Sailing in the trades. The phrase alone conjures up images of deep blue, whitecap-ridden seas running up from astern as the wind fills the sails and thrusts you downwind to your next tropical port. The “cruiser’s” ideal circumnavigation would be one where the wind was always aft of the beam. Speed, comfort, and the general ease of such downwind runs make for idyllic passages. But, as July wound to a close I found myself facing the task of turning against the trades. After two weeks in the Leeward Society Islands I had to return to Tahiti in time to meet Liz Clark (off Swell) in Papeete to take delivery of much-needed parts from the States.
Knowing the beat to windward was inevitable I continuously kept an eye on the weather, waiting for a calm window to sneak back to Tahiti. On July 25th, while at Raiatea, I received the latest weather forecast and it wasn’t good. After blowing fifteen knots for a handful of days it was predicted to pick up in the coming days to 25 knots out of the southeast—the direction I needed to go. Liz was set to arrive at the end of July and the forecast showed my best chance to get back was to leave right away. Thus I shot off an e-mail home, picked up anchor, and departed Raiatea through the Teavapiti Pass on its northeast coast. The wind was blowing 15 knots out of the east-southeast as I set sail and headed for the north end of Huahine. My plan was to pass just north of Huahine before tacking south and, with a little luck, sailing straight for Tahiti. Mother Nature had other plans.
As the day wore on the wind began to back to the east and I was forced to steer further and further north until 2000 when I was east of the longitude of Huahine and tacked to the south. As the night wore on the wind picked up and was blowing 25 knots by midnight. I sat crouched in the cockpit staying out of the chilly wind but keeping an eye out for ships while sailing as close to the wind as Avventura could manage. As the new day dawned the wind rose to 30 knots and more in the gusts, and the southerly swells were slowing my progress. At 0730 I decided to tack and see if I could sail a better course heading more easterly. As the boom swung over to the port side the mainsheet came apart and the boom swung wildly out over the side as the sail flapped in the vicious wind. I quickly started the engine and doused the mainsail. It turns out the stainless steel piece which held the mainsheet onto the traveler had broken at one of the two welds. (The mainsheet is the rope that allows you to control the angle of the mainsail to the wind, and on Avventura it is connected by this stainless steel piece to a four foot long track along which the mainsheet is able to slide to further adjust the angle of the sail—the traveler.) I spent the next hour searching for a spare part that could serve to jury rig a new mainsheet and eventually found a block that fit onto the track. After an hour of bashing into the swells I was able to set the main once more and stabilize Avventura.
The wind refused to cooperate with me, and as the day progressed it shifted into the southeast causing my course to suffer. Then as the sun reached for the horizon an easterly swell began to show amidst the still dominant 6 foot southwest swells. By the time darkness descended over the sea the easterly swells had risen to eight feet and had a ridiculously short 9 second period. I was no longer able to hold a southerly course and began losing miles to the west when I decided to tack. As Avventura settled in on the new tack I was disgusted to fin her heading nearly due north. The easterly swells coupled with the southeast wind made progress to the east all-but impossible. The hours ticked away and I began to calculate out how long it would take to return to Tahiti. I contemplated powering the entire way, but could not make any speed into the swells and I was getting low on diesel. I had to make a decision—fight the wind and ridiculous short-period swell (both of which were forecast to continue for another handful of days) and arrive in Tahiti some three days late, or return to Huahine and find another way to get my things.
After bashing into a couple decidedly larger swells (12 footers by my estimation) the decision was made. I turned about and began surfing down the large, confused swells. With just a triple-reefed main and a staysail for stabilization I was making over five and a half knots. The first traces of dawn saw me rounding the north end of Huahine once more, and as the sun rose I dropped the hook in the Avamoa Pass once more. Stoked to be safely tucked into a quiet anchorage, and exhausted from 48 sleepless hours, I cracked open a Hinano and sat on the foredeck soaking in the warm sunshine.
As luck would have it Robyn’s Nest and Chica Bonita, two cruising friends I met first in Ecuador, arrived later in the morning and I spent the next couple days surfing fun lefts in the Avamoa Pass and treated to nice meals on Chica Bonita after sunset. It was nice to spend a few final days among good friends who have helped make this voyage that much better along the way. I shared some of my best waves this trip with the trio of South Africans on Robyn’s Nest in the Galapagos; and plenty more good times followed, from our bar-b-q in the Tuamotus to reuniting in Southern Tahiti. It was all capped off by celebrating Dave’s 17th birthday aboard Chica Bonita in Huahine with homemade pizza and perhaps the tastiest homemade cake I’ve ever had. So here’s wishing all the best to the crews of Robyn’s Nest (John, Scott, Dave, Chris and Lucy) and Chica Bonita (Mike and Heather) as they continue on towards New Zealand.
Despite the good time I was having in Huahine I was still a hundred miles from Tahiti where I had to be to get my parts. Things started to turn in my favor as Liz changed her flight to August 2nd and the wind began to die as July wound down. On July 30th I was able to get up the mast and change jibs (somewhere in the dreaded windward slog my working jib sustained a large tear), and with a favorable weather forecast I was determined to try my luck and head for Tahiti in the morning.
Knowing I would be going another full night without sleep I turned in early and slept soundly through to 0200 when I was awaken by a blast so loud it seemed to shake my bunk. As I awoke I immediately knew what was happening and leapt out the forehatch prepared to abandon ship—a freighter was surely bearing down on me. I was anchored on the edge of the Avamoa Pass, and as I emerged into the dark of night I saw the black hulk passing some fifty yards astern with ample sea room and no need to panic. I guess the captain was just taking his frustration out on me; but either way I had been scared out of my mind and found getting back to sleep impossible. Instead I weighed anchor and headed for Tahiti, again.
The conditions could not have been more opposite as I headed southeast once more. The wind never rose above 12 knots and I motorsailed the entire time, passing just south of Moorea twenty-four hours after leaving Huahine. As dawn opened the first day of August I entered the now-familiar Taapuna Pass and once more anchored off Papeete’s Marina Taina with two days to spare before Liz passed through.
Moral of the blog: never be bound by a firm schedule when sailing. Only bad things can come from it. You cannot change the weather, and should never force yourself into sailing with a bad weather forecast. I’ve learned the lesson well.
By now I have received my parts from the States (thank you Liz) after they decided to take a detour in Liz’s luggage through Paris, and again have a working SSB Radio. I will soon resume posting Position Reports through Yotreps. In the next day or two I will be taking my leave of Papeete and heading for a week or so in southern Tahiti before I defy the trades once more to return to the Tuamotus. I will depart there in early October (or thereabouts) for Christmas and Fanning Islands in the Line Islands before continuing on to Hawaii in late November. Thus I will be largely incommunicado until early December. I will try and send updates sporadically through the SSB Radio Email; but here’s wishing everyone a happy end of summer and all of autumn.
martes, 7 de agosto de 2007
lunes, 6 de agosto de 2007
Society Islands
The Society Islands. Their names alone conjure up images of idyllic beauty. Huahine. Raiatea. Tahaa. Bora Bora. Images of rugged green islands rising from azure lagoons surrounded by a line of white surf pounding on a barrier reef. Of palm trees swaying in the trades, white sand beaches, friendly natives, vibrant coral reefs and reef passes bordered with surf. I spent the last two weeks of July enjoying these mythic isles.
On the sun-filled, calm morning of July 17 I picked up anchor and motored out Tahiti’s Taapuna Pass heading west. The plan was to pass by the south shore of Moorea and if there was no wind I would pull in at Haapiti and surf the fun left for a couple days. However as I skirted Moorea’s southern coast, after reeling in my first (and to date only) fish of the Society Islands (a small skipjack), the wind filled in from the east and I decided to push on for Huahine. I was quick to raise the main and kill the engine, and before long the wind was up to 25 knots out of the east. The swells were a bit confused, coming from both the south and northeast, but with a double-reefed main and a partially-furled jib I was making over six knots and was set to arrive in Huahine at dawn. I spent the night in the cockpit keeping one eye on the blustery wind and another on Sand Dollar, a sailboat that remained less than a mile off my starboard side all night long.
At daybreak I entered the Avapehi Pass on Huahine and before long settled in at the island’s main anchorage inside the Avamoa Pass. It was soon obvious that the six foot swell that was in the water was too east for Huahine’s surfspots, so instead I swam ashore and set about exploring the island. Huahine is a quiet, laid-back island filled with welcoming locals who want to keep their home from becoming an obnoxious tourist destination. I passed my time walking along the white sand beaches of the northwest coast, paddling around the lagoon, and surfing small waves at both the Avamoa and Avapehi Pass (with the right swell, something with a lot of west in it, there are two good rights and a fun left between the two passes).
After a couple days of relaxation and exploration on Huahine I was ready to move on, so I picked up anchor and motored over a glassy sea to Tahaa some thirty miles west. Tahaa is Raiatea’s less-famous little sister. Situated just off her north tip, Tahaa and Raiatea share a single barrier reef. Unlike the rest of the Society Islands it is possible to sail all the way around Tahaa inside the reef in the calm and brilliant waters of its lagoon. I entered the lagoon through the narrow Toahotu Pass on the island’s east shore, passing between two small palm-clad motus and emerging into the deep blue waters of the lagoon. I followed a marked channel around the south side of the island leaving the green sandy shallows to port and the rugged island to starboard. One thing I found in the lagoons of the Society Islands is the water is either more than sixty or less than six feet deep. This makes finding a good anchorage difficult, and I spent two full hours scouring Tahaa’s west coast in search of water less than eighty feet deep to anchor in. After poking my nose into Patii Bay I checked the length of Hurepiti Bay and explored the inlet of Tapuamu Bay, never finding a good place to anchor. On my way back down the west coast of the island I took a long look at the PaiPai Pass and realized there wasn’t enough swell for the left to work properly. As the sun sank low in the sky I gave up hope of finding a decent anchorage and picked up a mooring buoy in Apu Bay.
