Being a long passage (i.e. over 2 weeks) rookie, I am learning the tricks of the trade.

1 Provision with fun food
I am now into baking, a phenomenon that is unlikely to continue at altitudes of more than zero feet. I am looking forward to making pretzels and enjoyed baking the Irish soda bread. Also have easy to eat food for when the passage gets ugly.

2 You will get your Sea Legs
As the days pass you do get more comfortable with the motion. I better anticipate the waves shepherding me into the sides of the boat. I have gotten comfortable with sleeping in spurts. I constantly feel a bit tired like I am on the third leg of a long series of connecting flights. Ignoring the discomfort, I focus on the positives. The ocean views, the fresh air, the warm equatorial sun and a nice book are all perks of the passage.

3 Pace yourself
Early in a passage it is easy to burn out. Captains try to stay on top of every detail. Relax a bit. Outsource some. Stay on top of the key issues. I like to have the maximum amount of sail area flying. However, this means I sleep with an eye open looking at the remote display on my iPhone. Not great for resting and enjoying life. Maybe I should take it down a notch?

4 Have fun doing some boat repair
Today we fixed a problem with the vang. One of the vang blocks had lost its ability to rotate. WD40 fixed that problem but I also added a pennant to the vang to shift it to a better location to avoid contact with the extrusion. I hog-ringed a new bit of bungee on the toe rail block. The last piece had been tied on and a strong gust untied the bungee. Gail and I patched some pinholes in the spinnaker. We used sail tape but when I see a sail maker I will have a proper patch sewn on.

5 Savor Night passages
Great time to sit on the back bench and observe the parade of stars. The nights are warm enough that even my thin blood does not require an extra layer. I situate myself away from the bright chartplotter screens and imagine that I am crossing the Pacific in a different era. A Polynesian, an early English explorer or a WWII ship.

6 Use water
We take fresh water showers on the back steps as the seas have been lumpy. There is a large storm far south of us creating abnormally large waves from the east. In the southern ocean the waves were mountains but during their many thousand mile trip to our location that have eroded to hills. We ran the washing machine, which is a must on long passages.

Random thoughts from Gail
Things that have made this passage enjoyable: Audiobooks. I get a headache if I read at sea so I downloaded a few audiobooks before we left. Books and music are great ways to pass the time. Now that we have a hydrogenerator, we can keep the inverter on more. This means coffee and iPhone charging are easy. I started using the Yellow Brick app to send text messages. It is great way to stay in touch with my Mom. I am learning how to better brace myself against the counters in the galley, although I sometimes still need an extra hand to hold the sautee pan on the stovetop.

Notes from the fleet
A few boats have caught very large Marlins. Some were released and some were kept for eating. The largest was reported to be 2 meters long, but I will need a photo to confirm that fishing story. No major dramas on the boats but a few main sails have been torn, a genset stopped working and a handful of autopilots are struggling with the beam seas. Yesterday I found 8 dead flying fish but was not as clever as one rally boat who ate the free bounty. A kid boat used squid that came aboard as a science project. Dissection for biology class and squid ink for art class.

Ups and Downs of a Long Passage

If you get annoyed waiting for an elevator or find the money machine too slow then a 3,000 mile passage is the right medicine. It will cure you of the “rush rush” anxiety. Miles come slowly on a sailboat and other times they come very slowly. On watches I tend to watch the bursting blue of the cresting waves, look at the complex clouds releasing energy and observe the feeding sea birds. This can occupy an entire 2 hour watch. The sea birds look carefree as they skim the surface of the ocean. However, I suspect a bird is terrified because one lost meal and they will perish in the remote ocean. The bird plays a dangerous game of hunting at sea where harbors and help are too far away to offer any hope. Two Fish and her crew know this fact as well but it is not discussed. Instead we carry spares, stay in contact with other boats and sail the boat conservatively. We do not want to be another sea bird statistic.

