Category: Island Hopping

Tonga – it’s not all plain sailing!

We had anticipated a fast sail with winds from the ESE and a point of sail that Cerulean enjoys, so left early with Freya a short distance ahead as we motored out of the harbour.   The wind stayed light until we rounded the western most point of the island when a beautiful easterly wind welcomed us and we put out our full sails and headed as far east as we could.   The conditions were perfect and I enjoyed hand steering for a few hours with a wide grin as we watched the miles melt away and even discussed the possibility of having to slow the boat down if this speed continued.   At around sunset we put a reef in the main, followed about an hour later by a second reef as well as a couple in the jib as the wind increased and swung more to the south with building waves.   When night fell conditions were worse and the sea had started to build, with waves crashing over the boat as we slammed into the rolling surf.   It was a horrible night.   I was seasick and we were slowly getting pushed further and further west.   As day dawned and conditions continued to deteriorate I suggested we give up on Tonga and head straight for Fiji.   Our weather router informed us conditions would remain the same for the next few days so we would be better continuing to our original destination.   As the day progressed we realized we were not going to make Niutoputapu in daylight, so we tacked and, as evening fell on our second night, we hove-to under the shadow of Tafahi, a perfectly proportioned island with a triangular shaped mountain rising up from the sea.   As we hove-to and stopped the boat, peace and quiet reined down!   It was almost magical how we gently rocked, instead of slamming, in the waves and the wind seemed to abate as we very slowly drifted.   We took it in turns to sleep and both of us had good solid rests between keeping an eye out for Freya who was doing the same as us a few miles west.  

As it started to get light, the sea had calmed and we continued sailing towards Nuiatoputapu which we could see about 7nm away.   As we drew close we started to see lots of whales – just the puff of water from when they breathe out, at first and then more of the whale’s body until we saw a pod of about seven heading straight for us.   I altered course so we cut infront of them and then changed back to our original track so they continued on their way behind us.   All of a sudden one of the humpbacks lept out of the water, twisted onto its side and splashed down sending a cascade of water over us!  

The entrance into the harbour is well marked but quite narrow and large rolling waves were breaking on either side of the pass as we entered.   Once in though, the waters are protected and sheltered with a large bay where one other boat was already anchored.    Shelly and James on SY Carina came over to introduce themselves and let us know about the check in process.   Shelly kindly made a phone call to arrange for immigration, health and customs to come at 3pm as well as organizing a sim card to be delivered to us on the dock the following morning.   As there is no ATM or means to exchange money, on the island we were asked to offer goods in exchange for the SIM card.    Promptly at 3pm we saw a couple of cars pull up on the dock as Steve and Todd headed out in the dinghies to collect the four officials.    Apart from one of the health workers, all the visitors were on the large size and helping the three women onto the boat, wearing long black skirts and woven overskirts as they hauled themselves out of the dinghy onto our small stem platform and then climb the steps to get into the boat was an interesting exercise!   All the officials were very formal until documents were completed and papers stamped and then they became warm and friendly smiling widely, showing their gold capped teeth.   We were asked to pay 200 pa’anga to cover the cost of the health workers visiting the boat, which we reluctantly paid, handing over US$70.   As the two officials had done nothing more than get a ride in our dinghy it was quite perplexing what we were actually paying for!    Needless to say, we completed the process and were now officially in Tonga.  

The next morning we met Shelly and James at the dock and went to meet Tiu who worked for the local mobile phone company, at her house.   As we walked along the road, pigs greeted us as they roamed freely each sow having numerous piglets chasing after her as she foraged for food on the beach, in gardens and on the roadside.   Thin, unloved dogs also scavenged for food being chased by hoards of painfully thin puppies – it seemed like every female dog we saw had a brood of puppies and we heard that, like the pigs, these often end up on the dinner table, making me very glad I don’t eat meat!   

Tiu lived in a home with a cluster of small shacks – one for sleeping in, one for cooking and one for eating in.   The dusty yard housed an outhouse and washing line where pandanus were drying in the morning sun.   Pandanus are the long leaves used to weave the traditional and formal clothes worn by Tongans, as well as the beautifully woven bowls and mats seen in markets around Tonga.   The leaves are cut from plants grown on the island, wrapped in bundles and taken to the beach where they are left in the sea to be bleached for a week.  The women then collect them, leave them to dry in the sun before cutting them to size and coiling them into packages to be sold in Nu’kulofa when the supply ship arrives.    

Tiu was a happy, hard working woman with two young girls she was raising on her own while her husband worked in Australia on a fruit orchard.   She exchanged a SIM card and 10GB of data for some items of food and a few old tee shirts.   She was happy with this trade and we were happy to be plugged in to the World again!    Tiu drove us to the dock and, on learning they had never been on a boat, invited them to jump in the dinghy and join us on board.   The children were very excited about being on board and looked all over the boat, asking lots of questions as they opened doors and cupboards with eyes getting wider as they took in everything!  

Later that day the dinghies from the three boats were dispatched to collect our BBQ hosts from the dock.  With Madam O in SV Carina’s dinghy, her niece, Fahia perched with Freya in their small wooden tender and Fahia’s 11yr old son, Mal in our dinghy, we headed in convoy for the small uninhabited island close to the reef.   We had to negotiate a number of shallows to reach a small beach, haul ourselves and all the food onto the beach and set about finding firewood under instructions from our hosts.  With Mal swinging a large machete, Steve was worried about how many limbs he would return with as they collected coconut leaves to weave our plates and food platters.   The fire was lit and lobster, crab and sausages loaded on to a grill while Madam O sat weaving a large platter from the fresh coconut leaves in between sipping from a can of beer mixed with rum!   It was a lovely afternoon spent in good company with the occasional whale making an appearance on the other side of the reef!  

We spent a week on Nuiatoputapu enjoying the company of the very friendly and generous locals. We spent a lovely afternoon at Fahia’s home being taught how to weave and later headed to Tiu’s home to teach her how to make pizza. I shooed the pigs and puppies out of her kitchen and, using the limited ingredients available, showed Tiu and her daughter how to make a simple pizza dough, topping it with anything available! Her only kitchen knife was so blunt the onion was more squashed than cut! I returned to the boat as it was put in the oven – a very old gas one that didn’t seem to get very hot! I left strict instructions to wait until it started to get brown on top, but it appears this was lost in translation as the photos Tiu sent me showed a very undercooked pizza that she shared with family and neighbours, all who seemed to love it and were still alive the next day…! It was a fun experience with various members of Tiu’s large extended family coming to watch. We later prised the blunt kitchen knife out of Tiu’s young daughter’s hand and sharpened it, giving it back to Tiu but fearing we had just left them with another potentially lethal situation!

It was a wonderful week and we felt privileged to have had the experience on this small Tongan island.   When it came time to leave Madam O came down to the dock and checked us out of the island while Tiu gave us a large parcel of pandandus we had offered to deliver to her cousin in Neiafu, our next stop.   We waved goodbye to Tiu on the dock and pulled up the anchor in the morning, following Freya out of the pass.

Talofa Samoa!

The sail had been a mixed bag of fast and slow sailing, rolly seas, sail changes, sunshine and rain!    As we converged on Apia, SY Sonny – a catamaran that left Suwarrow at a similar time – came into view and we made the final approach together, both being instructed to wait outside the entrance to the harbour for an hour while the World Outrigger championships raced in the protected waters of the bay.   Eventually we were allowed to enter, giving us refuge from the blustery wind and waves which both dissipated as we entered the sheltered waters of the country’s capital, Apia.

Check-in was quick and easy with officials visiting the boat, drinking most of our orange juice, and guiding us into the very small marina.   The officials remained business like and stern until we were checked in and then the veil lifted and they smiled, welcomed us, chatted, drank more juice and reluctantly left!   We had been told of boats being refused entry if their departure papers from the previous port did not mention Apia as the next port of call.  Fortunately we had amended our papers, changing the next port from Niue to Apia, before departing Suwarrow.  The change was made by the Ranger at Suwarrow and I was so concerned this crossed out amendment would not be accepted, I had taken photos of Ranger Harry with the amended document as proof we had not done it ourselves!   Fortunately everything was in order and a couple of hours after arriving, we were free to explore. 

Samoa consists of two main islands and several small, mostly uninhabited ones.  The international dateline runs between American Samoa and Samoa (previously known as Western Samoa) so 23hrs and 65nm separates the two countries!   But the main separation came when Samoa was fought over with Germany, UK and USA tussling each other for controlling rights over the country.   In 1900 it was agreed that the Eastern part of Samoa would split away to be controlled by USA, and the rest would belong to Germany.   During WW1, New Zealand were tasked with performing “a great and urgent imperial service” to seize control of Samoa, which they continued to rule over until 1962 when independence was awarded.

The Scottish author, Robert Louis Stevenson, chose to live in Samoa in 1890 until his death in 1894.     We visited the beautiful home he built in lovely grounds above Apia and had an excellent talk describing his life in Samoa and the history of the house since his death.   We made a pilgrimage to his grave at the top of a nearby hill which had been his wish and probably final challenge for his understanding wife.   The steep hill was covered in forest and had no pathway to the summit so locals lined up and carried the coffin over their heads, passing it from hand to hand in a river of people.   Although he only lived in Samoa for four years, he made a lasting impression on the small country and is still revered and respected.

Samoa has some beautiful and impressive waterfalls and we hired a car together with our friends on SY Skyfall, visiting a few of the spectacular cascades, swimming above one before the water tumbled over a high ravine to a deep circular pool far below.  

While driving through the countryside we noticed houses with large tombs in their gardens housing parents or loved ones who remain a centre of the family even after death.   Mothers are respected, honoured and held in high regard in Samoan culture and, although male and female have definite roles, women are treated well and are usually the leader of the family.   Houses have an “Open House” either connected to a home or in the centre of a community of houses.  These are buildings without walls that are meeting spaces, a place for people to gather, eat, talk or celebrate.   In the evenings you see families gathering to share food and in the day women sit on the floor and weave together.   Everywhere we went we were greeted with a cheerful “Talofa” and beautiful welcoming smile, which was normally followed with questions and genuine interest in getting to know us. The people are just wonderful and we really enjoyed stopping to talk and spending time asking questions and answering theirs!

On the northern side of the island is the large To-Sua Ocean Trench, accessed by a long wooden ladder which lowers you 15m into the ground.   Climbing onto the ladder is a feat in itself as you need to commit to climbing over a steep cliff onto the first rung and then lower yourself, in my case slowly, to the platform at sea level.  I was not overly confident but managed it and was glad I had when we cooled off in the beautiful water at the bottom.  

