Makemo, Tuamotus

23. May. 2015
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French Polynesia
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Author: Pete

Location: 1632.116S’ 14412.192W’

Date: May 17 – 22, 2015

May 17: Ran under the spinnaker to within a mile of Makemo before dousing the sail and motoring through the pass. There was a little rage going on, and we were a few hours early for slack tide, but current seemed minimal and we only encountered one knot against us as we muscled through. In the anchorage we floated our chain to avoid coral snags which plague boats in this region, attaching fenders at 10, 20, and 30 meters on 40 meters of chain in 13 meters of water. Being Sunday, nothing was open in town, so we snorkeled the lagoon and found significantly fewer sharks than in Raroia.

May 18: Spent the day snorkeling in the lagoon and went for a long run on the island. My legs haven’t been asked to walk more than 10 meters at any given point so they voiced their objections about an hour and a half run loudly. The town is cute, with people biking all over on trikes, mothers riding around with one naked baby standing on the crossbar and an infant swaddled in blankets in the basket in the back. Found some internet at the post office in front of the harbor. Later than night had our friends Martin and Lexi over for drinks. We met them in Galapagos, and they were on our Tangaroa radio net on the big crossing, but we missed them in our Marquesian island hopping.

May 19: Snorkeled outer reef and the pass. The undulating coral bed off the island was fantastic. In the pass a wall made for excellent snorkel drifting too. Went over to Martin and Lexi’s boat, Pao Hana for dinner and drinks again.

May 20: Haircuts in morning. Liza busted out the trimmers and scissors and gave Felix, Martin, and I all haircuts. It took a good deal of the morning and when we finally weighed anchor to sail north in the afternoon, the glare off the lagoon was terrible. You couldn’t see the coral heads coming, so we made it about ten miles north, then pulled into a nice beach and set anchor again. Along the trip we caught a 50 cm Green Jobfish, which turned out to be really tasty. We made a bonfire on the beach that night and cooked the fillets in the coals with potatoes, carrots, onions, and old bay. Heaven.

May 21: Flew the spinnaker on our morning sail to north anchorage. We pulled in and were immediately welcomed by our friends on Georgia, Continuum, and Free Spirit, but also the gray-green serpentine forms of black tip reef sharks. Dozens and dozens of them. I’d go so far as to say ‘shark infested.’ Apparently the two local guys up from the town in south Makemo had harpooned and cleaned a mahimahi in the anchorage.

To their credit they invited everyone in the anchorage to a seafood bonanza at the copra shack they were using for a week as their fishing camp. Vaienui and Jonah were in their late 20’s, local boys excited about showing off their culture and fishing prowess. When we showed up in the afternoon they had great green slabs of mahi grilling on chicken wire over oil barrels with palm wood blazing. On the grill they threw a dozen blue lobster and a local chicken they macheted on the spot. To top it off they caught a dozen coconut crabs the size and disposition of snapping turtles, a delicacy in the area and in Tahiti. They were bright blue and orange, really beautiful crustaceans. Several of them went into boiling pots of water. The cruisers brought side dishes, desserts, and lots of booze to add to the feast. The boys didn’t have plates or forks, so we brought some. They encouraged us to go for the local style and crack the crab legs with the back of a machete, split and de-vein lobster by hand, and dug into the steaming mahi with our fingers. It was awesome. They showed us how to tear open the coconut crab abdomen and scoop out the gray goop they they likened to foi gras. It was a massacre. Shells, legs, bodies strewn across the rough table and weaved palm table mat the boys had made. Everyone had a ball. We left the treats and booze for the boys and gave them some money for the amazing spread. They insisted that they couldn’t accept the money, that the food and firewood was free, but we wore them down and they seemed pleased with the gesture. We all sat on the dock under the starry moonless sky and talked in broken French and English. It’s a lot tougher to communicate at night when gestures are removed from one’s arsenal of translation.

May 22: Left Makemo Atoll today at what was supposed to be slack tide. The northern pass has a constant ripping current that we watched for three days before attacking. I lined up the boat with the two green navigation cans, unfurled some main, and ran into the melee with the engines roaring to keep some traction on the ripping water with the rudders. Deep swirling vortices pulled the bow this way and that. At some point we were making 13 knots. Weaved and staggered through the eddies until the pass spit us out like being shot from a cannon into a moderate rage. It was all very exciting.

Now we’re heading toward Fakarava under spinnaker, another atoll with some surfing potential. Should be there tomorrow morning after a quick overnight sail.

Overnight and Landfall in Makemo

17. May. 2015
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French Polynesia, Passages
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Author: Pete

Location: Passage Raroia to Makemo

Date: May 15 – 17

Sailed back from the western chain of motu in great morning sun and anchored just north of the pass on an uninhabited islet. We took advantage of the turning tide and went out for another amazing drift snorkel in the pass, then I foraged around the islet. Came home with a couple coconuts and a oyster net buoy that I’ll use as a float.

The 16th saw us waiting for the slack tide at 3:15PM. We were a little sharked out by then, so Liza and Felix explored the islet. Meanwhile, I went on a repair spree and fixed the 120V inverter, two 12V oulets, and a exhaust hose. A hole was worn through the aging hose and it was spewing exhaust water into the port engine compartment when the diesel was running. The water was vented to the bilge and the pumps were kicking on more frequently than normal when we were motoring. Some plastic, vulcanizing tape, an a little duct-tape on the top just for good measure, and we’re back in action, at least until I can replace it in Tahiti.

After the repair fest, I jumped in to check the anchor and found it pretty terribly tangled in a mess of coral. The anchor was sitting happily in the sand, but the boat was hung up almost directly about the coral head, the chain wrapped tightly under and around a mushroom-shaped dome. Bad news. It came down to a team effort getting us free. Miranda let more chain out to give the boat some wiggle room. Felix towed the boat forward with the dinghy to give the chain some slack, and I swam the 17 meters down to the coral head and tried to pull the chain out from the crevices, then up and over the 6 foot coral heads, and deposit it in the sand on the other side. It took me about 6 dives to get it, each time I’d run out of breath, the boat would pull back tight on the chain in the wind, and we’d have to do it again. This was probably my limit for working at depth and each time I came up it didn’t seem fast enough. I ended up with my hand inadvertently on the clasp of my weight belt. Good practice though. As if 17 meters wasn’t a pain enough, half way through our rigmarole a couple sharks showed up and loitered for a while. We are researching floating the chain next time.

After a nap and a little lunch we motored out the calm pass with the main up. Back in the open water we unfurled the jib and took off at a nice 6.5 knots heading southwest towards Makemo, our next atoll in the Tuamotus with an easy pass. A couple miles out a dark, ominous shadow slipped past Tayrona’s starboard hull. It looked like a really big shark to me until it jumped out of the water. It was a ten foot long porpoise, dark with some white blotches. Another showed up and they played in our bow wake for a while, showing off, jumping and swimming belly up just under our bows. It’s a good omen, I hope.

Then it was sunset and in no time we were out of sight of the low atoll and back to the open sea. Huzzah! The dark crept in as we made dinner and ate under the canopy of a moonless starry sky. Went to bed around 7PM, woke at 2AM for our turn around the atoll Taenga, a passless, uninviting coral berm. It was out there hiding in the dark, and with no moon it was a little disconcerting to know it was lurking four miles off our port. We lit it up with radar and the low islands showed up clearly out of the darkness.

Went to bed anticipating our landfall in Makemo the following morning. Looks like we might be slower than we calculated, missing the slack tide we hoped to hit in Makemo’s south pass, but plenty of time to figure that out when we arrive. Worrying about speed while traveling by sail is pretty wasted emotion.

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.