Surprises

Everyone loves a good surprise, whether it’s an outcome different than what was expected or something more tangible like a gift.  We’ve recently been the lucky recipients of both kinds.

 

First, we were pleasantly surprised by how much we’ve enjoyed Papeete, the capital city of French Polynesia and located at the northwest corner of the island of Tahiti.  It’s a city of 170,000 people with it’s traffic jams, noise and dirt, and even though it completely shuts down at various times of the day (12-3 and after 6 p.m.), we’ve loved being in civilization again after two months of next to none.  In fact, while the lack of buses after 6 p.m. were at first a source of angst for us (how were we to get back to the boat which is anchored outside of town?), it became the impetus for connecting with locals -people actually stop and offer us rides home (even if it is completely out of their way – and understand that gas here is about $6-7 per gallon). 

Tahiti brought with it girls’ days out in the city (one must have girlfriend time!), lots of pearl shopping, an opportunity to visit various chandleries and hardware stores, excellent provisioning, meandering through the local market, and only a bit of sightseeing (the highlight was, as you might imagine, the Pearl Museum).  Harrison picked up a guitar at a local store and is getting lessons from our friend Krister on s/v Britannia.  He has even jammed with his friend Maia on s/v Ceilydh who has taken up the Tahitian ukulele.  Papeete would not be complete without eating out at the ‘roulottes’, which are vans set up every evening at 6 p.m. serving anything from chow mein and crepes to wood-fire oven pizzas and tuna tartar – it is perhaps the only reasonably priced restaurant option in town and always serves fresh and delicious food.

 

Another surprise: Before hitting Papeete, our monthly spending had surprisingly reached an all time cruising low – surprising because things here are so expensive.  Notwithstanding a $12 small watermelon, $6 lettuces, and $6/dozen eggs, we’ve eaten out very little and have spent almost completely on fresh produce.  Once in Papeete, however, there’s been more to spend on…

 

We’ve been fortunate enough to be here during the Heiva Festival which takes place during the first two weeks of July and celebrates the Polynesian culture.  We witnessed fruit-carrying races, javelin throwing, outrigger canoe races, Tahitian dancing (how do they wiggle like that?), fire dancing, and all sorts of other shows of the vibrant Polynesian spirit. 

 

One highlight was connecting with the orthodox Sephardi (of Western European and North African roots) Jewish community in Papeete by visiting the only synagogue in town (which also has a mikvah or ritual bath) for a Shabbat evening service.   I love that no matter where I am in the world, the siddur (prayer book) follows the same general order with the same basic prayers so that I can follow along and belong.  We were heartily welcomed by the Secretary of the Jewish Community, Dr. Francois Yonah Poul, who also has great tales of his time as the ‘traveling doctor’ for the Tuamotus during a 10 year period in the 90’s. 

Perhaps the best surprise, however, came in the form of unexpected visitors.  Our friends Dennise and Daniel decided on four days’ notice that it was time to check Tahiti off their bucket list.  Dennise, as the great friend that she is, was getting together an order of boat parts for us and a few other boats and when she learned that the cost would be close to $1000 for shipping, she decided to bring it all in person.  For the next week with our guests on board we covered a lot ground – more pearl shopping (of course) in Tahiti, hiking and feeding stingrays in Moorea, driving the island of Huahine, snorkeling the coral gardens off the island of Taha’a (perhaps some of the best) , and simply taking in the beauty of Raiatea.  I was even treated to Dennise’s much missed company on my night watch during our overnight passage (and D&D suffered only a bit of sea sickness).  While we missed their kids (who were at camps back home), I personally could not have asked for a better surprise!

We had a ‘down’ day when they left this past Saturday, but certainly took advantage of the quiet time to re-provision, clean, and rest after a packed week.  We’re taking a couple of weeks off from homeschooling and I’ve spent some time gathering next year’s materials. Danielle and I worked on putting together some pearl jewelry and the boys worked on boat projects.  We have since reunited with our friends on Britannia and plan to spend only a couple of more days on Raiatea before moving on to Bora Bora, which will be our last stop in French Polynesia.  Our visas run out at the end of the month.

 

-Barb

Raiatea, Society Islands (Iles Sous le Vent / Leeward Islands), French Polynesia

The Tuamotus Paradise

The Tuamotus in the South Pacific is full of beautiful atolls with small villages and very kind people. The playful kids run up and down the pier in Makemo atoll and jump right into the crystal clear water. They are also quite interactive with foreigners. The kids ask for tours of the boats and asked us for bananas. The adults are nice and funny too. Each time you walk by them, they wave and say, “Bonjour!” or, “Hello!” pleasantly.

The snorkeling all around here is absolutely beautiful, too. You are almost guaranteed to see at least ten gorgeous fish with wonderful shades of yellow, green, blue and red. We have seen grey reef, black tip, white tip and blue sharks, but don’t be scared. All you have to do to keep safe is stay in a group. Just remember this: You are more likely to get hurt by your own toilet than by a shark.

The Tuamotus is a wonderful place where you can have fun in paradise. I really recommend the Tuamotus so much I would go there when ever possible!

