Life in the Tropical Climes of Huahine

At 6am, Mark’s internal clock wakes him up. Starting work early has three advantages: the cooler temperature still allows a decent level of concentration, office hours in the US and Europe are way ahead, and he doesn’t have me around to distract him. An hour or so later, I join him at the table to do some work on the computer as well, after having a look outside to appreciate the beautiful surroundings. Mid-morning, we have a small breakfast and then, it is back to our computers, or we do boat chores or run shore errands. It is already very hot and nothing can be done without sweat streaming down our faces, whether we are inside the boat or outside in the cockpit or on land.

After a late lunch, we feel lazy, but napping is not our thing, so we try to read, write emails or relax a bit, before it is shower time. We jump in the ocean around 4pm, when it is still hot enough to enjoy our “bath” and our towel has time left to dry outside. Sometimes we swim to the beach and back for some exercise, or, on a cloudy day, we go for a little walk to collect fruit. At 5pm the day is mostly done and we have a glass of yummy juice with a little snack, while we prepare and cook an early dinner. By 7pm, we are in bed. It is dark – the relentless sun finally gone - and we enjoy a TV show or a movie on the laptop. Mosquito netting keeps the buzzing creatures out. 9pm is bed time, and after a night with many interruptions because of rain, wind gusts, visiting cargo ships, noise on shore or waking up in sweat, the cycle starts over again.

Fridays are different. Mark drops me off in the town of Fare, where I try to sell some unneeded household items and make a bit of money for the evening happy hour at the Yacht Club - the happening place in French Polynesia. Sometimes, we grab a bite to eat as well, or we meet new friends, like last Friday, when Melissa and Scott invited us over for a fun evening on their boat Kaimana. Our last bottle of Tequila was put to good use, something we “regretted” the following day!

During this monotonous life in the tropics, we are surprised and inspired by the “special events” that occur once in a while. On the evening of Mardi Gras, our friends Marie and JP invited us over for traditional French crêpes on their boat Domino, and Chinese New Year was celebrated with fireworks in Fare – something that was absent here on December 31^st.

One morning, I rented a bike and pedaled up to the marae of Maeva. This time, I followed a hiking trail up a hill to see some different ruins. It was a pleasant walk, mostly in the shade, but the humidity was high in the jungle. To cool off, I biked to the edge of motu Ovarei and snorkeled the coral garden, which held some pretty surprises. The ride back at noon was brutal without any shade, but at home, more refreshing salt water awaited!

On the weekend, we moved Irie back to Avea Bay, to celebrate Mark’s birthday and to prepare for our sail back to Tahiti.

Va'a in Fare

Marie of MV Domino, making yummy crepes

Marie and JP on MV Domino, their impressive, self-built motor yacht

MV Domino in Fare's mooring field

Va'a at dusk with Raiatea in the distance

Loads of coconut husks, after the coconuts are taken out to export as/for copra

View from motu Ovarei towards the mainland of Huahine

Marae Manunu on the motu

Windward coast along motu Ovarei

Hot and sweaty ride back to town along the airport

Local vendors pass the time playing ukuleles

The water off Fare (and Huahine) looks beautiful

Snorkel time, off motu Ovarei

Orange-finned anemone fish brushing against an anemone

Sixbar wrasses on the reef

Passage ways through the coral reefs

Exciting Days during Cyclone Season

When the west winds turned the flat mooring field of Fare into an uncomfortable chop a week ago, Mark and I tried to use a wisp of air to sail Irie down the west coast of Huahine to Avea Bay.  After an hour of doing less than 2 knots into the always outgoing current, we gave up and motored the rest of the way. Motoring seems to be the usual mode of operation for sailboats in the Societies, during this period of light winds. It is summer – and cyclone season – here and that brings hot and humid weather with stagnant, thick air. Since the current is relatively strong along this coast, the boats generally lay faced into that instead of into the limited breezes, so the only way of cooling off is by jumping into the sea. Luckily, the shallow water and sandy bottom – curiously covered by thousands of sea cucumbers – allow to do just that in our solitary bay. Cyclone season also means low (pressure) season and only a few boats, most of them charters, frequent the waters of this island.