Two days ago we discovered an issue with the engine. It was a simple fix but consumed most of my day. Thankfully, Tim was on board coaching me through the problem. Tim does not get stressed. The engine room work was hot and by dinner time I was exhausted physically and emotionally. Robin had steered the boat wing on wing for most of the day, which is not easy. Gail made the most wonderful dinner along with some brownies to lift spirits during the day. Black bean burgers with homemade hummus and guacamole on homemade flat bread. Just writing about the meal makes me hungry. Each couple is in charge of the galley for 3 day periods. When we are not on galley duty, I refer to it as going out to dinner. Tim and Robin have prepared some great dishes (chicken curry with homemade naan, beer battered wahoo from the ocean and a pizza with homemade dough).

During watch my mind dwells on the massive size of the ocean. A wave passes by and lifts the hull of Two Fish. This wave came unfettered from the southern ocean 3,000 miles away. The height of the wave has dropped during the long trip north, the water temperature has risen and even the salinity has changed by a tiny amount. Like mammals owning the land the ocean is owned by the waves. Unstoppable and endless.

The ocean is rich in nutrients that feed an ecosystem. Early in the voyage we had freeloading red footed boobies as stowaways on the bow. For the past two weeks our stowaways are farther down the food chain. We had grass grow on the back steps. I went down the steps to remove the grass with a scrub brush and misjudged the grass’s slipperiness. I almost fell into the ocean. I held firmly to the arch while vigorously scrubbing. Darwin would observe that this grass has evolved to fight cruisers scrub brushes. The Galapagos was concerned about Two Fish importing non native species, but Gail has been more concerned with the Galapagos giving us species. A few moths and many waterline plants are the current tally of “gifts” from the Galapagos. Should I mail them back?

Last night we had a large electrical storm 15 miles away. It was due north so I was confident that it would move away from the path of Two Fish. Gail protected our back-up navigation equipment in the oven but changed to the microwave after concerns of the oven being still warm from dinner. A large series of rain clouds ruined the evening of sailing. We lost our wind, forcing us to motor. The waves were from an uncomfortable angle which caused me to swear a few times. The morning brought us clear skies and a wind determined to push us to Fatu Hiva.

I noticed some rust forming at the bow pulpit. Stainless steel rusts when far from the unlimited marina water. But this seemed to be rusting faster than usual since I had just polished the stainless in the Galapagos. During my nap I figured out that the power cable from the hyrdo-generator was creating enough amps to create a circuit with the lifelines. I removed the rust, re-polished the stainless and added foam insulation to keep the stray amps away from the handrails. I will monitor this modification.

We just changed the clocks, making this our third time zone change for this voyage. We will hold off on the last half hour change until we anchor. We have been sailing for 16 days. What milestones have passed in your world during the past fortnight? A new crisis at work, a friend’s birthday or the US election cycle. The good and the bad of our land lives does not make it across the waves to Two Fish. Instead we think of time in 3 day increments (galley rotation) and 6 hour increments (time to next watch). Our past weeks have been dominated by the wind. We talk of the wind all day as it drives our motion, ruins our sleep and is our livelihood. We are harvesting the wind. We busy our selves with checking for chafing lines, rigging issues and the fitness of our craft. She has sailed many miles and seems happiest at sea.

Other boats have had issues on the passage. The most serious is broken steering hydraulics. The factory back in France is trying to help the crew of the cat fix the problem. Luckily the autopilot is still working just fine, fingers crossed for them. We are still annoyed by having a broken wind instrument but all will be fixed soon.

We have chosen to go to Fatu Hiva but are hoping for a kinder island than the one Thor Heyerdahl experienced. He saw elphantitis and cannibals. Well actually just a single cannibal.

jason
www.twofishcat.com

Our 3,000 mile trip ended with a whimper. The breeze died out 40 miles from Fatu Hiva and we sparked up our engines. The passage was over and I had an odd feeling. Like a guest had left. Yes, it is nice to have peace and quiet, but I already missed our guest, the long passage.

