Saying Goodbye to the Solomon Islands

Picture-perfect anchorages, spectacular thunderstorms, unexpected boat repairs, and a rather unfortunate diesel shower. Our final days in the Solomon Islands had a little bit of everything. And just when we thought we were ready to leave, Tauha had a few more surprises waiting for us.

Another Night, Another Reef

After a wonderful couple of days on Savo Island, it was time to continue our journey westward. Our next destination was the Russell Islands, a beautiful collection of small islands, turquoise lagoons, and countless coral reefs. The passage itself was rather uneventful. There wasn't much wind, and once again, we found ourselves approaching our destination after sunset. Somehow, arriving at unfamiliar anchorages in complete darkness was becoming a recurring theme in the Solomon Islands. Not exactly our favorite new tradition!

The problem with the Russell Islands is that they consist of a maze of little islands and reefs. Absolutely gorgeous during the day, but rather intimidating when you can't actually see where you're going. For night approaches, we usually run three independent navigation systems: our two phones and our cockpit monitor with its Raspberry Pi and OpenCPN setup. Having multiple charts and GPS positions to compare gives us some reassurance, although none of them can guarantee that a reef is exactly where the chart says it is.

This time, we had to cross a shallow reef to reach our anchorage. As we carefully motored forward, the depth sounder slowly dropped. Five meters. Four meters. Three meters. Considering Tauha draws almost two meters, watching the numbers decrease is never particularly relaxing.

Fortunately, everything went smoothly, and a short time later, our anchor dropped into a calm, protected bay. We had made it! But one of the most exciting things about arriving somewhere in the dark is that you never quite know what awaits you in the morning. And this time, we were in for a treat.

Waking Up in Paradise

When we climbed into the cockpit the next morning, we could hardly believe our eyes. All around us, the water shimmered in countless shades of blue, from deep sapphire to brilliant turquoise. Tiny islands dotted the lagoon, surrounded by shallow reefs and patches of white sand. Just beside us was a small island inhabited by only a caretaker and his cat. That was it. No busy streets, no cars, no crowds. Just a handful of islands, the sound of the ocean, and Tauha floating peacefully in the middle of it all.

Unfortunately, our to-do list didn't leave much room for relaxation. We were planning to leave the Solomon Islands in about a week, and there was still an impressive amount of work waiting for us. So, while the scenery looked like something straight out of a holiday advertisement, we got to work.

Paradise with a To-Do List

One of the biggest misconceptions about sailing around the world is that we spend our days relaxing on deck, drinking something cold, and occasionally jumping into the ocean. I wish! In reality, living on a sailboat means constantly maintaining, repairing, cleaning, and improving your floating home. And somehow, the list takes much longer to get shorter then you would think.

Alex tackled the broken end of our spinnaker pole, servicing our winch and started cleaning the outside of Tauha, which had once again accumulated an impressive layer of algae. Meanwhile, I attacked the mountain of laundry that had been patiently waiting for attention. And when I say mountain, I mean mountain. Without a washing machine, laundry is one of those jobs that makes you appreciate modern conveniences very quickly. I also finally found time for several sewing projects: a protective cover for our cockpit monitor, non-slip backing for our carpets, and covers for our windows.

Not exactly glamorous, but all very useful aboard.

On our final day, I decided to tackle another job that had been bothering us for a while: cleaning Tauha's underwater hull. Warm tropical water might sound inviting, but it also provides excellent growing conditions for algae and barnacles. And those little passengers aren't particularly welcome aboard, especially when they start slowing us down. Armed with cleaning tools, I repeatedly dove under the boat, scrubbing away whatever had decided to make Tauha its home. Down, scrub, up, breathe. Down, scrub, up, breathe. It was exhausting! The propeller was soon nice and clean again, and most of the barnacles were gone. The algae, however, proved rather stubborn, and I eventually had to accept that the hull wouldn't be perfectly clean just yet. At least I had some company. Schools of tiny fish gathered around me, curiously inspecting what this strange human was doing beneath the boat and happily eating the loose algae that was scrubbed off. It made the whole experience surprisingly enjoyable. And luckily, we didn't spend all our time working.

Giant Clams, Stingrays, and a Curious Fish

With such beautiful reefs right outside our floating home, we obviously couldn't resist exploring them. During our first snorkeling trip, we discovered a large stingray resting on the seabed just beside Tauha. We also spotted giant clams in the nearby reef that were over a meter long, their colorful mantles creating beautiful patterns among the coral. We even saw a tiny baby sea turtle swimming around our anchor chain!