Just when Mark and I were getting used to a pleasant routine (one that I have been trying to achieve for years, but never managed to follow, because of constant distractions, movement or chores needing attention) of work until 1pm and relaxation or non-computer stuff in the afternoons, the weather turned nasty. Predictions weren’t clear as to what we should expect, so “better safe than sorry”, we moved to a more protected bay. Again. Unfortunately, we had waited just a little bit too long, resulting in Irie having to bash into the churned up lagoon and strong head winds. Again. Haapu was only 3 miles away, but it took us over an hour to arrive in the calm bay and pick up one of the three free and sturdy mooring balls!

The wind was “miraculously” gone, and so was our WiFi connection. All the protected bays in these islands are sparsely populated, meaning no WiFi pay services or 3G data connections. Luckily, we could use the 2G connections with our new Wirie pro! :-) It allowed us to check the weather and respond to emails, but surfing the web and making phone calls was impossible. In this “flatter” and lusher environment, we began Irie’s massive spring cleaning, explored the little village and one morning, we hitchhiked to Fare to pick up our long awaited package from the US and some groceries. The same day, realizing that calm conditions had returned, we went back to Avea Bay, to our beloved reef scenery and wireless internet.

A day later, we kept a close eye on the weather reports, since another low pressure system was heading our way. Apparently, wind speeds were up in Tahiti, but not here, and the direction was contradictory. It always worries us when both forecasts are totally different! But, the worst scenario still looked favorable for our anchorage (30 knots of wind from the NE, where hilly land is located), so we stayed put. After an incredibly rainy night (collecting heaps of fresh water) with some strong but short wind gusts from weird directions, we woke up to a blue, windless sky, and the sun soon fried everything, including all the laundry I did.

Another weather system had passed us and we relaxed our forecast vigilance, only to find out later that day – thanks to friends checking in with us about high winds (which winds??) – that the low turned gale had become cyclone Niko! This had happened less than 100 miles away from us, on this gorgeous day. And… we… had… no… idea! We initially blamed ourselves for our “ignorance is bliss” mentality, but then realized that none of the forecasts and weather models had mentioned anything about a cyclone. Yet another lesson that the weather “predictions” here are very inadequate! An interesting coincidence was that the same afternoon, the maritime police paid us a visit to check on boat paperwork (the first time this happened to us in the year and a half we have been in French Polynesia), and the friendly officials had mentioned nothing about this cyclone business!

So, now we have returned to our usual busy days at anchor (the business is going well, some interest is being generated about our boat - which is for sale – and things are being checked off the boat to-do list) and we are trying to get back to that preferred routine, adding an hour of weather determination to the mix, until… the next system comes around and we have to hide again!

Look who's here... One of Irie's siblings, another Fountaine Pajot Tobago in Avea Bay!

Sea cucumbers EVERYWHERE in the 6ft water!

Two FP Tobagos side by side in the late afternoon light

Hot beach walk along Avea Bay

One of the resorts in Avea Bay

Huahine is surrounded by reefs; we are currently anchored in Avea Bay (SW)

An abundance of papayas in Haapu

Protected and calm Haapu Bay

This old bus in Haapu now functions as roof support!

And then, the sun came back in Haapu - time to return to Avea

Funky storm clouds at sunset (Avea Bay)

Using the "big guns" for a stupid job: cutting away all the unusable plastic parts on the new kill cord for the outboard, after trying everything else for an hour!

Visit from the maritime police on Irie

Marquesas - Tuamotus: Day 3 - From Fun to Frustration

:lat=-14.079483:lon=-144.466200:
Time: 1735UTC, COG 214T, SOG 4.0kts, Distance Remaining: 162nm

The first two days of a longer voyage are always the hardest. You have to get used to constantly being in motion, having to hold on to something at all times and staying up half of the night. All you really want to do is sleep; there is not much interest in anything else and the night shifts take forever. On day three some kind of routine has been established and you feel more inclined to do something productive, like taking a shower, making more fruit salad, or fish, for example.

