She kept at it, but every time she pointed the camera right, one of them would do a triple back flip to her left. Then she would look left and another one would practically high-five her right paddle blade. We raced around with each other for the better part of an hour before they finally stepped on it and left us behind to go towards the far end of the lagoon.

Dolphins weren’t the only ones fishing. On about our third night, we spotted what were clearly two fishing vessels poaching inside the protected area, since the boundary is too far over the horizon from our anchorage to see. They had no running lights, only minimal deck lighting. In the morning, just after sunrise, we spotted them darting across a gap between islands, heading for cover. Our kayak trips to the farther islands in the atoll taught us that Begonia blends into the beach and palm tree background from more than about two miles out, so they may not have seen us, although our anchor light would have given us away earlier.

We saw nothing for a while and then one day a similarly painted boat came inside the lagoon early one morning, fished for a while on the far side and then left. Well, those cheeky so-and-sos.

Over a week later, another fishing boat came into the lagoon, launched a dory with four men and then both boats started fishing. When the dory got near us, they came over and asked if we wanted any fish, holding up the carcasses of three of my friends. Uh, no.

Maryanne explained that we were vegetarians, which they accepted without further question (we are not, but it provided an easy exit from the uncomfortable situation). They were very friendly and explained that they were from Kerala in India. There are a lot of vegetarians in India. We’ve been advised not to confront any illegal fishermen, just smile and wave. After all, if things got ugly, we were way outnumbered. It’s quite possible that these guys didn’t even know they were in a Marine Reserve, but the captain of the big boat most certainly did. It’s a difficult situation. The economic incentives are all wrong. Fisherman are basically paid by the fish, not by how well they protect the sustainability of the fishery. This means that sneaking into the fish-rich reserve can pay off, even if every now and then a patrol boat tosses their catch overboard and escorts them out of the area.

The next morning, we awoke to the sight of five boats crossing the pass into the lagoon. They spent the morning cleaning it out, presumably for bait, before spending the afternoon fishing just outside of the atoll. Before the sun went down, we spotted six others in a big group doing the same. They were completely brazen about it. They didn’t approach us, but they also made no attempt to hide, either.

Waking just before sunrise the following morning, I was pleased to see that all of the fishing boats had gone. Instead, the big, orange BIOT patrol boat was loitering just outside of the pass. A RIB was heading for us.

Whilst there were no other cruisers in the area, we did have a few visitors (illegal fishermen and the various BIOT authorities). Visits from BIOT/SFPO were especially welcome since they were great company and always arrived with a gift of fresh provisions for us to savour (special thanks to Alistair). The BIOT authorities and Senior Fisheries Protection Officers (SFPOs) are a present for several reasons, but one of their main aims is to protect the Marine Protected Area (MPA), created in 2010, from illegal fishing. It's clearly needed since at one point we had 11 fishing boats in sight in just our tiny part of the MPA.

During our stay, we were visited three times by the officials here. Each time, they have been friendly and having them aboard feels more like hosting other cruisers than being inspected by The Man. They always go out of their way to bring us precious gifts of fresh produce and other goodies. They are very busy, but we always enjoy it when they can carve out enough time for a visit. When we told them about yesterday’s eleven boats, the guy in charge said they all scattered when they saw them coming into the area.

We talked for a bit about the problem. He said the real key is to get the fishing boats’ home countries involved. Violating international fishing treaties can reduce a country’s quotas or even get them banned entirely, so it’s in their best interest to police their own people. He cited Sri Lanka as an example. If they are reported, their own (Sri Lankan) authorities impose fines and penalties so high that their fishermen just won't take the risk of getting caught any longer. The Indian government, he explained, is a big bureaucracy with a lot going on, so it’s taking a little longer to get enforcement at that end.

As our four-week stay started coming to a close, we felt the usual melancholy feelings of being excited to soon be moving again, while at the same time not being quite ready to accept that we are getting ready to leave this special and remote place for what may be another long time to come. We’re not planning on it taking another nineteen years, though.

The remainder is a selection of pictures of some of the sights we got to see.

Salomon Atoll islands (clockwise from top) are Île de la Passe, Île Mapou, Île Takamaka, Île Fouquet, Île Sepulture, Île Jacobin, Île du sel, Île Poule, Île Boddam, Île Diable, and Île Anglaise. During our time there we managed to visit each one (well we did have 4 weeks!!!). Diable is the smallest and the approach is all jagged rock/coral so lives up to its name (we were especially cautious with our inflatable kayak).