-Harrison (now in Tahiti and just completely some end of year writing assignments)

The Place to Rendez-Vous

It featured the most exciting upset in its history.  The Tahiti-Moorea Rendez-Vous, which took place from June 24-27, has to have been the most momentous yet, at least partially attributable to the six-man outrigger canoe racing final, in which our own Michael participated.  Michael, together with our friends Krister (s/v Brittania), Lauren (s/v Pico), Evan (s/v Ceilydh) and two professionals were in the final heat when the nose of their canoe crossed the finished line first, just as the canoe tipped and was overtaken by the competition.  Lucky for us, it’s the nose that counts, but it took several long anxiety-ridden moments of judges’ deliberation to make the call. 

The weekend’s events were also highlighted by Saturday’s rally of about 40 boats from the starting line in Tahiti over approximately 15 miles to Opunohu Bay on the magnificent jagged peaked island of Moorea.  Harrison decided to switch places with Amanda aboard s/v Brittania so that he and Brittania’s captain Krister could sail their 35 foot sloop while playing guitar and bonding.  The winds quickly died, and only 8 boats actually crossed the finish line without having motored at least part of the way.  Brittania was one of those eight and earned them (and Harrison) a mention in the the sailing magazine Latitude 38 (see this link).  Our friends aboard s/v Ceilydh earned second place, but came first among cruisers (the first place winner was a local boat without all the cruising gear aboard).  Aboard Whatcha Gonna Do, we got a bit too impatient trying to sail without power but we did serve up some great eats for our guests Amanda (s/v Brittania, who had never sailed on a cat before), Julie (the wife of Latitude 38’s editor Andy Turpin), and Philip (of Cars for Cruisers in Opua Bay, NZ, one of the sponsors of the Rendez-Vous).

 

The kids had a blast participating in coconut husking, stone lifting, and banana carrying races during Sunday’s events, as well as kids and women’s outrigger canoe races.  We spent a lot of time catching up with other cruising friends, eating and drinking and singing and dancing.  Michael in particular enjoyed the Tahitian dance lessons.  The Polynesian charm was contagious.

 

The kids’ rendez-vous followed the adult activities on Monday – they spent the day on the beach with about 25 other kids playing capture the flag, swimming and snorkeling, husking coconuts, and other things kids do when they just hang out at the beach. The swarms of kids have continued since.

Part of the fun for our crew was rafting up with s/v Brittania in Moorea.  It was like having a sleepover but without needing to clean the sheets.  Krister and Amanda are 30-somethings from the San Francisco Bay area who learned to sail only 2 years before taking off for the South Pacific.  They are the kind of people you want around always.  Harrison coined it for us:  Free help and free happiness. 

While in Moorea we also managed to snorkel underwater tikis, we swam with stingrays and we did yoga on the beach in the mornings.  And we are now back anchored at Marina Taina just outside Papeete in Tahiti, getting some R&R after a packed few days.

 

-Barbara

Papeete, Tahiti

Black Pearl Market - The Art of Buying Black Pearls in the Tuamotus

I'm seated at a table in Makemo Atoll in the Tuamotu Archipelago in the middle of a lovely warm and sunny afternoon with boxes of small dark roundish objects in front of me, but my eyes are feeling like they are going to pop out of their sockets. I have been staring at hundreds and hundreds of shimmering black pearls in various luscious tones of greens, blues, champagnes, blacks, silvers and greys. There are round ones, oval ones, interestingly misshapen ones, and ones with circles embedded around them. There are small ones and, well, smaller ones. It's all relative. That's the problem. An 8 mm pearl is not so different from an 11 mm pearl. And a shiny one is not so different from, well, another shiny one. And I've been here for what seems like hours, trying to pick out the shiniest, the most interesting colored, the neatest shaped pearls. I'm not sure anymore when they all started looking the same. And it only gets worse when I begin to look for a match for a pair of earrings. By now I cannot tell whether one is worth $1000 or $1. I've lost sight of the forest for the trees. Or was it the trees for the forest? Or...

Okay. Refocus. Rethink my objective. Take a deep breath. And go through the piles again.

Such is the ritual of purchasing black pearls in the Tuamotus in French Polynesia, a paradise group of islands in the middle of the South Pacific. And it's a darn good time. Especially when you can walk away with some great finds.

French Polynesia's black pearl market got underway in the 1960's and has seen its ups and downs. At one time, there were dozens of pearl farms on almost every inhabited atoll of the Tuamotus, but at some point the market got so saturated that the price of pearls plummeted. The result is that there are now only a few family-run operations while some of the larger foreign corporate businesses have taken over much of the industry. We visited Dream Pearls, a larger family farm on Fakarava, just outside the town of Rotoava, run by Lulu Steiner. Lulu is a German Swiss man who came to French Polynesia 25 years ago where he met and married his beautiful wife Mimi, who runs the jewelry shop in town near the harbor.