But the real highlight came when we explored the ocean side of the reef. There, the underwater world was absolutely bursting with life. A huge amount of fish swam around us, seemingly completely unbothered by our presence. We could dive down among them and watch them move through the coral in shimmering schools. Even a small blacktip reef shark made an appearance. For a while, we simply floated in the water, watching the fish, the coral, and our occasional shark companion. But eventually, even paradise has to come to an end. After three days of repairs, cleaning, snorkeling, and enjoying our beautiful surroundings, we raised the anchor and set sail toward Noro, one of the larger towns in the Solomon Islands and the place where we planned to complete our departure formalities.

When the Sky Starts Putting on a Show

As we moved farther into November, the changing weather became increasingly noticeable. The Solomon Islands lie in a region where winds can be frustratingly light and variable, particularly during the transition toward the wetter northwest monsoon season. Instead of the reliable trade winds we had enjoyed earlier in our journey, we were now dealing with long periods of calm interrupted by sudden squalls and thunderstorms.

Our first night was almost completely windless. The sails barely moved, and Tauha made painfully slow progress. But while the wind was taking a break, the sky certainly wasn't. Huge thunderclouds built up around us, their towering shapes occasionally illuminated by spectacular flashes of lightning. From a distance, it was beautiful. Entire sections of the horizon would suddenly light up, revealing enormous clouds stretching high into the atmosphere. Unfortunately, watching thunderstorms from a sailboat comes with a certain amount of anxiety. After all, we were sitting in the middle of the ocean with a very tall aluminum mast sticking into the sky. Not exactly the ideal place to be when lightning starts striking. Fortunately, the storms initially stayed far enough away that we could enjoy the show without getting soaked. But unfortunately that wasn't going to last.

Something Fishy Was Going On

The following day brought slightly better winds and a little excitement on the fishing front. Twice, our fishing line suddenly started screaming.

Twice, we rushed to grab it. And twice, the fish managed to escape. Apparently, the fish had decided that we were not going to have dinner that easily. But as we approached the island chain surrounding Noro, something interesting began happening. Birds. Lots and lots of birds.

They were circling, diving, and gathering in huge groups over the water. Below them, we kept spotting enormous dark patches moving beneath the surface. And then there was the smell. An unmistakably strong, fishy smell drifted across the water. We had sailed straight into a feeding frenzy!

Schools of smaller fish were being driven toward the surface by larger predators, while seabirds took advantage of the feast from above. It was fascinating to watch. And then our fishing line went off again. This time, we were successful! A beautiful bonito had taken our lure, finally ending our little fishing losing streak. Dinner was secured. Unfortunately, the weather had other plans for us first.

From Five Knots to Thirty-Five

While we were busy admiring the wildlife, enormous dark clouds began building around us. Again. But this time, the thunderstorms were much closer. Lightning flashed across the sky, sometimes striking in several directions around us. Every now and then, thunder exploded so loudly that we could feel the vibrations through the entire boat. And then the wind arrived. One moment, we were sailing along in a gentle five to ten knots.

The next, the wind suddenly jumped to more than 35 knots. That's quite a difference!

The approaching squall had brought a powerful gust front with it, and we quickly had to reduce sail. Rain came pouring down, soaking everything and everyone. Tauha pushed forward through the chaos while lightning continued flashing around us. It was one of those moments when you are very aware of just how small your boat is compared to the forces of nature.

There wasn't much to do except keep the boat under control, watch the conditions, and wait for the worst to pass. Eventually, the wind eased again. And just like that, the excitement was over. We were wet, tired, and happy the lightning was slowly moving further and further away from us. At least we had something to look forward to. Pizza!

A Little Taste of Naples in the Middle of the Pacific

Earlier that day, before the weather had turned quite so dramatic, we had prepared some yeast dough. And now, after all the excitement, it was time for Tauha's very first homemade pizza. Our topping? Freshly caught bonito, corn, onion, garlic, and barbecue sauce. Perhaps not the most traditional Neapolitan combination, but maybe even better?

We stretched the dough, added our toppings, and slid the pizza into our little gas oven. The result? Delicious! Admittedly, the dough could still use some improvement, but for a first attempt aboard, we were extremely pleased. And I couldn't stop thinking of my bachelorette party, where my friends had taken me to a pizza-making course in Naples. At the time, I certainly hadn't imagined that those skills would come in handy while sailing through thunderstorms in the Solomon Islands. But here we were. Thank you, girls. Apparently, that course was a very practical investment in our sailing future!

