Moorea, Society Islands

Author: Pete
Location: Moorea, Society Islands
Date: June 25, 2015

 

We decided to make the most of our down-time waiting for the autohelm part to come in by sailing to Moorea, three hours from Papeete. We had spent a few days ordering our autohelm part, salvaging data off a dying hard drive, and working on a dinghy cover. The sun does wicked things to the material over the years, so often canvas covers are put on to extend the lifespan of the noble work horse of Joe Schmoe Cruiser. Gringos call the covers ‘chaps’, but I like the Spanish equivalent, ‘pijamas.’  I love the idea that the dinghies tied up at the dock in their pajamas are really attending some sort of nautical sleepover with terrycloth robes, slippers, and night caps.

It was a lot of work; we made a pattern out of clear plastic in Galapagos and worked on the real thing on the mooring at Marina Taina. It’s tough to work on a project like that on a rolling boat with limited space to maneuver meters of fabric. At least that’s going to be my excuse if anyone calls me out on a few spots of rough tailoring. Most of the time we worked with the dinghy suspended from the davits and occasionally I had to get in it to work. I only once fell out of the tippy dinghy into the harbor. Miranda thought that was great.

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Several of the days were pretty windy and rough when we were on a mooring ball in Taina. We had gusts to thirty knots and once breaking waves in the mooring field. One afternoon as we were working on the dinghy cover, a big catamaran broke free from its mooring and went zipping sideways downwind through a dozen moored boats. No one saw it until it was right next to us. I put the dinghy in the water and went tearing after it, without thinking about what I was going to do in my poorly idling, nine horsepower dinghy once I caught the 30 ton catamaran in 20 knots of wind. Miranda was smarter than me, as usual, and called the marina. They dispatched a launch and with the assistance of another dinghy we wrestled the boat to another mooring ball and tied it up. Miraculously, the vagabond boat didn’t ding a single other vessel out of the dozen it zipped by in the mooring field.

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Then it was happily time to piss off to Moorea for a few days while we awaited the autohelm part. We motorsailed the fifteen miles across because the wind was on our bow. Of course it was the first day it had blown from that direction in a week. It was light and the going was easy. We passed Cook’s Bay, named after the popular Captain Cook who explored the area, and turned in at Opunohu Bay a few miles west. The two bays cut deep into the island of Moorea, making it look like a heart with two divots in it.

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Had to hand steer the three hours over, which seems pretty easy, but is a chore when you’re used to someone else driving for thousands of miles. Motored easily through the pass with the backwards French buoy marking. The pointed teeth of Moorea’s peaks made for fantastic scenery.

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Oop. That’s fanny-tastic scenery! We anchored just inside the protection of the coral reef in ten feet of water.
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We put the dinghy down with gusto and took off to go snorkel. It had been three weeks since we’d been in the water. Well, except for the time I fell off the boat working on the dinghy cover. Three weeks?! We LIVE on a boat for crying out loud. How does that happen?! It was good to be back down undah. A couple chill sea turtles paddled by near the drop off and we saw some of our old friends from other boats out there too.

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Came back to the boat in a nice flat anchorage and slept like babies.

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The next morning we met up with friends who knew the low down of the island. Paul and Andy from Talulah Ruby showed us the secret snorkeling spots. The first spot hid seven sunken carved tikis. Legend has it that the first missionaries made the craftsman throw them in the lagoon when they came. Snorkelers keep them free of marine growth so they are in great shape. A little spooky to see under water!

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Our next delight of the day was Stingray City, a sandbar in the lagoon where the stingrays (and reef sharks) congregate in the shallows. We anchored our dinghy in chest-deep water and the rays came out to play. They swam in and around us, looking for handouts. Apparently some dive operators feed them, so they were very cordial with us. They nose around you and are happy to be petted. Their skin is velvety, an unparalleled combination of smooth, slippery, and soft without feeling slimy. It’s a cool enough sensation and interaction to dissolve your speech into unintelligible, involuntary chortling. From all across the sandbar the sound of our group of friends giggling like school girls though their snorkels rang out. It’s a precious thing to hear a posh, collected fifty-year-old British man tee-heeing giddily at the thrill of a natural petting zoo.

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We ended up going back the next day armed with tuna. The rays were really excited to see us then! Reminds me of a great Mitch Hedberg quote: “I find that a duck’s opinion of me is heavily influence by whether or not I have any bread.” That guy was a genius. We brought our gringo friends Rick and Lara from SeaKey, and Dutch friends Pete and Liz from Suluk.

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The 28th we sailed back to Papeete with the hopes of picking up our much awaited part!