The four year process of creating these beautiful cultured gems is absolutely fascinating. It begins on some of the smaller atolls where divers find baby oysters and sell them to the farms for 1 Euro each. Lulu's operation purchases 25,000 oysters every month. When these oysters get big enough, they are brought into the grafting houses, which are essentially wooden shacks on stilts just above the aqua colored lagoon's edge to ensure that the shells will spend as little time as possible out of water. Here, the shells are pried open. A nucleus (which resembles a white ball) together with a tiny piece of mantle tissue (the organ which secretes mother of pearl) from an oyster shell found in the Mississippi of all places, are then inserted inside the host oyster shell. The mantle tissue initiates the grafting process so that the oyster can now secrete the colored mother of pearl around the nucleus. The host oyster is made to believe that these organic matters are its own and continues to grow the pearl inside it for another 18 months. To complicate matters, the shells must be cleaned and disinfected every 4 months in a huge machine that looks like a commercial dish washer to keep parasites and bacteria at bay. This means that on a rotating basis, Lulu's staff cleans over 400,000 shells each each year, four times over the life of the oyster shell while growing its pearl. Pearls can grow on average up to 11 mm in size during this initial process.

More and more, however, there has been a demand for larger pearls. And so the process continues, with expert grafters sitting in grafting houses for hours each day removing the original pearl for inspection. If the pearl is near perfect, and because the pearl can only grow to be as big as the oyster's nucleus, it will get put back into the oyster with a new larger nucleus for a second and sometimes a third graft. This was the process we witnessed. As the grafter pried open the shell, she inserts her long silver tool resembling what a dentist uses to test your teeth for cavities. When she pulls out what appeared to be a perfectly shaped round lustrous black pearl, I couldn't help but feel that I was witnessing a birth. And yet most of these gems went into the bowl that meant it was not perfect enough for a second graft. During the half hour of our observation, I saw only two pearls being reinserted for a subsequent graft.

There is a notion that larger black pearls, which have been grafted two or three times, may not be as organically sound since the layers may crack with changes of temperature. Lulu assured us, however, that at his farm, only the very best pearls get grafted more than once and thus are much more valuable. There is no doubt that Lulu takes great pride in his operation, and you couldn't help but feel his pearls were, in fact, top quality.

So when we arrived in his showroom, we all went nuts over the pearls he was selling for 80,000 French Polynesian Francs - the equivalent of $10,000. He also had on display an 18 mm pearl that was too rare to be for sale, and I'll admit it was a big honking gem. Nonetheless, it would have paled in comparison to the largest recorded black pearl, at 26 mm.

Lulu's prices, which he reminded us several times were showroom prices and much less than in the jewelry shops, ranged from small 6 mm ones for 3000 Francs (about $35) up to 80,000 Francs. Then there were magnificent necklaces for thousands of dollars more. 'Nuff said. It was all so professional and civilized - and out of our price range.

This whole experience was in sharp contrast to our visit to the largest house on Makemo Atoll, an orange two-story that stood out in this small village in sharp contrast to the mostly shacks and one room cement brick homes. There we were seated at a table with boxes and boxes of pearls of all shapes and sizes and colors - and we had to fend for ourselves. The prices there were much more clearly in our price ranges, and we were able to find pearls ranging in prices that went as low as 2500 Francs (about $30) for an 11 mm pearl (compared to Lulu's $100 for the same size). Unfortunately for us, we didn't realize how good Makemo's prices were at the time for what seems to have been equivalent quality, since our visit to Dream Pearls on Fakarava came only later. We still managed to drop a good amount of change on Makemo nonetheless - cash only as one should expect in all the off-the-beaten-path atolls where most visitors come by boat and the clientele tend to be local Polynesians. In contrast, on the more touristed atolls like Fakarava, many shops and farms accept credit cards.

Like diamonds, black pearls are graded based on several categories, such as luster or sheen (the best ones should reflect the light creating a mirror-like effect), size (obviously the larger ones are more valuable), and surface smoothness (any punctures, deposits, streaks or swellings on the surface are considered imperfections). In theory, each of these criterion can be tested by simply having a look. And based on these criteria, the pearls are graded A,B,C or D quality. Anything less than D quality are not supposed to be sold, although we found that at least a couple of the smaller shops (as well as the pearl farm we visited in Makemo) did sell these lower quality pearls at heavily discounted prices. You just have to ask for them. Our friend Diane was practically gifted several dozen of these pearls on Nuku Hiva for $1 a piece, but our experience found the lowest prices on Fakarava to be $3. Good for Danielle's beading hobby.

Beyond the above criteria, there are two more things to look for, simply based on pure preference and not affecting the quality categories. The first is color which ranges in hues and tints of reds, pinks, purples, greys, blacks, silvers, greens, blues, and champagnes. I fell in love with the green ones but it really is a personal preference. In addition, the pearls come in many shapes aside from the traditional round. We actually found the dew drops, the baroques (odd shaped) and ringed ones to be most interesting, and we of course opted mostly for these in our own purchases, with a few rounds thrown in for good measure.

I would be remiss if I recounted our tale of buying black pearls without the mention of the weight of my purse as we did so. In it I lugged a bottle of rum, some perfume and some face cream, all with the hopes of trading for pearls like our cruising guidebooks advised. No such luck - we were laughed at the first couple of times that we pulled out the items, so that by the third time I didn't even bother. It was too embarrassing. The black pearl market seems much more sophisticated than legend foretold, although with enough quantity in your check-out basket, you can still bargain down the prices in some places. The best we did was a 20% discount.

