“The Mortlocks” sounds like a doom-filled evil lair in the misty mountains of a fantasy novel. Its one of those words that seems like it should always be spoken in a strong sinister tone. Its two syllables are sharp and resonant. It reverberates in the mind like a rusty hinge slamming a castle gate. Its name does not conjure up peaceful beaches and calm lagoons. It doesn’t sound like any other Chuukese word, and is obviously of foreign influence. I would guess that some European captain spotted the tiny atolls and slapped the name of his great uncle Mortlock on them. The name may be off-key in describing these islands, but these islands are right on target for depicting the image of tropical paradise that most people imagine.
After our harrowing journey across the ocean, we were nauseous, wet and exhausted; but nonetheless it was impossible not to appreciate the beauty of the place that we had just entered upon. The low lying islands spread across the horizon and clumped together in little tufts of greenery. From a distance, it looked like there were a thousand small islands with narrow strips of water in between them. Furthermore, the islands appeared to be floating in mid air! It seemed like there was a gap of air in between where the water ended and the land started. As we got closer to the islands, the two optical allusions dissolved and we clearly saw the outline of long skinny islands in their proper place adjacent to the water’s edge. The curvature of the earth combined with the small stature of the islands created these tricks on our eyes.
Our Peace Corps friends Ben and Dan greeted us at the side of our ship in a small outboard motor boat. We climbed off the ship and started another two-hour boat ride through the rain. The rain was still pouring and the sea was still rough, but we were glad to be off the big ship. The rocking was much less severe on this little craft and we were also speeding along at a faster pace.
We entered through a pass in the barrier reef and came into the Satowan Lagoon. This lagoon contains dozens of tiny islands and 4 main islands called Satowan, Ta, Kuttu and Moch. None of the islands have an elevation over 10 feet. They are simply conglomerations of sand and coral that has built up on the edge of this lagoon. Eons ago, a volcanic island towered above the sea in this same spot. As time wore on, a coral reef built a circle around the island. The volcanic mainland succumbed to erosion and slowly melted into the sea. At the same time, the coral reef continued to grow and finally peaked its head above the surface. Rocks and soil eventually washed up on its shore and led the way for the flourishing of life. Coconuts and other plant life found their way to these sandy outcroppings by way of water or air, and laid a foundation to support animal and insect life. Eventually the island in the middle was entirely sunken and all that was left were the encircling islands. That is how ocean lagoon atolls are formed.
About 1000 years ago, some insane islanders decided to hop in outrigger canoes and float their way out into the great unknown of the Pacific Ocean . I’m sure many adventurers met their doom in search of new island homes, but after some time a group of lucky sailors stumbled upon this miniature archipelago. They settled down and began building a society to thrive in this remote sand spit. 1000 years after those native explorers discovered the Mortlocks, a trio of thrill-seeking youths found their way out to the islands. Their journey was also perilous, but was a cakewalk compared to the challenges that the early explorers faced. This triad of Americans were simply visitors who wanted to see the places where they fellow Peace Corps volunteers called home.
Our first destination was the island of Satowan
Ben’s community had been preparing for our visit for quite some time and had set up a welcome party for us. As we stumbled off the boat in our sopping wet clothes, we were greeted by angelic voices of children serenading our arrival. We were ushered into a meeting hall and saw dozens of people sitting on the floor as a welcoming party. The locals covered us in maramars (flower necklaces and crowns) and we plopped down in our seats to enjoy the festivities. We were completely soaked and chattering our teeth along with the melody of their songs. We were appreciative of their hospitality, but we couldn’t endure the entirety of their performance in our current condition. After just a few songs, they cut it short and allowed us to eat. Becky and Julie were still nauseous and didn’t want to touch their food, but I was famished. I had barely eaten in 24 hours and eagerly ate a mounded plateful of fish, octopus, breadfruit and taro.
After the party, we were led to the house where we would be staying for the next few days. I was amazed to see how nice the place was! It was equivalent to an American house. It had tile floors, freshly painted walls, a cozy porch and a kitchen countertop. I was immediately impressed by the accommodations that they had set up for us. I was further surprised to learn that this house was all for us. The 5 of us volunteers would have the house to ourselves for the duration of our stay. An empty house is almost unheard of in Chuuk and I was shocked that such a nice place would be granted to us for our stay.