Every morning at 0845hrs the police force march from their central police station in Apia to the Government Buildings to raise the flag at 0900hrs. It was a great spectacle to watch with the police band playing, on this occasion, Waltzing Matilda (don’t ask me why they chose that piece of music!) as the men and women marched in unison through the busy streets.

Just beside the Government Buildings is a Cultural Village with an excellent daily programme demonstrating traditional weaving, cooking and tattooing. We watched a young man getting his torso and legs tattooed, where black dye was tapped into his skin by a sharp stick struck hard by an expert artist. The man had no say in the final design as the tattooist created the young man’s story in traditional designs, starting with his shoulders and continuing to his back, stomach, buttocks and legs, finishing above the knees. The role of a tattooist is one passed down through generations and there are very few Samoans now trained in this specialist skill. The young man being tattooed was supported by family as he lay perfectly still and very quiet during the process, while the tattooist was supported by two young men, possibly his sons, who carefully watched the design taking place and learned from their master. By the time we saw him, the tattoo had already taken four days with another nine until it was complete and, judging by the big bruisers spreading across his body, a number of painful hours lay ahead, all of which he had to endure without making a sound. The process is considered a right of passage to manhood, although less young men are having traditional tattoos due to the cost – thousands of US$ – and time taken.

After a week of sightseeing, socializing, enjoying the fabulous cafes/food and watching the World Outrigger Competition, it was time to go.  We cleared out the day before we were leaving as we wanted an early start, paid for the marina and prepared food for the 30hr sail to Niutoputapu, a small island in the north of Tonga and about 170nm sail south. Once again we would be sailing with Freya on the next leg of our journey. Samoa was a lovely surprise. The people, reasonable prices, excellent food and interesting culture made it one of Steve’s favourite destinations in the Pacific to date. Tonga lay ahead of us to the South which is often the direction of the wind, but we were choosing a weather window with more westerly in it – or so we thought!

Suwarrow – An Island to Oneself

The passage from Maupiha’a to Suwarrow was beautiful.   We had perfect winds that filled our sails all day and all night.   Seas that were gentle and no rain or squalls to deal with on our moonlit night passages.   We sailed in the company of Freya who stayed right beside us as we flew our two big jibs, until their spinnaker halyard broke at midnight when they had to scramble to retrieve the waterlogged sail .   To start with we were reminded of the heady days of sailing with SY Ruffian where our boats were so perfectly matched we finished beside each other after a multi-day passage.   With Freya severely handicapped with one sail down, we pulled ahead and were soon out of radio range as we sped towards Suwarrow.  

Suwarrow was, until the 1970’s, named Suvarrov after a Russian ship that “discovered” the atoll in the 1700’s.  It lies over 500nm north of Rarotonga and is part of the Northern Cook Islands territory.   In the 1950’s a New Zealander named Tom Neale chose to live on the island for six years in complete isolation, cut off from the outside world. His book, An Island to Oneself, has become a South Seas classic as it details the trials and tribulations of his solitary life in this beautiful, wild and unforgiving place. Two rangers now live on Suwarrow for six months and are responsible for looking after the atoll and making sure visiting yachts conform with the strict regulations while in the isolated National Park.

At 1pm, when we were four miles from the entrance into the atoll, we radioed the park ranger to ask permission to enter the pass.  Usually this is just a formality so I was very surprised to get a response saying access was denied due to the limit of yachts anchored in the bay being reached.    We were asked to wait outside the atoll until the morning when boats would be leaving.   This was not welcoming news as we were tired after a four day passage and had been looking forward to our arrival.    The wind had dropped to nothing at this point and trying to heave-to with no wind was impossible.   We dropped the sails as they were banging in the swell and this made our rolling even worse as we drifted in the windless ocean.   By 4pm Freya had joined us and we talked about how we could handle the swell and wait!   At 4.30pm the radio burst into life and the ranger informed us a boat leaving so we could now enter the lagoon.   Amazingly, and very kindly, our Australian friends on Matilda had heard of our predicament and decided to bring their morning departure forward to the evening to allow us entry into the anchorage.   Sadly, this meant we left Freya rolling in the ocean on their own, while we sped towards the atoll and into the flat, calm seas of the lagoon.   A dolphin welcomed us as we made our approach, battling 3knots of outgoing current as we tried to avoid large eddies on the way in.    As the sun set, we dropped our anchor close to several friends boats, and heaved a very grateful sigh of relief while still feeling guilty about Freya who were rolling around outside the reef. 

Suwarrow is everything you would expect an isolated tropical paradise to be.  The only way to visit Suwarrow is by private boat, so the privileged few of us are able to enjoy its clear warm waters, thousands of nesting sea birds, beautiful coral and, once again, whales in the lagoon, playfully passing in front of the anchorage.   If there was any island you would expect to find Robinson Crusoe, it is here – it meets all the described and imagined personas of a castaway island, it is uncanny, yet here we were taking a few days out of “civilization” to enjoy time in a place that time seems to have forgotten!  

Harry and Teina are the current island Rangers, responsible for keeping visiting yachties in check and being the guardians of the National Park.   They live on Suwarrow from June to November and are responsible for counting and monitoring seabirds and turtles during egg laying season.   They are kind, helpful and modest people, sharing their passion for traditional Cook Island customs as well as their love of nature.  The only time we saw them unhelpful was when they felt their position was disrespected when a yachtie didn’t ask permission to enter the pass or ignored their instructions and rules, but once they felt included and respected, their initial officious manner softened.

We were surrounded by friends in the anchorage and between snorkelling sessions, boat hopped as we all soaked in the incredible beauty of the place.   I celebrated my 60th birthday in Suwarrow, surrounded by new friends at a pot luck dinner organised on the beach.  We feasted on a variety of food and dishes that, although lacking a lot of fresh vegetables, was a luxury many of us hadn’t experienced for some time!  

On the morning of my birthday we collected our friends, Lee and Tamara on SY Athena in our dinghy and headed to the pass – our mission was to find the elusive but documented, manta ray cleaning station which come into the lagoon to get cleaned by wrasse fish which diligently nibble off dry skin and parasites as the rays patiently stay still for long periods – it’s like a day spa for mantarays!    We had heard of other cruisers having wonderful experiences close to the pass and, with Lee egging us in his persuasive, adventurous, enthusiastic way, we ventured further and further into the fast flowing waters.   At first sight of a ray under the boat, Lee leapt into the water leaving the rest of us glancing at each other wondering if anyone else would follow.   Tamara and I lowered ourselves into the fast flowing current and tried to catch up with Lee as he followed the mantaray back into the lagoon.   On seeing large grey sharks below us, we again looked at each other and returned to the dinghy.   A couple of days earlier a cruiser had been attacked by one of the sharks who took exception to being pushed away and circled around the swimmer, charging at him and biting his ear.   Another cruiser came to his rescue and, with blood dripping from his wound, he was hauled into the dinghy.   Tamara and I did not fancy a similar interaction so retired to safety!    Once out of the current and pass, we all jumped into the water again and waited.   Lee was freediving below us when I suddenly saw his movements change and he started frantically swimming in the opposite direction.  We all turned, unsure what was behind us, as a large shape came into view swimming fast towards the pass.   It was a humpback whale with baby, swimming silently beside us – quite amazing to have such an unexpected close encounter!    It turned out not to be the only encounter we would have as, later that day, a humpback, possibly the same one, came into our anchorage and swam around the boats for about 45 minutes.   Those lucky enough to have paddleboards had an amazing experience with the whales swimming underneath them numerous times before heading back out to sea.  

We had planned to leave the next day for Niue where our good friend, Kim, was joining us.   As we prepared to depart, we talked again to our weather router who had warned us of potentially bad weather to the south.   We discussed, studied, discussed and decided to follow our weather routers advice and stay north.  This was a hard decision to make as it meant letting Kim down and missing out on a place we really wanted to explore with her.  Kim was wonderful and, although deeply disappointed, understood our decision – one that later proved to be the right one as we heard of other cruisers who were unable to get ashore during the same period due to high winds.   

Instead of heading south, we sailed west and set our course for Apia in Samoa – a place we had not had not intended visiting or researched, so spent the passage learning more about it.   We left with a number of other boats heading in the same direction which made for good company at the start of the 500nm passage. 

At around midnight on the last evening, we crossed the dateline so we missed out on 15 August all together, another huge milestone reached and significant point in our journey. We were now just one hour time difference from NZ and home felt so much closer.

Maupiha’a – life on an isolated atoll

Spending three months in French Polynesia was a dream.   There are not many people who are able to travel as freely as we have in some of the most beautiful and remote places on earth.  We know how lucky we have been to have the time to enjoy and explore over ten islands and numerous atolls in our time here, but that doesn’t take away from the feeling that we have only scratched the surface and, in hindsight, I wish we had decided to apply for the longterm visa while in Panama as having that extra time would have made all the difference, exploring more, visiting more atolls and really getting to know each place we visited.   French Polynesia covers such a vast area, it is impossible to do it justice in three months!    One lasting impression was how wonderful it is to see a region that has not allowed major development to detract from the natural beauty of the place.   Big hotel groups are limited to single level chalets – usually built over the water, offering exclusive accommodation to those able to pay US$3000 per night, but we also saw a number of failed operations with chalets being left to decay over the crystal clear waters that once attracted wealthy guests.    Towns are kept very traditional with no big stores or multi-national fast food places dominating the landscape.   I think the only place we saw a MacDonalds was on Moorea and that was a sad sight to see!

It felt like The Society Islands were not ready to see us go as we made very slow progress in light winds, taking almost all day for Bora Bora to fade out of sight.  The wind picked up as the sun sank below low cloud on the horizon in front of us, as we picked up speed and headed west.   It turned out to be a lovely sail with flat seas and a beam reach in about 10-15knots of wind – the perfect conditions for Cerulean and us!    We were headed to a small atoll, still just in French Polynesia, called Maupiha’a where eight people live, farming copra (coconut).   They are completely cut off from civilization, apart from visiting yachts who bring supplies and help where possible.   A supply ship comes once a year to ship the cobra to Tahiti for processing, but will only come when there is 14.5 tons to collect.   Eight adults work six days a week to cut, collect and dry the cobra and have a satellite phone to call the main administration centre on Maupiti, a small island 100nm east, to request the ship comes to collect.   (We later discovered there had been a fallout and one family had been ostracized by the other three couples, meaning only six adults were collecting coconuts and processing them). In the meantime, the eight residents live off fish, coconut crabs, coconuts and fruit and vegetables grown on the island.   We had been told they would welcome certain items so had stocked up on flour, sugar, mayonnaise, instant coffee, rice and onions to give to Norma, the Mayor of the island.  