Fatu Hiva’s harbor is dramatic. First named penis bay by the locals but renamed under pressure from the missionaries Bay of Virgins. The locals got it right as the bay is surrounded by phallic shaped rocks. The cone-shaped bay is carved out of a steep rock gorge resulting in frequent strong gusts. We were greeted by a few boats already in the harbor offering advice “don’t anchor near me”. One Speedo clad Frenchman had lots to say and proposed we anchor in a tiny space near the rocks with pounding surf. “C’est trop petite pour mois” (it is too small for me) was my reply. We slowly toured the harbor until we found a spot we liked. 25.5 meters deep. It takes forever for the anchor to touch the bottom. I called for 5 to 1 scope which is 125 meters of rode. Gail pressed the down button on the windlass for what seemed like an hour. We typically anchor in 5 meters so this was a big change. By the time we had let out all the required rode it seemed like our anchor was on another island. Gail did a great job tying a rolling hitch to the nylon rode from our anchor bridle. With the strong puffs the bridle makes the boat much more stable. After a few libations to celebrate the passage (lemonade) we then finished up our anchoring process by backing down on the anchor with the engines. Finally we tossed the diver (me) into the water. Because of the extreme depth I was in SCUBA mode. I followed the nylon rode down into the clean blue water. I felt like I was falling through the atmosphere of Neptune. Two yellowfin tuna swam by and gave me an incredulous look. I reached the bottom at 33 meters. 42 meters is the maximum suggested depth for a recreational diver. I continued to follow the anchor rode, which now had switched from nylon to 5/16 chain. The chain was lying on the upwardly sloping bottom. I was literally swimming uphill. Salmon may relate to that sentence more than humans. At the end of the long swim, I was greeted by an anchor securely stuck into a dark grey muddy sand mixture.

The next day we headed to shore for our first time on land in 19 days. Unlike astronauts, our legs worked just fine. Also, we did not feel the land moving like some folks experience after an afternoon sail. We went in search of a 100 foot waterfall but got lost in the two road town and instead went for a multi-hour uphill march. From the top we could see Two Fish and took the requisite boat owner photos. We noticed two things right away about Fatu Hiva. First, it is very clean. No trash in the culverts, all the lawns and roadsides are mowed and all the houses kept organized – even the coconut drying platforms. Secondly, the residents are friendly. We got a language lesson from one resident, an offer to come by another person’s house and were offered a ride during our arduous hike. I declined the ride before anyone in our party had second thoughts.

I have attached some photos to this post. It is hit or miss if the satellite will accept the data load. However, they do not do justice to the color green. Two-thirds of the island is green. But so many different greens. Many look like an amateur photographer’s Photoshop experiment. The greens are so vibrant that it can not be nature’s palette. Rothko should come here before painting a study of green.

We will stay here another day unless the authorities kick us out as we need to go to Hiva Oa to check into French Polynesia. I dread Hiva Oa because the swarm of rally boats together with a tiny harbor and required stern anchoring will surely give me some angst. I continue to moan about it, but the ARC oversold this rally. That is one of the reasons we did not follow the other 31 boats directly to Hiva Oa and blazed our own path to Fatu Hiva.

Our total transit time was about 18 days and 2 hours which is just shy of an Antares’ record. However I need to see if the record holder left from a closer island than our start. Actually, who cares. Great sail with a great crew. And Fatu Hiva is a special place because of the people, the green and the lack of an airport.

A Pae,
jason

www.twofishcat.com

Yesterday, there was a boat approaching our anchorage in distress on the VHF radio. It was a 35 foot Catalina, a boat designed for coastal day sailing and often maligned as a blue water boat. They had left Panama 38 days ago with a Captain and two crew. Fifteen days into the journey, the starboard inner shroud (holds up the mast) parted. There are additional shrouds that secure the mast so the rig did not fall down, but this is a perilous situation for a boat 1,000 miles from land and 2,000 miles from their destination. The crew used lines to secure the broken shroud and kept sailing towards the Marquesas with only a jib. The trip became a blur. The boat traveled at 4 knots and sometimes slower. The crew started forgetting the date and long ago ran out of their favorite provisions. Spirits stayed strong among the three men that had only met a week before setting sail. Then with only two days left to arrive in Hiva Oa, Marquesas, the port shroud failed. Again, a repair was fashioned before the mast came crashing down. The crew contacted the French Polynesian Coast Guard to inform the rescue services of their predicament and plan. However, this is not the Long Island Sound. While there was onshore coast guard presence, one of the monitors was a man in a building 1,000 miles away in Tahiti. When they got close to Hiva Oa, I launched One Fish to greet them and show them their way into the harbor. I did not help but it was a simple act of sailing fellowship. They were effusive with their thank you’s. I was the first new face in over a month. They asked a few questions and I responded on the radio. The emergency services guy 1,000 miles away then radio’d to tell me I was in violation of international law and faced possible fines for speaking on the emergency channel. I stopped speaking on the radio and shouted over to the boat. I was inspired to help by the actions of another catamaran from the same harbor.