 

 

Papeete, Tahiti

Author:  Pete
Location: Papeete, Tahiti
Date: June 5 – 13

Alright! Back to work! I guess that’s how it’s felt in the last week in Papeete. We got set up in the new marina in town which is half price until the end of June. They’re still working on things so the marina isn’t a well oiled machine yet, but hey, neither am I. It’s a treat to be at a dock, to be able to run out and pick up something you forgot, to walk to dinner without being sprayed with sea water in the dinghy, hose salty kite and dive gear down without being a water Nazi, and also to take a real shower. I haven’t taken a real shower since Panama. That’s not to say that I haven’t taken a shower, or even a hot shower. The boat provides hot showers when the engines have been running. I’m talking about real, hot, soapy, soaker showers. 3000 miles long past.

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Our first night in we went out to eat at the plaza that features all the Chinese food trucks in town. The place was teeming with people and steaming with food blazing over mobile propane grills. The food was great, and most importantly, not cooked by us! We also stumbled upon a great Polynesian dance performance. I was ready to get my coconuts and grass skirt going.

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The town of of Papeete gets a bad rap from the cruising community. If one expects a pristine settlement on a tropical island, one shouldn’t expect to find random Harken jib car parts there. We were pleasantly surprised by Papeete. There’s a beautiful park and promenade along the waterfront, nice restaurants, and more chandleries than you can shake a spinnaker pole at.

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The styles of the tattoos have been changing little by little as we head west through French Polynesia. In the Marquesas the tattoos were generally animals, sharks, dolphins, and rays. The Tuamotus had more geometric designs, angular and repeating. Here in the Society Islands we’ve seen more flowing ‘tribal’ designs with more Asian looking influence. Pretty neat.

Liza and Felix spent a day planning and packing before they headed to the other side of Tahiti to catch the big waves coming in there. It was an emotional send off; we were happy for all the help they’ve been aboard in good weather and bad, happy for all the incredible experiences we’ve been able to share together, but sad to see them go. C’est la vie.

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No time to get glassy-eyed, Susan, time to get busy! We have a TO DO list about a mile long, nothing critical, but it’s like bailing water, if you don’t keep up, your boat is going down. For all the running around town we busted out the baby blue, sparkly fold-up bike that was stashed in the starboard crash box back in Fort Lauderdale. She was still in impeccable shape with not a spot of rust! We bolted her together and found some pegs in the local hardware store. I pedal, feet a blur in tiny circles, and Miranda stands on the back, holding on, skirt flapping in the wind. It’s comical. If I didn’t have a cute girl holding onto me, I’d feel like a big knob and get beat up by way more muscley Polynesian men.

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On the list, propane! Dragged seven, ten-pound propane tanks to the gas filling station some miles north of town on the blue bike. Then it was onto replacing failing exhaust hose and dinghy fuel line connections, running to the Port Captain and Customs Offices for clearance paperwork, and general cleaning and work on the boat. Miranda also got her hair cut by ‘professionals’ in a ‘salon’ because she doesn’t trust me with the ‘trimmers’ to give her a ‘fashionable haircut’ on the ‘transom’. Geeze, some people have no adventurous spirit at all.

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We also destroyed the blog by updating the WordPress software and it took a good couple hours of freaking out in an internet cafe, but Miranda figured it out. For you gurus, we couldn’t login to our admin site because we got the White Screen of Death (technical term, promise!) from our outdated theme’s incompatibility with the new version of WordPress. So she updated the WordPres theme by overwriting the current version via an FTP client called Filezilla. Merg? It’s sort of like getting your Michigan driver’s licence renewed when you’re not allowed back in the country because you have too many DUIs. Tough going. It’s amazing what you learn out here, even when you don’t want to.

We loaded up with new provisions, fresh produce at the market, a good deal of booze, watered up, and filled the boat with diesel, before heading out of Papeete! On to new horizons!

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The Tayrona Years

The short of it?  My wife and I bought, outfitted, and sailed a thirty-eight foot catamaran half way around the world on a two-year sabbatical, starting with only modest sailing experience and some sort of genetic desire for adventure.  We sailed and explored some of the most beautifully inaccessible waters in the world on what is know as the ‘Coconut Milk Run’ and came out on the other side (of the earth) wondering how we pulled it off.  After thirteen-thousand miles under our keels, we sold our valiant Tayrona to sailors who can keep her canvas full on the high seas…and we moved to Switzerland and got back to work!  Slackers!

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The long of it?  Our journey aboard the mighty s/v Tayrona started well before we saw her in Miami, while we were still living in Santiago, Chile.  We started researching the feasibility of this trip a year before we set out, right after we were married in Cartagena, Colombia.  It took quite a bit of planning.  I’m more of a seat-of-the-pants flier, but planning is Miranda’s forte!  We took three sets of classes in Chile and Michigan, read everything we could get our hands on about blue-water cruising, and learned prayers in as many religions as possible.  It can’t hurt, right?

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After moving continents we found and bought a 2000 Lagoon 380 in Fort Lauderdale, Florida.  We stalked the 380’s because they’re large enough to cross the seas (we hoped) and carry friends and family at times, but small enough for Miranda and I to handle alone, as well as light enough to slip into those untouched anchorages.  We named her Tayrona after the jaw-dropping national park in Colombia where Miranda and I kindled our first spark.