With the engine shut down I opened a beer and watched the sun slip behind the western horizon as a hermaphrodite brig entered Apu Bay under the power of sails alone. In a rare display of seamanship these days the young captain shouted out orders to his crew of paying passengers and eased his 150-foot-plus ship into place, dropped the hook, and let the wind fill the foretopsail and back the ship on the anchor. It was an impressive showing in an age where most sailors of small ships can’t anchor under sail, let alone a big square-rigger. The ship is from New Zealand and apparently sails around the South Pacific carrying paying passengers who are taught how to sail while stopping at the beautiful islands along the way.
I left Tahaa early the next morning, slipping out of the PaiPai Pass where I was quick to shut down the engine and set sail. A light breeze trickled in from the east-northeast, and since there was still no surf I headed for Bora Bora, perhaps the most famously beautiful island in the world. The wind remained light throughout the morning and I sat in the cockpit enjoying the warm sunshine, reading, writing in my journal, and loving the cruising life. After four hours of slow but steady sailing I arrived at Bora Bora’s lone reef pass with an eight knot breeze still trickling in from the east. Perhaps inspired by the display of seamanship the previous night I decided to keep the engine off and sailed my way in the pass. The rugged, somehow familiar peaks of Bora Bora loomed ahead and the light green shallows and dark brown of the reef lingered on either side as Avventura ghosted up the blue pass and approached the Bora Bora Yacht Club. Just before the anchorage I dropped the main, powered my way into 87 feet of water, and dropped the anchor with all 250 feet of chain out.
Once I deceived myself that the boat was safe with less than 3-to-1 scope (as a rule I always set 5-to-1 scope; more in an unprotected or windy anchorage) I launched the dinghy, grabbed my board, and motored out to the pass. While sailing in the pass a local was stand-up paddling into a left breaking off a finger of reef on the south side of the pass, and I was itching to get in the clear blue waters. The wave was a strange sectioning left with a steep takeoff followed by sections where the wave would hit fingers of deep water in the reef and turn to mush only to later become hollow again. The surf was far from world-class, but the setup was hard to beat. I was the only one out and the familiar green form of the island loomed across the lagoon of green and blue water above a beach of white sand. Sitting in the “lineup” it struck me that nowhere else in nature have I seen such vivid colors. The blues of deeper water, the intense green of the sandy shallows, the sharp browns and purples of the coral reef, the motus of blinding white sand capped by green palms swaying in the trades, and the dark green hulk of the island itself with patches of light, exposed rock reflecting the bright sunlight. The colors alone rank Bora Bora among the most beautiful places I’ve ever been. It was easy to see why it is among the most photographed islands on earth. As the sun reached for the sea I returned to Avventura thrilled by another great day of cruising.
July 22nd brought scattered showers and a 25 knot east wind to Bora Bora. The anchorage at the Bora Bora Yacht Club was shielded from the bulk of the wind, and I was determined to spend the day exploring the island. I headed ashore in the early morning and met the manager of the “yacht club.” He told me they rented bikes, and in minutes I was pedaling north along the coast. After a detour inland into a local neighborhood I circumnavigated the island, enjoying the ever-changing vistas across the greens and blues of the lagoon and up at the drastic island peaks. Near the south end of the island I left the bike beside the road and hiked up to a spot overlooking the lagoon on both sides of the island. It was a truly beautiful place and I only wish I had had a digital camera along to post the pictures. Instead I shot a roll of film to be developed whenever it is I return to San Diego.
After completing the 32 km circumnavigation I returned to the yacht club just in time for an impromptu barbeque at the yacht club. The manager insisted I stay and eat, and served me up a massive helping of grilled chicken, sausage, and breadfruit. The grilled breadfruit was delicious and if you ever find yourself unsure of what to do with the strange veggie just throw it on the grill. As I ate conversations were started between the handful of cruising boats whose crews were ashore. It was quite a diverse gathering with a couple Japanese men, two Norwegian couples, a Canadian single-hander, an American single-hander, and the American couple from Katie Lee. I enjoyed the conversation for a while, but after lunch the sun came out and it was simply too nice a day to spend chatting away. I excused myself, stopped at Avventura to get my board, and returned to the reef pass to try my hand at the left once more. The wind was blowing so hard offshore it made trying to turn almost laughable but I had a good time messing around in the small waves.
Monday morning brought a return of sunshine and clear skies and I decided to head for Raiatea. As soon as the anchor was up I raised the main and shut down the engine, sailing away from Bora Bora and continuing southward. After a few hours of sailing to windward I reached the lee of Raiatea. The wind died so I furled the jib and motored in the Rautoanui Pass on the northwest side of the island. Entering the pass I gazed wide-eyed as perfect left tubes peeled off the reef and a dozen locals dropped into barrel after barrel. I headed straight for the nearest anchorage and set the hook in eighty feet of water inside Pupau Bay. As soon as the anchor was set I returned to the pass in my dinghy and paddled out in the perfect six-foot surf. My first wave I dropped in behind the peak, got a nice little tube, and pulled out just before it closed out on the reef. That proved to be my best wave of the day, though a handful of nice little cover-ups followed as I traded off waves with the friendly locals. Only the setting sun was enough to chase me from the surf, and I reluctantly returned to Avventura to spend the night in my own private anchorage.
Rising early the next morning, I was disappointed to find the swell had dropped. After a short but fun morning session in the small waves I dedicated the remainder of the day to boat work including a trip up the mast to replace a burnt-out light bulb as well as complete a few other minor tasks. The boat work spilled over to the morning of July 25 as I dedicated myself to solving the riddle of the broken bow navigation lights. After a couple hours of toil I was able to rewire the lights and get them working once more, and by late morning I headed to a nearby marina to use the internet feeling good about the day. When I checked the weather forecast for the coming week my mood began to change. East to southeast winds were forecast for the entire week, picking up from 17 knots on July 25th till it would be 25 knots from the 26th till the 30th. I had to be back in Tahiti by the 30th to meet Liz Clark who was flying back from the States with much-needed parts for me before continuing on to her boat, Swell, in the Marquesas. My best hope to return to Tahiti was to leave immediately. Thus began my first windward bashing in the trades…
On the sun-filled, calm morning of July 17 I picked up anchor and motored out Tahiti’s Taapuna Pass heading west. The plan was to pass by the south shore of Moorea and if there was no wind I would pull in at Haapiti and surf the fun left for a couple days. However as I skirted Moorea’s southern coast, after reeling in my first (and to date only) fish of the Society Islands (a small skipjack), the wind filled in from the east and I decided to push on for Huahine. I was quick to raise the main and kill the engine, and before long the wind was up to 25 knots out of the east. The swells were a bit confused, coming from both the south and northeast, but with a double-reefed main and a partially-furled jib I was making over six knots and was set to arrive in Huahine at dawn. I spent the night in the cockpit keeping one eye on the blustery wind and another on Sand Dollar, a sailboat that remained less than a mile off my starboard side all night long.
At daybreak I entered the Avapehi Pass on Huahine and before long settled in at the island’s main anchorage inside the Avamoa Pass. It was soon obvious that the six foot swell that was in the water was too east for Huahine’s surfspots, so instead I swam ashore and set about exploring the island. Huahine is a quiet, laid-back island filled with welcoming locals who want to keep their home from becoming an obnoxious tourist destination. I passed my time walking along the white sand beaches of the northwest coast, paddling around the lagoon, and surfing small waves at both the Avamoa and Avapehi Pass (with the right swell, something with a lot of west in it, there are two good rights and a fun left between the two passes).
After a couple days of relaxation and exploration on Huahine I was ready to move on, so I picked up anchor and motored over a glassy sea to Tahaa some thirty miles west. Tahaa is Raiatea’s less-famous little sister. Situated just off her north tip, Tahaa and Raiatea share a single barrier reef. Unlike the rest of the Society Islands it is possible to sail all the way around Tahaa inside the reef in the calm and brilliant waters of its lagoon. I entered the lagoon through the narrow Toahotu Pass on the island’s east shore, passing between two small palm-clad motus and emerging into the deep blue waters of the lagoon. I followed a marked channel around the south side of the island leaving the green sandy shallows to port and the rugged island to starboard. One thing I found in the lagoons of the Society Islands is the water is either more than sixty or less than six feet deep. This makes finding a good anchorage difficult, and I spent two full hours scouring Tahaa’s west coast in search of water less than eighty feet deep to anchor in. After poking my nose into Patii Bay I checked the length of Hurepiti Bay and explored the inlet of Tapuamu Bay, never finding a good place to anchor. On my way back down the west coast of the island I took a long look at the PaiPai Pass and realized there wasn’t enough swell for the left to work properly. As the sun sank low in the sky I gave up hope of finding a decent anchorage and picked up a mooring buoy in Apu Bay.
With the engine shut down I opened a beer and watched the sun slip behind the western horizon as a hermaphrodite brig entered Apu Bay under the power of sails alone. In a rare display of seamanship these days the young captain shouted out orders to his crew of paying passengers and eased his 150-foot-plus ship into place, dropped the hook, and let the wind fill the foretopsail and back the ship on the anchor. It was an impressive showing in an age where most sailors of small ships can’t anchor under sail, let alone a big square-rigger. The ship is from New Zealand and apparently sails around the South Pacific carrying paying passengers who are taught how to sail while stopping at the beautiful islands along the way.
I left Tahaa early the next morning, slipping out of the PaiPai Pass where I was quick to shut down the engine and set sail. A light breeze trickled in from the east-northeast, and since there was still no surf I headed for Bora Bora, perhaps the most famously beautiful island in the world. The wind remained light throughout the morning and I sat in the cockpit enjoying the warm sunshine, reading, writing in my journal, and loving the cruising life. After four hours of slow but steady sailing I arrived at Bora Bora’s lone reef pass with an eight knot breeze still trickling in from the east. Perhaps inspired by the display of seamanship the previous night I decided to keep the engine off and sailed my way in the pass. The rugged, somehow familiar peaks of Bora Bora loomed ahead and the light green shallows and dark brown of the reef lingered on either side as Avventura ghosted up the blue pass and approached the Bora Bora Yacht Club. Just before the anchorage I dropped the main, powered my way into 87 feet of water, and dropped the anchor with all 250 feet of chain out.