Sure we left each pearl farm and shop a bit more cross-eyed than the last. But once back at the boat, and after closely examining and comparing the purchases from our various sources, we found the trees. Or the forest. Or whatever it was we were supposed to find. In other words: We found delight and contentment in our purchases, our knowledge and understanding of a complex but graceful and beautiful process, and of another fulfilling traveler's adventure.

-Barb
En route from the Tuamotus to Tahiti, French Polynesia

P.S. Pictures must follow when we get internet.
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At 6/24/2011 05:31 (utc) our position was 17°27.08'S 149°18.88'W

Winter (Summer) Solstice

We've finally figured out why we're so tired. We've been sleeping close to 10 hours each night, when, back home, this is the time of year we usually gear up for later nights and tons of energy. Lately, we've been crashing at 8 p.m. and having trouble awakening at 6 a.m. to get school started by 7. What's up with that? we wondered.

We're in the southern hemisphere is what's up. June 21 is the shortest day of the year. Sunlight hours have been getting shorter, instead of longer as we're used to. It's winter here.

Not that there's not a lot of sunlight. It's gorgeous, consistently 85 degrees everyday but none of the ridiculous heat and discomfort of Mexico. But as the days got shorter, we have found we've needed more and more sleep. And we're craving carbs and hybernating a whole lot more than we're used to doing in June.

It's really amazing what your body knows without you even thinking about it.

-Barb
En route Fakarava to Tahiti (when written)
Anchored in Papeete (when posted)
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At 6/24/2011 02:46 (utc) our position was 17°28.37'S 149°00.88'W

Bye Bye Tuamotus! Hello Tahiti!

Well this morning we waved goodbye to the Tuamotus as we set sail on a one to two-day passage to Tahiti. We hope to get there in time for the Tahiti Moorea Sailing Rendez-vous which starts this Friday and brings together many of the boats that crossed the Pacific this season. It should also be a great opportunity to bring together lots of kid boats!

The Tuamotus have really been a highlight and I know we could have easily spent longer here. The snorkeling and diving were spectacular. I have never seen so much live coral and swimming with many sharks was exciting. The real highlight however was swimming with giant Manta Rays. These animals are amazing to watch, can have wing spans as wide as 10 feet and seem to be from another world. They would swim right up to us and around us and I was even able to touch one. I have heard stories of people even riding them but, we did not as they did not seem that receptive. We've been told that they will let you know if you can ride them though not yet sure how they share that information with us! I shared with Danielle and Harrison that that day of snorkeling might be the best they will ever have as very few people have the opportunity to see these animals let alone swim with them.

Getting to Papeete will be quite an adjustment for us. Since leaving Mexico in early April we have either been on uninhabited islands or very rural islands with populations ranging from 100 to 2000 people. Papeete, with a population of over 150,000 people will be quite an adjustment, though we are looking forward to it. Danielle, in particular as she is hoping to go see the last Harry Potter movie which she tells us is now out.

That is all for now,

Michael (in the Pacific, enroute to Tahiti)
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At 6/22/2011 20:42 (utc) our position was 16°13.63'S 146°37.68'W

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Polynesian Picnic 'Ants'

It was like a scene out of Michael Jackson's 'Thriller' video, the one where those creepy looking corpses are walking like zombies with their arms out in front of them, all in the same direction, as though they did not see nor care about anything that stood in their way.

No less than twenty cruisers from eight boats were gathered around a warm bonfire glow enjoying our land potluck dinner on one of the coral 'motus', or islets, of Tahanea. We were sharing dishes like Vietnamese salad rolls, lentil and rice burgers, curried tuna patties, hippie popcorn and chocolatey brownies. We were singing campfire songs with guitar, drum and harmonica accompaniment, and reveling in where we were and what we were doing.

"I think the ground is moving," someone said.

"Holy Moly. It IS moving!" someone else confirmed.

The dreamy atmosphere was shattered as we tried focusing on the white coral pieces that make up land here in the Tuamotus. Once our eyes adjusted, what we saw was nothing less than eerie. Hundreds of hermit crabs the size of baseballs were descending upon our picnic.

They came out of nowhere, and from all directions. They slowly crept as though in a trance towards us without a pause. Before we knew it, they had enveloped the picnic blankets. These crustaceans were literally climbing over each other in huge moving piles of shells - big shells. They were scrambling to get into the bowls and tupperware and casserole dishes, and ultimately into the food. It mattered not that we would pick them up and toss them aside. More kept coming. We tried setting a decoy of a bowl filled with peanut marinade off to the side of our festivities and in moments that bowl had disappeared under the pile of hermit crabs drowning themselves in sauce. No matter, before we could do anything about it, another group had climbed into the brownie dish, eaten through the tinfoil (did they swallow it?) and began munching on the chocolate heaven. We began to pick up and cradle our dishes, saving the precious food from needless destruction. Did these crabs not understand that coming upon food in the Tuamotus was difficult for us cruisers? Or perhaps that's the very reason why they bombarded us the way they did. Yes, in fact, they did resemble a bunch of cruisers crowding around free nutritious and plentiful food.

