Landfall in Tuamotus

12. May. 2015
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French Polynesia
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2 Comments

Author: Pete

Location: Raroia, Tuamotus

Date: May 10, 2015

Made landfall in Raroia in the morning! After a dry, easy passage we pulled within sight of the scattered, low, coral islets with our customary landfall squalls. Our timing was perfect though; we arrived exactly when we planned to, a feat when you’re being propelled only by the wind over the span of 400 miles of open sea. Is the wind even blowing outside right now? We were eager to be through the pass, but we took a few tacks outside the mouth of the atoll to let the strong wind and blinding rain pass. We took the opportunity to clean the boat, get the salt off the decks and sails, take a shower, and wash whatever clothes we happened to be wearing. Still multitasking even off duty; we can’t seem to escape being productive. The squalls blew over and we were back to mild winds. A double rainbow beamed bright to the south, mirroring our fabulous welcomes to Galapagos and the Marquesas. The South Pacific is incredible.

I checked all the engine fluids (very important, see landfall in Colombia) and fired up the girls. We left the mainsail flying but furled the jib for the pass. Learned this practice from our buddies on Options III from the Bahamas. If for some reason power is lost in the pass, engines die from a fuel or air blockage, a prop gets wrapped with floating line, a transmission fails, whatever, you already have at least one sail up, the more arduous of the two to unfurl, to get out of the tight, rocky pass. So we motor sailed almost straight upwind into the low spot between the low islands.

Our charts were accurate except the magnetic compass headings, which were 30 years old and off by about 30 degrees. Good thing the pass is indicated with range markers, two towers that line up in front of you when your boat is on the right line in. We also experience a ‘rage’, which is a patch of aggravated, choppy water where the tide going in or out and the wind or waves are going opposite. It’s like petting a cat the wrong way, the fur all sticks up in tufts and you they give you that scowly, ears back annoyed look. Or is that just how cats normally look?

We were almost at slack tide, so the rage wasn’t significant, but you still could feel it pulling on the boat and tugging at the rudders. Right next to the roiling water were patches of placid, flat water, depending on bottom topography.After we punched through the rage, which only existed outside the pass, the going was pretty easy. The dark blue water immediately changed to aquamarine, and our deck spotters pointed out coral heads on our flanks.

The pass was deep and wide though, an easy run. We turned downwind to follow our approach plan and furled the mainsail so it wouldn’t gybe on us. We weaved south between green and red beacons, making mental note that these were European buoys, and therefore backwards. Red on the left when returning from sea. LEFT! A mile south the little town waited, but we had the whole atoll to ourselves. Pulled into a spot recommended by other boats who had been here in sand at about 15 meters with scattered coral heads. We dove to check the anchor then made popcorn and grapefruit for a celebratory snack before taking to the water.

We all finned to the nearest coral head and were checking out the fish. Through her snorkel Miranda muffles, “EEk!” as if she’s seen a mouse and pushes me in front of her as a 4 foot long shark slithers by. In all fairness, I’m the one armed with the speargun. Then another goes by, then another. Then a couple more. Oop, and there’s one more. We group up and watch these (little) apex predators watch us. The four of us ended up comically standing on the coral (bad) with our spears and dive knives pointed out at the blue, bravely staring into the deep with our chattering knees. In total at any one time there were six sharks, black tip reef, white tip reef, and gray reef sharks, cruising by us. Most were small, likely all were harmless, but we hadn’t slept much the previous night, and courageously decided to get the hell out of the water. We finned back over deep water in a pack, bristling with pointy steel. Real tough guys. If a big fish, a ray, or a dolphin came swimming around for a curious look at us, we’d be delighted. The sharks I’m sure were just checking us out. Still, six in one frame is enough for me, at least before noon.

Spent the rest of the day on the island. Quite a difference from the terrain of Marquesas. Flat, coral, and more palm trees than you can shake a harpoon at. Welcome to Tuamotus.

