Living Afloat in Huahine

It feels as if Mark and I are living in Fare, Huahine, these days. We have become used to the island pace and the Polynesian way of life. We go to the hardware store on a Saturday morning and are not surprised to find it closed. We take our jerry cans to the fuel station, never expecting to be helped the first time around. Once, they were out of gasoline on day one, and a month later, the station was already closed at 11am. A second attempt, usually has us carry full jugs home. As Mark states: “Whatever we want to do, count on about 50% of it working out.” And, he is right when it comes to local matters, like a store or food van being open, fresh fish being for sale, coco glacé (coconuts on ice to drink the deliciously refreshing coco water inside - $1 a piece!) vendors being present, a planned event, a given direction, a previously reliable internet connection actually working, and so on. When it comes to boat parts or other pieces we need, to fix or maintain the boat, the percentage of finding something on tiny Huahine drops to zero.

Eggplant gnocchi with boat grown spinach

Every day, fresh baguettes await in the one grocery store, where a variety of produce is sadly lacking. We have the habit of walking the refrigeration aisle, just in case there is more to be found than the usual eggplants, cabbage and carrots. So far, we have no luck. We haven’t eaten a tomato or lettuce in weeks, or other dinner veggies in months, and even cucumbers are becoming sparse. We manage OK, though, and our creativity with meals is still existent. Having a constant supply of basil and sprouts helps. One thing we (I) can’t get used to in French Polynesia is the early time everyone rises. People get out of bed around 4am and start the day before 5! Most stores open at 6:30am. It makes sense, since the early hours are the coolest. Mark is also most productive before 7am, but I still have a hard time waking up with the sun.

On Irie, we have the unwritten rule that whatever we haven’t used for a year (or two) – except for parts and tools – needs to get off the boat. Having quite a few things that belong in this category, we looked forward to a planned flea market in Fare last week. When the event was canceled, we decided to take a tub of stuff to shore anyway and set up shop next to the vegetable sellers. As “new providers” we were the hit of town, and gear unavailable on the island went quick. Mark and I made enough money for lunch at a roulotte and happy hour that day, and for a Valentine’s dinner at the Yacht Club on Saturday!

As we set about our daily routines, we enjoy being comfortable on one of the free mooring balls in Fare’s multi-hued lagoon. The view of the surrounding reefs, islands, beach and water is pretty and the wind has recently been helping us out with electricity and keeping the temperature bearable. Thanks to our friends Rachelle and Patrick on SV Namaste (now in the Marquesas), who told us where to find abandoned fruit trees, we go “shopping” in nature for avocados, grapefruit, limes and bananas. The gusty wind had knocked over some plants and branches to make the pickings easy!

Since the sun gave us a break yesterday, we braved the 120% humidity and swarms of mosquitoes to go on a walk in the jungle. Besides getting some exercise and feeling as if we were the only people on the island, we enjoyed exploring the remote interior to the sounds of birds and a rushing river. The lush foliage of the tropics and the beautiful flowers of Polynesia never cease to impress me. We even found some hot pepper bushes to spice up our meals. Huahine, as most of the fertile islands of French Polynesia, truly is a piece of paradise to visit or live in and its abundance of natural wealth and beauty is a fact. The locals realize this and love their island. And we do, too!

Leaving civilization to head into Huahine's interior

Little waterfall along the river

Following the river into the jungle

Narrow trail into the foliage

Colorful flowers along the way

Easy avocado pickings

Tiare flower bush

Tiare Tahiti

Valentine's dinner: tuna carpaccio for me and fish burger for Mark

 

Rio Chagres: Three Day Oasis

Since the moment Mark and I reached mainland Panama again, a month and a half ago, we wanted to check out the Chagres River. The plan was to anchor there for a few days on the way to or from Bocas del Toro. We all know how that adventure went… After the productive days in the Colon city, we exited the breakwater and motored ten miles west for three days of refuge in nature. The entrance of the Rio Chagres was a little bit tricky – not to be done in big swells – but once inside, the surroundings were serene and beautiful solitude awaited.

Fuerte San Lorenzo towered above Irie, when we passed by close to shore. Seven years ago Mark, Darwin, Kali and I visited these ruins at the end of a jungle road with our camper. Back then, we could see a sailboat anchored in the river underneath. Who would have guessed we would do the same thing one day. Only, we skipped the beginning of the river, which was quite choppy and ventured further upriver for about three miles. On the way we passed one other catamaran, anchored in peace. We would be the only two boats there. Our first anchoring attempt seemed to be in one of the narrower parts of the river – we are new to this river cruising – and we ended up pretty close to shore. We wanted to be near the rainforest, but not being part of it! So, we moved a mile further up and found a perfect, wide spot in a river bend.