The condition of the house definitely impressed me, but the setup of the community blew me out of the water. Outside of the house was an exquisitely maintained pathway. It was the width of a single lane road and had a smooth sandy surface. It was flanked by carefully trimmed hedges and a rock wall. There was no trash scattered on the edges and there were no mud holes in the middle. The road ran in a straight line from one end of the island to the other. Telephone poles that ran electricity to the houses lined the sides of the road. People had landscaped front yards and houses made of concrete. Children rushed by on bicycles and skipped down the road. It was an island version of suburbia.
In my mind, I was expecting the Mortlocks to be quaint and traditional. They are so geographically isolated from everything else, that I thought they would have no choice but to maintain their old lifestyle. I was expecting to see grass huts and loin-clothed men. On the contrary, I discovered that in many ways the Mortlocks are better developed than the islands of Chuuk Lagoon. Apparently isolation does not mean that you are stuck in the Stone Age. These places had seemingly better infrastructure than my large island of Fefan
The Mortlock islands do have sandy beaches, but there aren’t as abundant as I was hoping. Sea walls line the shore where people live and the beaches are rather small. Everything is sandy, but it’s just not as expansive as I was envisioning. I guess that I am too spoiled by the beaches of Southern California that have sand that stretches the length of football field. The whole island of Satowan could easily fit on the sand of Newport Beach
Satowan does have one quirky tourist attraction that makes it special amongst the Mortlock islands. A dozen Japanese tanks are rusting alongside the road. These land-war vehicles seem out of place in the island landscape. The Japanese must have been expecting an American humvee invasion on this sliver of sand in the middle of the ocean. Good thing they were prepared with a fleet of tanks to protect themselves, hah. I bet the tanks never shot a single bullet. It’s even more ridiculous, because its not like they even had any room to move around. They could do a loop around the island in less time than it would take me to drink a beer.
We played basketball with the locals, walked to both ends of the island, swam in the warm waters, and just relaxed around the living compound. On our last day in Satowan, we decided to take a couple boats over to a small island on the reef and have a picnic. All of us Peace Corps volunteers and a handful of locals piled into a couple of motorboats and zipped our way over the picnic island.
We set up a camp base around the half constructed local houses that were already in place on the island. After only a few minutes of settling into the paradise isle, the other boys and I went out on a small fishing expedition. We brought a few spears and a large net to see what we could catch. I swam around for a while and didn’t see many fish that were of spearable size, however I did shoot one monster red fish. The majority of our fishing success came during net fishing.
This type of net fishing works by setting up a net along the edge of a reef and then chasing the fish into its tangles. The first person attaches one end of the net to the side of a coral embankment and then stretches it out along the sand. The rest of us are positioned about 100 yards away from the net. Once the net is set in a good position, we all start swimming wildly towards the blockade. It’s important to splash your arms and legs as much as possible because the objective is to scare the fish and force them to run into the net. We swim in a straight line and coerce the unsuspecting fish into the center. The fish think that they are escaping to freedom from the onslaught of sloshing limbs, but they are really swimming to their doom. They hit the seemingly invisible net and wrap themselves in its nylon tentacles as they struggle for survival. When we reach the net wall, it is amazing to see how many are stuck in the net. Our noises scare the fish far before we see them and force them into the net even before we lay eyes on them. Then we simply swim down, untangle the fish, and stab a spear through their eyes to keep them secured. At the end, we return to the boat with a skewer of flopping fresh fish. Using this method, we caught at least 50 or 60 fish that we feasted on when we returned to camp on the little island.
The following day, we hitched a ride on a motorboat and made our way towards our next destination of Lekinioch. The Lekunor Lagoon is adjacent to the Satowan Lagoon and is only a few miles across the open ocean. However, the ride was much longer because we had to exit the Satowan atoll at one of the passes in the reef. It took us almost an hour to get out of the lagoon and into the great blue deep. Once again, the difference between water temperament was obvious when we left the calmness of the lagoon. Waves splashed against the tiny boat and rocked us back and forth. Within minutes I was soaking wet and took off my shirt to cover my head, because it was doing no good covering my body from the water. On our way to Lekinioch, we dragged a couple of lures alongside our boat in hopes of catching some tuna. The fish weren’t biting that day, but it was still fun to give it a shot.