Apparently these critters are called coconut crabs, not because they each coconuts (although by the looks of it they'll eat anything) but rather because they live around coconut trees. There are plenty of coconut trees here, since they are the only vegetation that can survive on coral atolls - at least until they start dying off and the decomposed matter can support other low lying vegetation. These crabs make their homes inside seashells, carrying them around on their backs until they outgrow them, and find a new larger one. But I've never seen hermit crabs this big. Or maybe it was the sheer number of them. Or how tenacious they were. Or how indiscriminating.

But just like the 'Thriller' video, we got used to our guests, and carried on with great singing (although no dancing) - and an indelible picture of creepy swarming creatures in our memory banks.

-Barb
En route Tahanea to Fakarava, Tuamotu Archipelago, French Polynesia
16 degrees 34.106 minutes South
145 degrees 22.394 minutes West
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At 6/18/2011 23:03 (utc) our position was 16°34.09'S 145°22.39'W

Waiting for Weather the Workshop Way

There is no question we are a talented bunch.  As we wait for a weather window to move on to the next atoll in the Tuamotus, we do not sit idle.  On the contrary, we generously offer and share our knowledge and talents with gusto as we scramble to fit it all in every day.

We’ve been at Makemo Atoll for over a week now, tied to the government dock.  It’s likely the only dock we’ll tie to during our adventure in the South Pacific until we reach Australia in November.  And in a place where the basics of life like food and gasoline and water are either so expensive or non-existent, it is surprising that making this dock our home is free. 

Unrelenting 25-30 knot winds blew in on the third day of our visit (we’ve seen as high as 40 knots), often with short bouts of rainfall, and are not expected to let up until Saturday.  You’d think we’d welcome wind while on a sailboat.  However, when navigating these lagoons it is essential that the water is relatively flat and the sun is shining so that you can pick out any stealth coral that will dangerously appear in front of your boat just below the water’s surface without warning.  Several boats are lost each year to these coral heads.  With winds as strong as we’ve seen, white caps and waves as high as 3 feet have appeared atop this otherwise glassy beckoning water.  As such, it is imprudent to move around even to another anchorage within the atoll.  A further danger associated with this weather is that the open ocean waves outside the atoll’s windward side are breaking right over the motus, or islets, that make up the atoll ring, pouring immeasurable quantities of additional water into the lagoon.  All this water has to escape at low tide, creating currents in the pass (our escape route) that we do not want to find ourselves in.

And so we wait. 

The color of the water is what beckons. It is the stuff of picture-postcards with its aqua green shades that dangle the secrets of its abundant underwater life in front of your eyes. But with this weather, we haven’t had much opportunity to swim.  We were, however, fortunate to have gotten in a drift snorkel in the pass during the first days of our stay – but the water was moving so quickly that it was over before we knew it and we didn’t see much in the way of sea life.   Michael and a few of the others also managed two drift scuba dives, in which they did spot a few interesting species, including sharks. When they returned to the boat, they helped non-certifieds try it out beside the dock.  The kids especially were ecstatic.     

But we are not bored. We have been so busy waiting out this weather that our heads are spinning. After school is done in the morning, the kids get busy designing sails to propel them forward on a scooter, or playing games, or beachcombing for shells or corals.  Brittania’s Amanda and I have been leading yoga every morning around 9 a.m. on the dock. Ceilydh’s Diane, a professional writer, has been giving writing workshops to a few of us wanting to get our stories, adventures or knowledge published in magazines or newspapers.  I’ve been leading some career workshops for those who are wanting to figure out what to do when we get back to land life. Pico’s ‘girl’ Lauren has been helping a few of us craft gorgeous beaded creations using coral and shells as well as French Polynesian coins, while Pico’s ‘boy’ Lauren has been teaching Harrison more advanced computer programming than he’s been doing.  The guys are getting boat projects done together, living the ‘It Takes a Village’ adage. The women are trading recipes after each of our potlucks.  We’ve been taking turns hosting nightly ‘sundowners’.

We are hoping to move on to Tahanea, another atoll, by Saturday.  And we still have so much to do before then.

-Barb
Makemo Atoll, Tuamotu Archipelago, French Polynesia

Smooth Sailing To Tahanea Atoll in the Tuamotus

We arrived this morning to Tahanea Atoll after a quick, smooth sail from Makemo. We ended up arriving here around 3 am so, again, we hove to in order to wait until the sun came up and the tides were right for a safe entry. The entry into the pass went perfectly this time (as did our exit from the pass in Makemo) as we had about 1 knot of flood current. We actually sailed through rather than motoring. We are now anchored here and enjoying the beautiful clear water at this uninhabited island. Tomorrow morning we plan on doing another drift snorkel of the pass.

Michael - Anchored at Tahanea
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At 6/13/2011 03:53 (utc) our position was 16°50.62'S 144°41.81'W

Hair Raising Entry into Makemo in the Tuamotus!