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So this is our Tayrona, elegant but mighty.  She’s a four-cabin layout with all the amenities to keep a crew happy and healthy offshore for months on end.  We put a good deal of time, effort, and money into making her energy neutral so we didn’t have to run engines or generators.  Wind, solar, and water powered us all the way across the Caribbean and Pacific.

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So we bought the boat, sailed her to Miami and spent a month refitting and readying her.  We re-powered her with a new wind generator, new wiring and fancy charge controller for the three solar panels, new single-sideband radio for communicating far beyond the horizon.  We also installed a new chart plotter and radar to cut through the night and squalls.  To add to the fun, we enrolled in diesel maintenance and provisioning courses from the Academy of Learn on the Fly.  Looks like a lot of work and not a lot of fun because frankly, that’s how it was.

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And then we shoved off!  Those eighty miles to the Bahamas across the Gulf Stream seemed like a formidable barrier, but the promised land was sure enough waiting for us on the other side.  In the next months we honed our skills in the proving grounds of the Exumas, with its forgiving sandbars, protected sailing and azure waters. DSC_1701

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After cutting our cruising teeth in the relative safety of the Bahamas it was off on our first passage, six days across the rowdy Caribbean Sea.  Heavy trade winds and a beam reach made for a rocketing, if uncomfortable trip, but then Cartagena, the place where Miranda and I met, rose to greet us from the sea.  From Cartagena we sailed down the coast stopping in the Rosario, San Bernardo, and San Blas archipelagos.  After becoming waterlogged from snorkeling we headed to Panama where we hauled Tayrona for some bottom work.

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After running the bureaucratic gauntlet involved in transiting the Panama Canal, we lashed Tayrona to two other boats, who have since become friends.  Over the next two days we were lifted, lowered, and loomed over by giant freighters in the canal.  In Panama City we provisioned the boat for the long push across the Pacific.

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With our fearless crew, we set sail heading southwest, crossing the equator and making port in Santa Isabela in the Galapagos.

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Then it was the big jump to the Marquesas, twenty-four days of open ocean.  No land, no boats, no problems for almost a month; it was a highlight of the trip and something I was both fearful of and salivating to experience.  On our last day of passage the island of Hiva Oa broke out from behind a squall, and we had made it to the South Pacific.

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The Marquesas are stunning.  Jungle-encrusted mountains diving into the sea, friendly ex-cannibals, and all the tropical fruit you can stand to eat.  It’s reminiscent of the Hawaiian islands, but still raw and untouched.  It’s paradise.  We spent several weeks oozing about the archipelago.

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A few days sail west is the Tuamotus Archipelago, several hundred coral atolls spreading out over endless turquoise sea.  The islands are nothing but spits of sand and coral which saw little cruising boat traffic before it was charted not too long ago.  The islands have some of the best snorkeling we’ve seen on the entire trip.  If it weren’t for the walls of sharks, we’d have slept in the water with our snorkel gear.  No foolin’, WALLS of sharks.  I can’t over emphasize how many sharks there were.  I can’t believe we survived dipping our toes in, let alone spearfishing.

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Rounding out our French Polynesia tour was the Society Islands.  We left our crew in Papeete and cruised Tahiti, Bora Bora, and all the gemstones in between.  The islands are incredible, with pointed green incisors towering over reef-ringed lagoons.

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From the Society Islands it was a ten-day push to Niue.  We intended to stop at Palmerston Atoll, but the conditions were too rough for the exposed anchorage.  Our autohelm failed and we spent four days hand-steering the boat in a gale.  It got a bit rough but soon we arrived in Niue and were greeted by humpback whales.

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After a week in Niue we shuffled through Tonga, not stopping for too long because of a wedding we had to get to from Fiji.  I’m sure you could spend years in Tonga.  We’ll have to go back!

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Then it was four more days to Fiji.  We left the boat for two weeks to go home for a wedding but then spend a month cruising the Yasawas Group.  The archipelago runs up the west side of the island chain and makes for some amazing sailing and snorkeling.
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When hurricane season rears its ugly head, we bravely ran for the safety of New Zealand.  Twelve days fighting some recalcitrant headwinds was rewarded with green, rolling hills, hiking trails, and good beer!  We spent months exploring the bays and islands and became adept at catching the abundant fish and scallops.

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The twelve-hundred miles across the Tasman Sea to Australia is generally regarded as ugly piece of water.  We made the passage in nine days with zesty winds into kicking us to twelve knots at times.  Other times it was so flat you could’ve bowled on the deck.  We finally rounded into Brisbane where we had Tayrona hauled and gussied up for sale!

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So will we eventually go stir crazy as landlubbers?  Will we ever succumb to the ceaseless call of the waves?  Will we ever sail Tayrona II the rest of the way around the world?  You can bet your boots on it!

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