Once I deceived myself that the boat was safe with less than 3-to-1 scope (as a rule I always set 5-to-1 scope; more in an unprotected or windy anchorage) I launched the dinghy, grabbed my board, and motored out to the pass. While sailing in the pass a local was stand-up paddling into a left breaking off a finger of reef on the south side of the pass, and I was itching to get in the clear blue waters. The wave was a strange sectioning left with a steep takeoff followed by sections where the wave would hit fingers of deep water in the reef and turn to mush only to later become hollow again. The surf was far from world-class, but the setup was hard to beat. I was the only one out and the familiar green form of the island loomed across the lagoon of green and blue water above a beach of white sand. Sitting in the “lineup” it struck me that nowhere else in nature have I seen such vivid colors. The blues of deeper water, the intense green of the sandy shallows, the sharp browns and purples of the coral reef, the motus of blinding white sand capped by green palms swaying in the trades, and the dark green hulk of the island itself with patches of light, exposed rock reflecting the bright sunlight. The colors alone rank Bora Bora among the most beautiful places I’ve ever been. It was easy to see why it is among the most photographed islands on earth. As the sun reached for the sea I returned to Avventura thrilled by another great day of cruising.
July 22nd brought scattered showers and a 25 knot east wind to Bora Bora. The anchorage at the Bora Bora Yacht Club was shielded from the bulk of the wind, and I was determined to spend the day exploring the island. I headed ashore in the early morning and met the manager of the “yacht club.” He told me they rented bikes, and in minutes I was pedaling north along the coast. After a detour inland into a local neighborhood I circumnavigated the island, enjoying the ever-changing vistas across the greens and blues of the lagoon and up at the drastic island peaks. Near the south end of the island I left the bike beside the road and hiked up to a spot overlooking the lagoon on both sides of the island. It was a truly beautiful place and I only wish I had had a digital camera along to post the pictures. Instead I shot a roll of film to be developed whenever it is I return to San Diego.
After completing the 32 km circumnavigation I returned to the yacht club just in time for an impromptu barbeque at the yacht club. The manager insisted I stay and eat, and served me up a massive helping of grilled chicken, sausage, and breadfruit. The grilled breadfruit was delicious and if you ever find yourself unsure of what to do with the strange veggie just throw it on the grill. As I ate conversations were started between the handful of cruising boats whose crews were ashore. It was quite a diverse gathering with a couple Japanese men, two Norwegian couples, a Canadian single-hander, an American single-hander, and the American couple from Katie Lee. I enjoyed the conversation for a while, but after lunch the sun came out and it was simply too nice a day to spend chatting away. I excused myself, stopped at Avventura to get my board, and returned to the reef pass to try my hand at the left once more. The wind was blowing so hard offshore it made trying to turn almost laughable but I had a good time messing around in the small waves.
Monday morning brought a return of sunshine and clear skies and I decided to head for Raiatea. As soon as the anchor was up I raised the main and shut down the engine, sailing away from Bora Bora and continuing southward. After a few hours of sailing to windward I reached the lee of Raiatea. The wind died so I furled the jib and motored in the Rautoanui Pass on the northwest side of the island. Entering the pass I gazed wide-eyed as perfect left tubes peeled off the reef and a dozen locals dropped into barrel after barrel. I headed straight for the nearest anchorage and set the hook in eighty feet of water inside Pupau Bay. As soon as the anchor was set I returned to the pass in my dinghy and paddled out in the perfect six-foot surf. My first wave I dropped in behind the peak, got a nice little tube, and pulled out just before it closed out on the reef. That proved to be my best wave of the day, though a handful of nice little cover-ups followed as I traded off waves with the friendly locals. Only the setting sun was enough to chase me from the surf, and I reluctantly returned to Avventura to spend the night in my own private anchorage.
Rising early the next morning, I was disappointed to find the swell had dropped. After a short but fun morning session in the small waves I dedicated the remainder of the day to boat work including a trip up the mast to replace a burnt-out light bulb as well as complete a few other minor tasks. The boat work spilled over to the morning of July 25 as I dedicated myself to solving the riddle of the broken bow navigation lights. After a couple hours of toil I was able to rewire the lights and get them working once more, and by late morning I headed to a nearby marina to use the internet feeling good about the day. When I checked the weather forecast for the coming week my mood began to change. East to southeast winds were forecast for the entire week, picking up from 17 knots on July 25th till it would be 25 knots from the 26th till the 30th. I had to be back in Tahiti by the 30th to meet Liz Clark who was flying back from the States with much-needed parts for me before continuing on to her boat, Swell, in the Marquesas. My best hope to return to Tahiti was to leave immediately. Thus began my first windward bashing in the trades…
martes, 3 de julio de 2007
Tahitian Exploration II
2007, July 3. Tuesday—9 a.m.
During the night of June 25th, while anchored inside of Little Vairo Pass (the right I ended the last blog at), the swell picked up noticeably. With Little Vairo nearly maxed out it was time to head further south to the big boy, Teahupoo. I followed close on Windekind’s stern as we weaved through a couple narrow, shallow channels inside the lagoon. Within an hour we both anchored in a small basin just north of the Havae Pass, home to the famed Teahupoo left.
With the hook set I hitched a ride in Windekind’s dinghy and we headed out the pass to check the surf. The conditions were calm, wind slightly offshore, and fifteen people were out in the six to eight foot perfect waves. From the channel I felt for the first time the true power of Teahupoo. As the swell approached from the southwest it leapt from the sea nearly horizontally onto the shallow reef of the pass. A massive tube rolled down the line, too fast to ride, till it finally reached the drop zone where somebody would brave the steep drop, pull into the massive pit, and either pull out before the closeout section or wind up caught inside scratching to get off the reef. The inside is what looked so fierce. Whitewater would suck down off the reef with each approaching wave, defying nature and creating an uphill slope of water you’d have to climb to get onto the reef. After watching a couple sets roll in I was actually surprised by how manageable the waves looked. Myself and the three other surfers in the dinghy decided it was time to paddle out.
Thirty minutes later Windekind’s dinghy was moored in the channel and Eric, Will Austin (15) and I were paddling to the lineup. Eric immediately paddled deep into the peak and picked off two quick waves, one a nice barrel, and the other ate him up. I was on the 6’ 6” Mike left on board, and quickly found it wasn’t big enough for the wave. Every wave I paddled for rolled beneath me, heaved up, and left me behind.
The swell was picking up with each set, and when I turned around from paddling for a wave I saw the crowd scratching for the channel and followed suit. Next thing I knew a heavy fifteen-foot wave was breaking over the reef, throwing a massive barrel that could easily have fit Avventura inside it. I was able to duckdive under the lip and opened my eyes to watch as the monster rolled on. I was relieved to find no waves behind it; but when I looked inside I saw Eric and Will in the cauldron of whitewater left in its wake. Eric was clinging to the back half of his board, Will’s was gone altogether (broken board to go with the snapped leash as he later learned), and another broken board was drifting around in the cauldron. One wave took out three boards, and with that we headed back to the boats to regroup and reload.
On Avventura I quickly threw a sheet of fiberglass and gobs of resin over where my 7’ 0” had buckled (my first session in Tahiti, at Taapuna) to give it some added strength. Just as the resin was drying the Windekind guys picked me up for round two. I threw some sandpaper in my pocket and hopped in the dinghy with the freshly-repaired board. Eric was the first to paddle out while the rest of us watched from the dinghy. The swell had not only picked up, but was shifting further west as the day wore on, making it harder to get out of the waves once you were in and causing for some big, heavy closeouts. On Eric’s first wave he dropped in deep, pulled in to an impossible tube, was eaten alive, and emerged from the soup with another broken board. He swam back to the dinghy frustrated, not about the broken board, but that he hadn’t made it out of the barrel. Within minutes of his return we all paddled out, Eric on a brand new board, and me on my 7’ 0”.
Eric and Will continued to charge the set waves as the wind picked up a bit and the crowd fled the growing swell. On Will’s second wave he pulled in from behind the peak and was eaten by the eight foot (?) wave. In the tumult he smacked his knee on the reef returning to the lineup bleeding and saying he was done for the day. As Will returned to the dinghy a group of Australian surfers paddled out. I mostly sat watching as Eric, one of the Australians, and a Hawaiian guy traded off waves I didn’t have the guts (or the board) to paddle for. Every third wave they seemed to make to the channel, but the rest were unmakeable and led to the inevitable underwater dragging and long hold down that seems to come with every Teahupoo wipeout. When you did come up you still had to take the next couple waves on the head.
Little Austin caught a couple insiders, putting me to shame and increasing my paddling efforts to get into a wave. I managed to get myself into one of the smaller waves, made the drop and a bottom turn, and raced for the channel. No monster tube spitting behind me, no awful wipeout; but at least I can say I caught a wave at Teahupoo.
A half hour after catching my lone wave I was on the inside when the wave of the day came through. I saw it coming early and Little Austin and I scratched for the channel as the Hawaiian (called Biff, which seemed to be a running joke with the Windekind fellows) took off right at the peak. The wave hit the reef and grew into an eighteen foot face (my guess; definitely the heaviest wave I’ve ever seen up close) as Biff paddled into it. As he got to his feet the bottom fell out of the wave and after air-dropping for a short while he began to cart-wheel down the face. A couple seconds later he hit the water for good, only to be sucked back over the falls as I duckdove under the lip. Biff’s wipeout was enough to chase me back to the dinghy and end my day of “surfing” Teahupoo. Two sessions, one wave. Not a great showing, but to surf it again I’d want a bigger board so I could get into the waves before the bottom dropped out, as Eric, Will and the Aussy were able to. As for Biff, he wound up in the hospital where they had to remove chunks of coral from his back; which I’m told looked like a sheet of blood despite the vest he had been wearing.
On the way in from Teahupoo I was invited to the famous “Pizza Tuesday’s” on Windekind. I headed over around sunset and we passed the night having a few beers, eating homemade pizzas and playing cards—a nice way to unwind from a heavy day of surf.