As we turned the corner around the edge of an island and entered the atoll, we were all taken aback by the beauty of the sight before us. The water was bluer than any blue I had seen before; and the island of Lekinioch
This island is home to another one of my fellow M77 volunteers. Farrah is a kind and gentle woman, but has a rugged independent attitude that pervades everything that she does. She was the only girl to request an outer island placement, and was probably the only one who could handle it. Her house is situated only a few feet away from the ocean and the entire second floor is reserved for her. She lives up above her family and has a couple of pets that she is determined to raise with love and care. Its very rare for Chuukese to treat cats and dogs with respect and love, but Farrah is doing her best to lead by example and show everyone how great it is to have cute little pets.
The island of Lekinioch
We spent the next few days lounging around Farrah’s pad and enjoying each other’s company. The locals brought us dozens of lobsters and we feasted on fresh seafood for days on end. It was one of those rare occasions where there is actually too much lobster to be eaten; I don’t think I have ever seen that happen in America
We explored the beaches and spent some time on the outside ocean side of the island. Nobody lives on this side because its shore is rocky and the water level can vary greatly. Waves that have traveled for thousands of miles finally make land fall on this tiny ledge of reef and splash against the chunks coral that line the beach. With rising sea levels in recent years, the water has overflowed the rocky beach and seeped into the taro patch. This is a serious problem that has severely affected the livelihood of the Mortlockese.
We spent about 6 days on Lekinioch and probably only saw about 6 hours of sunshine. The weather was fierce and unforgiving during most of our stay. The wind was especially violent and one night a palm tree fell down and narrowly missed the house we were staying in. If it fell a few more feet the left, we would have been flattened by this toppled tree. My friends didn’t sleep well with the deafening wind and chilly air that swept through our house, but I slumbered like a baby. I love to sleep when its cold, and the rush of the wind was like a fan drowning out the background noise.
On one of the days, we decided to venture out into the drizzling rain and take a picnic to an island near the far end of Lekinioch. We hoped the rain would stop and prepared everything we needed for a fun trip to the small island. The highlight of this journey was the fact that we were going to canoe ourselves over there. This island is famous for maintaining the tradition of outrigger canoes, and we didn’t want to forgo the opportunity to try it for ourselves.
I got into a canoe with the three other girls and we set out on our two-mile sea voyage across the lagoon. I sat in the back and was in charge of steering the course and navigating our way. I have paddled plenty of canoes, kayaks, and rafts; so I was fairly confident of what I was doing. Paddle left, go right. Paddle right, go left. Use the paddle as rudder to make sharp turns. I thought that these basic skills would keep us on a straight path. I was sorely mistaken.
An outrigger canoe doesn’t respond the same way that a single bodied vessel does. The effects are much more delayed and are amplified with slight adjustments. We zig-zagged our way through the lagoon and never seemed to be able to keep a straight path. We even spun in a full circle at one point. When we were in deeper water away from the island, I became even more confused about what was happening. All four of us were paddling on the right side and we were still veering right. I then stuck my paddle in as a rudder while the others paddled on the right, and we still veered right! This was quite perplexing because the wind was blowing to the left. All signs said we should be heading straight left, but instead we were floating rightwards the whole time.
My only explanation was that the current was flowing contrary to the wind and was forcing us towards the right. Everything was further complicated by the obvious inefficiency of our paddles. The heads of the paddles weren’t much bigger than the handles and they didn’t move much water when dragged through the sea. One of my friends said it was like paddling with coffee stirrers. For the remainder of the ride, we all paddled on the right and I continued to use my oar as a rudder to try to keep us on a decent path. We finally made it to the picnic island, and were greeted with laughs by our friends who had arrived ahead of us. My pride was restored a little bit when we switched canoes for the return trip. The other group was having even more trouble than we were and fell way behind our pace. Maybe I am just making excuses, but I don’t think our navigation woes were really my fault.
It rained the entire day on our picnic and we never got the sunbathing, beach games and island fun that we expected. Since it was raining, my friend Naavid and I decided to go spear fishing. It doesn’t matter if it’s cold and rainy outside, because below the water the temperature is always warm and welcoming. Naavid goes fishing more than I do, and he wanted to show me the way that he goes spear fishing. He ventures outside the lagoon. The fish are bigger and the more plentiful out in the wild waters of the Pacific.
I was hesitant of this strategy because I had been on the outside edge of the reef before. It did not seem like a friendly place. Waves crashed hard on a ragged coral surface that was less than a foot deep. At a certain point, he assured me it would drop off and we would be in a magical underwater world with hundreds of fish. I trusted his instinct and followed him out to the edge.