From the moment the sun came up, we flew our spinnaker (colorful light air sail), while being able to keep the main sail in place. We managed to maintain five knots of speed in ten knots of wind and stayed on course. Not bad! It was a lovely day with sunshine and blue skies, void of squalls. The
sea was as comfortable as it gets, while still being "sailable" and we both enjoyed the ride. We did have to run the engine for a bit to charge the batteries, a necessary evil, but easier than rigging our little generator up.

In the afternoon, Irie drove through a big school of tuna. We did hook one: a fat and tasty yellow fin! But, from the moment we hauled him aboard, he got off the hook. No sushi for us - what a shame and disappointment. Luckily, we still had other food, which we cooked ahead of time. And, lots
of fruit, of course. :-)

Because of the light winds, we wanted to fly the spinnaker as long as possible during the day. Just as I finished up the dishes and we were ready to take the sail down, a squall surprised us with some wind and lots of rain; the exact situation you try to avoid when the spinnaker is in place (and the reason we take it down at night)... With fluky winds, it might end up in the water, where you can run over it, or in heavy winds, it might rip. In this case, we saved it from dipping in the salty ocean and managed to take it down. Everything - us included - was soaking wet, and enjoying turned into annoying.

The wind never restored itself and with the jib instead of the spinnaker we lost speed regardless. During Mark's shift, we moved 10° off course at 4 knots. At midnight, it was my turn at the helm and I was welcomed by a radar screen cluttered with squalls. One rainstorm after the other arrived, sucking out the little wind we had. For hours I sat in the rain and wished for the wind to come back. Floating on an ocean doing less than 2 knots is frustrating to say the least. Not only are you not making any progress, but - no matter how calm the sea - the incessantly flapping sails and erratically banging rigging would drive the most patient person crazy! Plus, no sleep for the person off watch either.

Finally, some breeze arrived, albeit 50° more northerly than predicted, which had us sailing 35° off course. Not something we could make up easily. I watched the phenomenon for another hour and then decided to get rid of the jib all together and adjust course. We had lost enough time and ground. And that's where we are at right now: sailing along at 3 knots and still 15° off course. When the sun wakes up at 6am, we will hang our spinnaker out to dry, if it is not too squally. The mainsail will have to come down and then there's hoping for another fun sail and making Apataki in time...

Marquesas - Tuamotus: Day 2 - All about Wind

:lat=-12.562500:lon=-143.258133:
Time: 1735UTC, COG 220T, SOG 6.0kts, Distance Remaining: 276nm

We had to ask our fellow traveler to leave. He spent the night on one of our solar panels and was still cleaning his feathers there, when the sun rose higher and higher. Any shadow on the panel - even the one of a bird - restricts its input greatly and we need all the electricity we can get. The wind generator is hardly doing anything in this kind of breeze. Yes, we should have charged those boat batteries before we left...

Today, the wind was lighter than predicted, but its angle being 30° off - in the "wrong direction" (more behind us) - had bigger consequences for our speed. We did manage to keep both sails up, but moved slowly towards our destination. We have always said "It's better to have a comfortable trip that takes a bit longer, than a fast and bumpy one!" On this journey, however, if we don't make it in four days and six hours, we will have to "stay out" another 16 hours. I will explain why in another blog. It might be time to fly that spinnaker when the sun comes up!

When you sail, it is all about the wind. Forget the rain in squalls. Sure, it is wet and inconvenient, but it is the wind in them that messes things up. The same goes for waves and swell. The sea would be dead calm if it isn't for the wind. The harder it blows, the more uncomfortable the ocean becomes and the choppier the anchorages get. The wind decides how fast you sail and where you can go. And, how comfortable the ride is.