Another Night, Another Narrow Entrance

The next day, we slowly approached Noro. There was just one problem. Noro lies on the northern side of the island, while we were approaching from the south. To reach it, we would have to navigate through a network of channels, reefs, and small islands. And, as you have probably already guessed, daylight was running out. Again.

Before reaching the main channel, we passed several islands surrounded by small fishing boats. With almost no wind, we were motoring, carefully watching for fishermen and their gear. Eventually, we decided that navigating the tidal channels in darkness was simply not worth the risk. Instead, we selected a protected anchorage just inside the reef where we could spend the night and continue the following day.

The entrance was narrow, and as we approached, the depth sounder changed rapidly. The seabed seemed to rise almost vertically from deep water toward the reef, like an underwater cliff. Then we entered the channel. Suddenly, the current started pushing Tauha sideways.

Alex stood at the bow with a flashlight, trying to spot any dangers ahead, while I steered and fought to keep the boat on course. It was not exactly relaxing. The current kept trying to push us off our intended track, and in the darkness, it was difficult to judge how close we were to the reef.

But slowly, carefully, we made our way through. Finally, the channel opened into a protected bay.

After another mile we reached our selected anchorage point. We then saw that a large catamaran was already anchored there, which was a reassuring sight. We found a spot at a comfortable distance away, dropped our anchor, and finally relaxed. Another successful night arrival. Although we really wouldn't mind arriving somewhere during daylight for a change!

Our First Drone Flight

The following morning, we woke up surrounded by yet another breathtaking landscape. A small island sat just off our bow, with birds singing in the trees and waves breaking gently over the nearby reef. Beyond it stretched a seemingly endless collection of little islands, surrounded by brilliant turquoise water. It was one of the most beautiful anchorages we had seen so far. And we finally had the perfect opportunity to try something new. Our drone!

We had brought a small drone aboard with us at the start of our journey, but neither of us had much experience flying one. And launching a drone from a sailboat is slightly more intimidating than launching one from a nice, wide open field. There are masts, rigging, antennas, and countless other things to crash into. Not to mention the ocean waiting below. Nevertheless, we decided to give it a try.

While Alex worked on repairing a broken line on our spinnaker sock, I prepared the drone for its maiden flight. Takeoff was nerve-racking. Flying it around the anchorage was fantastic. And landing it safely back aboard was an enormous relief. But the footage, while not perfect, was absolutely worth it. Seeing Tauha from above, floating among tiny islands and colorful reefs, gave us a completely different perspective on the place we had been exploring.

Through the Mangroves to Noro

Around noon, we picked up anchor and finally continued toward Noro. The route took us through a fascinating network of narrow waterways, small villages, and increasingly green, swampy-looking surroundings. At times, it almost felt as though we were motoring up a tropical river rather than sailing through the ocean. Looking at the dense vegetation, it wasn't difficult to imagine why crocodiles can be found in this region. We kept our swimming plans firmly on hold.

After confirming with port control that we were allowed to transit the channel, we continued on our way. Small boats passed us, their occupants waving cheerfully. At one point, a man on shore even tried to sell us petrol in plastic bottles. Certainly a creative little fuel station! And then, almost as suddenly as we had entered the maze of islands, the scenery changed. The narrow waterways opened into a much larger harbor. Instead of tiny villages and untouched reefs, we were now looking at container ships, industrial buildings, and a marina. Civilization! Or at least the Solomon Islands' version of it.

We had decided against staying at the marina because we had a long list of errands to complete and wanted to be closer to town. That meant finding another anchorage. And, naturally, crossing another shallow reef.

Two Meters of Water. Two Meters of Draft. Great.

Our chosen anchorage was a small sandy patch tucked behind a reef, close enough to town to make provisioning manageable. The entrance, however, looked rather shallow and the maps said it was 2meters of depth. We approached at high tide, with GPS charts, satellite imagery, and Alex standing at the bow keeping watch. The depth sounder dropped. And dropped. Until it showed three meters. We carefully snaked our way through the entrance, hoping that the maps were being slightly pessimistic. Fortunately, Tauha made it through without touching the bottom.

We dropped anchor in the small sandy area, doing our best to stay clear of the local boat traffic and avoid anchoring directly in someone's front yard. And there we were. Noro. Our final stop in the Solomon Islands.

It was Sunday, and we were hoping to leave the very next day. All we had to do was check out of the country, buy fuel, find drinking water, restock our food supplies, get a pipe for cleaning the watermaker, finish a few boat jobs, and prepare Tauha for a passage of more than 20 days. What could possibly go wrong?