The previous night a UK flagged catamaran was on the radio having a fit. Here are the facts that I pieced together leading to their radio outburst. At dusk a rally boat came into the crowded inner harbor, which is full of bow anchors, stern anchors and marker buoys for both anchors. It is a complex crowded mess of boats and lines. The new boat had a tough time anchoring and in the process wrapped a line around their rudder and prop. They lost control of their boat and slowly drifted into the UK cat. It was cocktail hour and the Brits were enjoying plenty of libations. They were rightfully shocked and annoyed by this contact. It is very disturbing and distressing to have a large object bump into one’s home. However, the UK cat’s next steps caused them to fall out of my favor. They got on the radio and yelled at rally control. Telling rally control that the offending skipper was incompetent. Basically they just vented with no purpose. Rally control asked several times what assistance was required and the only response from the UK cat was more complaining. Plenty of rally boats had launched their dinghy’s and were helping solve the problem. The UK cat was just creating a bunch of useless noise on the radio. They then stated that ALL rally boats were not good enough sailors to be allowed to anchor in this harbor. Rally boats were in his mind incompetent. Every captain has a bad day and needs a hand but this UK cat powered by booze had determined that he was better than all of us. Instead of yelling at him on the radio I decided to make a deposit in the Karma bank the next time I had a chance.

Enough harbor gossip. We left soon after the excitement and sailed overnight with just Gail and I. Our watch schedule was 4 hours Jason then 2 hours Gail. During the middle of my second watch I shouted out rain and Gail came on deck. I love the fact she is always willing to help. I was trying to install the enclosure and was thankful for the second set of hands. The breeze was freshening with the arrival of the rain squall. Gail also helped me switch the screecher for a single-reefed genoa. This squall was the first one to catch us after 2 hours of dodging squalls on the radar. I jibed, slowed the boat and changed course to avoid half a dozen other rain cells. This cell was too big to avoid. The rain came in buckets and in minutes our 5 gallon rain capture jug was full. The boom was acting like a downspout sending a torrent towards the base of the mast. After 30 minutes we sailed out of the cell. A few hours later and we sailed by Ua Pou island. It has a dramatic profile as if it was drawn by a cartoonist for the home of an evil sorcerer. The pointy spires were made more dramatic by the early morning light obscuring the colors. We sailed on to Nuku Hiva and found a perfect bay.

Daniel’s Bay has pond-like flat waters and many places to anchor. I am ok with the bugs as a cost for calm waters. The ARC has certain rendezvous harbors. They are chosen to optimize access to resources (laundry, food, wifi, fuel and boat parts). My advice is to minimize your time at these harbors as the romance of these harbors has been overtaken by commerce. Daniel’s Bay also offers a fantastic hike. One day I was paddle-boarding the harbor and a younger French couple waved hello. I paddled closer by to say Bonjour. As I approached, I realized he was in his birthday suit. We continued to chat and I learned they had sailed from Paris. Later in the day he came by Two Fish in his dinghy and caught me in my birthday suit as I was exiting the shower. It was decided, after I put on clothes, that we would hike the waterfall (cascade in French) together the next day. It was a memorable hike with dramatic scenery in a remote area. The waterfall is one of the highest in the world. The bay also has many types of rays which I have enjoyed watching while paddle-boarding. It is rumored to be a shark nursery and has thus curtailed my swimming activities.

Today was a work day on Two Fish. We changed 7 fuel filters (twin racors on port and starboard, 1 secondary on each engine, 1 racor for the genset). We also changed 4 filters for the water marker (25 micron, 5 micron, charcoal and fresh water flush filter). Our water is tasting great, especially since the new membrane. I also fixed the annoying fuel gauge on port only to have starboard act up in the afternoon. Must figure out a better way to secure spade electrical connectors that are shaken by the engine. The house batteries also got topped up with more water. We have ordered new engine starter batteries from a shop in Tahiti. I am a huge fan of preventive maintenance. Duct tape solutions just annoy me since you will only have to fix it again soon.

