The things we do for internet! In the Caribbean we would move anchorages and make sure there is WiFi before we would stay a bit, but here, WiFi being VERY rare if not non-existent, it works differently… On Fridays, the post office in the village of Apataki is only open from 7:30 to 9:30 am. And, the post office is the only place where one can buy phone cards (“Vini cards”), which Mark and I use to get on the slow and unreliable 2G network. Even though it works poorer than in the remote Kuna Indians territory of the San Blas islands (believe it or not!), it is our only option of staying connected out here. We pay about $5 for 100Mb and depending on our location and the quality of the signal, this will last us two weeks or 2 days!
On this particular Friday with light winds, we left the boatyard area at 6am to slowly sail directly downwind to the village. We had to go east (to leave the lagoon) to go west. Within half a mile of the dock, before reaching the pass, we dropped the dinghy in relatively choppy waters and I quickly jumped in and drove to town to buy a few phone cards and highly needed supplies. Only, the store was closed, a frequent occurrence, so – for the first time ever – we relied mostly on cans for food the following week. Once the dinghy was strapped back on and the boat ready for another sail, we crossed the SW pass at slack tide and entered the ocean, while locals were wishing us “bon voyage”.
Based on weather reports it was supposed to be a comfortable, easy, 3 hour sail, in 10-15 knots of NE winds - upwind in one tack - to reach Anse Amyot in Toau. Sails up and engines off, we pointed Irie’s bow to our destination, only to find out that this was definitely not going to work! The wind came from the SE, the exact direction of where we needed to go. What followed was a seven hour sail tacking back and forth (all the way to the back or ocean side of the boatyard!), covering another 50 miles, instead of the required 17. The weather was lovely, the wind speed perfect and the sea conditions comfortable, but, at the end, we still needed to motor for an hour to make the mooring field before dark.
Anse Amyot has a very easy approach, with no pass or currents to worry about. You have the option of picking up one of the dozen or so mooring balls for about $7 a night (or acceptable and favored goods by the owners of the balls) or for free if you eat a meal ashore when their restaurant is open, or of anchoring between the coral heads. Since we have decided to go for “easy” wherever possible in the Tuamotus, we grabbed a mooring ball, which, because the wind died the next two days, took off some of our fresh paint immediately and kept going bang bang bang against the pristine blue hull. Still better than being surrounded and splattered by an oil slick like the previous two times after we put antifouling on, though! The flies were horrendous until the wind picked up again.
Irie on a mooring ball in the reef strewn waters
During the calm days, the sea was flat and of the clearest blue. The water of the lagoon so azure that the underside of the wings of white birds appeared to be blue from the reflection! Snorkeling was amazing, with healthy corals – whole “forests” of it - and a multitude of colorful fish; the occasional reef shark sneaking by, big groupers strolling about and sucking remoras favoring Irie’s bottom. When the weather turned nasty again, the place was well protected and comfortable enough to sleep at night. The fresh breeze filled our boat batteries; the rain our fresh water tank.
Coral gardens
Over the weekend, the owners of the mooring field (Valentine and Gaston) and their neighbors (four people in total living on this motu) left to go vote in Fakarava, one of the biggest atolls in the Tuamotus. Mark and I cooked meals for the dogs and split coconuts with an axe to feed the pigs. We made sure all the animals had enough to eat and, on the hottest day, took an extra trip ashore to “shower” the panting pigs and piglets with rainwater from the barrel. It felt great to take care of the property and the animals and it made us long for a simple life ashore.
Mark splitting matured coconuts near the pig pen
Once the weather clears up and the wind has a northern twitch to it (in the forecasts anyway), we will try to reach Fakarava, about 45 miles from here and hopefully no more than a day sail away. There, based on written and personal reports, a few stores, “decent” internet and world class snorkeling await us. It is one of the highlights in the Tuamotus and we hope to spend a decent amount of time there.
Greeting Rocky on the dock of Valentine and Gaston
Fish abound in the Pacific!
Healthy coral is easier to find than in Caribbean waters
Group of Remoras living with and under Irie
Pigs and piglets love coconuts (or don’t know of any other food)
One of Gaston’s fish farms
The resident dogs of Anse Amyot awaiting our arrival
Going for a walk with the dogs in the palm rich interior, on the sharp coral ground – we haven’t seen any sand in the Tuamotus yet!
About 30 miles east of Bora Bora in the Leeward Society
Islands, lies another, little known atoll, also with a mountainous interior. It
is called Maupiti, which has one village, Vai’ea, and about 1200 inhabitants.
The Polynesians say it is like Bora Bora was 30 years ago, for some cruisers
the island is one of their highlights in the Pacific, but most sailors skip it
on their way west, mostly because of its notorious pass to access the lagoon
and safe harbor.