The low lying atoll is hard to see and we didn’t get a sight of it until we were about five miles from the most eastern point.   As we approached the narrow pass into the atoll, it started to rain, making visibility hard, so we waited for the cloud to clear before attempting the narrow, challenging pass.  

With Steve on the bow and talking to me in the headphones, we started our approach, keeping in the middle of two visible white sticks which mark the edge of the reef.   Waves broke on either side as we motored through the channel with large eddies trying to pull us to one side of the channel.  We increased the revs on the engine as the outgoing current increased at the same intensity as my stress levels!   We crawled through the pass at about 3knots, weighing up going faster to have more grip in the water v’s being cautious incase we hit the reef!    We made it through and Steve was able to see obstacles below us to guide us into deeper water – a huge relief to be in the calm blue waters of the atoll.   

We headed to the north where we could see one other boat anchored and a few houses hidden in the trees.   Along the way terns screamed their welcome and brown boobies attempted to land on our pole which we had left out, seemingly believing it would be a perfect perch for them to view unsuspecting fish we disturbed in the water below.   It was very amusing watching them attempting to land and, when they won that battle, trying to stay on the slippery pole as they had to continue to fly to stay still – obviously not what they were expecting so soon disappeared with a disgruntled squawk!

The other boat in the bay belonged to Elaine and Crawford from the UK and later, on board their boat, we met Mayor Norma and Harry who were using starlink to call their daughter in Maupiti.   It was lovely seeing the delight on their faces to have a rare conversation with family and then receive photographs of grandchildren they have not seen for some time.  

The next day was Saturday and, as Seventh Day Adventists, it was their day of rest when they stop harvesting coconuts and preparing copra, so they invited us to visit their home.   It felt like they were real life Robinson Crusoe’s as we approached the small tin shack they call home, with internal walls of mesh hung from rafters, decorated with shells.   The kitchen is outside with the sink and workbench facing the blue clear water of the lagoon – a view that would be hard to beat anywhere!  

Harry guided us through the coconut trees to the other side of the narrow stretch of land they live on, to the wild windward side where the deep ocean crashes on a small reef and coral beaches.  The sound of the sea moving washed up coral was only drowned out by the screech of hundreds of Sooty Terns that had been disturbed by our appearance.   The Terns spend most of their lives at sea, returning to land only to breed and lay their eggs on the ground, sometimes not bothering to attempt to make a nest while others had gone to great efforts.   Eggs and chicks were scattered everywhere so we picked our path carefully as we followed Harry along the beach.   It felt like we were in a scene from a horror movie as birds filled the sky above us, screaming at us as we moved through their nesting area.   I was relieved when we left them in peace to raise their chicks, chicks that when full grown would return to land in a few years – it was an unforgettable experience.   One Harry does most days as he collects their unfertilized eggs as part of their regular diet – if placed in water, fertilized eggs will sink.   They explained that a dog killed all their chickens so now Tern eggs are the only kind they eat.   I mentally added eggs to the list of provisions I would give them! 

Returning to the house, Norma showed us a huge coconut crab they have been fattening up for the last three weeks.   The underbelly was blue with a sac Norma excitedly called Froie Gras so must be a huge delicacy.    Later we returned to Norma and Harry’s for dinner with fellow cruisers, Elaine and Crawford.   Norma had decorated the table in her house with beautiful flowers and proudly welcomed us into her home as we sat down at a table ladened with food – some we had brought, but most included ingredients foraged from the environment we were in.   The coconut crab we had met earlier took pride of place on the table as it easily fed six of us, cooked in coconut milk and spices which was delicious.   After clearing the remains of the crab off the table, Norma took the lid off a large pan with a flourish and proudly presented us with a whole lobster each.   It was delicious and we felt very honoured to have been invited, not only to share the wonderful food, but to be in such a stunning location as we watched the sun go down over the lagoon.   

There is a tenuous link to my home town of Lyttelton on this small atoll.   There is a wreck on the outside of the reef of notorious German first WW warship Seeadler that ran aground in 1917, captained by the colourful Count Felix von Lucknor, who was later imprisoned on Ripapa Island in Lyttelton Harbour.   He has an amazing story which is too long and unbelievable to write about here, but worth reading about – why has no movie been made about this man?   He was the real German equivalent of Hornblower!

We decided to extend our stay for a few days as our friends on SY Freya were arriving and the winds looked quite light – it was not a hard decision to make!   On our last full day a humpback whale came into the lagoon and entertained us for a while.  As night fell we heard the now familiar sound of a whale surfacing close by and the black shape of a large mammal in the calm water behind the boat.  It was a wonderful final gift from this magical atoll!  

A full moon sank in the clear morning sky and, as we watched the sun rise, we pulled up anchor before heading towards the pass with SY Freya.   We waved to Harry and Norma as they stood on the beach watching the last two boats in the anchorage leave.  Now they would be on their own again until the next adventurous cruisers arrived, hopefully bringing more supplies and speaking better French than any of us!   This was a perfect farewell to The Societies as we headed out to our next destination, an even more remote uninhabited atoll 600nm NW in the middle of the Pacific!

High Society

We left Fakarava and headed to another atoll, Faaite, 15nm to the south with our NZ friends on Te Kinga.   There was no wind and the sea was flat calm as we motor sailed towards the low lying atoll, entering the narrow pass on slack tide.   Numerous small fishing boats created a slalom course for us as we approached the entrance, forcing us to slow down and admire the crystal clear water as we glided over healthy looking coral close to the land.   We negotiated the entrance, meandering round boomies into an anchorage close to the small main town of Hitianau, except it really wasn’t an anchorage due to the shallow patches and boomies everywhere not giving us enough room to swing a cat, let alone a 43ft boat!   Together with Te Kinga we circled around the bay numerous times, trying to find a clear patch of sand, big enough to drop our anchor and for us to circle around it without hitting anything under the water.   Eventually we found a patch we hoped we suffice, dropped the anchor and floated all our chain so only 10m was on the bottom, the remaining 30m was floated using our fenders but fortunately no wind was forecast so we felt confident we would be fine.  

The settlement of Hitianau has a checkered and interesting recent history.  In 1987 a cult moved on to the atoll with the religious leader convincing locals that the devil was amongst them, resulting in six deaths when members of the community were burned alive by being thrown into a fire.    The next time the atoll was thrown into the spotlight was a few years later when a yacht ladened with cocaine ran aground on the reef.   Police were informed when a fire started on board and over half a ton of drugs were discovered, believing that more had been lost in the fire.   In a scenario similar to Whiskey Galore, it was later discovered that locals had raided the boat and hidden the drugs.   It only became apparent when the Mayor noticed a number of locals acting strangely and called in the police from Tahiti to investigate, resulting in the discovery that a number of the 250 residents were addicted to cocaine. 

Walking around the sleepy town today, it is hard to imagine its colourful past.  People mostly use tricycles as their main mode of transport, everyone smiles and greets you in passing, neat houses line the dusty roads and fishermen take their small boats out to catch just enough fish for the locals to eat.   On the day we arrived the supply ship was in, so we joined a small line of locals on the dock and bought fresh fruit and vegetables from the boxes displayed by the ships crew.   We even bought fresh eggs which was a bonus as we were fast learning to buy them whenever we saw them!   We ordered fresh baguettes to collect the next day and were invited into a local home by a father and son who proudly showed us around there waterfront property.   In exchange, we gave them the fishing line we had collected when crossing the Pacific and were very happy it was going to good use!

The weather forecast showed some significant wind and building seas were coming, so we decided to leave with Te Kinga and head back to Fakarava for a few nights.  We had originally intended to stay another night and leave for Tahiti from Faaite but with seas building it meant the pass could become treacherous.   As it was, we left with the outgoing tide and were swept through the pass at speed, waving to the fishermen at the entrance as we were carried past them.   On the passage back Te Kinga caught a couple of tuna which they generously shared with us, donating a large steak which fed us for four meals!

Tahiti was calling us, so we reluctantly left The Tuamotu’s ahead of a front bringing strong winds and enjoyed a 36hr passage, arriving in Tahiti mid morning.   My son, Jak and his wife Juliette, were due to arrive in a few days, so after doing laundry, a big shop at Carrefour and mandatory clean, tidy and sort of the boat, we moved into Papeete Marina.  The marina operates on a first-in-first-served basis so securing a berth feels like winning lottery, particularly when you listen to others hard-luck stories and pleas for a space.   We were lucky as our friends on Freya were leaving and we arranged a smooth exchange which, even though we did this with military co-ordination, another boat waiting in the wings almost tried to swoop into the berth ahead of us!  

The marina is located in the centre of the biggest city in The Society Islands so getting fresh produce, doing laundry and preparing for Jak and Ju’s arrival was easy.  While we waited I was invited by our friends on Cygnus Cygnus to attend Heiva, an annual festival of Polynesian Culture and we enjoyed a night of traditional dance and music with mesmorising drumming, fast knee knocking by the men and impressive bottom wiggling by the women.  

While in Papeete we caught up with lots of friends.  On one occasion we were meeting an Aussie/Irish contingent for lunch in a restaurant and were hidden away upstairs catching up on a couple of months news.   On coming up for air, we noticed that a group of other friends were sitting at another table having lunch and we called them over.   You know when you are with fellow cruisers when one of the friends walks over is carrying a bucket and, on noticing this, one of the Irish/Aussies says, “That’s a really nice bucket…”!   I wonder what we will consider important in the real world!

Jak and Ju’s much anticipated arrival happened at 5am one morning, just as it was starting to get light, and I ran into their warm embraces with huge excitement much to the amusement of the marina security guard who was alerted by my squeals of delight!   As we were having breakfast on deck a friendly turtle popped up beside the boat followed by a pod of dolphins that joined in the celebrations as we were leaving the harbour later that day!    A great start to their visit with levels of excitement high which would continue for the duration of their two weeks stay with us.    Together we explored Moorea where we swam with sharks and stingrays, went on long dinghy rides, explored some of the inland region, snorkeled in clear waters and introduced Jak and Ju to some of our friends.   We did an overnight sail to Huahine in conditions that were far from the perfect seastate I was hoping for with Ju, always cheerful and positive, incapacitated with seasickness, only emerging from her uncomfortable looking cocoon curled up on the saloon seating, once we were safely in the blue protected waters behind the island.    We hired bikes and circumnavigated Huahine, pushing the old one-speed bikes up the one steep hill on the island – Jak breaking his bike as he tried to pedal up the sharpest incline!   We watched blue-eyed eels as they stared back at us in a shallow river, were mesmorised by brightly coloured fish from a dock and marvelled at the shades of blue in the bay.   We sailed down to the most southerly bay and watched an octopus change colour to match the coral around it, spending a very windy night on a mooring buoy which we had raced to pick up ahead of another boat I was convinced would try to beat us to it, only to discover they had picked up a much better mooring further inland!  

