Summer in Fiji: paint, humidity and horizons

The air is thick as soup, the temperature hits 34 degrees, and My Motu is slowly turning into a workshop. As the rainy season bursts open, we try to create order among paint cans, plans, and tropical thunderstorms.

It’s summer in Fiji. That sounds idyllic, until you remember that “summer” here means 34+ degrees, humidity so high your towel never dries, and evenings that feel like a warm shower with no way to turn it off. The mosquitoes throw a party, the palm trees sigh, and the fan does its best but loses every night to the heat.

When Jeroen had dismantled everything from the C-drive, we knew: there’s nothing more we can fix here. The actual work, including creating new parts and rebuilding the gearbox, must be done in the Netherlands. So we did what sailors do when their plans hit a storm: we made a new list. A long one.

At the top:
– repaint the hull with antifouling,
– determine the new waterline (which, unnoticed, kept creeping higher),
– and repaint everything above the waterline.

That last one sounded simple, but grew into a project of its own. The right paint isn’t available in Fiji, only a far too-white shade, as if your boat were auditioning for a toothpaste commercial. The good paint can come from Australia, but import duties here are fifty percent (!) of the total cost. And to do it properly, it has to be sprayed. Well… we can’t do that, and the quotes from professionals didn’t exactly lift our spirits either.

So we thought: we will just roll it ourselves, with the local paint. Until other sailors told us that within a year, we’d be doing it all over again. “Don’t do it,” they said. “Really, don’t.” And we believe them, some hulls in the marina look like they’ve developed their own camouflage pattern.

In the end, we decided to wait until we know exactly what the C-drive repair will cost. Only then can we decide what to do. Painting it ourselves with rollers can always be done later, and I am sure we will make it look as good as we can, maybe not perfect, but full of love, patience, and lots of coffee (and probably a few new paint streaks in our hair).

Then came the big work: sanding, sanding, and more sanding. Muscles that had been on holiday for months suddenly woke up again. Then, filling, sanding again, until we could almost see the colour of our dream emerging in the dust. Only then was it time for the antifouling.

While the hull was drying in the tropical heat, we moved on to the rest: cleaning the dinghy, servicing the dinghy engine and there we found an unexpected guest. A small, coiled-up snake, sadly no longer alive, who had apparently chosen the wrong hiding spot. Then it was time to clean and grease the gearboxes, and in the meantime, check whether we could actually take them with us in our luggage to the Netherlands. Yes, fifteen and sixteen kilos, perfect!

The rest of the list continued: engine and generator maintenance, cleaning the anchor chain, spraying out the anchor locker, and adding new color markings so we’ll know exactly how much chain is out when we drop anchor. Naturally.

Slowly, My Motu turned back into a floating workshop full of plans. We emptied the boat, washed, scrubbed, and polished everything, so that when we leave, My Motu would look her best.

On November 5th, My Motu was moved into her hurricane pit, a large hole in the ground where her keel disappears, providing safe shelter against storms up to Category 2.
Still, it feels a little strange to leave your entire home sitting in a hole. We are keeping our fingers crossed that no hurricane comes our way.
Another small lesson in letting go…

And while the rain drummed on deck and the heat clung to us like a wet blanket, we looked ahead. On November 16th, we fly to the Netherlands, back to family, friends, and a bit of winter. Jeroen will return to work with Hanno Weet Raad, and I’ll be back at Lagas Tandartsen in Veenendaal. We are both thrilled to be with great people, lovely teams, and experience a small taste of normal life after three years of floating between time zones.

Solid ground, double espressos that don’t wobble, Christmas lights, maybe even a bit of snow… we are both looking forward to it.

On March 10th, we will fly back to Fiji with fresh energy, new plans, and hopefully a fully rebuilt gearbox in our luggage.

But we know this isn’t goodbye, just a pause. My Motu will wait here patiently, under the tropical rain, while we recharge, work, and dream about what is next.

The sea breathes, the air shimmers, and thunder rumbles somewhere in the distance.
It’s summer in Fiji, and the story simply continues.
Until the next wave 🌊

Sometimes pausing is part of the journey.

A cheerful gift tip from under the waves

The holidays are coming, and while we’re surrounded by paint cans and tropical downpours dreaming of snow, twinkling lights, and hot chocolate, I’d love to share something special.

Dot and Her Sea Friends is the very first book in my new Dot’s Adventures series, a colourful picture book in which the little fish Dot explores the ocean. Dot has shimmering spots that can change colour. She’s curious, brave, and always looking for new friends, from playful dolphins to wise turtles.

Each letter of the alphabet brings a new adventure, from anchovy to seahorse, with a cheerful “Dot’s Fun Fact” and a “Join Dot!” activity in every chapter.

A book full of colour, wonder, and small lessons about nature and friendship, perfect for reading aloud to children aged 4 to 8.

Whether you are looking for a birthday surprise, a Sinterklaas present, or something warm to put under the Christmas tree, Dot en haar zeevriendjes will bring a smile to every face, big or small.

The book is available as a paperback and as an e-book on Amazon.nl, so that Dot can swim along anywhere, even on holiday or by the fireplace.

Dive in with Dot and discover a world where everything lives, sparkles, and moves.