Our cockpit has a full enclosure which we have sung the praises of many times. Great in cold weather, rainy weather and breezy weather. We also own a replica of the enclosure made of only textaline. It makes our cockpit into a screened porch. After 2.5 years we finally installed the alternate enclosure. It is great for hot buggy days. We have guests for drinks tonight and will keep the enclosure installed for the buggy cocktail hours.

In one week we will leave the Marquesas. I hope we get a chance to buy a tapas, a local type of art. We will sail with friends from the yacht club to the Tuomotos. The rally has no set schedule so we can choose any of the 78 atolls. I will skip that atolls that are glowing with radiation from French nuclear tests. I state this with disdain but America has also ruined its share of South Pacific Islands. We have a Tuomotos plan but you will have to wait to see where we go on the tracker. By the end of April we should reach Tahiti. It will be our first Marina since the Caribbean. The boat will enjoy a thorough wash, the sails a bit of attention from the sailmaker, the batteries a trickle charge and Gail hop on/hop off access. Tahiti is halfway by days and 2/3rds by miles of our trip.

Very happy to be here. Hope your day is just as nice.

Photos are Gail in front of waterfall and Two Fish in an empty Daniel’s bay

jason
www.twofishcat.com

How do you provision your boat?
A buying spree at the box store or sourcing local food products? Our new French friends have a great ability to save money and eat healthy. They collect their own papaya, mangos, bananas, shrimp, crabs, fish, lobster and hot peppers. (I think some of this is a moral grey area driven by land ownership).
Others pick their own fruits and vegetables, but what impressed me with our friends was their purchase of a hen for fresh eggs. The previous time they tried this, while cruising Senegal, the plan failed because they bought a male. However this bird is also not producing eggs due to stress. The bulk of her life has been passage making over 3,000 miles of rolly seas. Tonight while at their boat for drinks we noticed that live crabs were trying to break out of the cage and attack the hen. I doubt the hen will ever become relaxed. I was tense aboard their boat when I was shown his collection of 8 spear guns. I was told such a large collection is necessary.
I really enjoy their company despite the fact that I understand about 30% of what they say in French. I did learn his previous job was driving the Metro for the line which stopped close to our autumn rental apartment. Small world.

Planing ahead for a problem?
Friends on a Maverick brand catamaran were describing their back up method for operating their windlass. They had a special handle created to operate the windlass manually. Our windlass has no manual operating mode, so if the motor dies then I must haul it up by hand. This got me thinking and I might have a solution. With the chain locker open I could use the self tacking jib sheet to raise the chain. The sheet has a shackle and I would attach a chain hook to the sheet. Then I would attach the hook to the chain where it exits the hausepipe and use the cockpit winch to pull up 3 feet of chain. Then apply the chain brake and move the hook 3 feet forward. A slow deliberate process but I think it would work. Better mousetrap?

Pilot Grounded
Today I took the drone for a spin. I took off from the bow and was practicing my hovering skills. A puff came. The copter slipped aft. I did not give it enough power. In slow motion I saw the blade catch the shroud and fall towards the deck. It came straight to me as if on the war path with the blades still spinning. I kept giving it the off signal but it took a while to respond. The good news is the copter survived but I will now try the spare blades. Gail was worried it might damage the shrouds that hold up the mast. No worries they did not even notice the impact. Steel beats plastic.

Landfall in the Marquesas was, for us, the beginning of our exploration of exotic islands. The Galapagos had choreographed crowds and Las Perlas had Jet Skis, both of which killed any sense of blazing a new trail. The vivid green palette of the Marquesan hillsides, the exceptionally welcoming people and the dramatic hilltops created a memorable two weeks. Unlike earlier explorers, we chose to explore Nuku Hiva in a manual transmission pick-up truck. After no discussion, I was elected driver, despite not having driven a stick in years. We stopped many times for hikes and “discovered” Tikis and other ruins. On the windward side of the island we stopped in a small village with friendly residents, spending their Sunday body surfing. In the local church, we read the hymn book in Marquesan and marveled at the beautiful wood lectern. A short stroll to the harbor revealed the dinghy dock from hell. The six foot swell would flip any dinghy and launch boat and occupants onto sharp rocks or hard concrete. The road became more difficult to drive as the day progressed. It narrowed, converted to rock and dirt soup and finally it became an impossibly steep stream. Gail finally convinced me that prudence called for a U-turn.

