Cruising - It’s All about the Weather

“Sailing means freedom” is a misconception that Mark and I have realized over the years. Don’t get me wrong, you have a lot of freedom when you live on a boat and cruise the world; you just don’t have the freedom to choose when to leave, where to go, how long to stay or when to arrive. The comfort of an anchorage is also not to be taken for granted. All this is determined by the main domination in a sailor’s life: the weather.

Even when keeping a close eye on the forecasts, here in the Pacific, doesn’t necessarily mean that you “get what you ordered”, like during our trip from delightful Huahine to the metropolis of Tahiti. In between bouncing at anchor and being suffocated by poisonous smoke (which appeared to have been from an accidental fire in the recycling plant of Punaauia) in the Taina Marina area, we dealt with some errands on shore and ran from one doctor to another, and from one lab to the next, not forgetting about our initial appointment at the hospital. Without finding an answer to one of our health issues and having to decline a birthday drink invitation, both because of another unfavorable weather forecast, we crossed the channel to Moorea – under motor – to hide for the predicted 30-40 knot NW winds.

The anchorage areas on the east side of Moorea, near Vaiare, were new to us and – based on reviews of friends - we had been looking forward to spending some time on the eastern faced reef anchorages, in shallow, clear water over a sandy bottom. Facing outward, meant no mosquitoes, no smoke and a refreshing breeze. The current, however, is very strong here and from the moment we arrived, Irie didn’t stop moving about, the water rushing along the hulls as if we were underway. But, we did find a big spot for ourselves, with plenty of swinging room and none of the other boats close by, to sit out the inclement weather.

The storm from last weekend, albeit short in duration – just one night – would become the strongest one we have experienced in eight years of cruising. The wind gusts made the seawater airborne, and topped at over 50 knots. The lagoon was filled with white caps and all the anchored boats resembled hobby horses. Irie behaved splendidly, however, and was not one of the four cruising boats that dragged that dreadful night. The holding was great, we had 10:1 scope out in 7ft of water, and our Manson Supreme anchor, once again, performed perfectly.

The following afternoon, the sun stood bright in the sky as if nothing had happened. Life returned to its usual business, and taking a shower in the ocean was preceded by a snorkel with stingrays and colorful fish and coral in the clear waters of the lagoon. Another depression was looming on the weather charts. A day before it was predicted to hit us, we moved to the northern reef anchorage of Vaiare. And, good we did, since the nasty weather system arrived a day earlier than planned (always at night), having us pinned down on the boat again.

This time, the wind is supposed to keep coming out of the NNE and, as I write this, it is blowing a steady 25-30 knots, with gusts to 40 knots, and we can see the seas building in the channel between Tahiti and Moorea, on the other side of the fringing reef. The wind generator is happy, and so are our computers. Plenty of electricity and based on the forecast, plenty of rain to come as well. This, we welcome, since our fresh water tank needs filling. As long as the anchor holds – the bottom is less trustworthy here – we’ll be fine for the next four days or so… Then, more fun activities can fill our days again! If the weather cooperates. :-)

Marina Taina anchorage

Sunset over Moorea, seen from Tahiti

 

Mark fixing some rips in the sail bag, after the major storm

One of our geckos, surviving the salty trips and the bad weather

The "best thing" about being in Moorea: It is Tahiti on the horizon and not Moorea! :-) Tahiti at noon...

Tahiti at dusk...

Tahiti at sunset...

 

Tahiti at night!

Motoring past Vaiare and its marina...

... being accompanied by playful dolphins in the lagoon.

Beach near the Sofitel resort, north of Vaiare

Tahiti, on the other side of the channel

Fishing in the lagoon

 

Bye Bye Taiohae and Nuku Hiva

At last, we managed to pull ourselves loose – quite literally since the anchor was buried well after the last 1.5 months – from Taiohae, Nuku Hiva’s capital. It’s not that we didn’t want to leave earlier (believe me, we did!), it’s that we still needed to do things to allow our departure. Like scraping and cleaning Irie’s bottom for three days and getting nauseous while doing so. What a dirty mess that was; the green beards flowing and sticking with the boat bouncing up and down, the barnacles being stubborn to let go of their hold. We also had to buy some more vegetables, probably the last ones for a while, and continue some online duties.

When we were ready to leave, it rained. All day and night. Just like the weeks prior. The following day, Nuku Hiva entrapped in clouds, a sight we were used to; the sky looked bluer off shore. The wind predictions were on the high side, but we would put two reefs in and let the east winds push us to our destination. The reduced sails did their job, but the wind came from the southeast instead, so there we had to go again… upwind! It was a wet and quite boisterous ride, Irie flying and jumping along at 6-7 knots. We reached Ua Pou, 27 miles south of Nuku Hiva, fast and in time for lunch, and hoped for some rain to clean the decks. This is our sixth and last Marquesan island before we continue on.