A Little Protection for Tauha

While we were busy preparing shopping lists and ordering spare parts, we had an unexpected visit. Two local men approached Tauha in their boats, carrying beautiful handmade wood carvings. Woodcarving has a long tradition in parts of the Solomon Islands, particularly around the Western Province, where intricate figures decorated with shell inlays are an important part of local artistic heritage. And since we still wanted a special souvenir from the Solomon Islands, we were delighted to take a look.

One carving immediately caught our attention. It was a dark wooden figure decorated with shell inlays, representing a traditional protective spirit.

The men explained that figures like this were historically associated with canoes and protection during voyages. Well, that sounded rather perfect for Tauha! They also explained the symbolism of different things the spirit might carry. According to them, a bird represented peace, while a human head was associated with success in headhunting. Now, personally, we are much bigger fans of peace than headhunting. But unfortunately, the headhunting version was also the one we thought looked particularly beautiful. So we bought/ traded for it. And just like that, Tauha had acquired her very own traditional guardian for the journey ahead. We also traded two of our old T-shirts for a few smaller carvings.

Later, another man stopped by with a stone carving depicting a human-bird-like figure interacting with a turtle. He described it as a spirit associated with good luck in fishing. Well, we certainly wouldn't complain about a little extra fishing luck! We bought that one too, along with some carved chopsticks, which we exchanged for batteries we no longer needed.

It was a lovely experience, and we were especially happy to buy and trade the carvings directly from the people who made them. Now Tauha had not just one, but two new lucky companions aboard. Surely nothing could go wrong anymore.

The Great Diesel Disaster

That evening, while I was finishing our online orders for spare parts and equipment, Alex decided to top up our fuel tanks. We had made a rather exciting discovery a month ago. Hidden behind part of our interior was an additional fuel tank that we hadn't really accounted for before. And Alex now checked if it would be still operation and indeed it even still contained diesel! Discovering an extra fuel storage on a boat when you're preparing for a long passage is a bit like discovering money in an old jacket. Only better.

So Alex started filling the tanks. Everything seemed perfectly normal. Until I heard a strange cracking sound. "Alex, what's that noise?" He stopped filling. The cracking stopped. He started again. Crack. Crack. Crack. Hmm. That didn't sound good. Alex went below to investigate while I continued adding a little more fuel. And suddenly, I heard him shout. "STOP!"

Apparently, our main fuel tank was expanding enough to put pressure on the surrounding structure. The wall holding it in place had started cracking!

Definitely not ideal. We needed to relieve the pressure, so Alex decided to remove some diesel from the tank. A sensible plan. In theory.

Unfortunately, the execution was slightly less elegant. Somehow, the diesel decided to escape with considerably more enthusiasm than expected.

What followed was less a controlled fuel transfer and more a diesel fountain.

Diesel went everywhere. Across the engine compartment. Around the batteries. And, of course, all over Alex. Wonderful. At least the pressure on the tank was relieved, and the cracking stopped. The engine compartment, however, now looked like it had survived a very unfortunate fuel-related accident. Another reason to be thankful for paper towels and another lesson learned aboard Tauha.

One Day, About a Hundred Errands

The following morning, our departure day had finally arrived. We wanted to leave the Solomon Islands that afternoon, ideally around high tide, when there would be enough water to safely cross the reef again. That gave us just a few hours to complete everything. And our to-do list was still enormous.

Alex started with a trip to the market for fresh vegetables, fruit, bread, and fuel. Then we went back for frozen meat, more vegetables, and a very large watermelon. And beer. You sometimes have to set priorities. Next came immigration and customs. We had expected the usual island bureaucracy, potentially involving several offices, long waits, and plenty of patience. But to our surprise, everything went remarkably smoothly.

The officials were friendly, the paperwork was completed quickly, and we were officially cleared to leave the Solomon Islands. Even better, the office had air conditioning! With temperatures close to 40°C and being in the blazing sun, sitting in a cool room for a few minutes felt like a luxury holiday.

Unfortunately, our shopping marathon wasn't finished yet. We still needed more bread and a substantial amount of groceries. However, the grocery shops here had an interesting, old-school system. Instead of walking through aisles and picking things off shelves, customers told the shopkeepers what they wanted, and the employees retrieved everything from behind the counter. A perfectly reasonable system. Unless you arrive with a very long shopping list and have absolutely no idea what the shop actually stocks. "Do you have garlic?" "No." "What about canned fruit?" "No." "And Flower?" Let's say, it took a while and the final price seemed more like a guess than anything else. Oh well, it was all very cheap. Eventually, we returned to Tauha with bags and bags of supplies. Now all we had to do was put everything away, finish cleaning the boat, get water, dispose of our rubbish, hoist the dinghy, and leave. With sweat running down our bodies we kept moving.