Dawn revealed a more westerly swell and Teahupoo was no longer an appetizing place to surf, so Windekind and I headed out the Havae Pass, skirted along Tahiti’s barrier reef, and returned to Big Vairo Pass (Tapuaeraha Pass on the charts) where we had surfed three days earlier. We anchored in the same little cove off the “Ifremer Centre Oceanologique du Pacifique,” a marine biology research station. [As a sidenote this little cove proved to be a great anchorage in 45 feet over a muddy bottom, one of the few shallow places within dinghy distance of Big Vairo Pass, supposedly one of the better waves in Tahiti and more mellow. GPS POS: 17˚48.49’S by 149˚17.64’W]
Unfortunately soon after leaving Teahupoo the wind picked up to fifteen knots, blowing sideshore and adding an unwanted chop to the good-sized sets that were rolling through Big Vairo Pass. After waiting unsuccessfully for the wind to die we paddled out for an afternoon session anyways. The surf was much more manageable than Teahupoo. Though still sizeable, there was a much gentler face and shoulder to be ridden after a steep drop. Though the good waves were hard to pick out of the jumbled mess the wind and swell had created, I had a fun session and caught a couple good waves. Adding to the enjoyment was the simple pleasure of watching the massive rooster tails sweeping off the big rights across the pass. The downside of the wind, coupled with the cooler water the swell churned up (81˚), was that after an hour and a half I had goosebumps on my arms and was conscious of being cold in the water for the first time since the Galapagos.
The following morning saw the arrival of Robyn’s Nest at the anchorage, and I was glad to hear they had come into a good swell at Faaite just two days after Mike and I left. With their arrival came the passing of a weather front over the island (same as had happened on the day I arrived in Tahiti a couple weeks earlier), which brought with it thirty knot southwest winds and periods of heavy rain. The front brought four days of lousy weather during which Windekind decided to brave and return to Papeete while Robyn’s Nest and I hunkered down in our little cove. I awoke on day two of the nasty westerly weather with a sore throat, beginning what has been a five day sickness to date. My sickness still lingers on, perhaps accounting for the fact that I can’t find any sort of writing rhythm in this damned blog. Sorry about that, but I wanted to get it out in spite of this.
After a few days of waiting out the weather, while still feeling sick, I decided to brave the conditions and return to Papeete in search of medicine. Despite periods of thirty knot winds and no autopilot that could cope with the eight foot swells I made it back to Papeete on the evening of July 1. I entered the Papeete Pass as the sun set, and awaited permission to use the Faaa Chanel for fifteen minutes while planes came in low overhead. The harbor authority finally gave me the go-ahead and I scurried along before the next plane came in to the channel-side runway. I carefully followed the channel markers around a bend in the reef to the opposite end of the runway where I tucked into a cove off the Intercontinental Resort (formerly the Beach Comber) and dropped the hook in the dark; collapsing in my bunk moments later.
Yesterday I moved back to the normal anchorage off Marina Taina and made it to a pharmacy where I picked up a couple medicines which, though everything is written in French, I was told will help me. After a day of medicating I’m beginning to feel better and am hopeful that the fourth of July will see a return to my former good health. Either way I’ll be taking it easy till I recover fully, because being sick in the tropics is no fun.
Again, sorry for the disjointed, choppy writing and lack of rhythm to this blog; I’m attributing it to my sickness and the medication-induced drowsiness and malaise. I’ll be posting more pictures soon at www.flickr.com/photos/avventura.
During the night of June 25th, while anchored inside of Little Vairo Pass (the right I ended the last blog at), the swell picked up noticeably. With Little Vairo nearly maxed out it was time to head further south to the big boy, Teahupoo. I followed close on Windekind’s stern as we weaved through a couple narrow, shallow channels inside the lagoon. Within an hour we both anchored in a small basin just north of the Havae Pass, home to the famed Teahupoo left.
With the hook set I hitched a ride in Windekind’s dinghy and we headed out the pass to check the surf. The conditions were calm, wind slightly offshore, and fifteen people were out in the six to eight foot perfect waves. From the channel I felt for the first time the true power of Teahupoo. As the swell approached from the southwest it leapt from the sea nearly horizontally onto the shallow reef of the pass. A massive tube rolled down the line, too fast to ride, till it finally reached the drop zone where somebody would brave the steep drop, pull into the massive pit, and either pull out before the closeout section or wind up caught inside scratching to get off the reef. The inside is what looked so fierce. Whitewater would suck down off the reef with each approaching wave, defying nature and creating an uphill slope of water you’d have to climb to get onto the reef. After watching a couple sets roll in I was actually surprised by how manageable the waves looked. Myself and the three other surfers in the dinghy decided it was time to paddle out.
Thirty minutes later Windekind’s dinghy was moored in the channel and Eric, Will Austin (15) and I were paddling to the lineup. Eric immediately paddled deep into the peak and picked off two quick waves, one a nice barrel, and the other ate him up. I was on the 6’ 6” Mike left on board, and quickly found it wasn’t big enough for the wave. Every wave I paddled for rolled beneath me, heaved up, and left me behind.
The swell was picking up with each set, and when I turned around from paddling for a wave I saw the crowd scratching for the channel and followed suit. Next thing I knew a heavy fifteen-foot wave was breaking over the reef, throwing a massive barrel that could easily have fit Avventura inside it. I was able to duckdive under the lip and opened my eyes to watch as the monster rolled on. I was relieved to find no waves behind it; but when I looked inside I saw Eric and Will in the cauldron of whitewater left in its wake. Eric was clinging to the back half of his board, Will’s was gone altogether (broken board to go with the snapped leash as he later learned), and another broken board was drifting around in the cauldron. One wave took out three boards, and with that we headed back to the boats to regroup and reload.
On Avventura I quickly threw a sheet of fiberglass and gobs of resin over where my 7’ 0” had buckled (my first session in Tahiti, at Taapuna) to give it some added strength. Just as the resin was drying the Windekind guys picked me up for round two. I threw some sandpaper in my pocket and hopped in the dinghy with the freshly-repaired board. Eric was the first to paddle out while the rest of us watched from the dinghy. The swell had not only picked up, but was shifting further west as the day wore on, making it harder to get out of the waves once you were in and causing for some big, heavy closeouts. On Eric’s first wave he dropped in deep, pulled in to an impossible tube, was eaten alive, and emerged from the soup with another broken board. He swam back to the dinghy frustrated, not about the broken board, but that he hadn’t made it out of the barrel. Within minutes of his return we all paddled out, Eric on a brand new board, and me on my 7’ 0”.
Eric and Will continued to charge the set waves as the wind picked up a bit and the crowd fled the growing swell. On Will’s second wave he pulled in from behind the peak and was eaten by the eight foot (?) wave. In the tumult he smacked his knee on the reef returning to the lineup bleeding and saying he was done for the day. As Will returned to the dinghy a group of Australian surfers paddled out. I mostly sat watching as Eric, one of the Australians, and a Hawaiian guy traded off waves I didn’t have the guts (or the board) to paddle for. Every third wave they seemed to make to the channel, but the rest were unmakeable and led to the inevitable underwater dragging and long hold down that seems to come with every Teahupoo wipeout. When you did come up you still had to take the next couple waves on the head.
Little Austin caught a couple insiders, putting me to shame and increasing my paddling efforts to get into a wave. I managed to get myself into one of the smaller waves, made the drop and a bottom turn, and raced for the channel. No monster tube spitting behind me, no awful wipeout; but at least I can say I caught a wave at Teahupoo.
A half hour after catching my lone wave I was on the inside when the wave of the day came through. I saw it coming early and Little Austin and I scratched for the channel as the Hawaiian (called Biff, which seemed to be a running joke with the Windekind fellows) took off right at the peak. The wave hit the reef and grew into an eighteen foot face (my guess; definitely the heaviest wave I’ve ever seen up close) as Biff paddled into it. As he got to his feet the bottom fell out of the wave and after air-dropping for a short while he began to cart-wheel down the face. A couple seconds later he hit the water for good, only to be sucked back over the falls as I duckdove under the lip. Biff’s wipeout was enough to chase me back to the dinghy and end my day of “surfing” Teahupoo. Two sessions, one wave. Not a great showing, but to surf it again I’d want a bigger board so I could get into the waves before the bottom dropped out, as Eric, Will and the Aussy were able to. As for Biff, he wound up in the hospital where they had to remove chunks of coral from his back; which I’m told looked like a sheet of blood despite the vest he had been wearing.
On the way in from Teahupoo I was invited to the famous “Pizza Tuesday’s” on Windekind. I headed over around sunset and we passed the night having a few beers, eating homemade pizzas and playing cards—a nice way to unwind from a heavy day of surf.
Dawn revealed a more westerly swell and Teahupoo was no longer an appetizing place to surf, so Windekind and I headed out the Havae Pass, skirted along Tahiti’s barrier reef, and returned to Big Vairo Pass (Tapuaeraha Pass on the charts) where we had surfed three days earlier. We anchored in the same little cove off the “Ifremer Centre Oceanologique du Pacifique,” a marine biology research station. [As a sidenote this little cove proved to be a great anchorage in 45 feet over a muddy bottom, one of the few shallow places within dinghy distance of Big Vairo Pass, supposedly one of the better waves in Tahiti and more mellow. GPS POS: 17˚48.49’S by 149˚17.64’W]
Unfortunately soon after leaving Teahupoo the wind picked up to fifteen knots, blowing sideshore and adding an unwanted chop to the good-sized sets that were rolling through Big Vairo Pass. After waiting unsuccessfully for the wind to die we paddled out for an afternoon session anyways. The surf was much more manageable than Teahupoo. Though still sizeable, there was a much gentler face and shoulder to be ridden after a steep drop. Though the good waves were hard to pick out of the jumbled mess the wind and swell had created, I had a fun session and caught a couple good waves. Adding to the enjoyment was the simple pleasure of watching the massive rooster tails sweeping off the big rights across the pass. The downside of the wind, coupled with the cooler water the swell churned up (81˚), was that after an hour and a half I had goosebumps on my arms and was conscious of being cold in the water for the first time since the Galapagos.