We walked carefully for about 15 minutes across sharp coral and spiky sea creatures. At one point, I looked behind us and noticed one of the locals standing on the edge of the sand watching us. I took this as a bad sign. He was probably thinking, “what in the hell are these guys doing?!”. He sat down and enjoyed the show of these two Americans foolishly venturing out to the edge.
We got to the point where the whitewater of the waves was splashing on our ankles and Naavid told me to strap on my fins and get ready. We were only in 6 inches of water and I was very skeptical of our success at this juncture, but I figured I would give it a shot and I put on my mask & snorkel. We only had about 50 feet to go before it appeared to drop off and we would be past the wave break and into calmer water. Naavid and I flopped on our bellies and began to swim out past the waves. The first large wave knocked off my mask and spun Naavid in a circle. But we were determined. We continued to swim against the pounding waves, and they continued to beat us back. After about 1 minute of fighting the whitewater, we stood up in the shallow water and looked at each other’s bloody stomachs. We both knew it was a failure.
We slowly trekked back across the prickly coral and Naavid told me about how his side of the lagoon was different. The waves were calm there and it was never a problem to get past the breaking point. The water would only slap at your ankles and not drive your chest into chunks of coral. I believed him, but was not enthusiastic about trying this again. Swimming outside the reef didn’t seem appealing after this disastrous attempt.
We returned back to Lekinioch and ate another tasty lobster feast. As we were preparing for bed, Ben went outside to go brush his teeth. He had no flashlight and only a bottle of water. He turned around the corner of the building and tripped over a pile of windowpanes that was lying on the floor. The glass cut a deep gash in the top of his foot and blood spurted everywhere. Soon the ground was covered in red rivers of trickling blood and we hurried to bandage up his foot. The Peace Corps medical kit provided all the emergency supplies we need to stop the bleeding and sterilize the wound, but we were still worried because the cut was deep and might require stitches.
Ben slept fine that night and barely complained of any pain. He didn’t think stitches were necessary, and it would be a lengthy ordeal to try to get him into Weno where he could get stitched up. He figured he would just tough it out, and then get checked out when we went in the Chuuk Lagoon the following week. The only thing that disturbed him was that one of his toes below the cut was droopy. It hung below the other toes and he couldn’t make it move. The pain wasn’t a big issue, but this droopy toe was something worry about.
Upon further evaluation, we would eventually learn that Ben had severed a tendon in his foot. He went to Pohnpei for medical inspection by our Peace Corps doctors and then was sent to Manila
On the final night in Lekinioch, we planned our final stage of the trip on the island of Oneop
Although Naavid tries to live the traditional lifestyle to the fullest, he is ironically placed in one of the nicest houses in all of Chuuk. His 3-bedroom mini-mansion is fully equipped with a private bathroom and indoor shower. He has a jumbo flat screen TV and furnishings that make it seem like America
I was extremely excited to stay on Oneop because Naavid had promised me some fantastic fishing adventures. We were going to give it another shot spear fishing outside the reef and we were also going to go trawling for tuna. I have been dreaming about reeling in a giant tuna since the day I found out I was coming to Micronesia
We were discussing our plans for our tuna-fishing trip, when Naavids father notified us that there was a change in the boat schedule and we had to leave for the Chuuk Lagoon tomorrow. Our fishing plans were scraped and our time on Oneop was unfortunately cut short. We took a walk to the end of the island and watched the sunset on a beautiful sandy beach. This sandy tip of Oneop was my favorite spot in the Mortlocks and provided a wonderful ending to a fantastic trip.
The next day, we lugged our stuff onto a motorboat and chased down the ship so that we could get aboard. We were some of the first people on the ship and got fantastic seats. This boat had more roofing than the previous one and we had comfortable benches to set up a living space. There were 6 of us volunteers returning to the Chuuk Lagoon on the ship, and this time we were prepared for the worst. Fortunately, this return trip was smooth sailing. We did have to spend an extra night onboard the ship because it anchored in Satowan lagoon to wait for a morning departure, but it was beautiful weather so we were happy as could be. Our 40 hour ship ride coasted into the center of Chuuk and our Mortlock adventure had come to a close. The end of this ship ride also marked the end of my summer island hopping adventures around Micronesia Palau
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