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| Fanning Atoll |
(see Episode 1)Or does no good deed really go unpunished?
By Jamie Douglas
Sorry about the delay in this installment. I had company, plus I got ill. But the flow must go on, so here we go with the second and final installment, of my visit to Fanning Atoll, or as the locals call it, Tabuaeran Atoll. Keep in mind, there are no locals there, just a few hundred people who were rousted out of their meager shacks thousands of miles to the west, in Tarawa, the capital island of the Republic of Kiribati, to be forcefully resettled onto these barren atolls.
The day of my Luau had come, and all the locals were in a festive mood, any excuse to party and drink their “Totty,” the fermented baby coconut juice, and to be generally happy in their misery.
The night before, a rickety sailboat had pulled in, in desperate need of rigging repairs, and the Kiwi “Captain” had a crew of 2 completely inexperienced girls who actually jumped ship and swam ashore, asking for help and protection from the lunatic on the nameless boat. They explained that twice the US Coast Guard had prevented them from leaving Honolulu for Auckland, citing that the vessel was inherently unsafe, but in the middle of the night, he snuck out of Hawaii with rotten sails and rigging, no lifeboat or life jackets, and lacking provisions to cross the Pacific Ocean. By sheer luck, they made it to Fanning, which one of the girls spotted in the morning sun, with the “Captain” insisting they were approaching Samoa.
He never made it ashore because the customs representative and Harbor Master went to the boat to quarantine it, suggesting he was completely out of his mind, and that he probably had Hepatitis.
The girls were invited to the Luau, having retrieved their meager belongings from the boat with the help of the locals, and were put up in a shack by the “Post Mistress,” who doubled as the Visiting Sailors’ Mistress, for a small fee.
I brought my Nikons out of their waterproof bags and set out to photograph the proceedings, and also brought my two canteens, one with Hawaiian water, and the other with Cruzan Rum. Soon I was covered with baby powder, which was liberally tossed on all celebrants, and one of the girls, who had some Polynesian blood in her, hooked up with one of the local guys, hoping to improve her situation a little bit.
The other one, a British girl named Lorraine, who was cute as a button, started to hang out with me. We kept sneaking off through the shoreline mangrove forest to drink rum, and I must say, she had a sailors appetite for that fine Cruzan Gold, having come all the way from St. Croix in the US Virgin Islands. Needless to say, we became very good friends, very quickly, and the locals wanted to marry us the and there, because they suspected that some serious Hanky Panky was going on in the bushes.
By late afternoon, the food was being served, lots of pig cooked in an Umu, which is an underground oven heated by stones that had been fired to red hot then covered with Pandanus leaves and wet burlap sacks. There was chicken, rice, some kind of baked goods and of course plenty of Totty.
By early evening the traditional dancing and singing had begun, and by 10 pm everybody was snookered to the gills. It had been a wonderful ceremony, and many kind things were said about me and the good deed I had done. The victim of the Machete self-mutilation was in a hammock in the middle of the long house, surrounded by his family members, which appeared to be half of the Island.
There was a beautiful full moon shining onto the lagoon, and I invited my new best friend Lorraine out to the boat, to stay with me. She was happy to accept, as she was terminally afraid of the giant crabs that by now were everywhere, eating food scraps, completely undisturbed by the presence of the other invaders, the humans. So we strolled down to the beach to where my Zodiac was tied up. We had to rouse a drunk who was sleeping in it, and then I helped Lorraine into the boat, and started pushing it out into the channel. Just then, I felt something strike my leg, once and then again, this time very painful. I grabbed a paddle and stabbed into the water at it while pulling myself into the boat. Whatever it was tried to get another bite, and it was clearly a shark! Lorraine shrieked, yelling that I was going to bleed to death. Once safe inside the boat, I wrapped my t-shirt around my ankle, realizing right away that this was serious. There was flesh hanging down from my leg. He got me good.