On we sailed to Taha’a, inside a large reef it shared with its neighbour, Raiatea.   We enjoyed sundowners watching beautiful sunsets over nearby Bora Bora, drift snorkelled the Coral Garden, tasted local rum at the nearby distillery, listened to a local band play with local women joining in the dancing, visited a pearl farm and a vanilla plantation with processing plant, celebrated Bastille Day by visiting a festival in a small village, played games and laughed together.   Finally, we sailed to Bora Bora – a place I had wanted to visit since the early 1980’s when I watched a TV show called Tales of the Gold Monkey set, apparently in Bora Bora and I was mesmorised by its beautiful scenery and handsome lead!   When researching for this blog I discovered it was actually set in Bora Gora – wherever that is – and I must’ve been hearing the place wrong!!!  Well, it made me look up Bora Bora, stick a pin in my imaginary map of the globe and dream of the exotic location!   Now we were sailing there, and I couldn’t have been more excited.   As we rounded the south westerly corner of the reef, Bora Bora presented itself in all its beauty and travel brochure glory!   The emerald blue waters set against a dramatic crater rim of an extinct tall volcano was breathtaking.  

We met up with Tomas and Corine who guided us through narrow channels to a stunning anchorage in Baie Tehou.    We took the dinghies towards the reef and stood chest deep in water as numerous black tipped sharks and huge stingrays circled around us.   In the evening we had sharks around our boat and we swam in the clear warm waters, soaking up the extraordinary sights and experiences of this truly magical island.   Tomas’s friend, Corine, was leaving the next day so the six of us went into Vaitape, the main town, to explore and have lunch.   There is very little in the town, which shows that even with the many luxury resorts on the island, very little of that money spills over into the local economy – yes, there are jobs for the locals, but most of those are menial with the majority of the well paid jobs going to French or other nationalities.  

Having said that, The Societies have not been spoiled by large, ugly hotels.  Most of the buildings we saw were single, or at most, two storied buildings which were built to fit in with the landscape although did restrict access to some beautiful parts of the lagoon.   It is not possible to fully circumnavigate the island as the far south is not navigable, so we meandered our way to around the island and stayed in the south east corner, visiting a French Canadian who had established a Coconut Factory.   It was really just a small shack where he lived with his local wife and two gorgeous young children and operated a press to extract oil from coconuts grown on Bora Bora.   He added essence of other plants to the oil to make medicinal cures for burns, bites and increase energy levels.   His property stretched the width of the motu from blue lagoon to the battered windward side and he allowed us to explore, walking through his tendered garden and tall trees to the thunderous waves on the Pacific side.   We collected shells, watched crabs, waded in a huge rock pool where sharks hunted the trapped fish and coral broke the surface of the water.   

All too soon we were preparing for Jak and Ju to leave us.   It had been a wonderful, memorable and fun time together, laughing, exploring, playing games, doing quizzes, talking and sailing.  We needed to get fuel so suggested we drop them at the fuel dock for an easy walk into Vaitape where they could catch a free ferry to the airport – the only way to access the airport is by water.    Our attempts to get fuel turned into an unhappy series of events as the cashiers would only allow us to use our tax free certificate if we provided copies of the certificate, boat papers and entry permits.  They didn’t have a photocopier, would not accept electronic copies and didn’t know of anywhere who would copy them, so we left without filling our tanks!   That’ll show them!   It was not the final goodbye I had pictured for Jak and Ju but at least they were able to have an unfiltered insight into the trials and tribulations of cruising life!   

We waved to Jak and Ju as we motored away from the dock and headed out the pass, back into the rolly, unprotected waters of the Pacific Ocean.   We were headed for Raiatea as we had an appointment with a tradesman who could try and discover what was wrong with our steering as I was very concerned about a grating sound that occasionally caused the wheel to jerk.   We had unsuccessfully and frustratingly been trying to find the source to no avail and now needed to urgently have the steering assessed to see if it was safe to continue to New Zealand.    So a few days later we had a shipwright named Fred scratching his head too, trying to find the source of the problem, resulting in us getting hauled out the next day to check the integrity of our rudder.   We only just fit in the slipway where three men dived into the clear water and positioned slings under Cerulean.   As we were lifted we were pleasantly surprised by how clean Ceruleans bottom was – Steve had done a great job keeping the growth off and while we could we scraped barnacles and weed off the harder to reach places, cleaned the propeller and shaft and checked the anodes – all looking good!   The rudder was jiggled and wiggled hard, resulting in the noise becoming apparent, thankfully not from the rudder but, after a thorough check, found the offender to be our autohelm!   We were happy to have found the culprit – an easy fix – and hugely relieved there was nothing wrong with our steering, in fact the opposite as it was given a big thumbs up as being in perfect condition!     Our time in French Polynesia was coming to an end.   We were given 90 days in the country when we arrived in The Marquesas and were told the only way to stay longer was to apply for a longstay visa prior to arriving in French Polynesia.   As it turns out, getting an extension is easier than we believed, all you have to do is tell the Gendarmerie you have a problem with your boat and it will take a couple of months for the parts to arrive – bingo!    Although we had all the supporting proof that we had an issue with the boat, we decided we would not ask for an extension as time was ticking and there were still lots of other exotic islands to visit.  

We filled with fuel, reprovisioned and started the long process of checking out.   French Polynesia has a quite antiquated check in/out procedure.  We were told that, after checking in at The Marquesas, we had to complete the process once we arrived in Tahiti, which we duly did and were emailed a form as proof of this.   We were then advised we needed to seek permission if we were leaving Tahiti/Moorea to go to the outer islands and intended checking out of those islands, which we also did and were sent confirmation back.    We stayed the night in Raiatea’s main town of Uturoa on the town dock in the town centre, ignoring the advice we were given on arrival that we had to leave by 4.30pm, as we had been told we were allowed to spend one night there for free.   On Saturday morning we headed to the gendarmerie, completed numerous forms and were asked to return on Tuesday to collect our zarpe – no one asked for the other forms we had been given in Papeete. 

We decided to spend a few days exploring Raiatea and headed towards The Botanical Gardens which are located down a meandering river edged with palm trees.   After walking through the gardens we crossed to the other side of the river and met Andre, a local man who has been creating a large fruit and vegetable garden on land he leases at a peppercorn rent from the government for the last 35 years.   He has created a fabulous food basket, offering his hard won bounty to anyone who shows an interest in his garden.   We came away with bananas, beans, ginger, turmeric, pumpkin and plenty of exotic fruit which Andre encouraged us to try.   We gave him a donation which he accepted with a smile but he often feeds people who are unable to give money.

We received an email on Monday telling us our exit papers were ready so on Tuesday we returned to the town dock and completed our check out with the gendarmerie.   It was quick and easy with them stamping our passports and presenting us with our zarpe.   We were now officially checked out of French Polynesia and ready to sail west for the next leg of our journey back to New Zealand. We had been lucky enough to spend three months exploring French Polynesia. Every place we visited had its own special feel and memorable moments. To share these places with friends and family made them all the more incredible and as we sailed away from The Society Islands, we felt a mixture of sadness and excitement. Sadness as we would have loved to have spent more time in these beautiful (but expensive) islands, but excitement at the adventures that still lay ahead of us.

Diving into the Tuamotus

Our new windlass purred as it pulled up our anchor at 5am on a Saturday morning and we slipped out of Nuku Hiva, heading south to The Tuamotu’s.   We had timed our departure so we would arrive at our first atoll at slack tide as the narrow entrance can be treacherous with a strong current if timed incorrectly.  

The Tuamotus are a group of sparsely populated atolls, spread over an area equivalent in size to Western Europe but with a combined land area of only 850sq km’s.   They are located just to the north of Tahiti and are part of French Polynesia with probably the atoll that New Zealanders are most familiar with, Moruroa, where the French conducted nuclear weapon testing from 1966 until 1996.  It’s hard to believe anyone would consider it a good idea to destroy these beautiful atolls and the ocean around it.  The 80 islands and atolls had been on my destination list for a long time as the marine life is exceptional in and around the atolls, particularly the abundance of sharks, colourful fish, stingrays and mantarays.   The islands are, in effect, coming to the end of their lives as they are slowly disappearing beneath the sea, accelerated by global warming, with nothing but a line of palm trees and breaking waves on an empty horizon indicating their existence.

Our course took us past the small island of Ua-Pou the last island in the Marquesas chain, with its magnificent rock formations dominating our view for a few hours while we skirted around its eastern side, temporarily sailing into a wind shadow caused by high hills.   Our speed picked up again to over 8knots as we enjoyed some great fast sailing being expertly steered by Hilda the Hydrovane as we continued our passage south.   On day two, after an uneventful but lovely night of fast sailing, I started to feel unwell again and spent the rest of the passage nursing the start of a migraine – this has now become a regular occurrence and I have decided to take preventative measures in future in the shape of strong medication!  