Passage to Tuamotus Archipelago

11. May. 2015
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French Polynesia, Passages
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1 Comment

Author: Pete

Location: Passage from Marquesas to Tuamotus

Date: May 6 – 10

May 6th we spent all day prepping the boat and the crew to make the crossing from the Marquesas to the Tuamotus, also known as the Dangerous Archipelago. Once we got the bug to shove off it everyone jumped in, provisioning fresh produce, hauling water and diesel, cooking some meals for the passage, and getting the boat into fighting shape for the open sea. It came down to a flurry of activity just at dusk, I hauled the stern anchor out of the Hiva Oa mud, fired up Wendy and Belinda, and ran the gauntlet of boats anchored fore and aft. We pulled past the breakwall and into the safety of open water just as night fell. With enough light left in the air we motorsailed past the hooked southern tip of Hiva Oa and into the channel north of Tiahuata. We had some pasta in the dark and uncomfortable rolling, then turned south to 200 degrees and aimed for the Tuamotus. The wind was finicky for the first hour or so as we passed the wind shadow of Tahuata, but stabilized once we were clear to the south, though the beam-on seas made rough going. Everyone fell back into their programmed schedules for watch. On my watch the moon was bright enough to give you a tan in the perfectly clear night. Good to be back at sea.

May 7th, our first full day at sea, brought two meter rolling swell coming in on our beam annoyingly topped with chop in 14-20 knots of wind. We’re making good time towards Tuamotus, but are tediously regaining our sea legs. They come so slow and go so fast! Mostly the crew just caught up on podcasts and sleep from our first restless night on the rough seas. Quantity never fully outweighs quality on the sleep front though. We had prepared soup and stir-fry before leaving which was a lifesaver when everyone is hungry but no one has the stomach to cook. Throughout the day we saw red forms of big fish scooting under the surface next to the boat, and I saw two tuna jump high out of the water chasing prey. Didn’t think we’d be up for cleaning a flopping, bleeding fish with the current sea state, so we didn’t give chase.

May 8th, day two at sea. The weather during the day has been pleasant, blue skies, no squalls, 13 knots of wind from astern, and following 2 meter rollers, less chop than before. Happy campers. Lighter winds and more favorable, following seas today made for a much more comfortable sail. We’re trying to time our arrival at Raroia, an atoll in the Tuamotus Archipelago, so it coincides with slack tide. Atolls are generally rings of coral with a deep lagoon inside, only some of which have a pass, or an opening from the deep sea into the calm shelter of the interior lagoon. Raroia has such a pass, but entering and exiting the little channel between the coral islands is only possible when the tide is slack, neither going in, nor out. Since we don’t want to be waiting outside the pass twiddling our aquatic thumbs waiting for the green light to enter, we’re trying to slow the boat down to get there at the right time. Right now we’re sailing downwind under the mainsail alone.

Caught a fish today, but didn’t get it to the boat before it broke the hook off and zoomed away. Not even sure what kind it was, but for certain it was 9-10 feet long and a million pounds, just like all the others that get away, right Sheldon?

Another day whisked away toward the horizon. Listening to BBC World Service News on the SSB, its static-riddled signal cutting in and out makes me feel our distance from land, tiny spits of islands not included. As our friend Greg pointed out, “Even when you get there, you’re still in the middle of the Pacific Ocean!” Quite so. It’s dark now and I wonder what we look like to the dolphins or passing jets, not that we’ve seen many in the skies over the Pacific. Everyone is still up after dinner, and the boat is lit like a Christmas tree. In all this dark before the moonrise we are the outlier. It’s nice to have the light, but when we’re back to only the tricolor and moonlight I feel much more at home.

Tonight we just made a fifteen degree turn to port, now heading more south to skirt Tepoto and Napuka, two passless spits of atolls in a small chain aptly named the Disappointment Isles. We gave then a 20 mile berth, and could just see them on radar as we made the turn. 126 miles to go for Raroia.

May 9th, day three on the passage brought gray skies, abeam seas, and variable winds. We ran under a reefed main and jib for most of the day, alternating wing-wing and broad reach. Trimming the sails all day in response to the fickle wind and back-winding sails was annoying, along with the renewed chop coming in broadside and rolling the boat around. Heedless, Miranda made some great homemade bread in the oven for chicken salad sandwiches, and I made a pot of chili for dinner with biscuits. We have more grapefruit and mandarins than we know what to do with. I think my mouth is dissolving from the citric acid. Hard times. We certainly aren’t starving.

We were hoping to have fish for dinner though! Had a strike on a nine-inch blue and white squid lure. The hook must have set fine, the reel started screaming away. Once we grabbed the line (with appropriately gloved hands) and tried to hand line the big guy in, he ran and broke the line almost immediately. I need to start using cable or something. I put on a new leader and threw in Stumpy, a beat up pink squid who is missing half his legs from strikes, but no one seemed interested in ‘alternately-abled cephalopods’ for dinner.