The next day, Jim and Theresa came aboard. They spent the day hiking to a waterfall that we had already explored. A good French word to know is “cascade” (waterfall). We did a few pre-passage chores: installed the Genoa that had had some stitching fail, replaced the wind instrument and 20-odd smaller items.

At 5:15 in the morning, the crew was woken up and we weighed anchor without issue. This gave us three and half days to travel 450 miles. We could have slept in but I like to be on the safe side since arrivals in the Tuamotus need to be scheduled with the light, tide and other variables.

The new skill we will develop in the Tuomotos is shooting the pass. The atolls have very strong tidal currents. They are driven by the moon, unusually large swell and winds stronger than 15 knots. The atoll has one or two gaps in the fringing reef. This creates a situation where the water is looking to exit, but can only return to the open sea through a small gap. The current can reach an astounding speed, challenging Two Fish’s top speed under motor of 9 knots. So, typical of Two Fish, we over-studied to determine our optimal strategy.
1) We downloaded a cruiser-built spreadsheet, the Guesstimator. It uses one island’s tidal data to calculate tidal data for all the atolls and passes. It also allows for adjustments due to winds and waves. I shared this sheet with our fellow rally members.
2) A non-rally boat friend told us the best passage time for our first atoll Raroia since he had entered the previous day.
3) We listened to an excellent teach-in on the passes given by a seasoned Tuamotus cruiser. His advice is: a) Always enter the pass in good light
b) Wear polarized lenses to see coral
c) Tack in front of the pass to look for standing waves. Use binoculars. d) If current is a problem, you may find relief close to the edge. e) Wait and try later if the pass seems too tough.

So our final exam arrived after a gentle three night passage. The wind and waves were light, setting us up for an easy transit. We were sailing at ambling speed to time our entry, when I heard the boat Silent Sun on the radio. I spoke with them and they gave me the advice that the pass should be fairly tame due to the light winds on that day. We decided to enter the atoll early. I was tentative at first and tried to find the calmest spot. Dead center was covered with some standing waves of small size (less than 3 feet). Crew were positioned at the bow looking for coral heads but the water was too rough and deep to see much. Gail was tracking our progress on Google Earth as another technique to look for coral heads. Lastly, we used our iPad Navionics charts, which are superior to the chart plotter’s C-map charts for this group of islands. I continued to push the boat farther into the pass. The rough waters did not rock the boat, however, they caused Two Fish to turn off course. I over-corrected with the helm and then corrected again. We were traveling in a crab-like walking pattern or maybe the course of a drunk coming home from the bar. After ten minutes, the pass waters became more stable but the tidal current grew stronger. I increased the engine revolutions to 2,200 (standard cruising speed). Our speed through the water was 7 knots but our speed over ground was 2. We were walking up fast but we were on the down escalator. The current was pushing us out to sea at 5 knots. I was enjoying the pass, so I did not speed up the boat. The tidal stream continued to strengthen and I responded with more engine power. Many times the boat’s speed over ground dropped to zero as the current was just as strong as the engines. 7 knots of current would dominate any swimmer, canoer and many small outboard motors. Two Fish was totally fine. Engine temps were staying at normal and we had plenty of extra power. The pass was fairly wide but we still followed the navigation aids. We lined up two large range markers to ensure we were in deep water. After another ten minutes, our speed over ground started to increase indicating our passage of the strongest current was complete. We took a hard turn to starboard, and followed a well-marked channel. We were no longer rookies of atoll passes. We had crossed at peak ebb, an exception to the rule because of the circumstances, but it was great experience for future passes.