The only pass (cut in the outer reef) to enter Maupiti’s
lagoon is located on the south side of the atoll. This is also where the
surplus lagoon water leaves through on an always outgoing tide. With the
predominantly south west swell of the Pacific Ocean coming into the pass, this
combination can be very dangerous, causing standing waves and making the pass
inaccessible and deadly at times of high winds and big swells. Needless to say
this is a tricky pass and a quite narrow one at that! All the guidebooks warn
that entering the pass should be attempted in less than 20 knots of wind and a
swell lower than 6ft. Mark and I waited for such a moment in Bora Bora, but as
we have long known since being here: the weather predictions are rarely
accurate.
Leaving from the leeward side of Bora Bora, it was dead calm
the morning we decided to sail to Maupiti. The forecast called for 10-15 knots
of wind and a 4ft swell: ideal! “If there is no wind, we are not going!” Mark
said, when we lifted anchor at 7am. Not wanting to motor for six hours, I grudgingly
agreed, hoping that we could at least make another attempt later in the week if
we had to turn back that morning. It is always a double edged sword: no wind
meant not getting there under sail, but perfect conditions to enter the pass.
But, we wanted a decent amount of wind to sail there swift and comfortably… If
the wind and the swell would be too high, however, and the pass therefore
inaccessible, one would have to tack and beat back into that strong wind (no
fun and a tiring and long effort) all the way to Bora Bora, getting in at
night!
We didn’t bother setting any sails, since we had no idea
what the ocean conditions were and, if we needed to fly the spinnaker, the
mainsail would have to be dropped again anyway. Once outside Bora Bora’s pass,
we motored for half an hour, when the wind cleared the island and filled in.
For the first bit, we managed to stay on course with both sails, but then we had
to furl the jib in and let the (bigger) main out to collect as much wind as
possible from dead behind us. A preventer was rigged to avoid an accidental
jibe. We considered rigging the spinnaker, but were too lazy at that moment and
our decision proved to be a good one. At times the wind was blowing over 20
knots and we were happily cruising along at 5 knots with one sail! Of course
the waves started to grow with the wind increase, to about 6-7ft, and we began to
realize the downside of our steady progress: what would happen at the pass? 
We gave the southeast corner of Maupiti a wide berth as
recommended by the guides and started to approach the pass dead on under motor
and with a tightly trimmed mainsail. The conditions had mellowed a bit and the
visibility was OK. Our concentration was solely on the pass. Forget about the
charts; navigation is purely visual here! Lining up the first set of range markers
perfectly, Captain Mark did a great job steering us through the entrance, in
between breaking reefs. At the first set of green and red markers, we lined up
the second set of range markers to guide us into the dogleg of the channel.
From there on, the water was calm and the rest of the way very well-marked and
straightforward. We had safely arrived in Maupiti! We dropped the hook in front
of the church and took a breath, while grey clouds gathered and the rain began
to fall. Even though Mark said the whole experience was a bit nerve racking
and not something he’d want to do again, through the photographer’s lens, it
didn’t look all that scary! :-)
Maupiti is relatively small and encircled by one road of
about 7 miles. Most of the people live along the south and east coast of the
mainland, while five motus and exposed reef frame the lagoon. One cloudy day,
Mark and I set out to walk around the island and see what we could find. Not
much, but it was good exercise. Except for a few churches, a school, some small
grocery stores, a covered market place, a bakery and one government building,
the village of Vai’ea consists of private houses and friendly locals. We passed
high cliffs, tons of breadfruit, coconut, banana and mango trees – all in
season! – and lots of empty space. On the west side of the island, we ventured
out to the only beach, a white sandy stretch called Tereia, to take a break in
the shade, before returning to our dinghy at the conveniently located floating
dock in town.
This last Sunday, we woke to blue skies at 6am and decided
to tackle the mountain top in the middle of the island. About an hour later,
our “Kiwi” friends Monique and Garth (from New Zealand) on SV Heartbeat (now
the second sailboat in the atoll) joined us for this endeavor. In the span of
roughly two hours, we climbed the nearly vertical trail and steep rocks, where
help was provided by knotted ropes. While we sweated like crazy (the heat and
humidity are not to be underestimated in the tropics), drank heaps of water and
took a couple of breaks, the view improved with every step we took! When we finally
arrived at the top, the surroundings looked awe-inspiring; truly breathtaking.
Mark and I agreed it was right up there as the best view we’ve seen in the
Pacific. Photos were snapped, snacks were eaten and enjoyment was had, while
gazing at the expansion underneath us. High up, the breeze cooled us down
enough to spend about 45 minutes on the top, but the sun was still burning like hell.
The descent was as challenging as the hike up, and brutal on the knees and
other joints. It took us a good hour to head all the way back down, but we all agreed this incredible experience was worth every huff and puff!