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Inside Fanning Atoll
photo by Jamie Douglas |
Once we got out to the sailboat, I tied the dinghy to the stern and climbed up the boarding ladder. I turned on the cockpit light, and saw that I was losing a lot of blood. I was able to secure a tourniquet below my knee, which stemmed the flow of blood, and used some fresh water from the tank to rinse off the wound, while I sent Lorraine below to get the remnants of the first aid kit. I started the generator and gave Lorraine some basic instructions on the use of the radio, in case I passed out or on – Honolulu Coast Guard frequency, 2182 – and then proceeded to clean the wound. It was very jagged. The last bite he took, he tried to rip the flesh off, and made a mess. I was at a loss, what to fix first, and in going through the First Aid supplies, I discovered that I really did not have any small curved needles left. All I had were three sterile packages with sutures and straight needles. I wrapped my damaged ankle tightly, so as not to make a giant mess, because I had to go below, to where my Radio was, as well as much better lighting.
I got on the Emergency Frequency and contacted the Coast Guard in Honolulu, who answered immediately. I identified the vessel and myself, and explained the circumstances to the person at the other end, and he asked me to stand by while he hooked me up to Tripler Army Medical Center on Oahu. I was connected to a trauma specialist who asked me many questions, and then he wanted to talk to Lorraine, asking her how serious in her mind the situation was, and whether they should dispatch a C-130 aircraft in the morning to evacuate me. She asked for a little time to discuss that with me, and we decided that the immediate problems were cleaning and closing the wound and watching for infection, and there was no need wasting the resources of the Coast Guard until it became a matter of saving my life.
So we set about preparing everything I needed to close the wound. Anti-biotic powder, the rest of the sutures and all the excess bandages and sterile pads, of which I overbought in Tahiti, and then I got myself into a sort of lotus position, in order to reach my left ankle, and with Lorraine illuminating the scenery properly, I injected myself with my last few droplets of Xylocaine, and went to work, trying to rearrange all the damage that had been done. I had to call into service a couple of the smaller sail maker’s needles, sterilized some thread and fishing line with alcohol, and started to pull the raw meat of my muscle on my hind leg together using the absorbable sutures I had left. After a couple of hours of that, I finally felt that I had reconstituted enough tissue to let it heal itself, and now started on pulling my surface skin together with sewing needles and the sterilized thread. If course the points on those needles were not nearly as sharp as the surgical ones, and the anesthetic had long ago worn off. It took three passes of suturing the skin closer and closer together, until it finally closed due to tissue swelling.
Lorraine was a trooper, never once complaining about what she was participating in, and being a great helper, which made my auto-suturing possible. I don’t think I could have done it without her. At last, I reached the bottom of the wound, inserted a 4cm drain tube, and covered the whole mess with more anti-biotic powder, then Lorraine bandaged me up very well, being careful not to obstruct the drain tube. I followed the surgeon’s instructions carefully, went to the owner’s cabin to elevate my leg, laid some towels underneath. Lorraine came in as well, and we both took a well-deserved swig of that fine Cruzan Gold and fell into a deep sleep.
And so ended the dramatic part. I am pleased to report that my ankle is 100% healed. Due to proper diligence I did not get staph or any other kind of infection. And the other good news was that Lorraine stayed with me for almost 6 months, until I sailed to Fiji to work on a film, and having entered the US illegally and going straight from my boat to the Harbor Pub, where she was hired on the spot, she decided she was comfortable in Waikiki.
The lesson here is very simple: If you plan on being a Good Samaritan, save some sutures and anesthetic in case you get munched on by a shark, while in the pursuit of romance on Fanning Island with another expatriate.
Even today, my thanks go out to the fine Men and Woman of the United States Coast Guard, and to the medical personnel at Tripler Army Medical Center, for their unselfish and professional aid. Mahalo Nui Loa.
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| Tabuaeran Island Channel |
And the adventure continues!
Jamie Douglas
Patagonia
For more, see: Fanning Island
Jamie Douglas is an Adventurer, Writer and Photographer with an amazing array of Nikon equipment, and a lifetime of experience traveling and documenting. To contact him for assignments and new adventures. email: jamie.douglas [at] yahoo.com
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