As seems to be customary in this archipelago, Hakahau is another choppy harbor with inconvenient shore access. Once again, we are living on a hobby horse, attached to two anchors to limit swinging room (with the gusty winds we are always worried to hit our neighbors) and to be faced into the swell. We are bouncing up and down, being pushed back and forth between the two rodes. Once again, it takes us a while to try some different configurations to leave the dinghy safely for our excursions onshore. The people are friendly, the church yard has pamplemousse and breadfruit, the locals practice rowing in their outriggers every day and we have discovered the biggest, most modern store of all of the Marquesas. Now the reports of stocking up in Ua Pou before heading to the Tuamotus make sense! It is exactly what we plan to do, after obtaining butane (a half a day’s event), focusing on more work stuff and checking out the view from the top of a hill.

Arriving in Ua Pou

Hakahau anchorage

Daily rowing practice

Massive breadfruit tree and lime trees (in the back) near the village cemetery

Rolling, Rowing and Rambling in Ua Huka

Not many sailboats visit the smallish island of Ua Huka in the Marquesas. The only anchorages are on the south coast and reputed to be uncomfortable, in turn making landings difficult as well. Marks’s first comment “These bays should not be called anchorages!” sums up our time onboard. Even though we planned to be there in pretty calm conditions (NE winds 10-15 knots, swell under 2m), the wind was very gusty and fluky, turning Irie around and around and having her sit on a lee shore regularly, when the wind followed the land and, accelerated, came into the bay from the south. The swell still managed to enter as well, so we rolled and jerked the whole stay. The constant flow of seawater onto our bottom steps turned them green, just like Irie’s water line and bottom! Our recommendation to visit Ua Huka by boat is to wait for a forecast with winds less than 10 knots from the northeast and a swell of less than 1.5m – it will be as calm and comfortable as it ever gets, but you have to get there first…

Rowing to shore and parking the dinghy in Hane Bay

 

Luckily, once onshore, it is comfortable and there is plenty to see and do. But first, with no dock or big sandy beach to land, there is some exercise to be had. Every morning, we dropped our engineless inflatable dinghy and clumsily rowed the half a mile to shore, which took about 20 minutes. Then, we had to haul the awkward thing over some rocks and above the high tide line to a level “parking spot”, where we left it, unlocked, and set out for half a day or a day. The islands of French Polynesia are very safe and the people – especially in the Marquesas – are extremely friendly. They all greet you; some of them shake your hand, introduce themselves or have a chat. Others invite you over to their house or give you a stack of bananas. The result of that is that we have about 100 bananas, all turning ripe as we speak!

Students carving tikis out of rosewood

 

On our first encounter in the small village of Hane, we met the principal of the local vocational school. He gave us a tour of the buildings and the garden, introduced us to teachers and pupils and encouraged us to chat, in English, with some of the students. After checking out the little store (no baguettes – they had been out of flour for three weeks) and church, and waiting for an hour long rainstorm to pass, we headed for Vaipaee, the biggest village on the island with about 200 people. This town lies only 2 miles away over the water, but, by winding road it is about 10 miles. We started the walk through the barren, but fascinating landscape, enjoying the views and the good, paved street. It was cloudy, so not too hot and the road was leveled against the rocky cliffs, so not too steep. This is my kind of walking!

South coast of Ua Huka towards Vaipaee

 

About halfway, near the airport and the nicely erected structures at the site of the upcoming December festival, we hitched a ride with one of the few cars, hoping to avoid the next rainsquall. A friendly lady picked us up and gave us a tour through the village, before we got out to inspect the narrow, canyon-like bay of Vaipaee. We both agreed that Hane is the better place to anchor. The small town boasts an interesting museum – called “the best of the Marquesas” in a few guidebooks, a nice church with all its statues and scenes depicting facets of the bible carved out of wood, and a few stores. We easily hitched a ride back to Hane in the afternoon.

Church entrance in Vaipaee

Vaipaee museum

 

The following day, we walked the coastal road to Hokatu, passing a viewpoint and some wild goats and horses. These animals outnumber the local people by 10:1. Once in the beautifully located town, we braved the heat and the humidity, to hike up a few hills to see what we could find. We were looking for artisans, willing to sell or trade for their wood carvings. These are known to be the best and most affordable ones in the Marquesas. It was very quiet all around (the Taporo cargo vessel was in Vaipaee, attracting everyone to pick up goods, especially flour) and in the end, we found someone with a key to the artisanal building near the water. After looking around and choosing and comparing some pieces for an hour or so, Mark and I went home – by car – with $100 worth of wooden treasures. It had been a while since we spent some money; believe it or not, but life in the Pacific can be cheap! :-)

Hokatu’s waterfront

 

A day of rest, while rolling, was in order, after barely sleeping at night, and on our last day in Hane (Sunday), we set out towards the hills. One of the church going villagers gave us good directions to reach the local archeological site. The walk was uphill the whole time, but doable, albeit the high level of humidity and the gallons of sweat we had to shed.  We took our time and easily found the ruins on a flat part up one of the hills. Three ancient, weathered tikis stood on the edge of it. Once back in town, we watched the quiet Sunday scene for a while before rowing home, into the wind once more, since it had changed directions… again.

