The Goto Islands and Nagasaki

As I wrote at the end of the last post, I went to “hide” in Kamigoto Umi, a very sheltered bay that you have to approach from the south. That turned out to be more exciting than usual. By the time I got there the wind had picked up nicely out at sea, and that corner turns out to have a lot of current. So a nasty beam sea, and under engine… The boat was rolling a good 60 degrees from side to side. Then through the gap between an islet and the shore, and suddenly… dead flat water. A few more zigzags around bits of island sticking out, two more corners, and you’re in a gorgeous little stretch of water that I reckon is properly typhoon-proof. Not that it was blowing all that hard, but still. Coming alongside with the wind blowing me off the quay is a bit tricky without a bow thruster, especially as the throttle lever suddenly comes off in my hand. Must make sure that can’t just come loose like that. Luckily a friendly little old man, who is there to pick someone up off the ferry, is happy to drop a line over a bollard for me. Another person made happy with one of our little clogs.

Moored on the unused side of the ferry pier, something we’ve had before. Payment at the ferry office. Three or four ladies all busy doing things on their computers. I’m from the “Yotto” (= sailing yacht) and with the help of Apple Translate we figure it out. Since it’s going to keep blowing all week, I ask for 9 days. No problem, that’s fine. That’ll be 1,700 ¥, sir. So for € 9.44 I’m moored for 9 days. You do wonder why they even bother. They’re very friendly too: I’m allowed to dump my rubbish (definitely not a given) and I can have shore power or water, but I don’t need either. Later in the week a ferry employee even comes by to return a fender I’d lost. Many thanks.

After a rainy day, on day 3 I head out on the electric scooter. Unfortunately its battery is on its way out as well, so as soon as the road goes uphill you’re better off walking. After 5 km of walking/scooting I reach the other side, where the waves are pretty big and it is indeed still blowing like stink. There’s a very quirky little lunch place here where I have a delicious fish burger with chips. Quite welcome after cooking on board for so long. A bit of shopping in a supermarket and back again. Even in the supermarket on this tiny island they have the most wonderful fresh local fish prepared, so I take some lovely sashimi with me. Even steeper hills on the other route back, so that’s my exercise done for the day. And it’s still 30 degrees, so I’m sweating buckets. Luckily, just over the hill there are three vending machines, as there are everywhere in Japan. One ice-cold café latte later, all is forgiven.

The next day I try the scooter again. There is a bus, but it doesn’t run very often and the last one goes at seven in the evening. Halfway there the rear tyre goes pop again. Blast, not again. Had the same thing last year, and back then I followed the manufacturer’s YouTube video demonstrating the simple 38-step plan for patching the rear tyre. Grrrr… Time to buy another folding bike in Nagasaki!

The following day I walk to a local Catholic church. The Goto Islands are the most Christian area in all of Japan. That’s the fault of the Portuguese, who arrived here in the southwest very early on. After some trouble they were kicked out for doing a bit too much catechising, and only the Dutch were allowed to stay. For about two hundred years Christianity was banned outright and the church went underground. When it was allowed again at the end of the 19th century, little churches were built all over the place here. They’re not especially beautiful or anything, but it’s a great story, of course, and it seems the faith is still going strong. The church I visit is now used as a classroom, because a bigger, newer church has been built next to it.

I spend the week writing software and analysing the bow thruster. As the attentive reader already knows, this Vetus has let us down yet again. Through Eeuwe I got in touch with their service department, and lo and behold, I get a good response, along with a whole questionnaire. I haul the code zero out of the hatch so I can get at the bow thruster and start measuring. After a few days of back and forth, both sides have a shared idea of what’s going on. They’re sending parts to Harlingen, and I can fit them when I get back next year. So the service is fine this time, at any rate.

The following Saturday the wind eases and I can shift to the other side of the island. Again on the inside of the ferry pier. A much less scenic spot, but right in the village. I’d counted at least 15 restaurants on Google Maps, so my mouth had been watering all day. Here I pay through the agent, as the office is closed at weekends and paying is too complicated. Less than an hour later a sailing yacht comes in, flying the Malaysian flag. Now that’s unusual! Around drinks time I naturally wander over to do a bit of “Koenen”, and it turns out to be a couple: he is 5/8 Chinese and from Australia, she’s a bit younger and half Chinese/Malaysian. Shane immediately offers me a beer. We chat for a while and then the three of us go out for dinner. We end up in a very peculiar place; “eclectic” doesn’t even begin to describe the interior and the owner. Very good English, but he sits in a chair on castors and every now and then rolls over to join us. The menu is pretty basic, and the food turns out to be OK, nothing more. Dutch pub-grub level, which I’d never come across here before. But what a funny guy. At the end I get to try some whale meat. Obviously not quite the done thing by Dutch standards, but I did want to try it once. Right, you can safely skip that one. Tough and not very tasty.

