Passage to Tuamotus Archipelago

11. May. 2015
/
French Polynesia, Passages
/
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
/
French Polynesia
/
No Comments

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.

Fatu Hiva

05. May. 2015
/
French Polynesia
/
1 Comment

Author: Pete

Location: Fatu Hiva, Marquesas

Date: April 28 – May 2

Sailed a relatively pleasant 45 miles from our cozy anchorage on Tahuata to the southernmost island in the Marquesas, Fatu Hiva. It is yet another spiny high island, visible from Tahuata. I wrote ‘sailed’ colloquially. It was upwind, directly upwind, and for the first time since the Bahamas, we plugged along right into the waves and wind.

Pulled into the Baie Hanavave (Baie des Vierges)on the sheltered northwest side of the island and picked a spot to drop anchor. There were about ten boats in the little bay, which went from 15 feet very close to shore, to 300 feet just offshore, to 3000 feet about a mile from shore. The bottom consisted of large stones which the anchor wasn’t pleased about biting into. I wouldn’t be either. I went down and set the anchor by hand while Miranda back Tayrona up to tension the chain and help it dig in, the water silty and dark.

The spectacular part of the anchorage was the view up a canyon carved into the island. Tall spires of exposed rock poked out of the foliage like incisors through green gums. Ah, to come back with a full rack of climbing gear! Through the valley a stiff wind whipped most of the time, sending the boats swinging perplexingly wide on their moorings.

We went in to the tiny town. Kids ran around us and laughed, laden trees dripped fruit, and life itself seemed to creep along without hurry. Most of the days we were in town were weekdays, but all the kids seemed to be outside the school. A guy asked Felix how many papayas he wanted for his shoes. It was impressive what a trading culture the island has. We gave some colored pencils and notebooks to a couple of kiddos for some oranges. Met a man named Christian, a wood and stone carver, who had a pretty wicked cut on his leg from his work. We traded him one of my big squid lures as well as gauze, bandages, and antibiotic ointment and a big squid lure. In return he gave us five big grapefruit and five papayas, and told us the way to the fabled waterfall.

The reason for most cruisers to journey to Fatu Hiva is waterfall set back into the jungled hills and the great approach hike. The morning after a quiet night on anchor we followed the breadcrumbs into the hills. The road turns to dirt, turns to two track with waist high grasses bordered by hibiscus, turn to single track footpath through jungle along a steep hillside with stone pile terraces that have enough overgrown moss to be original to an old native ceremonial site. Cairns dotted the way. It really felt like something out of Indiana Jones.

Then the trail spit us out under a 100 meter waterfall, lazily spraying and bouncing water down into a deep, cold pool at the bottom. We had the place to ourselves. We swam, and jumped off the rocks into the pool. A strange sensation of cold returned to our tactile repertoire. We sat on the rocks and ate cheese, crackers, grapefruit, and bananas before the hike home.

That night the wind howled and the boats pinballed around the anchorage like something out of the exorcist. I didn’t sleep much, being ready in most moments to fend off boats or shoals should our anchor cut loose which felt immanent. I don’t give that thing enough credit. The anchor is bomber, but in the morning we decided it was time to roll out. For some strange reason we decided to sail overnight back to Tahuata, so we hung around for the day, which generally has calmer winds than at night.

Took the dinghy out to a nearby point to do some snorkeling. The cliffs rising 300 feet vertically out of the water should have given us a clue that there was no safe haven to anchor, or even anything to snorkel on. We jumped in the water, leaving one boat tender. The rock underwater followed the surface topography. It plummeted away from the surface. In two fin kicks from where the cliff fell into the water, the bottom was out of sight in a formidable, deep deep blue. We chickened out and got out of there. Invited ourselves later on land to the island’s celebration of May Day, a curious mix of Catholic prayers mixed with flowers and native chanting.

Pulled anchor at 10PM and motored out of the windy harbor heading back to Tahuata. Put up some sail but reduced it several times over the next hour. A series of squalls swept over us, kicking winds up to 30+ knots. The full moon helped with the visibility though. Who’s idea was it to night sail there? Bah!