Sixty Bottles of Water

Back aboard, I immediately started cleaning and organizing. The bathroom, kitchen, living area, and bedroom all needed attention. Every grocery item had to find a secure place where it wouldn't go flying across the cabin during the next passage.

Meanwhile, Alex took the dinghy to the marina to dispose of our rubbish and, hopefully, fill our water tanks. Unfortunately, the drinking water situation in the Solomon Islands had been frustrating. Despite visiting several places, we hadn't managed to find a reliable source of potable, safe water for filling our tanks. And now our freshwater supply was getting dangerously low. Of course, we have a watermaker aboard, as well as about 150 liters of reserve water. But on a long offshore passage, we prefer not to depend entirely on a single piece of equipment. Especially not a piece of equipment that has already required its fair share of maintenance. So Alex returned to the store. And bought sixty 1.5-liter bottles of drinking water. Sixty. That's ninety liters of fresh drinking water who'd price again seems to be a best estimate.

A kind local man helped him carry the bottles, which was greatly appreciated. Back aboard, we squeezed them under the table and in the V-Berth.

By this point, Tauha was looking increasingly like a floating supermarket. We finished cleaning the interior, dealt with the impressive amount of bird droppings on deck, and finally hoisted the dinghy. The cockpit still needed cleaning, but that would have to wait. It was already almost four o'clock. And the tide was not going to wait for us.

The Reef Had One Last Surprise

We started the engine, raised the anchor, and headed toward the narrow reef entrance. This time, however, the sun was in a particularly inconvenient position. Its reflection made it extremely difficult to see through the water. Alex stood at the bow, trying to identify the deeper route, while I steered from the cockpit with our charts and satellite imagery open. At first, everything seemed fine. Then Alex directed me farther to the left. Which was interesting, because the satellite image suggested we should be farther right. I followed his directions. And suddenly, his voice changed. "RIGHT! HARD RIGHT!" Not exactly the words you want to hear when you're navigating a narrow reef passage. I turned as quickly as possible. The depth sounder dropped below two meters. For a moment, things were rather tense.

But thankfully, we made it through without grounding. Once we were safely back in deeper water, we discussed what had happened. The problem hadn't really been the charts or the lookout. It was communication. When one person is at the bow and the other is steering, both need to know whether the person at the front can actually see a safe route or is simply trying to spot last-minute hazards. Especially when the sun makes the water almost impossible to read. A valuable lesson. And one we were very happy to learn without having to pull Tauha off a reef.

Goodbye, Solomon Islands

Once we were safely outside the reef, we continued motoring through the long, windless channel. We passed more fishermen in their little boats, slowly leaving the busy waterways behind. We finally tackled the cockpit cleaning and then, as the afternoon turned into evening, something wonderful happened. The chaos stopped. The errands were finished. The paperwork was done. The fuel tanks were full, the food was stored, and Tauha was finally heading toward the open ocean. As the sun began to set, we passed a huge volcanic island rising dramatically from the sea. Alex made us burgers with sweet potatoes, and we sat together at the front of the boat, eating dinner beneath a sky slowly filling with stars.

For the first time in days, there was nothing urgent left to do. No shops to visit. No officials to find. No reef passages to navigate. Just us, Tauha, and the ocean stretching out ahead. We looked back at everything we had experienced over the past months. The countless islands. The incredible people. The beautiful reefs and unforgettable wildlife encounters. The repairs, the challenges, the storms, and the little victories along the way. We had sailed all the way from French Polynesia through the Cook Islands, Niue, Tonga, Fiji, Vanuatu, and now the Solomon Islands.

And somehow, despite everything that had gone wrong along the way, we had made it this far. We felt incredibly proud. Not because everything had gone perfectly. Quite the opposite. But because every challenge had taught us something, and every successful passage had given us a little more confidence in ourselves and our floating home. And now, a completely new adventure was waiting. Indonesia. More than twenty days of sailing lay ahead of us, with unfamiliar waters, changing winds, and the excitement of exploring a completely new part of the world.

As darkness settled around Tauha, a group of dolphins appeared beside the boat. They swam alongside us for a while, occasionally surfacing and breathing. It almost felt as though the Solomon Islands were giving us one final farewell. A rather perfect ending to a beautiful, chaotic, and unforgettable chapter of our journey.

If you’d like to read more, follow our journey, and support what we do, don’t forget to subscribe to our newsletter or follow us on social media. Every bit of encouragement helps keep the adventure going and we’d love to have you aboard!