Author:  Pete

Location:  Huahine, Society Islands

Date:  July 3rd – 8th, 2015

So when we returned yet again to Papeete, we learned that we’ll continue waiting for our much awaited part.  It needs a few days to come in, so we’re meeting it in Bora Bora and moving (the hell) on from Tahiti.  Don’t get me wrong; it’s a gorgeous place.  It’s just time to move.

We did a few things that needed doing before heading out, including fixing the in-haul mechanism on the main.  It was jamming and Miranda had to hoist me up the mast with kitchen utensils to fix the problem.   Thousands of dollars in tools stowed below decks and the most useful thing to get a jammed sail out is a smiley-face spatula.  Somehow snippets of the Sweedish Chef on the Muppet’s Treasure Island came to mind.  Byogen shmeyegerney-ah-nen! 

Then it was off into the sunset heading west.  We left in the afternoon for a 16-hour, overnight sail to Huahine, an island southeast of Bora Bora.  We were without an autopilot still, so we hand-steered every dang second of the trip.  You know how cars can stay in a straight line when you’re on the highway so you can dig in the back seat for that last french fry or take a quick snooze?  Well you can’t do that with a boat!  (kidding, kidding… I haven’t taken a nap while driving since last August!)  Even when you balance the sails and lock off the rudders a tiny wind shift or wave slap leaves you scrambling to the helm.  It really doesn’t work, so we were in the hot seat the whole time.  Miranda got the good weather at sunset and I got the pissing down rain for the overnight watch.  I probably deserve it though.

Eventually the sun came up and the black turned to gray.  The clouds parted here and there to reveal the low green of Huahine.  It’s been neat to see the progression of islands from tall volcanic (Marquesas), slowly eroding away (Huahine) and eventually turning into empty atolls (Tuamotus).

Had to wait out a squall to enter the pass on the west side of Huahine.  The visibility was close to zero and the waves were throwing cresting waves right next to the calm of the pass.  Charts aren’t great for the area too, so we took another squall square to the jaw and ran the pass after we stopped reeling. 

The anchorage was shallow and hard bottomed.  We dug in with just the point of our good anchor.  I dove the anchor and didn’t like the precarious hold on the bottom for the forecasted blow, so we took a free mooring that our friends on s/v Georgia spotted for us.

And blow it did.  In the next couple of days a trough came over the Society Islands, which happens with more frequency, apparently, in El Niño years.  We got winds up to 40 knots, the strongest we’ve ever been in.  I only caught this on the anemometer though.

Went in to town with the other self-exiles for some Fourth of July drinks and dinner!  In true American holiday fashion it rained on our parade, but enough liquid sunshine and arriving home soaked from the dinghy ride doesn’t matter so much.

After the brunt of the nasty weather came through we sidled south along the wild, lush, western side of the island and took a mooring ball one night in Motu Vaiorea and later anchored in Avea Bay where we did some island exploring and snorkeling in the clear lagoon.  After a month in the metropolis of Papeete, it was nice to note the absence of buildings, cars, and big boats.

Had dinner and drinks a few nights with our friends from s/v Georgia.  Nothing like riding in the dinghy wielding a French baguette…  “Have at ye!”  Had a few gorgeous calm nights.

Our last stop in Huahine was in the town of Fare for their Heiva Festival dance competitions.  Every July the islands in French Polynesia battle for glory in feats of island aptitude like va’a (outrigger canoe) racing, Polynesian dancing, and my favorite, coconut opening.  They send the best town’s competitors to the inter-island competition to win French Polynesian bragging rights, one of the many things they acquired from the French.  We went with our boat buddies to the festivities.  This was not the standard tourist dance troupe.  There were only nine white people in the stands.  I counted.  It wasn’t hard.  The dancers came in all shapes and sizes.  I didn’t know banana leaves grew in those particular dimensions.  I had to hold Miranda back from donning a grass skirt and shaking her midwestern tail feather.

Heading farther west soon to the island of Taha’a….a .a…a.a.aaaa..a.  Stay tuned.