After heaving-to last night (which slows the boat down to just drifting at about 1 knot even in 20+ knots of wind), we entered the pass into Makemo Atoll this morning at 6:30 am. According to the tide tables this was slack current (ie. the slowest current and when the direction of the water flow changes from an incoming tide to an outgoing tide or vice versa). Depending on who you talk to, it was quite an exhilarating (Michael) or hair-raising (Barb) ride coming into the pass and made transit of the Golden Gate Bridge a cake walk. Because there have been a lot of waves breaking over the southern part of this atoll of 40 miles long by 10 miles across, and because there are only two passes for that water to exit on an outgoing tide, there actually was no slack tide nor a flood (water entering the pass). As such, we had 5-6 knots of current working against us in a narrow channel. In addition, the water was extremely turbulent starting about a quarter of a mile out of the pass and through it - like a scene of a bad storm out of a movie, with incoming waves crashing against the outgoing waves. On top of this, there were real whirlpools like I've never seen before and at times you could see them reaching several feet down. At times we were moving through the water (which was going in the opposite direction) at over 7 knots while we were actually only progressing over ground at 0.5 knots. At least we were still moving forward as we have rather powerful engines (150 horsepower combined in two engines) as compared to several of our other boating friends who have 30 hp engines. Our friends on Brittania that came in just a few minutes ahead of us were, at times, making zero knots over ground or even moving backwards while still moving through the water at over 6 knots with their engines at full throttle. We were completely exhausted once we got through it all, just from the stress.

Once we got through the pass, though, we were rewarded with anchoring in what is undoubtedly some of the bluest, crystal clear and calmest water we have ever seen. You can see the bottom and think the depth must only be 10-15 feet but realize you are easily in 30 to 40+ feet. The sky was perfectly blue with a few puffy clouds and amazing water - just like a South Pacific postcard. We ended up walking around the small town for a little while and then going for a snorkel. I hope to dive the pass here in the next day or so. It is supposed to be spectacular.

I guess this the kind of place that makes people dream of traveling to the South Pacific!

Michael (in Makemo, Tuamotus, French Polynesia)
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At 6/2/2011 11:12 (utc) our position was 16°20.57'S 143°38.36'W

Slowing Down Enroute to the Tuamotos

Well, as Barb shared with you in an earlier post, we left the Marquesas for the Tuamotus on Sunday afternoon. We estimated that the 500 mile trip, at an average speed of 6 knots, would get us into the Makemo Atoll on Thursday morning. It turns out that instead we were averaging 7 knots and as such, still as of this morning, were expecting to drop anchor in the early to mid afternoon today. As sailing would have it, the wind began to die! We discussed trying to push on but with tricky passes into the atolls, the fact that the sun sets here around 5 pm and that we have never been into this anchorage before, we've decided to slow the boat down, hang out offshore over night and then make an early morning entry (as per our original plan) into Makemo. We've dropped our main and are now just flying our spinnaker making only 4 knots 30 miles from landfall. Overall, its been an awesome and very comfortable sail.

We hope to get to about three atolls here in the Tuamotus before heading on to Tahiti in the Society Islands of French Polynesia. Atolls, according to Charles Darwin's' theory of atoll formation, are rings of coral which are the barrier reefs of volcanic islands that sank to the bottom of the Pacific millions of years ago. They can be very difficult to see from a distance as they are often only a few meters above sea level and it is often just the few tall coconut trees that you see when planning landfall. Most of these reefs have passes which boats can use to transit into the very clear blue lagoons. However, we have to transit these passes very cautiously as (a) there is lots of coral to stay clear of and (b) they have strong currents particularly when swell comes over the reefs and can only flow out only through the passes as the tied ebbs. Sometimes the currents in these passes can be as much as 9 - 10 knots which means that if your boat can do 6 knots and you have a current against you you will be going backwards at 3 - 4 knots. If its with you you can have limited control as you are traveling at 9 - 10 knots without even using engines! That is why we need to time our entry. We need slack current (that is when the direction of the current switches and is therefore at its slowest speed) and we need the sun high in the sky preferably from behind us so that we can see the coral heads as we find our way to an anchorage.

The reward...rich in marine life in crystal clear blue lagoons (chance sighting of Brooke Shields), spectacular white sandy beaches and night skies void of light pollution. Also, most of these atolls can only be reached by smaller boats.

Michael (enroute to the Tuamotus)
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At 6/1/2011 23:45 (utc) our position was 16°09.10'S 143°25.40'W

Passage Making: Marquesas to Tuamotus

Following on the heels of my last post, I'm surprising even myself to say that I wholly enjoy passage making. We are into Day 2 of a 4-day passage from 'Ua Pou in the Marquesas Islands to Makemo Atoll in the Tuamotu Archipelago. There is something about the simplicity of life while crossing the open ocean that I am, somehow, able to embrace. Perhaps it's that there are so many things we cannot do given the movement of the boat, or it's the fact that there's nowhere to go, but spending time with my family this way is one of my favorites. We can focus on homeschooling without the need to run here or there, and we can all read together after dinner sipping warm licorice tea.

It does take a couple of days to get into the routine. I still have a headache from crazy sleep schedules, and my stomach will continue to feel a bit nauseated until my sea legs get under me. But the time is peaceful, and the sound of the wind and the rolling waves is comforting. I am finally getting a chance to really learn to sail and Michael is a patient teacher.