The following morning saw the arrival of Robyn’s Nest at the anchorage, and I was glad to hear they had come into a good swell at Faaite just two days after Mike and I left. With their arrival came the passing of a weather front over the island (same as had happened on the day I arrived in Tahiti a couple weeks earlier), which brought with it thirty knot southwest winds and periods of heavy rain. The front brought four days of lousy weather during which Windekind decided to brave and return to Papeete while Robyn’s Nest and I hunkered down in our little cove. I awoke on day two of the nasty westerly weather with a sore throat, beginning what has been a five day sickness to date. My sickness still lingers on, perhaps accounting for the fact that I can’t find any sort of writing rhythm in this damned blog. Sorry about that, but I wanted to get it out in spite of this.
After a few days of waiting out the weather, while still feeling sick, I decided to brave the conditions and return to Papeete in search of medicine. Despite periods of thirty knot winds and no autopilot that could cope with the eight foot swells I made it back to Papeete on the evening of July 1. I entered the Papeete Pass as the sun set, and awaited permission to use the Faaa Chanel for fifteen minutes while planes came in low overhead. The harbor authority finally gave me the go-ahead and I scurried along before the next plane came in to the channel-side runway. I carefully followed the channel markers around a bend in the reef to the opposite end of the runway where I tucked into a cove off the Intercontinental Resort (formerly the Beach Comber) and dropped the hook in the dark; collapsing in my bunk moments later.
Yesterday I moved back to the normal anchorage off Marina Taina and made it to a pharmacy where I picked up a couple medicines which, though everything is written in French, I was told will help me. After a day of medicating I’m beginning to feel better and am hopeful that the fourth of July will see a return to my former good health. Either way I’ll be taking it easy till I recover fully, because being sick in the tropics is no fun.
Again, sorry for the disjointed, choppy writing and lack of rhythm to this blog; I’m attributing it to my sickness and the medication-induced drowsiness and malaise. I’ll be posting more pictures soon at www.flickr.com/photos/avventura.
lunes, 2 de julio de 2007
Tahitian Exploration Part I
2007, June 25. Monday.
With Mike’s departure my run as a solo sailor began. As a way to ease into this, and in search of a refuge from the exhaust fumes, traffic jams, and money-spending opportunities of Papeete I’ve tagged along with the Santa Barbara surfers on Windekind the past couple weeks paying a visit to Moorea and exploring the west coast of Tahiti. This has also had the added advantage of surfing with other familiar faces in the water, always a welcome thing in the heavy waves the Society Islands produce.
On June 16 Avventura followed Windekind (a Sundeer 56) out the Taapuna Pass and south along the Tahitian coast bound for Teahupoo. A small swell was set to hit the following day, and it seemed like the perfect chance for me to surf the famous wave. As we approached Pointe Maraa the wind started blowing twenty knots on the nose, so rather than beat into it we changed our destination to Moorea. After a few hours of sailing I entered the Matauvau Pass and dropped the hook on the steep slope of a sand bank in thirty feet of water. Inside the lagoon all was calm and we were the only two boats in sight.
Moorea rivals the Marquesas in terms of its dramatic beauty. The island juts up from the peaceful waters of its lagoons into rugged spires and pinnacles, covered in dense vegetation and with but a few houses dotted along the coastal road. The anchorage in the deep blue waters of the lagoon was bordered by a shallow shelf of sand about 7 feet deep, appearing almost white in the midday sun. What’s more, the Matauvau Pass has a nice left which sweeps into the pass itself and, unlike many waves in the region, lets you off in deeper water away from the reef. I spent a couple nights anchored here, surfing three times in fun, chest-high surf with usually ten other people out. Unfortunately the damned internet surf forecasters were wrong—the swell never hit, so with more work to be done on Avventura, I returned to Papeete on Monday afternoon.
Five days of work and crowds in Papeete and I was anxious to leave again. A small swell provided some fun surf on the Taapuna Pass (yet another good, hollow left which, on my first session out buckled my lone big-wave board), but being the closest wave to the capital it was always crowded. So after the arrival of two more people on Windekind (Now there are 5: the captain, Eric, his two brothers Garland and Austin, Will [who was on board with Eric when we met in the Galapagos], and Danny.), and with hopes of surf in the coming days we took off through the Taapuna Pass on the morning of June 23, slowly heading in the direction of Teahupoo.
After an hour of motoring with no wind, as I neared Pointe Maraa the wind once again picked up to twenty knots on the nose. With our first anchorage tucked just around the point Avventura continued to pound into the wind and swells for an hour before arriving at the Maraa Pass. Eric came out in the dinghy to explain the entrance to me and I set the hook inside the lagoon in 53 feet of water with all the chain I carry out (250 feet). After relaxing for a couple hours I grabbed my board and headed out for an afternoon session with Eric and his brother Austin. The pass is known for its right, but with the wind and swell direction the left was setting up better ands we traded off overhead sets, surfing by ourselves. As the sun sank into the sea we caught waves in and returned to our respective boats. In the evening I headed over to Windekind for a card game before returning to Avventura for a peaceful night’s rest.
As the sun rose on a new day I picked up anchor and motored out the Maraa Pass, bound for points further south. The wind was still howling from the direction I needed to go, but with the next anchorage around a dozen miles away I sailed off-shore in the twenty knot breeze for five miles before tacking back towards shore. Unfortunately the wind dropped as soon as I tacked and before long I was motorsailing towards the Tapuaeraha Pass. I arrived over an hour after Windekind and dropped the hook in a little cove perfect for one boat in 45 feet of water with no wind at all. As soon as the hook was set I put my board in the dinghy and headed over to Windekind to see who wanted to surf. Will and I headed out first, to be joined later by Eric and 15-year-old Austin. The wave is reputed to be one of the longer and more mellow lefts in Tahiti, but the current swell had more west in it and the waves were breaking fast and hollow over a very shallow coral reef. Austin continued to live up to his new-found reputation as a reef-seeker, winding up caught inside on the reef a number of times leaving those of us in the line-up to cringe. Somehow he came out unscathed every time, and when the next wave came he’d take off without a hint of fear and go racing down the line backside.
The crowd thinned out as the afternoon wore on and every now and again a good, just overhead set would roll through providing long, fun waves. Riding the 6’ 6” Mike left behind in preparation for Teahupoo, I was somewhat out of my element and learning to surf all over again. By the end of the session I was getting in a handful of turns on the waves and pulling into a couple little tubes, always mindful of the shallow reef lurking just inside of me.
As night fell Windekind moved over and anchored near Avventura and I headed over for poker night. Being a poker rookie, I paid the 500-franc buy-in (about $6) just for fun, considering it cash out the window (a fair repayment for the tuna dinner I had on board the previous night). I never expected to win, but after winning a big pot by making a straight on the “river” I suddenly had a good size stack. Along the way I sold off chips to let people back in and once I had my 500 francs returned to me I played more aggressively, and somehow walked away with everybody’s money on a set of Jacks. Beginner’s luck to be sure, and I’ll save my winnings for the next poker night if I’m around for it.
With the dawn of a new day came the promise of a new wave to surf. Just after 9 o’clock Avventura followed Windekind through the at times narrow channel inside the lagoon to Passe Te-Ava Itii. We dropped the hook in 80 feet of water in the deep lagoon and again I was quick to grab my board and swing by Windekind to see who was ready to surf. Will, Austin and I were the first to head out to the rare Tahitian right. I took out my 7’ 2” for the first time since snapping a side fin off doing a turn at Taapuna, and on my fifth wave I took off too deep, pulled into the tube, and wound up caught inside for a set. I went to duck dive the second wave and felt my fins hit the reef. When I made it back to the line-up I checked and saw I was missing the center fin (I had left the center fin in from the old set, and am convinced the set was cursed). I surfed the rest of the session with a twinny, at first being more cautious, but by the end of the day I was taking off at the peak, trying to pull-in to backside tubes (unsuccessfully), and finishing off each wave with a sweeping cutback where my fins would slide out down the face. We had the entire two and a half hour session to ourselves, just the three Reiter brothers, Will and myself, trading off waves in a state of surfer’s bliss. The sun was out, the water was the perfect temperature, the wave broke in deeper water than the previous two had, and the rugged south Tahiti coastline fell into the calm waters of the lagoon where the two sailboats sat at anchor. By the end of the session the wind had picked up, allowing me a good opportunity to finally get this blog typed up. As for Teahupoo, the swell forecast calls for a small swell to hit tomorrow afternoon and a big one for the coming week. We will probably head that way tomorrow, and then probably make our way to a lesser wave for the big swell set for next week.
With Mike’s departure my run as a solo sailor began. As a way to ease into this, and in search of a refuge from the exhaust fumes, traffic jams, and money-spending opportunities of Papeete I’ve tagged along with the Santa Barbara surfers on Windekind the past couple weeks paying a visit to Moorea and exploring the west coast of Tahiti. This has also had the added advantage of surfing with other familiar faces in the water, always a welcome thing in the heavy waves the Society Islands produce.
On June 16 Avventura followed Windekind (a Sundeer 56) out the Taapuna Pass and south along the Tahitian coast bound for Teahupoo. A small swell was set to hit the following day, and it seemed like the perfect chance for me to surf the famous wave. As we approached Pointe Maraa the wind started blowing twenty knots on the nose, so rather than beat into it we changed our destination to Moorea. After a few hours of sailing I entered the Matauvau Pass and dropped the hook on the steep slope of a sand bank in thirty feet of water. Inside the lagoon all was calm and we were the only two boats in sight.