Steve and Hilda took care of the boat and me, while I tweaked the sails, made small adjustments and generally sat in the corner of the cockpit feeling crap!   After 48hrs of sailing the batteries were in need of topping up so we ran the engine to give them a short boost.  I was looking at the monitor to check how many amps were going in and was pleased to see the battery voltage slowly increasing when suddenly all positive input stopped and, although the engine was still running, no charge was going into the batteries.   We discovered that a bolt had sheered on the arm that tightens the fan belt to the alternator so Steve rigged up a temporary fix until we could extract the broken bolt.   Relieved, we continued our passage, maintaining good speed covering over 160nm in 24hrs, moving our expected arrival time forward a few hours so we decided to go as fast as possible to arrive at the slack tide 6hrs earlier than we had originally calculated.   Our timing was perfect and at 5am we were approaching the northern part of Raroia, ready to enter the atoll on the western side at 6am slack water.   Close to the entrance we furled the jib and I turned the key to start the engine ……… nothing happened!   Steve tried to figure out what had happened and together with our good friends on Escapade of London, who were anchored inside the atoll and whom we woke up with a plead for help on the VHF radio, we were able to identify and resolve the issue.   By this time a few hours had passed and, although other boats were still entering the pass, I had lost confidence in the engine and aborted one attempt as we followed another boat towards the pass.    I needed to settle my nerves and regain confidence in the engine, so we motor sailed outside the atoll for a while, deciding to make water while the engine was running and the batteries charging.   It was at this point Steve reached the bottom of his despair as the watermaker refused to build pressure – infact there was probably more pressure in Steve than in the watermaker pump at this moment.   We had reached the lowest point and we were stuck outside being bounced around in the sea where even a pod of big whales that surfaced very close to us, could not raise our spirits.   We needed to get in and sort things out.    After watching another boat enter the pass, I decided to go for it and we lined ourselves up with the markers following a route given to us by another cruiser.   The boat ahead of us radioed to say he was seeing 4knts of current against him, so I knew we had to power up and be prepared for a little bit of skidding as we moved out of the strong flow.   With Steve at the bow, looking out for any bommies (coral heads) and me watching our track, depth and heartrate, we sped into the pass.  To be honest, we have been through worse but when people talk about sailing in the Tuamotus the main topic is the entrance into the atolls so I had been a little overly cautious than was necessary.    We were through and now just had to weave our way through bommies, shallows and disused sunken pearl farm buoys to get to the northern anchorage.    Raroia is 20nm long, surrounded by a reef that is, in the most part, above water level.   These stretches of land are covered in Palm trees with white, coral scattered beaches dominating the intense blue waterscape of the lagoon.   A few houses are hidden in the trees with the islands residents (about 200) surviving, in the most part, off coconuts, seafood and collected rainwater.    A supply ship occasionally visits but times and dates are erratic and any fresh produce not grown on the atoll, is a real luxury.   

Raroia is probably best know for the raft, Kon-Tiki which made landfall here in 1947 having sailed from South America with a crew of six, running aground on the shallow reef.  A small monument was erected by locals to honour the men who successfully steered their small raft from Peru to attempt to prove that Polynesians originated from South America, not Asia as was the widely held view. Although the journey was a success, the theory was not accepted and it is still thought that Polynesians have their ancestry connected to Asia, not South America.

There were already five boats in the northern anchorage when we arrived, all well spaced out infront of a long white beach and stretch of tree covered land.  We could see the sandy bottom easily but the bay was scattered with bommies and rocks which we could also see below the surface, with some of the bommies raising to just below the surface.   We needed to make sure we had enough swing room to avoid any shallow patches and rocks, so spent a long time scoping out the area in an attempt to find a large enough space in sand for us to feel confident we would not hit anything submerged.   Eventually we dropped the anchor, attaching fenders to our chain so it floated off the bottom to avoid getting wrapped around under obstruction below the surface.   We had arrived and heaved a huge sigh of relief after an eventful morning.    

The anchorage remained quiet and we enjoyed a few days of relaxing in a beautiful environment, spending time with friends, exploring the narrow strip of land that separates the internal “lake” from the rolling surf of the Pacific Ocean.   Huge crabs scurried from the water and under trees as we crunched our way across a coral beach to reach the northerly exposed coastline of the island.   A wide coral plateau gave the island protection as waves broke further out to sea and then gently rippled across the shallow waters, giving the water colours of blues and green in the afternoon sunshine.   Sadly plastic bottles were scattered along the beach having been washed ashore and left to decompose in the hot sun.   I started to collect them and made a small pile of the jetsam on the beach, but could not remove the rubbish as we had no idea when we would be back in a place where we could dispose of it.   

Curious black tip sharks swam around the boat, only about 1 metre in length, but big enough to keep me out the water for the time being until I could overcome my fear of swimming with them, something I was determined to do, as seeing sharks in the water in the Tuamotus is inevitable, so I had to get over my irrational fear of them!

We spent a few blissful days in quiet isolation, apart from our wonderful community of cruiser friends. When it was time to leave Raroia we went in convoy with two other boats – Traveller and Saoirse – heading out of the pass an hour before slack time with an outgoing tide, being swept out with a 5knot current before being deposited off the sleigh ride in deep water – It felt like a ride on WaterWorld as we saw our speed increase to 11knots at one point!    Sails were raised and we set a course for Fakarava, nearly 200NM due west and one of the largest atolls in The Tuamotus’s.   The wind was blowing 10-12knots from the south east and with a current helping us we made great speed, just keeping pace with the two faster boats as we all enjoyed one of the most memorable, special and magical sails of our trip so far.     We were treated to a beautiful sunset, watching as the sun slowly disappeared over the western horizon while in the east, an incredible moonrise with the full moon lighting up the sky as it appeared over the ocean’s horizon.      The night sail under a full moon and clear skies in flat seas and steady wind was perfect and our speed hardly dropped below 6knots as we seemed to glide over the water, remaining in VHF radio contact with both our other buddy boats.  

The entrance into the north pass of Fakarava is well marked, deep and easy to navigate and we arrived at 3pm while we still had good light and a favourable current sweeping us through the pass.   The anchorage is in the atoll’s main town of Tokelau and is about 5nm from the entrance and is large with lots of space and good hold in sand with the occasional rocks to avoid.   A supply ship is scheduled to come every Wednesday and the anchorage normally fills up on the Tuesday as cruisers try to stock up on fresh vegetables and produce, but it hadn’t arrived the week we were there so supplies were very limited in all the shops.   Eggs are delivered twice a week so we ordered a dozen of the precious items from the boulangerie, which we collected on a Monday along with fresh baguettes which we needed to order the day before as they ran out very quickly!   Fortunately, as our fresh fruit and vegetable stocks were almost gone, the small town had some excellent restaurants and we enjoyed a number of meals out with friends at a variety of places along the beachfront.

Together with our friends, we headed to the Pearl Farm to listen to a free talk which takes place on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays at 10am, giving excellent information on how the pearls are created and farmed.   It is a complicated process over 12-14 months, starting with a “Master” selecting an oyster with the boldest, blackest colour inside their shell.   That oyster is sacrificed and its flesh is grafted into the shells of 20 others along with a “seed” made of mollusk shell from the Mississippi River.  These seeds are implanted into the oyster who will then act as the surrogate host, coating the seed with a shell which matches the colour of the grafted flesh.   The oysters are then returned to the farm for between 12 – 14 months, the time it usually takes for the seed to be coated to create a round black pearl.   Not all the pearls are perfectly round or completely black with many having imperfections or sometimes the seed is not completely coated with pearl.   We were given the opportunity to buy an oyster of our choice and keep the pearl that was extracted, so took our chances and selected a large shell which we hoped housed a happy oyster and black pearl.   It’s not really a great life for an oyster as not only are they implanted with a foreign object which they are forced to coat with the DNA of another oyster that was murdered infront of them, but then they are eaten after giving up the pearl they have been nursing for a number of months! 

We motored south, following a channel that hugged the thin strip of land, to Hirifa – a cluster of houses but no village – on a beautiful sandy beach and a real tropical paradise in clear blue water, dropping the anchor in a magical spot with million dollar 360 degree views of long sandy beaches, turquoise waters and palm trees leaning over the clear water .    There was a fabulous community of cruisers here with children boat hopping and sailors enjoying beach BBQ’s and socializing together plus there was the opportunity to learn to free dive, which Steve eagerly enrolled in together with our friends on Traveller and Saoirse. Steve turned out to be the star pupil, staying underwater much longer than his classmates and enjoying the experience.

The Southern Pass, located a couple of miles from Hirifa, is a world heritage protected area with the most incredible diving and drift snorkelling in pristine coral amongst plenty of colourful fish and lots of sharks.   I was nervous on the first drift, not knowing how I would react when seeing a shark, let alone a big shoal of them, but once I was in the water and able to see the amazing world below the surface, I relaxed and enjoyed the experience of being pulled along by the strong current as lots of black tip sharks swam past us and schools of colourful fish weaved through the coral.   The coral shelf stretched out below us for as far as the eye could see, and groups of sharks swam against the current, heading out of the lagoon not taking any notice of us or the other fish. It was an amazing experience, which we repeated numerous times with friends each time seeing different fish and creatures as we were washed down in the current, gathering speed as we followed the stream around the corner towards our anchorage.   It was a life moment I will never forget – a magical carpet ride over a world below the water! Fakarava was proving to be an incredible place but we had one more atoll to visit before moving on to The Societies and this one will be remembered for quite different reasons!

The most beautiful anchorage in the World.

We waited for a good weather window and headed further south to the iconic anchorage of Hanavave – Bay of Virgins or Bay of Penis’s, which was the original name but thought a bit too racy by early missionaries – in Fatu Hiva.   This is known as one (if not the) most beautiful anchorages in the World, certainly one of the most iconic, surrounded by high, jaggered hills and lush valleys.  

We had a fast sail into the wind and enjoyed watching the beauty of the island come into view, anchoring in 25m, the shallowest depth we could find, and used all our chain as we found a spot beside the team on Delos (Sailing channel Youtube followers will know who they are!).    Fortunately the prevailing wind is from the east, blowing down a valley at the head of the bay, so none of the other 18 boats in the anchorage swung much, which would have been messy when we all had almost 100m of scope out!  

Fatu Hiva is a beautiful lush island with tree covered steep, pointed hills, the valleys rich with grapefruit, oranges, limes, bananas, star fruit, guava and mangos in the most stunning setting.    Fruit grows abundantly in the wild and fish are plentiful so no one goes hungry, particularly as hunting boar or goats is also a popular pass-time.   The settlement of Hanavave has a lovely relaxed feel with all the houses built around large gardens containing several fruit trees, offering to sell grapefruit or oranges, climbing the tree to pick the best fruit while we waited below, hoping they wouldn’t fall as they climbed higher in barefeet, loading ripe fruit into the fold of their teeshirt!   The fruit was worth the effort with the juicy sweet grapefruit becoming a regular treat after a meal and the oranges providing a refreshing juice after a long walk.  

There is a lovely walk to a waterfall, taking about 40 minutes from the dinghy dock along a poorly signed pathway.    The water was brackish but refreshing as we swam under the trickle of water that cascaded from a great height above us.   We visited the small town of Omoa in the south of the island.   There is an anchorage here but several boats, including Delos, attempted to enter the bay, believing it would be a better, shallower anchorage but the surf was so great and the swell awful, they all returned quite swiftly to Hanavave!   The town of Omoa is lovely with a large “events” centre where the biannual Island Festival takes place, with tikis donated by the visiting islands.   There are some lovely Tiki’s along the waterfront and, once again, numerous houses displaying arts and crafts for sale.   We visited one man who made beautiful banjos in his backyard and he demonstrated the quality of the sound while his son proudly showed us his bone carvings. 

