Atoll dreaming. Jake Ward battles the Kiritimati crowds. Video Arlene Bax
We arrived amid the pandemic, the island plodding its way through its seventh year of drought and La Niña belting the coast with consistent 25 knot offshores which ripped the pointbreak to shreds. Our new home; stumps in a barren patch of sand. We bunker down elsewhere and wait for the ship carrying our stash of salvaged house pieces, marine ply, tools, water vessels, honey. It arrived on island time, a few months late, and we put all our year ten woodwork training to the test piecing together our new home. It's still holding up.
The sweet rewards of atoll living. Arls takes a saltwater stroll through the front yard. Photo Jake Ward
No tourists and no flights equal no fresh fruit or veg, so we try our hand at growing. White beach sand, coconut husk and seaweed, our soil. The crabs, salt spray, mice and an abundance of unknown mites, our constant nemeses. Every morsel of fresh food is celebrated; scurvy-preventing goodness.
It’s not all waves and rays. Ciguatera, one of the most toxic natural poisons that took down Arlene and her family over Christmas, can bio-accumulate in tropical predator fish. Photo Arlene Bax
Christmas on Christmas is spent in a haze. My hands touch water and burn. I drink, and it’s like shards of glass running down my throat. My legs feel like they are dragging an elephant carcass around. It’s easier not to move. The soles of my feet are a constant itch, and my skin feels like a murmur of swallows are trying to break through. Ciguatera has had me on my back for over a month, sweating through tremors and a seizure. One of the most toxic of all natural poisons, accumulated in the reef fish of the tropics in ever-increasing amounts as the ocean warms and algae bloom. A bit of karma for the life of the fish consumed earlier. Eating fish has never been my thing but living on an island where fresh produce is limited to salt, coconuts, and seafood, it seemed at the time a more sustainable option than the canned veggies on offer that are shipped from across the globe.
Golden hour on the atoll. Arlene and Jake’s grom, MG glides through to the shack’s front steps. Photo Arlene Bax
As the ciguatera fog subsides, La Niña swings and the rains begin, breaking the drought and creating an abundance of pumpkins (the only fresh vegetable now readily sold on the island). The winds ease and along come blissful days of long point rides out the front of our house. Empty glass and Cochrane Reef barrels. A few months later the planes start, bringing in fishos and fresh produce.
Kitchen window screamers – a hefty end-of-year swell roars through London Point. Photo Arlene Bax
On any given day we can putt the half hour across the channel passing 15 surfable empty breaks. Other days we stay home, lazily riding the pointbreak a few steps from our door. During home schooling interludes we swim with the manta rays that circle daily out front. These are the sweet rewards, a fool’s paradise.
Every morsel of fresh food and every smoking right is celebrated on the atoll. Jake flies down the line. Photo Arlene Bax
“The sky is clouded with sea birds, squawking, chattering, swarming, pooping.” The post-surf skies above Kiritimati are alive with the sound of a thousand feathered wings, moving at speed. Photo Arlene Bax
Atoll Dreaming: “These Are The Sweet Rewards, A Fool’s Paradise”