Moorea rivals the Marquesas in terms of its dramatic beauty. The island juts up from the peaceful waters of its lagoons into rugged spires and pinnacles, covered in dense vegetation and with but a few houses dotted along the coastal road. The anchorage in the deep blue waters of the lagoon was bordered by a shallow shelf of sand about 7 feet deep, appearing almost white in the midday sun. What’s more, the Matauvau Pass has a nice left which sweeps into the pass itself and, unlike many waves in the region, lets you off in deeper water away from the reef. I spent a couple nights anchored here, surfing three times in fun, chest-high surf with usually ten other people out. Unfortunately the damned internet surf forecasters were wrong—the swell never hit, so with more work to be done on Avventura, I returned to Papeete on Monday afternoon.
Five days of work and crowds in Papeete and I was anxious to leave again. A small swell provided some fun surf on the Taapuna Pass (yet another good, hollow left which, on my first session out buckled my lone big-wave board), but being the closest wave to the capital it was always crowded. So after the arrival of two more people on Windekind (Now there are 5: the captain, Eric, his two brothers Garland and Austin, Will [who was on board with Eric when we met in the Galapagos], and Danny.), and with hopes of surf in the coming days we took off through the Taapuna Pass on the morning of June 23, slowly heading in the direction of Teahupoo.
After an hour of motoring with no wind, as I neared Pointe Maraa the wind once again picked up to twenty knots on the nose. With our first anchorage tucked just around the point Avventura continued to pound into the wind and swells for an hour before arriving at the Maraa Pass. Eric came out in the dinghy to explain the entrance to me and I set the hook inside the lagoon in 53 feet of water with all the chain I carry out (250 feet). After relaxing for a couple hours I grabbed my board and headed out for an afternoon session with Eric and his brother Austin. The pass is known for its right, but with the wind and swell direction the left was setting up better ands we traded off overhead sets, surfing by ourselves. As the sun sank into the sea we caught waves in and returned to our respective boats. In the evening I headed over to Windekind for a card game before returning to Avventura for a peaceful night’s rest.
As the sun rose on a new day I picked up anchor and motored out the Maraa Pass, bound for points further south. The wind was still howling from the direction I needed to go, but with the next anchorage around a dozen miles away I sailed off-shore in the twenty knot breeze for five miles before tacking back towards shore. Unfortunately the wind dropped as soon as I tacked and before long I was motorsailing towards the Tapuaeraha Pass. I arrived over an hour after Windekind and dropped the hook in a little cove perfect for one boat in 45 feet of water with no wind at all. As soon as the hook was set I put my board in the dinghy and headed over to Windekind to see who wanted to surf. Will and I headed out first, to be joined later by Eric and 15-year-old Austin. The wave is reputed to be one of the longer and more mellow lefts in Tahiti, but the current swell had more west in it and the waves were breaking fast and hollow over a very shallow coral reef. Austin continued to live up to his new-found reputation as a reef-seeker, winding up caught inside on the reef a number of times leaving those of us in the line-up to cringe. Somehow he came out unscathed every time, and when the next wave came he’d take off without a hint of fear and go racing down the line backside.
The crowd thinned out as the afternoon wore on and every now and again a good, just overhead set would roll through providing long, fun waves. Riding the 6’ 6” Mike left behind in preparation for Teahupoo, I was somewhat out of my element and learning to surf all over again. By the end of the session I was getting in a handful of turns on the waves and pulling into a couple little tubes, always mindful of the shallow reef lurking just inside of me.
As night fell Windekind moved over and anchored near Avventura and I headed over for poker night. Being a poker rookie, I paid the 500-franc buy-in (about $6) just for fun, considering it cash out the window (a fair repayment for the tuna dinner I had on board the previous night). I never expected to win, but after winning a big pot by making a straight on the “river” I suddenly had a good size stack. Along the way I sold off chips to let people back in and once I had my 500 francs returned to me I played more aggressively, and somehow walked away with everybody’s money on a set of Jacks. Beginner’s luck to be sure, and I’ll save my winnings for the next poker night if I’m around for it.
With the dawn of a new day came the promise of a new wave to surf. Just after 9 o’clock Avventura followed Windekind through the at times narrow channel inside the lagoon to Passe Te-Ava Itii. We dropped the hook in 80 feet of water in the deep lagoon and again I was quick to grab my board and swing by Windekind to see who was ready to surf. Will, Austin and I were the first to head out to the rare Tahitian right. I took out my 7’ 2” for the first time since snapping a side fin off doing a turn at Taapuna, and on my fifth wave I took off too deep, pulled into the tube, and wound up caught inside for a set. I went to duck dive the second wave and felt my fins hit the reef. When I made it back to the line-up I checked and saw I was missing the center fin (I had left the center fin in from the old set, and am convinced the set was cursed). I surfed the rest of the session with a twinny, at first being more cautious, but by the end of the day I was taking off at the peak, trying to pull-in to backside tubes (unsuccessfully), and finishing off each wave with a sweeping cutback where my fins would slide out down the face. We had the entire two and a half hour session to ourselves, just the three Reiter brothers, Will and myself, trading off waves in a state of surfer’s bliss. The sun was out, the water was the perfect temperature, the wave broke in deeper water than the previous two had, and the rugged south Tahiti coastline fell into the calm waters of the lagoon where the two sailboats sat at anchor. By the end of the session the wind had picked up, allowing me a good opportunity to finally get this blog typed up. As for Teahupoo, the swell forecast calls for a small swell to hit tomorrow afternoon and a big one for the coming week. We will probably head that way tomorrow, and then probably make our way to a lesser wave for the big swell set for next week.
miércoles, 13 de junio de 2007
Faaite Heaven
2007, June 4. Monday—8:15 A.M.
Faaite. Your average atoll in many ways, skipped over by most “cruisers” on their way from the Marquesas to Tahiti. But for those of us cruising surfers it is heaven on earth. An atoll is formed after the crater of an extinct volcano slips beneath the surface of the sea and over millions of years a coral reef builds up on the rim of the crater till it protrudes from the sea with sandy islets called motus. Atolls are hazardous to navigation by the fact that the only things visible from afar are the coco palms that adorn the low sandy motus. Add to this the currents flowing both in and out of the atolls and between the various atolls of the Tuamotus, and it is no wonder the island chain was once known as the “Dangerous Archipelago” and avoided by sailors altogether. But in the modern age of GPS and electronic chart and tide programs the archipelago has become more accessible, so as the years pass more and more sailors stop off in the Tuamotus.
After a hectic five day sail down from the Marquesas, made interesting by squally winds the entire time ranging from a comfortable ten knots to an obnoxious 35 knots plus; on the afternoon of May 23 the coco palms of Kauehi Atoll rose from the sea to break the monotony of putting in and shaking out reefs with the passing squalls. Unfortunately our arrival at the atoll’s entrance was timed with the setting of the sun. To enter the reef passes without the sun overhead is dangerous because it makes spotting the coral heads more difficult, so after looking over the pass from the exterior I decided we’d push on to Faaite rather than wait outside for the night.
Faaite is unique in more ways than one. Its reef pass faces west and outside the pass is a shallow shelf of sand and coral that allows one to anchor outside the atoll in the lee of the main motu. Thus with the arrival of daylight Avventura settled in on her anchor just south of the main current roaring out of the atoll. With no swell in the water Mike and I spent the first few days exploring the various motus, snorkeling in the brilliant clear waters of the lagoon and its pass (visibility over 80 feet), and getting to know the friendly Polynesian inhabitants. A couple of the local surfers introduced us around, and since they were the only two English speakers on the atoll, Francois and Carmen became fast friends. Francois works for one of the two surf charter boats that run around the archipelago, and he also seems to be related to everybody on the island which made him a good friend to have. One afternoon he introduced us to the “local beer,” a hideous concoction allowed to ferment for three months till it was somewhere between beer and rum. We gathered with a group of local men in the shade of a tree overlooking the lagoon drinking, learning a bit of Paumotu (“ma-ru-ru,” thank you; and “ai-ti-ta-paea,” your welcome) and talking with the group in broken English.
Faaite began to show its true colors one Tuesday morning when a south swell began to trickle in and the reef pass came to life. A beautiful little left began to peel over the shallow coral reef of the south side of the pass while a scary right-hander dumped on the north side of the pass in front of a nasty patch of dry reef. Later in the morning, after my first taste of the fast, hollow left, a huge power-cat charter boat showed up with big “O’Neil” stickers plastered all over it. It turned out to have eight pro surfers on board out here on what is called “O’Neil—The Mission,” a week-long “free-surfing contest.” Among the surfers on board were Ian Walsh, Roy Powers, Raimando (a Tahitian known for towing in at big Teahapoo), Australian Derek Howse, a young French surfer, a 17-year-old Maui kid named Clay who was really good, and a few others I never met. Also on board were some 26 members of the “media” along for the ride. All of a sudden the perfect empty waves had a crowd waiting.
The swell arrived right on cue the next day and, lucky for me, the pros decided to surf the gnarly right (7 of 8 were regular-footers), leaving the left for me to share with a handful of media members and a couple locals on boogie-boards. For the first time in my life I was introduced to a true South Pacific gem of a wave, a fast hollow left breaking over a shallow coral reef with the same shape every time and two separate tube sections that could be connected all the way through on the good sets. Over the next three days I caught more great waves and more clean barrels than I ever have before. The swell peaked at 6–8 feet, and for a couple hours I had it to myself with the pros and media all filming over on the right. I surfed two straight 8-hour days, and after another three-hour session on the third day I could no longer paddle from fatigue and rashes.
The swell backed off Friday as the pros left the atoll in our hands once more. Throughout their stay they had been exceedingly nice, especially Raimando and Derek Howse, both of whom I talked to for quite a while. Howse was really interested in my voyage and said his father was thinking of buying a sailboat on the east coast of the USA and sailing it back to Oz. Raimando served as the event host since he was the local of thr group. He always had a huge grin and called me into many a set wave, including my first legitimate barrel of the South Seas. He also provided some good information about surfspots in Tahiti and the Society Islands.