The road from Hanavave to Omoa is windy, mostly unsealed and steep with incredible views down to the anchorage.   Large groves of Mango trees grow wild along the road but sadly they are not ready until June so we were a month too early to forage for the delicious harvest!    Goats climbed high on cliffs along ledges that seemed like they would crumble beneath them and at night we could hear them bleating above us – I think I’d bleat too if I’d been up there in the dark! 

The anchorage was busy with boats arriving and leaving each day and then the jostling for positions as some of the good spots closer to shore and in shallower water become available.   We decided to move forward into a less exposed and slightly shallower spot, slowly hauling up our chain as we motored forward to keep the pressure off as our windlass winched up our scope.   We had been nursing our windlass for a little while, repairing it in Panama and treating it very carefully each time we used it, but hauling up over 75m of chain was just too much for it and, after depositing all it’s oil in the chain locker, finally made it clear to us it was terminally ill.   This isn’t the best news to receive when you are about to re-anchor in 17m of water but we had no choice and hoped the first attempt at anchoring would result in a firm hold, particularly as we had been told that wind gusts can get up to 60knots, so ensuring the anchor is well bedded in is essential.     The bottom is quite muddy, so it did take us a while to be happy that the anchor had indeed got a good hold but we now had 75m of chain out with the knowledge we would need to pull it up by hand in a few days time!    When this day came, Steve had set up a system where we could hand winch the chain from the cockpit while I hand fed the pulled up chain into the chain locker – a slow but effective method, made a little harder due to us leaving at 9pm on a moonless night, getting quite close to one boat as we worked together to haul up the anchor!  

We sailed overnight to Hiva Oa, and arrived outside the entrance to the main anchorage of Atuona as dawn broke, in time to see the supply ship slip into the bay ahead of us.   This meant that a number of yachts had been moved to outside the protected anchorage to allow room for the large ship, which doubles as a cruise ship, to have room to maneuver.    We were returning to the anchorage to get diesel and visit the ATM, as cash is king on these islands!    The only place we could anchor was to join several other boats outside the breakwater, all of whom were being bounced around in an uncomfortable mess.   We only wanted to drop the anchor once, so we chose our spot carefully and I stayed on board while Steve took the dinghy and our jerry cans ashore.    We could not leave there fast enough, feeling relieved when we had slowly hauled up the anchor and safely removed ourselves from the horrible anchorage.   If we had arrived from a long crossing to those conditions, I think I would have wondered why we had bothered to cross the Pacific!    A hot tip for others planning this trip – go to Baie Hanaiapa on the north of the island instead.   A car can be hired for a few hours on the west side of the bay – last house on beach – and drive to Atuona to check in, get fuel and provision.   Much more protected and a far better anchorage!

We left Hiva Oa with Freya and had a lovely fast sail to Ua-Huka, 50NM north.   We were hoping to explore this beautiful looking island with incredible rock formations, but the anchorages were far to exposed for us and, after watching Freya being thrown around after they had set their anchor in one of the bays, we made the call to continue sailing to Nuku Hiva.    We arrived at 11pm and were guided into the wide anchorage at Taiohae by a fellow cruiser we had been berthed next to in Shelter Bay Marina in Panama.    We had ordered a new windlass from Tahiti and it was being delivered on the next supply ship in a few days time.   In the meantime we could do some laundry, avail ourselves of the freshly baked baguettes and check out Nuku Hiva which, on first impressions, was equally as beautiful as the other islands we had visited.   Together with our friends on Freya and Coddiewomple we walked to the head of the bay and enjoyed spectacular views of the harbour and hills beyond.   The small village of Taiohae had a relaxed Polynesian vibe which I really liked with the locals cheerfully smiling and greeting you with “Kaoha” as we passed in the street.   The women often wore a frangipani flower in their hair while the men were heavily tattooed and equally ready with a welcoming smile.   Horses were exercised on the beach by young bareback riders who rode with elegance and expertise as they galloped the length of the sand at terrifying speed.  

Each morning fishermen cleaned and gutted their catch on the quayside, throwing the entrails into the shallow waters of the harbour where sharks gathered in anticipation of an easy feed.  We bought fresh tuna here for $5 a kilo – the cheapest food to buy in French Polynesia and caught in a sustainable way in local waters! 

While we were waiting for the supply ship to arrive with our windlass, we sailed to Baie d’Anaho in the north of the island.   We rounded the corner into the protected bay and were immediately mesmorised by the beautiful horseshoe shaped bay, surrounded by tree covered hills with a small village hidden in the trees just behind a wide sweeping beach.    The village had a school and small church with horses being the main mode of transport as there were no roads and one tractor which seemed to belong to the whole village and used as needed.   Everywhere was clean and well kept with well tendered gardens and horses tethered around the palm trees that lined the beach.    We found a track that led us to the top of a hill and, after stopping to admire the beautiful view from the top, down to the town of Hatiheu.    The path on the other side of the hill was less rugged and we walked through heavy ladened Mango trees on either side of the track.  

Small cruise ships occasionally visit Hatiheu and the town seems very well set up to look after them.   The streets are wide and paved, a large thatched restaurant with open sides caters for tourists, but was shut as it was a Sunday, and a large Norman looking church with two turrets, was set back in immaculate grounds and a beautiful backdrop of sun shadowed hills.  But one of the most striking features of this bay were seven high, steep and jaggered outcrops of rocks that dominated the western side of the bay.  They gave an impressive natural backdrop to the town, sandy beach and bay.  

The anchorage was lovely and flat, which was a welcome change to the roll we had experienced on the other side of the island.   Turtles occasionally popped their heads up close to us but the water clarity was not great so seeing other marine life, which we knew was there, was not possible.   This could almost be the most beautiful anchorage, but The Marquesas have so many you can choose from!

On the day the supply ship was due in, we left to return to Taiohae and excitedly jumped in the dinghy as soon as we were anchored to collect our new windlass.  We had only gone about 10 metres when the outboard suddenly stopped and refused to start again – very unusual for our extremely reliable motor.   We rowed back to the boat and Steve started to dismantle it while a friend picked me up in his dinghy to collect our parcel and purchase some fresh fruit and vegetables. 

I’ve said this before, but the cruising community are never slow at offering to help if they see a need and we were, once again, overcome with the kindness of our friends.   Todd from Freya gave up hours of his time to help Steve install the windlass while Bram from Coddiewomple checked out the outboard that Steve had not been able to fix the day before.   Todd and Steve had great success with the windlass which fit perfectly and sounded great, while Bram diagnosed the problem as being with our electrical coil which was not an easy fix as parts are hard to come by in The Marquesas.   We looked on line and discovered that Amazon had them for US$50 so, armed with this knowledge we contacted a supplier in Tahiti knowing that flights leave Papeete for Nuku Hiva every two days.   The supplier had the part in stock but were quoting US$450 for just the part and delivery would be on top of this.   Needless to say we decided to wait until my son visited in a few weeks and get the part delivered to New Zealand.   In the meantime we dug out our trusted old 3hp outboard and was amazed when it started first time!  

Boats were starting to leave Nuku Hiva for the Tuamotus as a small weather window had developed which was only going to last a few days.   We decided to forgo our planned visit to Ua-Pou, south of Nuku Hiva, and head south too, before the winds died later the next week.    So, early one Saturday morning of another long weekend (there are five public holidays in The Marquesas in May), we left the beautiful shores of The Marquesas behind us and with a heavy heart, bade farewell to these special islands which I could have happily spent a few more months exploring.

Hiva Oa – Finding our land legs

The small island of Hiva Oa has a population of just over 2000 and covers an area of 326 sqkm.   The majority of the population live in the main town of Atuona which is dwarfed by a spectacular tree covered mountain that rises sharply from a valley where the small town sits, nestled against a sweeping beach.   The sweet smell of perfumed flowers and citrus trees fills the air and, together with the beautiful scenery creates a senses overload for anyone but particularly for land starved crusty sailors who have been at sea for over a month!

Our first formality was to check in to French Polynesia at the local gendarmerie, which involved a long walk along a sealed road with little shade to give us some respite from the hot sun.   We had been told to make sure we arrived at the Gendarmerie in the morning as they are often closed in the afternoon, so armed with our boat papers, proof of a flight booking out of French Polynesia to NZ and passports we were buzzed into the police station.    The procedure was quick and easy with the final step being us mailing one part of our entry permit to Papeete from the local post office, a distinctive yellow building across the road from the gendarmerie.  While there we purchased a local SIM card which came complete with data and across the road we managed to buy a few groceries including baguettes and some very expensive vegetables (red cabbage US$17), chosen from a very small selection.  We soon realized that items with red price stickers were considerably cheaper than other similar products and learned that these items were subsidized by the French.   Crazily you could find several different brands of milk but only one was subsidized, making it at least three times cheaper. 

The French artist, Paul Gaugin moved to Hiva Oa and became part of this small community, spending the rest of his life painting scenes from the island.  He, along with Belgian legendary singer, Jacques Brel, is buried in a small cemetery overlooking the spectacular volcanic peak of Temetiu and the main town nestled at its foot.   We paid our respects, admired the incredible view and started the long walk back to Cerulean, having been told of a precarious shortcut down a steep path and across a small black beach at the head of the bay.

As we walked around the town, watching a wedding take place, we were struck with how familiar everything felt.   From the carvings of tiki’s, to the meeting house and karanga that was performed when the bride walked down the road towards her groom, it all felt like Maori culture, which we shouldn’t have been surprised about but we were amazed by the similarities.   The language was also very familiar and we later discovered that when Maori speakers have visited the islands, they can understand each other’s language although but only barely. 

Back at the boat we started cleaning.   We had been shocked when we had seen Cerulean after our passage as her white gelcoat was now a tone of green and brown with long goose barnacles hanging off the red antifoul just below the water surface.   We looked like a boat that had been abandoned, so we jumped in the warm water and started scrubbing.  

