Gizo- Choiseul circuit & biting beasts- March 2019

The three Double-ewes are a strange period of time on a boat:

“Waiting for a Weather Window” is a holding pattern where you tuck yourself up for a bit & try not to feel like you are waiting. It is a challenging task because you feel obliged to stay put, or at least not venture very far from your departure point for the next country. The result is a quiet collection of light maintenance tasks, getting the boat “Ocean ready” again & much eating drinking & reading. When the weather finally eventuates it becomes a mad last minute dash of refuelling, restocking & checking out procedures.

– View of Gizo from the water: the place grew on me & its a good place to restock

 

 

We are ahead of the season to get to Papua New Guinea, but it doesn’t mean we are not trying to get there anyway. Normally the NW monsoon finishes up around the end of April, when the trade winds come back in, & push you into higher latitudes naturally. We are trying to catch an early opportunity to duck around the outside of the mainland & arrive at Kavieng on the north western peninsula of New Ireland. Our cruising companions Libby & Kipona took their chances with a window of light winds a few days ago- whereas we chose to stay. The decision to do so was a two factor reasoning. 1) We hoped that another window would appear soon & 2) We applied caution to the complete & healthy recovery of Andi, following a rather unfortunate incident in Choiseul Province.

After we had had our fill of technological exposure in Gizo, we had the urge to then get off radar & couldn’t get the idea of the Arnavon Islands out of our heads. My birthday was approaching & we thought, “Oh why not?!” So we took some ghostly light breezes across the New Georgia Sound, between Western Province & Choiseul. The 80 mile journey took us the best part of two days with an overnight stop at Poiete on the north of Kolombangara.

 

 

We arrived into a perfectly scalloped coral-sand bay on Ondolou Island as a prelude to the rest of the journey to the Arnavons. It was a small anchorage with a steeply sloping bowl shaped bottom. We had the right conditions to drop the anchor in 18 metres of water & then stern tie up to the beach, hanging back over 6 metres of tropical azure pool. Not bad for a birthday location. It was empty of all human habitation on the edge of the reef lagoon surrounding Choiseul’s southern coastline & several miles out from the nearest larger island of Wagina. Just a coral cay really, surrounded by coral fringe & picture perfect with not a banana boat or canoe in sight.

– Not bad I suppose: the idyllic Ondolou Island

– Paws loving life with her newly cleaned bum 

We gloried in the freedom of our own private island & spent nearly two solid days in the water surrounded by fearless fish that swam right up to you in the shallows for a look.

When most people think of relaxing on a tropical island I expect they imagine lying in the sun, reading a book, walking the beach & jumping into the ocean to cool off. We do it a bit differently. Immediately upon arrival I mentally listed all the things I wanted to do here: 1) Circumnavigate the island by dingy, 2) Troll a line & try to catch a fish, 3) Jump in at various locations & check out the coral health, 4) Clean up the beach of washed up plastic rubbish, 5) Collect wood & build a pit for a fire, 6) Clean Paws’ bum in the clear shallow water, 7) Go for a big long snorkel from the boat out to each point of the bay, 8) Get attacked by a crocodile- no wait, that was NOT on the list thank you very much!

There is no way to tell the following story & do it justice. Indeed the event has folded itself inside my brain ever since & yet to release it into written words feels like opening the flood gates of confusion & terror all over again. In the most unassuming location, on a deserted coral cay with clear & innocent looking blue water, Andi was attacked by a crocodile.

 

– Couldn’t get more perfect (there’s even a naked man in the picture!)

– The scene of the crime

We were awaiting Kipona to join us & it was late afternoon. We had spent so much time in the water that day & the previous, our skin was permanently wrinkly. You could see the bottom & the only last inches of island we had not explored was the western reef edge of the bay. We went for a snorkel along it, close together, checking & stopping every few metres to catch each other. Kipona appeared from around the corner, Jess waving on the bow. We turned around & swam back into the bay to meet them. It was at this point Jess thought she saw a dog swimming close to Andi, a shadow just under the surface with an elongated head forming a bow wave. I was snorkelling just a few metres behind him, oblivious, & still checking out the fish.

I then heard shouting & looked up to see Andi’s mouth moving distortedly & he was splashing wildly but the words were unintelligible. Then my brain suddenly translated “Croc-get-out-get-out-I’ve-been-bitten-get-out”. I still couldn’t comprehend what it meant, a foreign language, whether he was joking, but it was the look on his face that will be permanently etched in my mind, the urgency, the fear, the disbelief, something I have never seen before across his features.

The next 30 seconds seemed to lay over time as flashes of images & sound. Andi & I swimming towards each other. Kipona coming in quick. People shouting. Water splashing. Both of us swimming harder than we’ve ever swam in our lives. Jess getting in the dingy. An engine revving underwater. Following the shape of my husband, looking for streams of blood or a shadow. Suddenly being on the beach, panting, still not comprehending. Andi turning to reveal red running down his side & back, his right arm shaking involuntarily.

It has taken time to piece together what actually happened. I suppose a mixture of panic & autopilot set in in the subsequent minutes & then hours. The effects of adrenaline & survival pumping through our veins. Andi had been free styling with powerful over shoulder strokes, stopping every so often to check I was behind him. Out of nowhere a force slammed into him like a freight train & rolled him under the water, the breath punched out of him. All he could see was bubbles & he twisted out of the direction of the roll, while simultaneously punching with his left fist, what felt like a smooth, soft surface. The animal released him & he kicked his fins & broke the surface, seeing the full 2 metre length of the croc’s body suspended just under the water & staring at him. Andi lunged towards him & he darted off in my direction. As Andi followed he disappeared. Once I realised what had happened I got as close to Andi as possible, expecting to see the dark shape, having an urge to chase, to kick, anything, just a strong urge to protect what matters to me most. The swim back to the beach felt like the longest distance. I was trying not to blink, all the while looking for & imagining chunks on flesh missing & that we were in serious trouble.