Archeological site in the hills behind Hane

 

One last row and carrying the dinghy ashore on Monday, to pick up some anticipated baguettes, before we slowly sailed to Haavei on the SW corner of the island. We passed two interesting looking islands with hundreds of birds circling around them, before entering the idyllic looking bay. A sandy beach with heaps of palm trees lured ashore and the dry features of the rocks and cliffs around filled our view. It was quiet and attractive, but … rolly and with fluky, onshore winds. Again. Kind of ready for some sleep at night and some chores to be done in a non-moving boat, we decided to pass on this anchorage and – even though it was already 11am - sail on to Nuku Hiva. There, in Baie du Controleur, we found an incredibly flat and peaceful anchorage (no crashing waves!) after a fun and smooth five hour sail. Ah... the pleasures of not bumping our heads and toes anymore!

Haavei Bay

Tikis carved in stone in front of Hane’s hospital

Church in Hane

Stone carved statues in front of the Vaipaee museum

There are tikis everywhere on these islands; here in front of Vaipaee’s town hall

Hane Bay – with Irie – seen from the viewpoint towards Hokatu

Picturesque rock at the mouth of Hane Bay

Interesting looking “bird islands” off Haavei Bay

Dorado (mahi mahi) for dinner, once in Nuku Hiva

 

On to the Northern Marquesas Group

I will (try to) keep this blog short, before we lose some – if not all – of our readers! :-)

In French Polynesia (and maybe even in all of the South Pacific, we don’t know yet), it is impossible to just make plans as to where you’d like to sail and then expect to be anchored there until you want to move on. It is not that easy anymore. The islands are mountainous and the location (= protection from wind and waves) of many anchorages is less than ideal. This means that most bays are uncomfortable most of the time and that the wind is very gusty, fluky, contradictory or accelerated because of the features of the land.

Approaching Ua Huka

Even though Mark and I picked the perfect weather window to explore the north coast of Hiva Oa, the anchorages were still very rolly and therefore uncomfortable with no place to go ashore certain times of the day. For this reason, we packed up and left a day earlier than planned; the predicted light ENE winds promising to be as good as possible to visit Ua Huka’s south coast. We prepared Irie for a night crossing, which – with Mark’s continuously painful right elbow and the bumpy sea state - entailed a bit of inventiveness, especially while taking the outboard engine off the dinghy and hauling it onboard. We picked 10pm as our time of departure, which allowed us to do any speed between 3 and 6.5 knots to get to Ua Huka during the daylight hours. A light 10 knots out of the east was forecasted, but we have learned to expect anything, so left (mentally) prepared.

SW coast of Ua Huka

It was dead calm when we left Hanaiapa in Hiva Oa and the land shadow had us motor for the first hour. After that, the wind filled in and we had a pretty perfect sail, doing 4 to 6.5 knots, all the way. The sky was bright with an almost full moon, the sea state was relatively mellow and we only had to dodge one giant squall. I did most of the work (as usual :-)) and we decided not to fish in the morning– Mark’s arm has to rest. The fish in the Pacific are too big and strong for me to handle. At 9am the following morning, we were settled in Hane Bay, Ua Huka. After a day of rest and catching up on sleep, we planned some walks along the scenic shore and to stay as long as we could endure the gusty winds and incoming swell…

Mouth of Hane Bay

Head of Hane Bay

The Challenging North Coast of Hiva Oa

Mark and I can only sit so long in a pretty and comfortable anchorage, like Hanamoenoa Bay in Tahuata. At one point or another – if not chased off by the weather – it is time to explore new territories; in this case the challenging north coast of Hiva Oa. Despite the valid warnings of our friends on SV Iona, who had a dangerous experience with heavy onshore winds in Hanamenu Bay, we were willing to give it a try. The weather predictions were as benign as they could be: 10 knots of wind from the ESE and little swell.

Calm conditions heading into Hanamenu Bay

We took everything we heard and read about this uncomfortable coast into account and left Tahuata first thing in the morning, being able to sail, gloriously cutting across the channel between the islands. After an hour, when we reached the west side of Hiva Oa, the wind dropped completely – that’s how calm conditions were – and we had to motor the rest of the way, some five miles or so. It was a bit choppy around the corner, but nothing like what Iona had to deal with, which meant we had “made it in time”. Once settled in Hanamenu Bay around 9:30am, the water was flat and no wind was present. What was all the fuss about?