It was quiet and peaceful. The water was fresh and flat. What a spoil. Taking showers felt clean and awesome; the water less cold than expected. We took turns washing up. While one person jumped in, the other watched for approaching crocodiles. They stayed hidden and I even managed to scrape the long green beard off Irie’s bottom without being eaten. I have to say, it is a bit more tiresome to stay afloat in fresh water than in salt water.

We paddled the dinghy up and down a small river near us, being swallowed up by the jungle and the quietness. Egrets, kingfishers and herons were the passers-by and a herd of howler monkeys made a loud ruckus from time to time. We never managed to spot one. The absence of interesting wildlife was compensated by the amazing night sounds of the jungle. Once it was pitch black outside, we looked for red eyes along shore with a strong flashlight. Only once did we spot a set, belonging to a crocodile. When we wanted to venture closer the next evening, the creature was gone.

With our dinghy we followed the Rio Chagres until it dead ended at the Gatun dam, where car traffic was sparse. We followed the banks of the river back and forth to spot crocodiles, but they all looked like logs.  Rowing up and down the short side rivers was magnificent and the highlight of our stay. Being one with the jungle in such a peaceful environment is magical indeed.

But then, one morning another streak of bad luck hit us. After a short visit to shore, while clambering back into the dinghy to avoid mud getting all over it, my (underwater) camera slipped unnoticed out of my pocket… into the deep, fathomless and murky water. Gone! The Rio Chagres absorbed my dear, expensive camera (which was a previous birthday gift from Mark) and with it a bunch of unreleased pictures and movies. What I felt was indescribable.

Once back on Irie, Mark slipped on our step – the one without anti-slip material since we fixed a hole there – while trying to rinse something in the water. He fell hard on his tailbone and hurt his back as well. Right before our boat yard visit where we plan loads of heavy work. At least we had a couple of nice, enchanting days before it is back to reality and to a less fun part of boat ownership! We wish we could have stayed longer.

(PS: Reduced amount of pictures due to loss of them and their apparatus)

Liesbet ‘s SabAdventure

Last year Irie spent five months in St. Martin; a big part of the year, that doesn’t have much to do with cruising. Then another three months in Grenada, for pretty much the same reasons: selling Wiries and running the business in the States, combined with boat projects. The list of boat problems never ends and one needs to make a living somehow when wanting to be a sea gypsy, no matter how primitive and economical the lifestyle. The other months of the year, we sail from place to place with some sightseeing and, ideally, a bit of enjoyment along the way.

This year, we came back to St. Martin to work for about three months, order parts from the States and repair some things on Irie. We planned ahead and were busy the whole period and then some. When May approached, we started to look forward to getting out of this land locked, not very Caribbean like lagoon. What is the use of a sailboat when you don’t sail? Problems with the outboard engine would keep us here longer than anticipated, however, and seeing the places missed on our other two passages through the Eastern Caribbean island chain (mostly because of weather issues) was in jeopardy. Hurricane season (and a supposedly bad one at that) is upon us!

For over a year now, I wanted to visit Saba, which is close to St. Martin and part of the Netherlands Antilles. The whole island is more or less a rock and very different from its neighbors. It is relatively small, lacks beaches and flat roads, has few inhabitants and nature abounds. Visiting by boat is possible, but uncomfortable, sometimes even dangerous, and going to shore is very challenging. The best way is to swim, but that involves other inconveniences and excludes taking Darwin to shore for his potty breaks. Mark is not a fan of taking Irie over there, so my only possibility was to visit by myself.

Ferries are expensive and their schedule is unbeneficial, so flying is the better option. Not only do you get to Saba in 15 minutes and hassle-free, but the whole experience is a thrill to say the least! The plane is loud and shaky, the views marvelous. Before you realize St. Martin is behind you, the big mountain of Saba dooms ahead. When you sit in front, you almost have a pilot’s perspective of the trip. With a quick drop, the wheels touch bottom and its strong breaks stop the plane in seconds, while it turns to the small airport building. The runway is the smallest in the world and ends at the ocean’s edge, something you get to see up close when taking off again!

After my first encounter with Saba’s climbing roads and steep steps, I checked into rustic El Momo Cottages, at $50 for one person ($65 for two), the cheapest place on the island. By 10 am, I was ready to explore. I observed a glass blowing demonstration at Jo Bean’s Gallery and ventured into town.

Windwardside, the biggest village (but not the capital; that’s The Bottom), is a cute collection of white gingerbread houses with red roofs and white picket fences. It is very quiet and peaceful with a few churches, a museum, a couple of grocery stores and a handful of bars and restaurants. Goats roam free around town and in the countryside.