Photos: Gail before leaving the green Marquesas. Jim and Theresa catching a fish on passage

jason

When you hear “Kon-Tiki”, you might have a vague memory of Thor Heyerdahl and his misguided attempt to prove that the Polynesian peoples are descendants of trade wind travelers from South merica. DNA tests have since proven him wrong. We encountered Thor in Rapa Nui, where he raised the fallen Moas, and elevated himself to rock star status (pun intended), and in Fatu Hiva, where he instead angered the locals, perhaps with his self-importance, and was eventually driven from the island.
His raft, propelled only by wind and oars, and launced from the West Coast of South America, eventually ended up on a lee shore in the Tuamotus. The Kon-Tiki crew were less enthusiastic about their arrival here than we were. Having successfully navigated the narrow pass at a less than optimal time, but with the expert guidance of Jason and Two Fish, we were excited to drop our anchor and enjoy the beauty of this coral atoll.
After chatting with our neighboring boat, who happened to be the couple who brought two goats with them on their passage, we were introduce to one of the islanders, Turamotu. He agreed to take us to “Kon-Tiki Island”, on the other side of the atoll, where we could see the reef that Kon-Tiki was finally impaled upon. It turns out that some of the islanders have been trying to figure out how to start a tourism business. There are only one hundred or so inhabitants and they only recently gained an air-strip with one small prop plane visit a week. Our day with Turamotu was to be his first attempt at showing visitors the beauty of Raroia. He was, of course, a natural. After walking with us on the edge of the reef, he took us to the most amazing snorkel spot. After our swim, we were greeted by freshly cut coconuts, the best I have ever had.
Later in the day, he and our sailboat friend, Chris, took Jason and Jim on a drift dive. Jason claims it is the best dive he has ever done.
But the day was not yet over. Another islander, Reggie, has a meeting spot on the beach, where people gather to chat and drink Hinano’s. Ever eager to please others, he agreed to join us in the evening and invite his ukulele-playing friends to provide the music. The day ended magically as we listened to the sweet voices singing along with the music. Music is participatory here, so four drums were also brought out for us; Reggie tried to guide us in playing the correct beat.
Once we return to the land of internet, I promise that we will spread the word of the beauty of Raroia, but I am secretly thinking that I on’t want to ruin the magic.

Photos: Our boat ride to the outer island and reef edge where Kon Tiki crashed. Trio of local singers make the evening magical.

We awoke to Two Fish tugging strongly on her anchor chain in a 20 knot breeze, but fears of the Raroia anchorage being uncomfortable were put aside by a weather forecast predicting a lightening breeze throughout the day. We scrambled around the boat packing masks, fins, cameras, hats and sun cream. Our ride for the day was a local who was doing the island’s first foray into the tourist trade. He currently works in the copra business and pearl farming but was convinced to try this new venture. We had paid in advance so that he could buy gas for his 19 foot wooden motor boat. The boat is spartan and lacks seats but our guide offered a rope for additional safety. All doubts of the need to hold on were shaken out of my body when we bashed into our first set of bone jarring waves. Gail was wincing as she was convinced her spine was being compressed and that she might depart the boat standing less than 5 feet tall. Mercifully, the ride ended and armed with the knowledge that the return trip would be down wave we all bounced back very quickly.

After a short stumble into the woods we found a monument erected to commemorate Kon Tiki’s crash site. It had been paid for by a similar mission a decade ago with addition funding from the Norwegian government. I doubt the average Raroian could care less about the monument. How about a monument for the 100,000 Polynesians that did the trip upwind before modern maps! Thor sailed the easy way, which is also the route we are following.

We then walked the fringing reef which is 350 meters wide (distance from the barrier island to the open ocean). The fringing reef covers the entire windward side of the island and is 20 nautical miles long. The fringing reef is between 10 to 40 centimeters under the water yet is full of marine life. Many baby sharks pass their childhood in these shallow waters. The sharks are easy to spot by their black tipped fin which is constantly out of the water. The sharks coast inches above the sharp coral, sea cucumbers and sand dollars (I renamed them “sand 20 dollars” because of their huge size). But the aspect of the fringing reef that captivated me was the line between reef and ocean. As we neared the end of the reef I could feel the powerful Pacific rollers that have traveled unimpeded for thousands of miles before being arrested by the reef. The dark blue ocean water called to me like the sirens in Odysseus, but I knew if I jumped in it would be sudden death. I would be pounded into shark food by the surf.

During the walk back from the reef’s edge I coined a new term for the clear water. Gin clear water is overused and I associate it with cloudier Bahamian water. In the Tuamotus the water is so clear you don’t need to put on a snorkel mask, just cast your eyes down and you will see plenty of fish and bright corals. So my new term is “can read a copy of the New York Times placed on the bottom clear water”. I am not sure it will catch on.