There are four 'buddy' boats out here. Ceilydh, Brittania and Piko all left 'Ua Pou within an hour of us, and after spending several weeks together in the Marquesas, we're all heading to the same atoll. Although we are all still, more or less, within VHF radio range of each other, we check in over the Single Sideband radio at 10 a.m. to see how the night went and to get everyone's location. We discuss weather reports and what's for dinner. And we help solve each other's problems: one boat found a cockroach and found water had leaked into their rudder post, another had water come in one of their portholes and onto their bed and we wanted advice on how to furl in our asymmetrical sail more efficiently. There is also a South Pacific Cruisers' Net at 5 p.m. that we all check into.

Our menu is not nearly as exciting as it was during our 19.5 day crossing from Mexico, but we're still doing well, eating lots of salads and fresh fruit while we still can. There is not a whole lot of that in the Tuamotus, we understand. Tonight on my night watch I am baking rye bread and muffins to surprise the kids in the morning.

-Barb
Once again somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean

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At 5/31/2011 11:05 (utc) our position was 12°26.46'S 141°47.38'W

Living on the Edge

It's not uncommon, based on my unscientific poll, for women to feel 'on the edge' while cruising. It's not the adventure type of living on the edge, but rather the type that has you ridiculously happy and fulfilled one moment and then completely anxious or snappy or melancholy the next.  There's no reason to feel low, and I'm sure it's tough for many to feel my pain.  But it's still an interesting phenomenon from strictly a psychology perspective.

I do wonder why I am not on a constant 'happy ride'.  After all, I'm in paradise, with my family, traveling and experiencing incredible things.  As I've mentioned before, though, it's hard work.  Just going to the grocery store is a full day event.  And things break.  All the time.  And there's dirt everywhere.  All the time.  And it's been raining - no, pouring torrentially - for the last few days, and the wind is gusting to such an extent that it has overturned dinghies in our anchorage. And I'm just plain tired of it.  I have never felt like such an inadequate housekeeper as now. 


One theory is that, as cruisers, we stretch ourselves beyond our comfort zones every day.  At first, it's exhilarating, knowing you can get through it.  But after a while it's simply exhausting.  I'd love to get off for just a few days - take a shower with hot water and not worry about how much I'm using, and not have to press the shower pump button to get the water to go down the drain.  I'd like to live in a clean house without sunscreen fingerprints and oily salt. I'd like to be able to go for lunch with my girlfriends for something other than raw fish in coconut milk.  I'd like to be able to wake up in the middle of the night in a storm and not worry about whether our anchor is dragging or our hatches are closed or if there's a leak somewhere that will cause ugly mold to appear.  I'd like to be able to go to the grocery store and buy whatever I feel like eating, and for only a regular week's worth of produce - and not worry that it will have to last me for 4 weeks.  I want a kitchen that fits more than one person in it.  I want space.  I'd like to be able to send my kids to school and let the teachers worry about whether they are developing academically as they should be.  I want to feel dry and clean.  I want to have all my laundry done at one time.  I want to be able to relax.  I want some familiarity.  This newness is driving me, well, over the edge.

-Barb
Still on 'Ua Pou, setting out this afternoon for Makemo Atoll, in the Tuamotu Archipelago

A Day in the Life, including Marquesan Massage

 

One of the benefits of staying in any one place for a longer duration is that you get to become part of the local fabric for a relative drop in time. Our weather delay has allowed us to now know Jerome, Marguerite,  Xavier, and Rosita by name.  We’ve also come to know ‘Ua Pou as perhaps the friendliest of the islands.  We’ve been invited to several local events.  On two occasions we’ve been invited into vehicles to be shown the lay of the town (one of them was in a police car with the local Gendarme / Police).  Our friend Krister (s/v Brittania) has been invited surfing and offered wave after to wave in friendship. We’ve been gifted so much fruit that we don’t know what to do with it all.

It was just another one of those great who-knows-what-will-show-up-around-the-corner moments.  The day began with a wonderful morning spent at the local high school’s annual open house with dance performances, displays of the students’ work, and a general fair-like atmosphere.  We then visited the local Mayor’s office to view an exhibit of traditional costumes.  We were greeted by the barefooted 2nd Vice-Mayor, Rosita, who, it turns out, made all the costumes herself.  They were intricate and beautiful, made out of the traditional fabrics of coconut and breadfruit tree fibers, beaded with seeds and shells, and adorned with feathers and dyes.   Rosita told us stories of how she learned to prepare breadfruit from her grandmother, and she also showed us how a shell was used to peel cucumbers – all fascinating tidbits of Marquesan culture. 

Because Michael had pulled his back out a few days ago, we decided to ask Rosita if she knew of a massage therapist who could help him.  The one person she could think of did not have a phone, so she left the room to ask the police to go and fetch him. Given our own experience being toured around by the local police, it seems that ‘official business’ includes many out-of-the-ordinary tasks. 

 

We weren’t sure what was going to happen, or where the massage would take place.  Rosita soon assured us that there was a room at the back of the government offices with a bed that we could use.  Arnold Schwarzenegger, step aside. 

Ten minutes later, in walks a 400-pound ragged looking man with a bushy beard, torn and faded clothing, and dirtier finger- and toenails than I have ever seen.  He was our man.  We followed Rosita into the back room, Michael was told to lie down, and this man proceeded to pour massage (?) oil all over Michael’s back.  For 20 minutes he worked Michael’s lower back, and ended with squeezing two limes and rubbing those in.  The price for this service?  Nada.  Absolutely nothing.  He would not take a single franc. 