Saba is full of hiking trails; you can basically walk around the whole island and rarely touch concrete. Mt. Scenery, with its 1065 steps is the biggest challenge. When the weather is nice, the views are amazing, but I happened to visit on a very cloudy weekend. It took a few hours to climb the big and steep steps cut out of rock. Taking pictures was a good excuse to catch my breath multiple times during the trek.

The whole hike, I was surrounded by moist jungle plants, green elephant ears, banana and palm trees, colorful flowers and singing birds. Once I reached the level of the cloud forest, there wasn’t much reason to keep going, since no views existed, the air was wet and chilly and everything was white. Somehow, I refused to believe this until I stood on the highest point of the Netherlands Antilles with the whistling wind and white clouds as my only company!

Going down went fast. Maybe a bit too fast, since one of my knees exploded in pain with the first step down stairs, the next day. Nevertheless, I wanted to stick to my plan of walking to the airport from Windwardside, the long way around the island, via trails. The exercise started at 9:30 am, when I once again began climbing the steps. A first turn off brought me to the top of Maskahorne Hill with a nice view over town and the ocean. Ascending was excruciatingly painful and I started to doubt my intentions. As long as the trail went up, I would be OK...

I continued on the main track, passed the sign for Mt. Scenery and followed the Bottom Mountain Trail. By Saba standards this one was pretty flat and I enjoyed being all alone in the wilderness and the pastures, surrounded by rainforest, wild goats, fluttering birds, spotted lizards and silent butterflies. The worst part of the day (for people with a painful knee) was the steep and infinite (was it?) path down the mountain towards the road. As slow as I could, I proceeded, my only joy the taste of ripe mangoes that almost fell on my head. When I finally reached the winding concrete, I faced a dilemma: “giving up” and turning left, steeply downhill to reach The Bottom and hope to catch a ride towards the airport (the opposite side of the island), or “be strong” and turning right, steeply uphill (yeah!) to reach the Sandy Cruz Trail, the most popular one for visitors. Based on the painful prospect of going down more, and on stubbornness to do this “nicest” trail, I turned right and started climbing deliberately, taking breaks at every turn.

The Sandy Cruz Trail: should I or should I not? Once I started, there was no way back. Most people do this trail the other way around; I did find out why. About five minutes into the hike, I came across a young couple, whom I asked about the hike. To my great relief, they said they had been going downhill for most of the way. That meant loads of climbing for me. Being one that actually hates climbing and sweating, I found myself just wanting to do that very same thing right now (the climbing anyway)! After a glimpse down to the water with the rocky cliffs, a fast snack, a short break and a few minutes to cool off, I was ready to continue on. Behind me, a local man appeared. He was wearing camouflage clothes, a riffle and a rake. He asked me whether there was anybody behind me. I replied I was going into his direction.

The last time I saw a man in the same outfit with the same tools, was the day before on Mt. Scenery. That man was accompanied by a friend and in front of them laid two dead goats; legs tied together, heads cut off. All of a sudden I realized being alone and quite vulnerable. On Saba no crime exists and I shouldn’t have worried, but sometimes, you get carried away…

A tough climb started, and kept going and going and going. There was no end in sight and I soon understood why tourists did it the other way around. The humidity was incredibly high and I needed to stop frequently to breath and wring my soaking wet shirt. The steep path went on for what seemed forever, but… my knee felt fine. At last, I arrived at another split. I had the choice of taking the All Too Far Trail, followed by the Sulphur Mine Trail which would bring me to Lower Hell’s Gate, the town closest to the airport or continuing along this trail into Upper Hell’s Gate. The second option promised the least downward track (and once on the road, I hoped to hitch a ride), so I continued on the same trail, downhill this time, until I reached the pavement.

From here on, the road wound down for miles, all the way to the airport. I started slowly and discovered I could actually do it with one stretched leg and therefore reduced pain. It might have looked funny and I forced a little smile myself, proud of my achievement and endurance. Soon, I developed a robot-like stride downhill and just like the Duracell man, I kept going. Halfway down, it didn’t seem worthwhile to hitch a ride anymore. And, even so, cars had no room or the momentum of stopping along the narrow, steep road. At exactly 4 pm, I entered the bathroom of the small airport building to freshen up. I had made it and with plenty of time to catch my 5:30 plane back. The idea of walking down to a tidepool nearby was given up after I tried to stand up again subsequent to sitting on a bench for 20 minutes. Totally exhausted and with a sore body, I hugged Darwin and Mark back in St. Martin. Did I really just leave the previous morning? I squeezed the most out of my trip, my money and my muscles, but Saba was worth it!