Despite how nice they all were I was glad to see the charter-cat leave with word that the swell would return on Saturday. Sure enough, the surf came up on cue and I surfed another 6 hours, just myself and Carmen (the self-proclaimed “barrel King of Faaite,” a statement he backed both on his boogie board and surfboard) surfing the biggest and best waves of the swell. We traded off sets, hooting the entire day as each of us ventured deeper into the pit and came out screaming. A few of the young local kids gathered on the inside shoulder on their boogie boards and every time I came out of a tube they’d give the “shaka” sign and say “Good wave!” I returned the shaka with a big grin, gave a hoot, and paddled back out for more. Never have I seen such beautiful emerald tubes forming one after the other, and to have the break virtually to myself was too good to be true. Another cruising boat had pulled up and anchored in the pass and they say they took some pictures, so if I get them I’ll be sure to post them ASAP. In the end I got the two biggest tubes of my life and the longest barrel-ride, at least four seconds connecting the two hollow sections.
Sunday saw the swell die out and it is back to waiting for the return of the surf, hoping it picks up before Saturday when we need to leave for Tahiti so Mike can make his June 14 flight home. For my part I'm thinking of returning to the Tuamotus after spending time in Tahiti making some much-needed repairs to Avventura, especially in fixing her autopilot and SSB tuner. But for now it’s another handful of days in paradise before we return to civilization.
Faaite. Your average atoll in many ways, skipped over by most “cruisers” on their way from the Marquesas to Tahiti. But for those of us cruising surfers it is heaven on earth. An atoll is formed after the crater of an extinct volcano slips beneath the surface of the sea and over millions of years a coral reef builds up on the rim of the crater till it protrudes from the sea with sandy islets called motus. Atolls are hazardous to navigation by the fact that the only things visible from afar are the coco palms that adorn the low sandy motus. Add to this the currents flowing both in and out of the atolls and between the various atolls of the Tuamotus, and it is no wonder the island chain was once known as the “Dangerous Archipelago” and avoided by sailors altogether. But in the modern age of GPS and electronic chart and tide programs the archipelago has become more accessible, so as the years pass more and more sailors stop off in the Tuamotus.
After a hectic five day sail down from the Marquesas, made interesting by squally winds the entire time ranging from a comfortable ten knots to an obnoxious 35 knots plus; on the afternoon of May 23 the coco palms of Kauehi Atoll rose from the sea to break the monotony of putting in and shaking out reefs with the passing squalls. Unfortunately our arrival at the atoll’s entrance was timed with the setting of the sun. To enter the reef passes without the sun overhead is dangerous because it makes spotting the coral heads more difficult, so after looking over the pass from the exterior I decided we’d push on to Faaite rather than wait outside for the night.
Faaite is unique in more ways than one. Its reef pass faces west and outside the pass is a shallow shelf of sand and coral that allows one to anchor outside the atoll in the lee of the main motu. Thus with the arrival of daylight Avventura settled in on her anchor just south of the main current roaring out of the atoll. With no swell in the water Mike and I spent the first few days exploring the various motus, snorkeling in the brilliant clear waters of the lagoon and its pass (visibility over 80 feet), and getting to know the friendly Polynesian inhabitants. A couple of the local surfers introduced us around, and since they were the only two English speakers on the atoll, Francois and Carmen became fast friends. Francois works for one of the two surf charter boats that run around the archipelago, and he also seems to be related to everybody on the island which made him a good friend to have. One afternoon he introduced us to the “local beer,” a hideous concoction allowed to ferment for three months till it was somewhere between beer and rum. We gathered with a group of local men in the shade of a tree overlooking the lagoon drinking, learning a bit of Paumotu (“ma-ru-ru,” thank you; and “ai-ti-ta-paea,” your welcome) and talking with the group in broken English.
Faaite began to show its true colors one Tuesday morning when a south swell began to trickle in and the reef pass came to life. A beautiful little left began to peel over the shallow coral reef of the south side of the pass while a scary right-hander dumped on the north side of the pass in front of a nasty patch of dry reef. Later in the morning, after my first taste of the fast, hollow left, a huge power-cat charter boat showed up with big “O’Neil” stickers plastered all over it. It turned out to have eight pro surfers on board out here on what is called “O’Neil—The Mission,” a week-long “free-surfing contest.” Among the surfers on board were Ian Walsh, Roy Powers, Raimando (a Tahitian known for towing in at big Teahapoo), Australian Derek Howse, a young French surfer, a 17-year-old Maui kid named Clay who was really good, and a few others I never met. Also on board were some 26 members of the “media” along for the ride. All of a sudden the perfect empty waves had a crowd waiting.
The swell arrived right on cue the next day and, lucky for me, the pros decided to surf the gnarly right (7 of 8 were regular-footers), leaving the left for me to share with a handful of media members and a couple locals on boogie-boards. For the first time in my life I was introduced to a true South Pacific gem of a wave, a fast hollow left breaking over a shallow coral reef with the same shape every time and two separate tube sections that could be connected all the way through on the good sets. Over the next three days I caught more great waves and more clean barrels than I ever have before. The swell peaked at 6–8 feet, and for a couple hours I had it to myself with the pros and media all filming over on the right. I surfed two straight 8-hour days, and after another three-hour session on the third day I could no longer paddle from fatigue and rashes.
The swell backed off Friday as the pros left the atoll in our hands once more. Throughout their stay they had been exceedingly nice, especially Raimando and Derek Howse, both of whom I talked to for quite a while. Howse was really interested in my voyage and said his father was thinking of buying a sailboat on the east coast of the USA and sailing it back to Oz. Raimando served as the event host since he was the local of thr group. He always had a huge grin and called me into many a set wave, including my first legitimate barrel of the South Seas. He also provided some good information about surfspots in Tahiti and the Society Islands.
Despite how nice they all were I was glad to see the charter-cat leave with word that the swell would return on Saturday. Sure enough, the surf came up on cue and I surfed another 6 hours, just myself and Carmen (the self-proclaimed “barrel King of Faaite,” a statement he backed both on his boogie board and surfboard) surfing the biggest and best waves of the swell. We traded off sets, hooting the entire day as each of us ventured deeper into the pit and came out screaming. A few of the young local kids gathered on the inside shoulder on their boogie boards and every time I came out of a tube they’d give the “shaka” sign and say “Good wave!” I returned the shaka with a big grin, gave a hoot, and paddled back out for more. Never have I seen such beautiful emerald tubes forming one after the other, and to have the break virtually to myself was too good to be true. Another cruising boat had pulled up and anchored in the pass and they say they took some pictures, so if I get them I’ll be sure to post them ASAP. In the end I got the two biggest tubes of my life and the longest barrel-ride, at least four seconds connecting the two hollow sections.
Sunday saw the swell die out and it is back to waiting for the return of the surf, hoping it picks up before Saturday when we need to leave for Tahiti so Mike can make his June 14 flight home. For my part I'm thinking of returning to the Tuamotus after spending time in Tahiti making some much-needed repairs to Avventura, especially in fixing her autopilot and SSB tuner. But for now it’s another handful of days in paradise before we return to civilization.
miércoles, 16 de mayo de 2007
Magical Marquesas
The Marquesas have been little short of magical. Thousand foot cliffs dive into the ocean as often as beaches dot the Costa Rican coastline. Lush valleys cut into the rugged interior of the islands filled with coco palms, mango trees, banana trees, grapefruit and lime trees, breadfruit trees, and other trees bearing delicious fruits I still don’t know the names of. The trades blow steadily at sea, but most anchorages have been surprisingly well-protected. The air temperature hovers around the mid-eighties while the water is a perfect 83 in the ocean and a delicious low 70s or so in the inland streams. And these lush, stunning islands are inhabited by under 10,000 people in total (or so I’d guess). Even Taiohae, the capital city of the group, has just 2 small grocery stores, 1 bank, 1 police station with a handful of employees, and under 2500 inhabitants. I’ve yet to come across a local who didn’t return a greeting or give a friendly smile, and despite the tragic language barrier the Polynesians still come off as some of the nicest people in the world.
Remote. Dramatic. Stunning. Lush. Warm. Such are the best words I came come upon to describe these islands. Their remoteness has been their greatest blessing, and at times feels like my greatest enemy (only because all communications are via satellite and thus very expensive, including the slow internet connection here). Being 700 miles and a $700 flight from Tahiti has prevented the tourist invasion from reaching these islands. Nature still reigns supreme. The interior of many islands remain inaccessible, the beaches are deserted (partially due to the nonos which tend to terrorize cruisers but frequently leave me alone—I guess I must smell really bad), mangoes fall to the ground to rot, coconuts are swept down gentle streams, packs of wild horses roam freely, and the locals still smile at us voyagers who do pass through.
After our stay on Fatu Hiva and stop in Atuona (where I posted the last blog if memory serves) Avventura called at the island of Tahuata, returned to the northwest coast of Hiva Oa, checked in at Oa Pou, and sailed up here to Nuku Hiva. At every anchorage there has come a time when I think it is perhaps the most beautiful place I have ever visited. Each place has its own striking, unique beauty. On Tahuata it was the calm clear waters of Hanamoenoa Bay with its shimmering white sand beach lined with coco palms and without any inhabitants. Here we snorkeled with a vast array of tropical fish, and once thirst set in we opened coconuts on the beach, squeezed in some fresh lime juice from a tree inland, and quenched our thirst before returning to the inviting waters to cool off once more. The beauty of Hanamenu Bay, Hiva Oa came from stealing dozens of fallen mangoes from the herds of wild horses who fed on them, from bodywhomping the head high waves at a beach nearby, and failing to overcome my fickle fear of heights some twenty-five feet up a thirty-five foot high coco palm. Instead we settled for the milk and meat of freshly-fallen nuts. Here Mike came across our first wild breadfruits and we were introduced to the tasty “Polynesian potatoes.” Here also we savored Trinda’s homemade key lime pie aboard Katie Lee before sailing away in the black of night for a great overnight run to Oa Pou where we arrived in water where I could see rocks on the bottom 95 feet down according to my depth sounder.