 

Tonight we will attend the island’s annual Fete de Mere (Mother’s Day) festivities.  It seems that everyone on the island will be there as this is a really big deal here.  The organizers have been preparing for days now. A fellow cruiser brought over the 8-piece band last night from Nuku Hiva. The price for the evening seemed steep to us (about $80 for the family) but it seems that the locals save up for this event, so how can we miss it? 

 

We hope to leave for the Tuamotus tomorrow afternoon, when this nasty weather is supposed to have passed.  The wait has clearly not been all that bad.

 

-Barb

Hakahau Bay, ‘Ua Pou, Marquesas Islands

When the Aranui is in Town

 

 

Hakahau is a small anchorage by any stretch, but when there are twelve boats anchored inside, all trying to get behind the breakwater for protection, it gets a little too cozy for comfort.  We are all anchored bow and stern, which means that in addition to the regular anchor at our bow, we have an anchor setting the back of our boat to provide for a few things: First, it prevents us from swinging, which is essential for a small anchorage if you don’t want to play bumper boats.  Second, it keeps our bow into the swell which creates more comfortable living.  Having a bow and stern anchor also allows for boats to be closer than  they otherwise would be to their neighbors. However, as we sit out this weather of 30-35 knot winds, it is essential that both anchors are set.  Unfortunately, there are always a couple of boats that ‘drag’ because their anchors haven’t been properly set, and usually boats with anchors that get tangled in other boats’ anchor chains.  We never know until we raise our anchor how smoothly it will go.

 

The pattern of boats changes somewhat when the Aranui comes to town.  The Aranui is a 300+ foot (102 metre) cargo ship out of Tahiti that services the islands of the Marquesas and the Tuomotus.  The remarkable thing about it in my opinion is that it is also a somewhat basic cruiseship for up to 200 passengers for the 14 day round trip, allowing them to see the islands that they would have trouble getting to without a boat.  The Aranui is the Marquesan lifeline as it carries supplies, even cars sometimes, to their islands.  You will always notice that the stores are much better stocked just after the Aranui has been in port. It is amazing, though, that a ship of this size makes a stop here in little Hakahau Bay.

 

We were informed by the Gendarme (the French police) that the Aranui was arriving the next day and that our boat was parked too far forward.  We would have to move.  Rather than re-anchor, we decided to let out more chain to allow us to drop back 30 feet and then we re-set our stern anchor.  Our neighbors behind us on Brittania kindly obliged and they moved back too. We went back to the Gendarme to get confirmation that we had moved back enough. 

 

The next day when the Aranui was viewed on the horizon, it seemed like the entire town was abuzz.  The artisans take their places in the small covered market, the drummers and bands play traditional Marquesan tunes, the people who are waiting to get across to another island are ready at the quay, and the empty cargo containers are waiting to be loaded up.  We viewed the boat’s arrival into the bay from an internet café up on a hill, but realized that something was awry when the Aranui let off 5 short horn sounds, indicating a problem.  We decided to call the ship using our VHF and were told by the captain we’d need to move.  Oy.  We told him we’d be back at our boat in about 10 minutes as we were on shore and proceeded to run down the hill and into our dinghy as we saw this 300 foot ship coming straight at us.  Michael maneuvered around it and hustled us to our boat, which was surrounded by the Aranui’s own barge vessels.  A couple of men had already boarded our boat and opened the anchor locker to see what they could do to raise our anchor.  In the meantime, the ship went right past us, creating an ominous shadow over our much smaller vessel.  Obviously, they were fine without us moving as they used bow thrusters and rope the size of a large tree trunk to haul their stern into the quay.

 

Michael and I decided it would be best to speak to the captain ourselves, to confirm that we still needed to move, given that there were no problems getting the ship docked. We dinghied back to the quay and boarded the Aranui, as its passengers were getting off for a few hours of sight seeing. We were escorted up to the bridge deck and left there alone for a couple of minutes before the captain arrived.  You’d never know we were in the post-9/11 era, that’s for sure.  The captain’s concern was that his motors would suck up our chain as they were backing up, something neither of us wanted.  We devised that the Aranui would hail us over the VHF 15 minutes before departure so that we could lift our anchor at the last minute, hover for only a short while until the Aranui left the bay, and then re-anchor in our original spot. This was the easiest solution given how tight the anchorage was already. 

 

All went as planned, and we managed to keep our spot behind the breakwater just as several of the other boats re-anchored to fill in the void in front of the quay that had been required for the Aranui’s arrival. We finally breathed easier the next day when we could confirm that our anchors were in fact properly set once again. [Michael and our friend Krister on board Brittania surprised each other at 3 a.m. when they were both up checking their anchors at the same time, naked – one of those priceless cruising moments.]

 

The whole exercise, involving a day and a half anchoring or worrying about our anchors, was just another example of how boat management, often unexpected, regularly takes up a good chunk of your day out here in paradise.  Not that I’m complaining…

 

-Barb

Hakahau Bay, ‘Ua Pou, Marquesas Islands