Pass dives are one of the reasons cruisers come to the Tuamotus. The basic idea is to jump in at the beginning of the pass at slack water before the flood tide. Then descend to the bottom and get swept back into the protection of the atoll. Simple plan but this was my first pass dive so I was excited when a cruiser, Chris, decided to join (baby sit) the two rookies. This was the greatest dive ever! We dove quickly into an area with many large grouper and reef sharks. We stayed for a short while by holding onto rocks at the bottom, but soon the current started to flood harder and we let go and rode the marine roller coaster ride. For the next 15 minutes we traversed the pass; it felt like another planet. I kept thinking about how different this crossing of the pass was from 24 hours earlier on Two Fish. Both kept me plenty busy. The bottom is covered in corals of many types for as far as the eye can see. The complete coral coverage of the entire bottom is vastly different from my Caribbean dives. The bottom of the pass has a winding canyon which the current pushed us through. Some of the turns were a bit sharp so a few well timed fin kicks were required to navigate the turn before plowing into a wall of coral. A glance above to the water’s surface showed long white lines, evidence of the standing waves that boats would encounter on a passage. I quickly returned my focus to the immediate surroundings. The tapestry of marine life is vast but I was going too fast to appreciate any meaningful percentage of it. Chris was in front and had slowed down but I was struggling to stay behind. I experimented with different body positions to decelerate. Eventually, I realized that 2 feet deeper the current is much slower. I wasted a bunch of air kicking hard with my fins so I checked my air gauge frequently to make sure I would have enough air to complete the final portion of the dive. Grouper and Sharks still featured prominently and a host of other wonderful creatures swam by but it was the endless coral that captivated my attention. We surfaced and thankfully the greatest day was not yet over.

“C’est tres blanche” (it is very bleached) is what our guide said on the return ride home. He was referring to the coral bleaching caused by the high sea temperatures of El Nino. When coral becomes stressed it releases acids that kill the algae that create coral’s protective cover and coloration. The coral then turns white without this protection and soon dies. The grouper population then drops and the only fish that remain are not safe to eat. This is a crisis for the island since they fish to eat. New food sources not quite to our taste come onto the menu.

Chris told me an amazing story. Chilean fisherman create simple rafts with the purpose of setting them out to sea. Over the course of many months, the raft grows plants, then attracts small fish, then medium fish and finally bigger fish join the ecosystem. The raft has a cheap plastic ball with rechargeable batteries, a solar panel and a satellite text messaging unit. The Chilean fisherman can track hundreds of these mini ecosystems and at the right time they follow the GPS track and pick up the raft and catch the fish. Throughout the year, many of these rafts are lost and Chris has a hobby of converting the parts into new things. A rechargeable flash light is popular with the locals.

A few months ago, the village was in a frenzy about the great news that the island was chosen to be a one-time stop for a cruise ship. A committee was established to set about the process of preparation. The islanders decided that to look their best a fitness regime was required and a basic weight-lifting station was created near the quay. As the day approached, brooms were pressed into service and all the island’s flowers were picked to adorn the locals and give to the guests. But the weather gods were not kind and the ship anchored outside the pass. The pass was rough and only 6 people of the hundreds on board came to shore. The village was crestfallen but the good news is that the fitness regime has continued.

Back on shore, we strolled to Reggie’s which is Reggie’s home, far short of a bar. Reggie spins a good yarn not letting details like the truth hold back the drama. We were told about his ex-wife and his life on a western island in the Tuamotus, his creation and eventual loss of two pearl farms, and his attempt to populate the island with goats, chickens and pigs. The pig experiment was curtailed when the local dogs had a hankering for bacon. The chickens seem to lower property values as no one is harvesting the eggs, but sleep is cut short by the roosters. The magical moment of the evening was the music. I just relaxed without a concern in my mind enjoying the gentle voices of the singers, the cooling breeze and the sand under my feet.

How could a day be any better? I climb in the bilge to fix stuff for days like this. Thank you Raroia.

Photos: Our guide at the helm of his boat. Jason in the you can read the New York Times clear water. The fringing reef meets the open ocean.