Over the next few days other boats we knew started arriving, similarly dirty, and the anchorage became a social buzz as we celebrated our achievements and discussed plans.   We were keen to move out of the rolly anchorage as it was getting busy with some large boats arriving and squeezing themselves into any spot that looked vaguely large enough for them with few using a stern anchor to prevent turning and potentially hitting other boats.   We knew a supply ship was due to arrive soon and when that happens all boats anchored within an area indicated by yellow markings on the shoreline, had to move.   We were within that designated area so, together with our friends on Freya and DanceMe, we sailed out of the sweeping bay and back into the SE tradewinds that blow pretty consistently around the islands.    DanceMe peeled away to a different anchorage while we and Freya sailed around to the north side of Hiva Oa, entering the quiet bay of Hanamenu, surrounded by high, jaggered red cliffs with ridges that came to a thin sheer pinnacle.   The bay was deep with a black sand beach, fringed with palm trees at the end of the cove.   We anchored in front of the beach, hoping for protection from the swell that swept into the bay, but failing as we rolled in the anchorage we shared with Todd and Susan from Freya, the only boats that day adventurous enough to get off the beaten path of the popular, protected bays closer to Atuona.  

Ashore we left the dinghy on the beach and found a man in one of the lived-in huts on the beach.    AwJuan had lived at Hanamenu for three years, with only one other family as a neighbour, looking after the property for his uncle.   He spoke no English but had a gentle face and ready smile, speaking slowly for us to understand as he guided us towards the footpath that led to the plateau and inviting us to eat with him later.    The four of us walked up the well trodden stoney path to the top of the hill and looked down on the bay and lush valley below, surrounded by baron cliffs on each side.   It was a magnificent view as we looked down on our two boats anchored below us as we watched the surf pound on the beach in front of our yachts.   No roads led into the little settlement of Hanamenu, and the hills behind looked beautiful in the mid-day light acting as a barrier between the settlement and the main town of Atuona.    Wild horses roamed the hills and some days later we watched as attempts were made to tame those caught by taking them to the beach and into the sea, calming them so they became used to human contact.  Horses are still a regular, and often only, form of transport and it takes a week to break in a wild horse, getting them accustomed to wearing a basic wooden saddle and being around the rider. 

A small, spring-fed oasis on the western side of the bay, provided a welcome refreshing cool-down swim after the hot climb where we washed ourselves under a pipe that diverted a strong flow of water into the pool from a waterfall that cascaded down the fern clad hill.    

Later, we sat with AwJuan as he prepared a meal for us, earlier being insistent that we return at 3pm to eat with him.   His kitchen was sheltered by just a sheet of corrugated iron over the open fire.   A sink and metal bench doubled as one of the kitchen walls, separating the cooking area from his garden and working area.  He masterly moved a large breadfruit he had been roasting in the fire by using two long sticks and transferring it onto a work surface using large leaves to handle the hot vegetable.   He then peeled and mashed the fruit, adding water and kneading it into a dough like consistency.   Todd was put to work, squeezing fresh grated coconut through a cloth and extracting coconut cream which was poured over the breadfruit dough.   A table was laid under the shade of a large tree with several dogs lazily lying close by, hoping for a morsel of food to be thrown to them.   The table almost sagged under the food – wild boar, shot in the hills, breadfruit done two ways, fried bread, fresh coconut milk to drink and lots of fruit.    It was a wonderful treat and we were overwhelmed by AwJuan’s generosity, not wanting anything in return except our company.  As we prepared to leave, we were given hands of bananas, buckets of limes, grapefruit and mangos, all grown on his property.   It was a very special day.

Wanting to get out of the swell and longing for a calm anchorage, we headed for the island of Tahuata, to the south of Hiva Oa.   Here we found calm water and many friends, enjoying the anchorages of Hanamoenoa where mantaray feed and fearlessly allowed us to swim with them, getting so close they even nudged a friend of ours out of the way!    Early morning or evening, they would swim around the boat, staying for over an hour doing acrobatic turns below us before coming back towards the surface, allowing us to see right into their body through their large open mouths as they fed on plankton. 

Hapatoni is in the south of the island and we anchored in sand under impressive high cliffs in the north of the bay just as a small pod of dolphins entered the anchorage.   Spinner dolphins regularly visit the area, often in small groups where adults teach babies how to jump and spin.  The small quiet settlement of Hapatoni is a very traditional village with a lovely stone church, large impressive community space and well kept houses beside a clean sandy beach and rutted road.   A community of artists and craftspeople live here, keeping alive the tradition of wood and bone carving, passing down skills to the children at a small school.   On recommendation, a small group of us attended a church service, delivered in Polynesian with enthusiastic and uplifting singing from the small congregation.   An impressive looking man played a traditional drum which was over a meter tall with goat skin tightly stretched across the top.   He struck an impressive figure with every inch of his body tattooed, including his face and we later discovered he was the chief during the island festival, held every two years.   When the missionaries first came to The Marquesas they banned tattooing which had long been in the Marquesan culture, telling stories of important/significant events and being a right of passage from puberty to adulthood.   Although not done in the traditional way, most men will have a tattoo – always just in black and a traditional design.

After church we headed to a nearby house and ate a traditional meal of fish, breadfruit and bananas while chatting with a visiting artist who had helped set up the community many years earlier and now teaches at the school.   It was fascinating talking to him about art, politics, life in the village, the connection with Maori and having him play us a tune on a pipe, played by breathing out through his nose.   He explained that in the bible, life is given to Adam by God breathing into his nose and likewise, in death it is believed the last breath out is through the nose, so playing a nose pipe is a deeply spiritual thing.   It certainly was a memorable end to our time in Hiva Oa, a beautiful island with genuine, interesting, happy people who enjoy a simple life in a stunning location, tucked away in a forgotten corner of The Pacific.

Panama Pacific Side – Friends and Fixes

Kim was our first NZ friend to come on board Cerulean and we had both been looking forward to her arrival and visit.   Not only is Kim fantastic company, who I love dearly, but she was a regular sailing partner on my first boat, EJ and brought with her some much needed supplies which she triumphantly deposited on the salon table!   Amongst the many treasures were the required stainless steel bolts needed to repair the hydrovane, one of which had snapped on our passage from Bocas to Shelter Bay a few weeks earlier and had been impossible to source locally.  

With one job done we now turned our attention to the most important, fixing the watermaker.   We had been in regular contact with the manufacturers who had recommended the list of replacement parts we needed to rebuild the high pressure pump (an essential part of the watermaking process).   The diagrams provided to complete the jigsaw were not clear and after failing to get the pump to build pressure and, even with the help of friends, we were unable to resolve the problem.    I had so desperately hoped we could have the watermaker working while Kim was with us so she wouldn’t have to put up with minimal showers and strict water conservation measures but, with time pressing, we did not want to stay anchored in Panama city for the duration of her stay.   A few days after coming through the canal, having explored some of the old city together, we set sail to a small island just south of the city called Toboga which would be a good overnight stay before leaving early the next morning to sail to Las Perlas islands, about 40NM to the south east.   Named after the pearls found in abundance there, the small group of islands are a popular cruising ground and we were keen to explore them with Kim.  

On arriving in Toboga we found the deep main bay was scattered with mooring buoys and the only anchoring spot was very close to the ferry terminal bringing regular boatloads of tourists to the island.   We decided to pick up a buoy next to a lovely looking American yacht on a mooring in the next row over from them.   Usually boats of similar size and shape will respond to wind and current in the same way so when one turns, the other usually follows so I wasn’t too concerned that the buoys were close to each other – certainly no closer together than in other places we have been.   We settled in for the night, enjoying the calm, clear evening.   At around 1am we were woken to someone banging on the boat and to our horror, found that we were T-boning our neighbour’s boat.    They were on board trying to keep us from hitting them again and knocking furiously on our boat to alert us to what was happening.   In the process our lower navigation light got smashed but fortunately that was the only damage done to both boats.   We started our engine and backed away and they very generously offered to move moorings while we sorted things out on board.  

After a quick visit to make sure there was no other damage to our neighbour’s boat, we left in the morning to sail to San Jose Island, the most southerly of the Las Perlas group.    We arrived in the late afternoon and joined one other boat in the protected anchorage.   The other boat turned out to be Free Spirit, who we had met in Bocas with Ruffian and sailed back in their company to Shelter Bay.   They were leaving the next morning to start their Pacific crossing and we gave them a loud send off as they left the bay.  

We had hoped we would see whale sharks in the bay, as we had been told of other boats who had enjoyed diving with them there, but we were not lucky enough to experience that.  We did however have several huge flocks of Cormorants and Pelicans fly in formations overhead and around us.   The sky was almost black with birdlife as different flocks circled the island numerous times.  

It was lovely exploring the islands with Kim.   We sailed, fished (unsuccessfully), saw big swarms of stingrays and even had one jump out the water infront of us, had dolphins play in our bow wave, celebrated Steves 60th birthday and watched a whale breach and then spyhole as we sailed back to Panama City.   All this was done with lots of laughter with the wonderful comfortable calm that good friendship brings, although it would have been great if we could’ve showered more!!!!    All too soon, it was time for Kim to leave us and we returned to Panama anchoring in La Playita so we could catch up with our friends on Zelda before they left for Galapagos.   We were both sad to see Kim go, not only because we had loved having her on board but it also it felt like a little bit of home was leaving us too!  

After experiencing a couple of unpleasant nights on anchor in La Playita we decided to move around the corner to Las Brisas which is more sheltered from the roll of wake from canal traffic.  The big disadvantage of Las Brisas is the dinghy dock which is very busy and, if the conditions and tide dictate, could cause damage to your dinghy – and dinghies are essential and valuable assets when you live on a boat!   However, having a comfortable anchorage outweighed the possible dramas of the dinghy dock, which cost $1 per day compared to $50 a week in La Playita!   Once we understood that the best place to leave the dinghy was behind the dock on a long line, we had only one drama when a friend called us while we were in the city to inform us that our dinghy was high and dry on the rocks.   We had miscalculated the spring tide, but fortunately it was afloat when we returned and some kind sole had raised our outboard to ensure there would be no damage.

We were now waiting for more spare parts to arrive, including a replacement navigation light which we had been unable to find in Panama.  Repairing the watermaker was now a very high priority and we were in contact with the manufacturer and had video calls with a knowledgeable and patient friend to get advice.   In fact, it was our friend who suggested what the problem may be and much to our relief and delight, Steve serviced the parts (replacements had not been provided for this particular part) and all of a sudden we had a working pump!

