Mark and I have a wealth, not of money – unfortunately – but
of time and adventures, and until not too long ago, age and
health. Most
visitors coming to Bora Bora have the kind of wealth that comes to mind first
when you talk about wealth: the money kind, the big bucks, the means to go on
fancy vacations. All those pretty over-the-water bungalows, or villas as they
call them here, look very attractive. Sure, you can see the neighboring huts,
or the ones from the next resort over, but some sort of privacy is offered, the
water underneath looks very appealing, the comfort level is very high end, and
the view of the lagoon and Bora Bora’s mountain is suburb. All the resorts on
the motus (outer islands) have upscale restaurants and “private” beaches, and
offer all the luxury one can imagine. No wonder this place is a prime honeymoon
destination.
But, what does all that cost? Mark and I were curious and
went online to have a look. The average over-the-water accommodation costs about
$1000 a night. That is without meals or even breakfast. Depending on the
location and the size of the villa you prefer, costs go up to about $10,000 for
one night. The resorts on the “mainland” of Bora Bora are generally cheaper –
some even half price; wow, only $500 a night! - than the ones on the motus. We briefly
played with the idea of going out for a meal or a drink in one of the places, since
we have so many past occasions we never celebrated. We even went ashore at the
St. Regis – one of the top resorts on Bora Bora – to get some information. The
hostess was eager to get our business – despite our raggedy outfit (we really
don’t fit in with the crowds here) – but didn’t have much useful information to
tell us. “If you have to ask, you can’t afford it!”
Back online, the dinners ranged from about $40 to over $100
a piece, the sushi was outrageously priced. Bottles of wine started at $30, I
believe, but the bigger selection was more in the $70 price range for one
bottle. You could even buy a Cuban cigar for the same amount of money. The desserts
were priced like a dinner in the more down-to-earth places of the western world.
Fresh coconut water, straight out of the nut with a straw, went for $10, while
on the street in Fare, such an ice cold and tasty local refreshment costs $1.
And, that is probably about the going rate for everything at the resorts – ten
to one. A bit disgusted by all this (they even charge $30 a day for WiFi if you
stay there!), and not even feeling up for spending $8 a beer or $5 a soda, we
stayed on Irie, made ourselves a drink and enjoyed the same marvelous view for
free. I guess we are your typical kind of cruiser after all…
:-)
With all the boutiques and souvenir stores for the hordes of
honeymooners, Mark and I thought it might be a good idea to find a birthday
gift in the otherwise shabby town of Vaitape. Once again, everything is so
over-priced (and, granted, we are a bit spoiled having seen, and purchased, the
pearls in the Gambier Islands) or of poor quality, that we went home empty
handed. We’ll find something somewhere else. We are not in a rush; we have
time, remember?
One afternoon, while we stayed on a mooring ball off the
Mai Kai marina and yacht club, I took advantage of their pretty infinity pool. It
had been many years, since I dipped my toes in some fresh water to cool off,
and the feeling of just sliding in and having all the tiredness and hotness
leave my weightless body was amazing. I met the (well-paid and hardworking) crew
of the mega yacht Noble House (on which we received a tour by the departing
captain later), which was docked at the marina. The friendly folks enriched me
with stories of how the “other side” lives and offered me a delicious glass of
white wine. In the evening, Mark and I joined them again for some social times
and drank the happy hour beers and wine. Spending a reduced price of $12 for
two glasses of fair tasting wine (beers are two for one during happy hour, wine
is half price for the second glass) made me crave one of the glasses the mega
yacht crew was drinking. While they drank, ate, and laughed the night away,
fitting in with their nice clothes and chic demeanor, Mark and I walked back to
our dinghy barefoot (the soles had come off my recently purchased flip flops)
and went home to drink water and eat leftovers.
Nevertheless, despite all the boat wake and trash burning, and
despite some tinges of jealousy of the happily spending and enjoying
vacationers, we are fortunate and glad to be able to be here, rich in our own ways,
and to combine our daily work schedule and boat chores with the
beauty of these
Society Islands, savoring (almost) everything they have to offer. Improving the performance of
the wind meter: check. Cleaning Irie’s bottom and waterline: check. Sewing some
ripping seams on the bimini: check. Cleaning the BBQ: check (no more grilling
until we
sell the boat!). Fixing the outboard engine: almost check! Writing
articles and finishing up the new
Wirie products: getting there… Busy times on
Irie, as always.
:-)
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| Replacing the bearings of our wind meter |
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| Nothing broke during this tricky project - time to bring it back up! |
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| Irie in the waters of Bora Bora |
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| Monthly cleaning of Irie's bottom - it's not too bad yet |
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| Irie's garden is growing again: basil, spinach, mint and an attempt for lettuce |
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| We were allowed to walk on the southeastern motu, but only so far... |
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| After a long workday, we stretched our legs around sunset |
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| Sailing in Bora Bora's lagoon |
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| Being passed by a charter captain, in a hurry... |
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| Northern motus of Bora Bora |
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| Va'a paddlers riding the wake of a charter boat near Vaitape |
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| Trying to figure out how to make our engine run better |
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| Tasty Thai curry dish on Irie |
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| Anchorage off motu Toopua (western Bora), with motu Tapu (no going ashore here!) in the center |
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!