The next day Shane and I visit the local whaling museum, and the two of us go out for dinner again. The girlfriend stays home. Friendly staff and good fish once more, but nothing special.

The day after that I’m off to Nagasaki already. More wind on the way, you see, and I know you can eat really well in Nagasaki. Arranged once again through Mari of Kirk/Konpira. Here too, paying yourself isn’t really an option. You have to register the boat in advance at a little office, and afterwards go back in person to pay. Konpira has a local assistant for this who lives nearby and sorts it out. Very handy. I have to moor on a quay wall, because boats > 50 feet aren’t allowed in the tiny marina. And boats under 50 feet aren’t allowed on the wall. I’m allocated a stretch by email, so that’s where I have to tie up. Not so easy on arrival: it’s low water and the bollards are enormous. After three quarters of an hour I’m finally snugly secured with 5 mooring lines, 2 fender boards and 4 fenders. Because it’s springs there’s a 2.5 metre tidal range, and at high water the quay is so low that the boards and fenders practically have to sit on the water. The next day I ask Mari whether I can move further along, and amazingly I can. Here I’m perfectly fine: the quay is higher and there’s much less swell from the ferries. It’s next to the park of the Nagasaki prefectural government offices, with a busy road behind it and then the Japan Rail station. That’s great: a big station in Japan means lots of little restaurants that cater (among others) to the solo traveller. For three days I eat wonderfully: fresh fish, Italian, steak, all delicious.

On the second day I take the bus to a suburb where the one and only proper bike shop in this city of some 400,000 people is located. Luckily he has one folding bike on offer. A bit pricier than planned, but that makes it extra sturdy, and it has 10 gears. I fly back along the road to the boat; what a lovely little thing. Very simple: no mudguards or folding pedals, just super nice to ride. The size is Japanese, shall we say. It feels a bit like riding a BMX.

On the second evening, sitting in the cockpit, I’m suddenly addressed in Danish English. Jakob and his daughter Selma are doing a tour by bike. That’s the third time I’ve run into him! We eat at the station and get thrown out by the staff because they want to close. A nightcap on board. Funny bloke, but as I said before, the Japanese really do see him as a Gaijin, because he takes the rules with a pinch of salt. Not the done thing here.

On the third evening, sitting in the cockpit, I’m suddenly addressed in Dutch. Hugo, Adrie and their kids are standing on the quay. We’d only arranged to meet the next day, but they saw the boat and dropped by… so we go straight out to eat at the station. Unfortunately not quite as spectacularly good this time, that’s always the way. They tell me about their holiday: three weeks in Japan, so it has to be at a brisk pace. They also find Japan really wonderful and fascinating. The next day we have lunch at the Atomic Bomb Museum and then visit it. Impressive. Back on the tram, a “Gaijin” (foreigner) moment from yours truly: I was standing in the packed tram in such a way that the door couldn’t open. The driver called out “Gaijin San” (honoured foreigner), but I didn’t get it, so Hugo and Adrie had to order me to take a step back. Then I take them to see the boat and on to the Chinese restaurant that invented the local speciality, “Champon” noodles; I’d had a lovely meal there with Marion and Ella. Alas, it’s already quarter past seven, and by then it’s closed. So off we go on spec once more. We pick one at random; the rice cooker is broken, but several things are really good, others not to be repeated. All too soon it’s time to say goodbye; they have to move on and I have to head back. Because, you guessed it, the next typhoon (number 25 this season) is already on its way and I don’t fancy a headwind.

The next day, up early, a bit worse for wear, and once again no wind. Halfway across it starts to blow a little, so I can motorsail back to the Goto Islands. After some dithering I opt for an anchorage again, at the island of Hisaka, where I think 200 or fewer people still live. Here too I’ll have to sit it out for 5 days or so until the wind is gone again. It’s either flat calm here or force 6+ on the nose. Oh well.

I’m now into my second full day in a beautiful bay; first in a spot where the wind still had a bit of a grip on the boat, but now in the second spot it’s really lovely. Yesterday and the day before it was completely overcast, but now I’m sitting outside typing this under a Dutch-style sky full of clouds. Temperature 23 degrees, superb.

On the chart above I’m just north of Roya. As you can see, Catholic sites all over the place here too.