Panama is a big modern city and thousands of yachts pass through it each year, but sourcing parts and getting professional work done in Panama is extremely hard, if not impossible!   Several attempts have apparently been made to set up well equipped stores for sailors, but on-line shopping has killed them and it is usually cheaper to purchase the parts needed in the US and have them shipped through an agent.   We did visit one store which was located in, what turned out to be, a rough area of the city.   We had found our way there using public transport, which is only 35c for a bus or subway ride.   Needing to stretch our legs, we decided to walk back to Albrook bus station, completely unaware that our route would take us through the unsafe ghetto!   I became very nervous as Steve led the way, reluctantly following him as I stuffed dollar notes down my bra and voiced my concern about the route googlemaps was taking us.   When we found ourselves in the middle of a rundown housing area with rubble in the road and apartments with broken windows, boarded up doors and men with bandanas spilling onto the street, calling after us, I was terrified!   We reached the end of the street, thinking it would be a main road but it was another frightening looking area and Steve was blindly following the directions Siri was confidently giving, to take us down a road with a bend under a bridge.   I stopped and refused to continue, just as I heard a voice behind me yelling, “Hey!”   I turned around and two heavily armed policemen with bullet proof vests, helmets and large guns in their hands called us back.   We had no idea where they came from but had obviously seen two naïve gringos wandering in a place they shouldn’t, telling us we were in great danger and needed to leave!   With our Spanish and their English being very limited, we were told to wait by the side of the road.   A taxi came into view and, unsure whether we were under arrest or not, we hailed it and jumped in before the police could translate any more instructions and left two bewildered policemen on the side of the road!   Lesson learned – trust your instincts – Steve obviously doesn’t have any!  

While waiting for our packages to arrive we serviced and worked on a number of items on board.   The autohelm was working well but had not been serviced for two years, so we removed it, checked and cleaned it and re-installed, only to find it no longer worked!   With the watermaker now fixed, it was the next priority item and Steve soon discovered some loose connections and resolved that issue too!   He was on a roll – could he make it a tri-factor and repair the generator which had last worked at Christmas?   No!   Sadly that was going to take a bit more skill than we had and, even calling in help from our canal French buddy boat who happened to be a diesel mechanic, proved successful in getting the engine working but unsuccessful in generating power – and before anyone suggests it, we did check the capacitor!  

Our friends who were on ARC Pacific (a rally of about 40 boats), arrived in Shelter Bay and Steve offered his services as a linehandler through the canal for our friends on Escapade of London.  I welcomed the boats as they arrived in La Playita marina, enjoying catching up with our friends on Escapade, Walkabout and Casamara.   We all went out for a lovely meal together, having last been together in Grenada nine months ago. 

There was a weather window forming and, as there had been no wind between Panama and The Galapagos for a couple of weeks, we were determined to join the flotilla of boats leaving to cross the Pacific.   We collected our packages, said our farewells, did the last of our provisioning, filled up with fuel, cleared out with immigration and customs, and headed to Toboga for our last night in Panama.

The next morning we motored around to a lovely protected anchorage on the south side of the island and Steve spent a couple of hours scrubbing the bottom of the boat in the clear water while I prepared food for the crossing and stowed everything away.

At 1330 on Thursday 23 March 2023, we pulled up the anchor and set our sails, heading southwest as we bade farewell to land and civilization for the next 30+ days.

Colourful Curacao

We pulled out of Bonaire mooring field, waving goodbye to friends in the warm morning sunlight.   Zen Again had left already and we could see the fading triangle of their sail as they headed towards a large bank of cloud on the horizon.   After a year of island hopping on both sides of the Atlantic, we were now heading to explore our final island nation in the Caribbean.

We quickly set our sails and turned off the engine as we picked up speed on a nice reach, heading south west as we edged passed Klein Bonaire and gave a mental wave goodbye to the fabulous snorkelling and underwater paradise that is hidden below the shallow blue waters.  To avoid using the steering as much as possible, due to our failing bearing which had caused our wheel to jam a day earlier, we set up Hilda the Hydrovane so we could lock off the wheel.

We were only about five miles out when lightning and thunder started crashing in front of us and, on looking at the radar, it was clear we were not going to avoid it if we continued on the same course.   Zen Again had already gybed to avoid the heavy black cloud that loomed ahead and we followed suit, heading north west to try and get infront of the storm clouds and avoid the bolts of lightning that lit up the mid-morning darkness.    When we were about halfway between Bonaire and Curacao on our 40NM journey, we gybed again as the clouds disappeared and we made good speed to our destination on the south west coast of the island.   Zen Again were not far behind us as we turned into the narrow entrance leading to Spanish Waters, a protected area of bays offering excellent shelter in several different bays in a relatively quiet setting. 

We anchored in the western most area and shared a celebratory sundowner with Zen Again who anchored next to us.   We had arrived on Independence Day – 10/ 10 (10 October) the day that Curacao became a nation inside the Dutch Kingdom in 2010 when the Dutch Antilles were dissolved after a referendum.   Everything was shut so we didn’t attempt to navigate the 7kms into the capital, Willemstad, to check in, but decided to wait until the next day.  

Early the next morning we set out to start the process of checking in by first finding the immigration office which was well tucked away in a small non-descript building with a temporary looking sign on the door giving the only clue what was inside.   We were processed quite quickly and then walked into the town of Willemstad to complete the customs clearance, crossing the long floating swingbridge that opens on request for all traffic going up the river towards the port and marina.   As we walked across the bridge, the colourful, historic waterfront buildings on the eastern side of the river reminded us of a child’s drawing of houses as the picturesque tall, coloured rectangular buildings dominated the waterfront.    Once cleared in with customs the check-in procedure was complete and we enjoyed a coffee and cake at a waterside café before wandering through the narrow streets and exploring the town.  There are two things that immediately stand out in Willemstad, the colourful houses on the waterfront and the beautiful street art that adorns alot of the walls and shops in the town.

Curacao has a population of approx. 150,000 and Willemstad is the capital with the majority of the population living within the confines of the city.   It is the largest of the ABC islands and has a very different feel to Bonaire, not only because of the colour of the water in the anchorage, but the size of the town and general Hussle and Bussell of being in a larger community.    The history of Curacao is interesting with the original inhabitants coming from South America hundreds of years before the first Europeans arrived.   The Spanish arrived in Curacao in 1499 and enslaved most of the natives, transporting them to other Spanish colonies for forced labour.   The Spanish used Curacao as a bridge for exploring northern South America and eventually built a settlement in 1527 which was then governed by Venezuela as the Spanish continued to colonise South America, eventually abandoning the island in favour of building communities on the mainland.    The Dutch took over the island in 1634 following the Eighty Years’ War of independence between The Netherlands and Spain.   They used the island as the main centre for slaves, transporting them to Curacao before selling them elsewhere in the Caribbean and South America.  Many Dutch colonists prospered from the slave trade and built the colourful houses on the waterfront in Willemstad.

We decided to rent a car for a couple of days and explore the northern parts of the island that are hard to get to by bus.   After attempting, and failing, to find a place to purchase our required bearing, we headed north, first to Santa Cruz and then on to Playa Lagun.   The small beach was quite busy with restaurants accessed by steep steps on the northern side of the bay.    It was a hot day, so we all went for a snorkel before lunch.   There were lots of turtles feeding, surprisingly on fish, which I’d never seen before, and as I swam into the rocky shallows, more turtles were lazily scavenging in the rocks, not bothered by my presence as they occasionally pushed themselves up to the surface and took two breaths before continuing their leisurely swim.  

We walked along the coastal path in the National Park and watched the waves break on the rugged coastline, sending water high above our heads from the viewing platform.   Lizards scurried for shelter as we continued our walk to a small beach which, in season is a turtle laying reserve.   It saddened me hugely to see the beach covered in rubbish.   I’m not sure whether it had been washed up there or whether visitors had dropped it but it certainly looked as if it had come from the sea.  What frustrated me further was that we had paid an entrance fee into the park and rangers were parked at most of the areas identified as “of interest” yet they did nothing except sit in their cars playing music and giving visitors a cursory nod.   Why could they not start picking up the rubbish???

Back at the boat we ordered our new bearing and casing from the UK and, after a false start where the bearing ended up in Exeter and then didn’t move for a week, we waited expectantly for our parcel to arrive.   While we waited we visited a slave museum in Willemstad and the oldest synagogue in continuous use in the Americas which was in an inconspicuous looking building but hidden behind the walls was the lovely Mikve Israel-Emanuel Synagogue which was built in 1732.  The most noticeable feature was sand on the floor which depicts the Sinai Desert.  It also remembers those who put sand on the floor of secret rooms so early Jews in Curacao could continue to worship and the sand helped muffle the sound of their service.  

With our parcel still days away we explored a few dive spots close to our anchorage and snorkelled over a wreck of a tug boat which was now home to new coral and lots of colourful fish and conga eels.   One evening we tried our hand at dance lessons, attempting to learn one of the many beautiful (when done properly!) South American dance styles.  

Eventually our courier parcel arrived and Steve immediately set to work installing the new bearing – it was a huge relief when it slid into place relatively easily – well, nothing a bit of banging wouldn’t fix – and we took the boat on a test drive around the crowded anchorage to make sure the steering felt good and everything worked as it should!   Fortunately all went well, which was just as well, as we planned to leave the next day.   There had been very few weather windows for our passage to Colombia while we had been waiting for our parcel, so we wanted to take the first opportunity as we knew bad weather was coming and there would not be another window for at least a week. 

On a very wet morning we set off to complete the check out procedures with our planned sailing passage posse of ZenAgain and Seraphina.  By the time we reached immigration we were all soaked through and crammed into the small busy office to await our turn.  The people infront of us were asking if they could check out on behalf of a captain who had broken both his ankles attempting to perform a backflip on land – it hadn’t ended well!   Friends had met him a few days earlier when he was literally crawling back to his dinghy to return to his boat.   Immigration would not concede and instructed the two attempting to check out, that they needed to bring him in a car to the office and then the officers would kindly allow him to stay in the car while they completed the paperwork!   We had been told of a number of boats that had been turned away by immigration when they had attempted to check in.  Two boats had visited Venezuela prior to arriving in Curacao and one South African boat who did not have the appropriate visa.   Fortunately Bonaire are much more accommodating!   Our check out went smoothly for the three boats, and we were soon back in the rain heading to customs to complete the procedure.   Now we were checked out and soaking wet, we all contemplated whether it was a good idea to leave that afternoon, as planned, or wait until the morning.    Fred, an 81 year old solo sailor who was on his 3rd circumnavigation, announced he was going to wait until the morning while ZenAgain and we continued to discuss the merits of the best time to leave.   Steve and I were still trying to decide when ZenAgain pulled up their anchor and motored over to say goodbye.   We decided to wait an hour and follow them out, letting Fred know so he could follow behind us.    We were expecting rain and wind for the whole passage and when we heard Fred on the radio about 3hrs later stating he was considering stopping in Aruba as there wasn’t enough wind, we started to question whether the forecast was going to be accurate after-all.