Hanamenu Bay with onshore winds

Realizing that things could change on a whim, I wanted to go to shore as quickly as possible to see what the place had to offer, before we would get stuck on the boat. Mark opted to wait until 11am, to see what the weather had to offer. 11am is the time when the land has heated up and sucks the wind in, at least that’s the case in San Francisco, which guarantees the magnificent sailing in the bay. We didn’t have to wait that long. At 10:30am, someone flipped a switch and the wind started blowing from the ocean. We were on a lee shore (no sailor’s favorite), the waves started building and white caps appeared. We had lost our chance to safely land the dinghy ashore and all there was to do was wait. Wait to see whether conditions would deteriorate and become scary or improved and calmed down.

We were lucky and the onshore breeze never exceeded 20 knots, meaning wind chop of about a foot or so. Around 2:30pm, I became antsy. The sun was already getting low near the tops of the mountains and conditions remained pretty much the same, which seemed doable to go ashore. Mark gave in and a bit later we found ourselves jumping out of the dinghy in the shallows and pulling it as quickly as possible onto the black sand beach, without anything or anybody getting drowned. That wasn’t too bad!

The small settlement of Hanamenu

This out-of-the-way place – only reachable by boat or foot - was used by locals to train horses and to “vacation”. Well lubricated with bug repellent, we walked past a few wooden houses and explored some of the dirt paths amongst brush, plants and (empty) mango trees, before taking a bath in the cool waters of a waist deep pool, created by a small waterfall. Its setting was very tropical and tranquil; the guidebooks called it “Hollywood Pool”. When we arrived back at our dinghy, the wind had been turned off. This meant a dry ride back to Irie and no more worries. The land had cooled off enough and we shouldn’t be in a hurry to leave the next morning. The left over swell did not keep us awake, but the creaking engine boards did.

Hollywood Pool

“Get up! We have to leave! The wind is already picking up and there are white caps outside of the bay,” Mark shouted at 7am the following morning. Impossible! This was too early… Then, I noticed the rain squalls around us and realized what was up. The expected flat ride to the next bay east would not be so flat! For almost three hours, Irie banged into the wind and seas to cover the 9 miles to Hanaiapa Bay, the best anchorage in this area, according to the cruising guides. Sailing would take all day, against an increasing eastern wind following the coastline and accelerated by the capes.

Crappy 3 hour trip to Hanaiapa

Anchoring in Hanaiapa took three tries. The trick is to stay above 40 feet (anchor in 45-50ft) or your chain is on rocks and can (will!) get wrapped or stuck. From the moment we arrived until the moment we left, Irie did not stop moving and we barely slept. There was no wind to speak of – when there was a breeze, it was, again, onshore – but a swell permanently rolled into the bay. Laying sideways to the swell was especially bouncy. It was doable and we were glad to be on a catamaran, but, as far as we are concerned, the only reason to spend time in places like this is to see amazing things, which we didn’t. Sure, the bay was pretty, the town enchanting and the people friendly, but you find that elsewhere, without “suffering” through being anchored there.

Where do you leave the dinghy to go ashore?

On the day we arrived, we managed to put our dinghy at a crappy concrete dock, with a stern anchor caught on a rocky sea bottom and a line to shore determined to chafe through over time. (Why don’t they make these places more convenient for boats? The locals are dropped off in the shallow water and have to wade ashore, because the dock is too dangerous.) We had a pleasant walk through the village consisting of two parallel streets surrounded by tropical plants, beautiful flowers and an abundance of fruit trees. Charles, a local guy living next to the church, invited us in for coffee and gave us a bunch of bananas. Amongst the boulders along the bay, we found a spot of beach, which looked suitable to leave the dinghy for a longer period of time. Goats bleated in the hills and greeted us back at the dock. It was all very nice, until we had to return to the bouncy boat.

Main street in Hanaiapa, a small, well-kept village of 100 people

The following day, we planned a big adventure. We would go ashore around 7am and try to hitch a ride to Paumau, 2 hours east, and visit this amazing archeological site with the biggest tiki in the world. We had packed a bag and anticipated a welcome break off the boat, hoping to somehow hitch back before dark. (We had only seen a couple of cars the previous day.) We motored the dinghy to our new found beach, only to notice that it was very low tide and that the access to this small stretch of sand was blocked by massive rocks. Now what? With nowhere else to land the dinghy, we headed back to the concrete rope chafing “wharf”. The walls were too high and too slippery this time of the day (and there was nothing to hold onto while attempting to climb on), so we had to abort our mission and exciting prospects. Instead, we stayed on board and bounced around a bit more, until leaving for Ua Huka, 54 miles to the northwest. This interesting island – with three tricky anchorages along the south shore - is also little visited…

Hanaiapa church