I realize the weather is not always perfect in the Caribbean, but at least the predictions are pretty accurate and the wind consistent. Often, we arrived at our destination quicker than planned and the trips were straightforward. That might have had something to do with the fact that we never had the wind behind us going up and down the island chain, but, nevertheless, unobstructed by land, the wind was reliable. Downwind sailing is easier, but slower, and we have been looking forward to it on this ocean.

The wind can be your friend, your enemy or your acquaintance. When we plan our trips, it is based on the wind promising to be our best friend, if not a good friend. That's why we leave when we leave! Once at sea, reality kicks in and the wind becomes more of an acquaintance. It pushes us along and is
friendly enough to help us out, but it doesn't go out of its way or really cares about us getting there fast or direct. At some intervals it becomes our enemy, working against us with annoying shifts, becoming fluky or dropping out altogether. Or by going crazy, blowing hard and kicking up the seas. Luckily that doesn't happen too often and - knock on wood - real storms have stayed away.

As for tonight, the wind seems to have freshened a bit. It appears to do so after the sun is down and we hope to make up some speed during these twelve hours. After a few squalls, I am settling into my nightly routine. In the Caribbean, a squall meant shortening sail and picking up speed. Here in the Pacific, a squall causes wind shifts and then sucks up everything, leaving the boat bobbing aimlessly, sails flogging, boom banging, until the previous conditions resume. Usually.

All our fruit has turned yellow. Maybe I should have specified our preference of unripe fruit when asking for it? No scurvy for us, and if someone would like to share our 70 ripe bananas, 4 full-size papayas, 8 sweet and juicy grapefruits or 10 massive mangoes, you know where to find them: about halfway between Ua Pou and Apataki!

Revisiting Routines and Problem Pillows

Mark, Darwin and I have temporarily swapped our sea gypsy life in the Caribbean for a road gypsy life in the United States. We load and unload our bags about once a week and do the same with our borrowed car. Sometimes we drive hours at a time from relative to relative with stops at friends’ places in between. We make ourselves comfortable for a week and … move again to another house, another area, another family, another mattress, another flat or poky pillow. We are bed surfing!

Every place has a different dynamic, different eating habits, different personalities and different things to do. We have gotten used to the routines, the different ways and adjust, time after time, filling our days with personal and other things to do and enjoying the company and environments.

In one place, we have the beach at our doorstep, a great playmate for Darwin and wonderful home cooked meals, at another place, we have plenty of space for us and the dog to be outdoors, pick apples for breakfast and feel useful in our efforts to help out, and in a third house, we enjoy a little bit of privacy, the happiness of our presence and the proximity to historical buildings and a river boardwalk.

In a couple of occasions, we enjoyed the company of friends with laughter, good food and tasty drinks as an added bonus. We exchanged life stories and invitations, met new family members and realized life is not easy wherever and however you live. We went on beautiful hikes over mountains and under the fall colors, in parks and historic town centers. Most time, however, is still spent indoors, behind our computers working on personal projects. And, the Western world is a good place to do so. In those circumstances, the fall climate is not bothersome at all. Once back on Irie, daily chores and lack of electricity, inspiration, time and energy due to the heat and humidity will take over again.

Of course, we managed to do some excursions as well. We visited New York City twice to meet friends, went camping and hiking with our good friends Scott and Lisa in New Hampshire before the real fall arrived, and followed Maine’s coastline for an afternoon, just the three of us. We stumbled across the Bush Estate, but, unfortunately Mr. W wasn’t home to hear what we had to say about him.

As much as we appreciate and enjoy all the hospitality and time together with friends and family, our need for our own space and life is growing. The cool air is still pleasant, but will soon enough turn into frigid, making it not so admirable anymore. The stressful way of living, the annoyances in traffic situations, the abundance of choices for everything, the narrow mindedness of some locals and long clothes are things we don’t care for. We are looking forward to our boat life in the tropics (and hope the temperature will be a bit more bearable by then) with all its advantages and disadvantages, but what I do miss the most at the moment is my one and only comfortable pillow!