To use the word lucky is the understatement of the century. The croc seemingly grabbed Andi around his side, his bottom teeth piercing & entering the skin in his right armpit, missing his axillary artery by a centimetre. The top jaw attempted to grab hold diagonally across his shoulder blades but slipped, probably as he turned & punched. He was in mid stroke, with arm raised in the air, shielding his throat from exposure. We have gone over it so many times now, had it been his abdomen, neck or his arm, a leg. The crocodile’s jaw was too small (!) to make proper purchase around his body, Andi reacted quickly enough to prevent him clamping down & miraculously he didn’t tear or rip away as he released. Once on the beach, Jess came in by dingy to get us, shock all over her face, having witnessed the whole thing.

 

Andi said, “We’ll help you anchor”. I was suddenly so furious with him- “No, we are going back to Paws right now, we have to sort you out”. “It’s ok, it can wait, I’ll just do this”. “You’re bleeding & shaking, you are in shock, we have to go home, the sooner we clean the wounds the better”. Jess supported me on the matter & we got the stubborn arse back to the boat.

A big laceration gaped open on his left shoulder & blood was running out of his armpit & soaking into his shorts. My brain was trying not to go into the dark place that would imagine the worst. We were so far from anywhere, no phone reception, no main town hospital, the risk of infection crazily high, at this point no idea of how deep the wounds were or what damage to the tissues. The blood kept pouring out & the uncooperative patient wouldn’t stop moving- pacing the cockpit, humming with adrenaline, & tremouring uncontrollably.

– Teeth marks scraping down Andi’s back, top left the gash requiring stitches

– The cavernous tooth puncture wounds in his armpit

I managed to sit him down with a some unorthodox medicinal aids & got to work. My entire career has been about dealing with animal blood & gore, but to see the person you love most in the world all torn open & bleeding is something else. I have never been particularly good with human stuff either! The only thing that allowed me to function was the drive to make him better & not being able to contemplate the alternative. It was immediately obvious that the two puncture wounds were the most severe injury. They appeared to penetrate deeply into the underlying tissues & the topmost one wouldn’t stop haemorrhaging. In first aid I swear by hydrogen peroxide to clean wounds. It froths up when in contact with organic matter but it burns like crazy. There was nothing for it but to blast it into the holes, & watch the spitting & bubbling followed by copious amounts of sterile saline to flush out any bacteria. The saline just disappeared into the void. I continue to flush until it started coming out again & then packed it with honey & bactroban ointment. The gash on the back was in need of stitches & my brain just wouldn’t compute how to tie a knot. I am so grateful my OCD personality stocked us with a conclusive first aid kit because I was able to inject local anaesthetic around the wound & Andi didn’t feel a thing as I fumbled with the surgical instruments to sew him back together.

– Don’t move I’m just poking a needle through your skin right now

The next day we moved to another anchorage to get away from the scene of the crime, but we weren’t quite ready to leave Choiseul. The stubborn side of us was hopeful we could still make it to the Arnavons. We spent the following night west of the Gibson islands, just inside Hamilton Channel. It was a simply magical spot. But just on dark, one lone crocodile cruised past. He slowed, & turned, about 20 metres from the back of the boat & did another lap. Andi was convinced it was his guy “George”, coming back for another go.

Eventually, sensibilities won out, we were going to return to Western Province where we knew there was a reasonable hospital, or, worse case scenario, be able to fly Andi back to Australia. Besides, it was going to be some time before Andi could get back in the water. Not through lack of desire but to allow the wounds to heal.

– Having a walk around Gizo after a visit to the hospital

With any bite wounds, infection is the biggest risk & antibiotics the top priority. But crocodile bites- who knows what nasty bugs harbour in their mouths?! Andi became incredibly sore in the next few days, all through his chest & side. I was terrified he was going to become septic or have half his body fall off.

We once again ghosted across the Sound & repeated our stopover at Poiete.

We made it back to Gizo & visited the hospital to resupply. By this point I was more confident that the amoxycillin was doing it’s job but there was still a long way to go. The warm tropical climate being a breeding ground for bacteria, it would be at least a week before we could breathe a sigh of relief. The pharmacist couldn’t comprehend how we had treated the wounds ourselves & attempted to give us all the drugs & dressing materials for free. Most people have met us with minimal speech, wide eyed stares & shaking heads. It still feels like a vague nightmare that flashes back every now & then & words still fall far short of describing the experience. Call it luck, fortune or bravery, all I know is that, you can be as Croc smart as you want (which we have always considered ourselves to be), not swimming in murky water or near mangroves or estuaries……but they are out there & attacks do happen. We were clearly never meant to get to the Arnavons this time around & should have heeded the signs! The wait game continues now that we are back in Munda & in all seriousness Andi is on the mend & no body parts have fallen off but there are other hidden scars that might take a bit longer to heal.

I got in the water today- for the first time since the incident, bar a lightning quick dip at the back of the boat to cool off once before. We hired a local guy to help me scrub Paws’ bottom in lieu of our hopeful impending departure for PNG. I have never cleaned the bum so fast.

– Dolphins joined us across the Sound & played for ages: guiding us or warning us??