Oa Pou saw the crew of Avventura wipe the dust off their surfboards and paddle into a few small lefts at a break right beside the anchorage. We also sought local advice and went on a couple unsuccessful adventures in search of better waves (I’m sure there must be a wave in the last bay on the north end of the windward side of the island, though we never did make it there.). The first wave search was by dinghy to the gorgeous, empty bay just east of the anchorage at Hakaha where we bodywhomped small shorebreak in crystal clear water. The second adventure took us on a hike, and when we apparently took a wrong turn we ended up on the road to the very bay we had visited by dinghy. Instead of returning we hiked up to the cross for a splendid view of the anchorage and town before calling it a day.
A nice daysail brought us to the island of Nuku Hiva where we made landfall in Comptroleur Bay and dropped the hook in the middle finger of the bay where, over a century and a half earlier, Herman Melville deserted the whaling ship Acushnet and lived amongst the locals in the valley of Taipivai. From these experience came Moby Dick and Typee. We anchored well off the small town all by our lonesome and spent just 24 hours exploring the surroundings. We hiked up what is perhaps the most beautiful valley I’ve come across, cut by a large stream and filled with coco palms between two steep sides, and visited our first old Marquesan sacred site. In a grassy clearing in the hills above the valley 3 structures were erected out of lava rocks, all platforms where religious ceremonies must have taken place, and all adorned with tikis, stone carvings of the Marquesans’s gods, and strikingly similar (especially according to Thor Heyerdahl, see Fatu Hiva) to the larger stone figures of Easter Island. Back down at sea level I collected a bottle of sand from both the black sand beach at the base of the bay and a white sand beach half way out the west point where we also collected cowry shells and I saw my first Marquesan wavy-top shells (the only place other than southern California I can remember coming across them).
The past few days we’ve spent anchored off the capital in the bay of Taiohae. The first day I ventured ashore and hiked up the hillside to another Marquesan sacred site before carrying on up a small path, collecting mangoes and breadfruit along the way, and ever winding higher till I reached a glorious view of the bay below. Before long the path connected with the main road and I walked higher till the road began to curve off towards Taipivai and a car came by heading back to Taiohae. I stuck out my thumb and the truck pulled over (I have hitched rides about 7 times in the Marquesas, and have never had a car drive past when I stuck out my thumb. Twice I was picked up without sticking out a thumb. The people are so friendly you don’t think twice about accepting or asking for a ride from a total stranger.) and I hopped in the back, returning to sea level in fifteen minutes after a two hour uphill hike. Since then my time has been mostly spent working on Avventura. I spent a day and a half repairing the mainsail, re-stitching areas where the stitching chafed through on the crossing (my fingers are still numb); learned my tuner is broken beyond the point where I can fix it; changed the fuel and oil filters, and in the process discovered a leak in the engine’s cooling system which I traced to a leaky hose in the back of the ship’s water heater which took nearly 6 hours to diagnose and fix. My to-do list remains long, but it feels like time to move on so tomorrow we’ll weigh anchor and head around the point to Daniel’s Bay where I can knock off a few more items.
The Marquesas have exceeded all of my high expectations, and I have enjoyed my time here thoroughly. The lone drawback seems to be the lack of surf. We have heard there is a wave at Daniel’s Bay and are anxious to see if we find anything; but mostly I look forward to the reef passes of the Tuamotus where there should be waves. The plan is for 3 nights at Daniel’s Bay before making our way down to the Tuamotus (500 miles away), with perhaps a stop first on Oa Pou’s leeward side. Plan is to stop at as many as 6 atolls: Kauehi, Faaite (surf), Fakarava (surf), Apataki (surf), Ahe, and Rangiroa (possibly surf) before heading for Tahiti. I extended my visa today and now have until August 15 before I have to be out of French Polynesia. I plan to use every bit of that time exploring the beauty of these islands. As my SSB Radio will be out of commission till Tahiti at least I cannot guarantee I will be able to keep in touch or even update position reports, but I will do my best. Till then fair winds and following to seas to everybody on the water and Pura Vida.
PS This was written in haste and not spellchecked or re-written, so please accept my apologies for any errors in advance. It’s after 9 p.m. which is late for us “cruisers.”
Remote. Dramatic. Stunning. Lush. Warm. Such are the best words I came come upon to describe these islands. Their remoteness has been their greatest blessing, and at times feels like my greatest enemy (only because all communications are via satellite and thus very expensive, including the slow internet connection here). Being 700 miles and a $700 flight from Tahiti has prevented the tourist invasion from reaching these islands. Nature still reigns supreme. The interior of many islands remain inaccessible, the beaches are deserted (partially due to the nonos which tend to terrorize cruisers but frequently leave me alone—I guess I must smell really bad), mangoes fall to the ground to rot, coconuts are swept down gentle streams, packs of wild horses roam freely, and the locals still smile at us voyagers who do pass through.
After our stay on Fatu Hiva and stop in Atuona (where I posted the last blog if memory serves) Avventura called at the island of Tahuata, returned to the northwest coast of Hiva Oa, checked in at Oa Pou, and sailed up here to Nuku Hiva. At every anchorage there has come a time when I think it is perhaps the most beautiful place I have ever visited. Each place has its own striking, unique beauty. On Tahuata it was the calm clear waters of Hanamoenoa Bay with its shimmering white sand beach lined with coco palms and without any inhabitants. Here we snorkeled with a vast array of tropical fish, and once thirst set in we opened coconuts on the beach, squeezed in some fresh lime juice from a tree inland, and quenched our thirst before returning to the inviting waters to cool off once more. The beauty of Hanamenu Bay, Hiva Oa came from stealing dozens of fallen mangoes from the herds of wild horses who fed on them, from bodywhomping the head high waves at a beach nearby, and failing to overcome my fickle fear of heights some twenty-five feet up a thirty-five foot high coco palm. Instead we settled for the milk and meat of freshly-fallen nuts. Here Mike came across our first wild breadfruits and we were introduced to the tasty “Polynesian potatoes.” Here also we savored Trinda’s homemade key lime pie aboard Katie Lee before sailing away in the black of night for a great overnight run to Oa Pou where we arrived in water where I could see rocks on the bottom 95 feet down according to my depth sounder.
Oa Pou saw the crew of Avventura wipe the dust off their surfboards and paddle into a few small lefts at a break right beside the anchorage. We also sought local advice and went on a couple unsuccessful adventures in search of better waves (I’m sure there must be a wave in the last bay on the north end of the windward side of the island, though we never did make it there.). The first wave search was by dinghy to the gorgeous, empty bay just east of the anchorage at Hakaha where we bodywhomped small shorebreak in crystal clear water. The second adventure took us on a hike, and when we apparently took a wrong turn we ended up on the road to the very bay we had visited by dinghy. Instead of returning we hiked up to the cross for a splendid view of the anchorage and town before calling it a day.
A nice daysail brought us to the island of Nuku Hiva where we made landfall in Comptroleur Bay and dropped the hook in the middle finger of the bay where, over a century and a half earlier, Herman Melville deserted the whaling ship Acushnet and lived amongst the locals in the valley of Taipivai. From these experience came Moby Dick and Typee. We anchored well off the small town all by our lonesome and spent just 24 hours exploring the surroundings. We hiked up what is perhaps the most beautiful valley I’ve come across, cut by a large stream and filled with coco palms between two steep sides, and visited our first old Marquesan sacred site. In a grassy clearing in the hills above the valley 3 structures were erected out of lava rocks, all platforms where religious ceremonies must have taken place, and all adorned with tikis, stone carvings of the Marquesans’s gods, and strikingly similar (especially according to Thor Heyerdahl, see Fatu Hiva) to the larger stone figures of Easter Island. Back down at sea level I collected a bottle of sand from both the black sand beach at the base of the bay and a white sand beach half way out the west point where we also collected cowry shells and I saw my first Marquesan wavy-top shells (the only place other than southern California I can remember coming across them).
The past few days we’ve spent anchored off the capital in the bay of Taiohae. The first day I ventured ashore and hiked up the hillside to another Marquesan sacred site before carrying on up a small path, collecting mangoes and breadfruit along the way, and ever winding higher till I reached a glorious view of the bay below. Before long the path connected with the main road and I walked higher till the road began to curve off towards Taipivai and a car came by heading back to Taiohae. I stuck out my thumb and the truck pulled over (I have hitched rides about 7 times in the Marquesas, and have never had a car drive past when I stuck out my thumb. Twice I was picked up without sticking out a thumb. The people are so friendly you don’t think twice about accepting or asking for a ride from a total stranger.) and I hopped in the back, returning to sea level in fifteen minutes after a two hour uphill hike. Since then my time has been mostly spent working on Avventura. I spent a day and a half repairing the mainsail, re-stitching areas where the stitching chafed through on the crossing (my fingers are still numb); learned my tuner is broken beyond the point where I can fix it; changed the fuel and oil filters, and in the process discovered a leak in the engine’s cooling system which I traced to a leaky hose in the back of the ship’s water heater which took nearly 6 hours to diagnose and fix. My to-do list remains long, but it feels like time to move on so tomorrow we’ll weigh anchor and head around the point to Daniel’s Bay where I can knock off a few more items.
The Marquesas have exceeded all of my high expectations, and I have enjoyed my time here thoroughly. The lone drawback seems to be the lack of surf. We have heard there is a wave at Daniel’s Bay and are anxious to see if we find anything; but mostly I look forward to the reef passes of the Tuamotus where there should be waves. The plan is for 3 nights at Daniel’s Bay before making our way down to the Tuamotus (500 miles away), with perhaps a stop first on Oa Pou’s leeward side. Plan is to stop at as many as 6 atolls: Kauehi, Faaite (surf), Fakarava (surf), Apataki (surf), Ahe, and Rangiroa (possibly surf) before heading for Tahiti. I extended my visa today and now have until August 15 before I have to be out of French Polynesia. I plan to use every bit of that time exploring the beauty of these islands. As my SSB Radio will be out of commission till Tahiti at least I cannot guarantee I will be able to keep in touch or even update position reports, but I will do my best. Till then fair winds and following to seas to everybody on the water and Pura Vida.
PS This was written in haste and not spellchecked or re-written, so please accept my apologies for any errors in advance. It’s after 9 p.m. which is late for us “cruisers.”
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