Postcard from Samoa: Calm Before the Storm

After Palmyra, my sailing journey took me to Samoa. I had intended to write a "Postcard from Samoa," similar to my prior post from my trip.
Sadly, Tuesday's 8.0 earthquake and subsequent tsunami relegated the Samoa I saw to a memory not only for me, but for residents there as well.
The Samoa I experienced was beautiful and indeed seemed very fragile. The capital, Apia, is hardly an urban epicenter, though vibrant, bustling, and safe. Not even the police carry guns. Outside the city, Samoans largely live in villages made up of traditional fale, thatch-roofed houses. Some villages have a small sundry store; all seemed to have a church. People live on "family land" -- community land which has been in the same family for generations, as foreigners are restricted to leasing property. They cultivate taro patches in their yards that are planted next to mausoleums where their ancestors rest. They grow banana and coconut trees, and raise chickens and the occasional cow. If they live near the sea, they fish. They earn some money charging tourists nominal fees to enter their property to see various natural features, like the waterfall shown in the upper left. Many depend on their relatives that have scattered around the world for remittances. In the countryside there was nothing besides these villages -- no development, construction, or any protection from the sea which lurked only a few meters from individual homes. I remember driving along a coastal road on the East side of the island and asking my dear family friend, Time (pronounced ti-may) Sumeo, about the last hurricane and the aftermath. It felt fragile, and indeed, it was.
As of this writing, the Associated Press is reporting 120 deaths in Samoa. The numbers, and the photos, hit close to home. Nick, Constellation's captain, Time, and I spent spent a Sunday afternoon at the beach village and tourist hotel seen in the picture at left. A woman from the village kindly shared a fantastic traditional Samoan Sunday lunch. Then we spent the afternoon swimming and snoozing in the shade of the many coconut trees that lined the beach. I heard from Nick, who is still in Samoa, that he and Time drove by the lovely beach fales. They, and the accompanying village were demolished. The woman who welcomed us was injured and is hospitalized.
Even more personal, Nick's parents, John and Robyn Jaffe, flew up from Australia to visit him during their holidays. We spent a few lovely days on the southern part of the island at a tourist hotel known as Virgin Cove. It was made up of small fales situated only meters from the beach, and boasted a delicious dining room, staffed by the exceptionally musically talented people from the nearby village. Nick was on his boat in Apia when the tsunami hit. But his parents were still at Virgin Cove, and underwent a terrifying ordeal. Thankfully, they are safe, and are interviewed here. Most in the area weren't so lucky; there's nothing left of Virgin Cove, and most of the dead seem to be from nearby villages.
In the coming days and weeks, aid workers will flock to the region to provide much needed assistance. Nick stayed and is volunteering his time. I wish that I could too. But for those of us that are too far, very basic supply donations are needed, and can be sent to a variety of places, including Help Samoa, a disaster relief coalition. The American Red Cross is only assisting in American Samoa, where help is also badly needed. The New Zealand Red Cross is taking donations to provide relief for those living in Samoa.
In Samoa I was shown great kindness by friends and strangers alike. Let's show Samoa the kindness of the world.

(All photos, (c), see here)

Postcard from Palmyra

The United States has many well-known offshore territories like Puerto Rico, Guam, and American Samoa. I have just had the pleasure of visiting one of the least known: Palmyra Atoll. One of the 12 most isolated islands in the world, Palmyra (above) is located about 1,052 miles south/southwest of Hawaii. It is only accessible by privately chartered plane (estimated $6,000 per person) or aboard a recreational yacht. I am a stowaway on the latter (to use the term "crew" would be a major stretch of the truth). Thanks to the wonders of satellite technology, this post thus hails from S/V Constellation (above), currently deep at sea.
The history of Palmyra Atoll is fascinating and little known. Originally claimed by Dr. Gerrit Judd of the United States, it was later taken by citizens of Hawaii for the benefit of Kamehameha IV, and was formally annexed to the Hawaiian Kingdom in April of 1862. (In 1897, as posted, Hawaii was annexed to the United States.)
The Atoll was privately owned until 1934, when it was placed under the Department of the Navy. The Navy built an air station there, and brought 5,000 men to the station during World War II. The Atoll is still littered with remnants of its military occupation; for example, entry on entire islands is forbidden due to unexploded ordinance.
After the war, the Fullard-Leo family, the most recent private owners of the Atoll, sued the military for return of the Atoll. In United States v. Fullard-Leo (1947), Supreme Court ruled in the family's favor. In 1990, the family leased the island to Peter Savio, who hired Roger Lextrait as caretaker. Lextrait had several animals on the island, one of them a dog named Dadu (left), which he trained to hunt small black-tipped reef sharks for food.
The dog remains on the island, and I personally witnessed him pounce on a shark. He didn't get it ... but then he's getting up in years.
In 2000,The Nature Conservancy purchased the Atoll, retaining one island as a research station for scientists, and the rest is managed by the Fish and Wildlife Service as a wildlife refuge. The total staff and visiting research teams at the time I was there brought the population of the Atoll, as shown at right, to a whopping sixteen people! It's practically a cosmopolitan center in the mid-Pacific. The scientific research being done there varies; from sea turtles to algae to mud, if it relates to the Atoll's ecology it is fair game. The scientists were kind enough to show us their lab work, and Amanda Myers from the Fish and Wildlife Service took us on what was, frankly, the most amazing snorkel trip of my life.
When the good people of Palmyra aren't working, they're playing at the "Palmyra Yacht Club," a structure predating the Nature Conservancy's tenure on the Atoll. The three rooms (one with an ancient weight set, one with a ping pong table and library, and the last with a BYOB bar (below left)) are covered in words of wisdom and signatures, like those below right, from the yachties who have been visiting the islands since the 1980s. It's quite a monument to adventurers the world over.
Palmyra made news in the 1970s when it was the site of the double murder of two pleasure cruisers, husband and wife Mac and Muff Graham.
The story is set out in Vincent Bugliosi's torturous 800-page book And the Sea Will Tell. Unless you are looking for a lengthy refresher in evidence law, this book should be skipped, though I understand there is a film version which might prove more palatable.
The two resultant murder trials took place in federal court, apparently pursuant to the Department of the Interior Order 3224, which gave all executive, legislative, and judicial authority over the Atoll to the Secretary of the Interior.
This authority notwithstanding, Palmyra seems as final as the final frontier can be these days.
My journey continues to Samoa, and I'll post regarding my adventures there when I make landfall.

(all photos (c); see here)