Sailing into the dark tonight. Coming up for watch at 2AM Miranda shows me we’ve made it! Land Ho! At least on radar. The radar screen is lit up disconcertingly with surface contacts which have slowly engulfed us as we sail deeper into the low island chain of the Tuamotus Archipelago. It’s a brilliant night though, with flooding moonlight and few clouds. Great visibility should see us through until morning, when we hope to arrive around 8AM, an hour early for slack tide in the pass at Raroia. It’s no reason to slack on watch duty, so I’m heading back outside to keep my eye on the incoming horizon. More to come from Tayrona.

Return to Tahuata

06. May. 2015
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French Polynesia
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Author: Pete

Location: Tahuata, Marquesas

Date: May 2nd – 5th, 2015

Sailed into the morning light heading back to Tahuata, just south of Hiva Oa. Skirted the dark western shore of the island until we reached the southern most bay called Hanatefau. The hint of a town could be seen on the southern banks, but on the north side the steep green walls dominated the landscape. Only one tiny shack populated the banks. On our way into the bay we were welcomed with spinner dolphins putting on a show, including their tiny 3 foot long babies, jumping and spinning too. Pretty damn cute.

We anchored in clear sand in about 35 feet of water, a little close to the boulder strewn shore with the surge coming in. We all jumped in the water to see the dolphins. A silky shark was in their ranks and they were protective of their babies, so they didn’t stay too long to play. Once they took off for deeper waters we snorkeled along the rocky shore.

In the afternoon Miranda and I swam to the rocky shore. A lithe form popped out of the rocks down the beach and greeted us in French. Our new friend’s name was Teii, a Marquesian man of about forty five, native to the island. He decided we needed to see Hapatoni, the tiny town in the bay, a short walk along the dirt road hidden just above his house in the trees. We hiked over hill and dale through tall leafy trees to the little village where Teii knew pretty much everyone. Not difficult with a population of less than one hundred. We came back with arms full of fruit, and a date to return for Sunday lunch after church the following day.

We showed up on Sunday in our finest and were whisked away to the house of the cousin. Apparently, everyone is a cousin here, honorary or biological. Another cousin had shot a wild boar up the mountain and they had roasted it on coals in the ground for six hours in the morning. There was roasted breadfruit, which tasted something like potato, Poee Poee a tangy fermented breadfruit mush, and also Fafaru, fermented raw fish in a clear jar. The stuff smelled and tasted like outhouse or barnyard, and I took most of the brunt of the ‘hospitality’ for our crew with three big chunks. It was no kidding the most awful stuff I’ve ever eaten, but we didn’t want to be rude, so down the hatch it begrudgingly went. Gulp. The wild boar was fantastic though, and the wine made from the Caricol fruit was great as well. So that mostly made up for it.

After lunch, Teii took us on a tour of the petroglyph site just outside of town. So there we were in our Sunday best traipsing through muddy jungle paths and scaping off mossy rocks, carved by ancient Marquesian hands. Pretty neat.

The next day we took Teii aboard the boat and showed him around. We showed him the ropes as we sailed up to the next bay north where he grew up and he brought us to see his parents. It was pretty hilarious, a translated sitcom of an old Jewish mother. We spoke none of the French/Marquesian hybrid that was being slung, but it was crystal clear all the same what Teii’s mom was yelling at him about. “He never just comes over to visit! He’s always swinging by to pick fruit from the trees or pick up the laundry he left to be washed! Don’t you want to come visit your old mother more often? Why do you have to live so far away? It’s an hour for me to walk there! I’m an old lady! I can’t walk that far on dirt roads! Are you just going to leave all those orange peels there for me to pick up later? Why don’t you clean up after yourself!” We were holding our sides.

After a tour of the village we left Teii with some goodies: some solar LED lights for his little house on the shore, a new T-shirt, an American Eagle necklace, and a ninja for Dave. In the afternoon we sailed back to Anse Ivaiva Iti Bay, just south of Hanamoenoa Bay loaded with more fruit that we will possibly be able to eat. No scurvy on the good ship Tayrona. Snorkeled until the light became dim. Back to Hiva Oa in the next day or so to refuel and reprovision for our next shot to the Tuamotus Archipelago.