Although others who had been anchored with us planned to leave about the same time, we hadn’t seen a soul since leaving the Marquesas. It was always amazing to me how quickly one becomes alone at sea.
The next evening after the Maritime Mobile Net, we patched a call to son Jeff and wished him a belated happy birthday, which actually fell on our departure day. The next day we called daughter Robin. We rotated through the family so that everyone eventually heard from us on that passage.
After three days of good sailing, the wind dropped and we were becalmed for almost three days. Any progress we made was mostly because we ran the engine. During that time, for two nights, we experienced a strange phenomenon with water so calm and smooth that the stars’ reflection was as clearly visible as those in the sky. It gave us a feeling of being suspended in space, with stars above, below, and all around us. It was magical, and eerie.
While becalmed, it was very hot with no relief, though cooler at night. The wind picked up and we scooted along, but were slowed by a couple of squalls. Nearing Tahiti, we needed to be extra alert as ship traffic picked up. The passage was delightful, with enough activity to keep us busy, but not frantic. We were happy mariners.
During the passage from San Diego, we’d learned how to keep fresh vegetables a little longer by placing them in a plastic tub covered with a wet towel, allowing condensation to keep it cool. During the day, we moved the tub around to keep it in shade and in a breeze, when possible.
Once out of the doldrums we made pretty good time. Even on the slow days, we easily fell into our routine and enjoyed the journey.
Radio Tahiti crackled to life with a mixture of Polynesian, French and American music. We navigated around the late actor Marlon Brando’s island of Tetiaroa.
At two in the afternoon, after nine days at sea, we entered Papeete Harbor. As we expected, there were many boats in the harbor, but we hoped to put up with the crowded conditions for only two or three days. Papeete’s mooring dock was full of private yachts, but we were glad to anchor out and avoid the noise and crowds. Anchoring out was free, but tying up at the dock cost money.
Unlike other landfalls, Papeete has an unusual moorage system, appropriately called “Tahitian style.” Rather than piers protruding over the water, Papeete has a concrete dock that runs along the edge of the water, parallel to the beach. To moor Tahitian style, rather than go in bow first, a yachtsman drops one or two anchors from the bow into the bay, turns the boat and backs up toward the dock, then ties a line or two to cleats on shore. It can be a tricky maneuver getting a boat turned around to go in stern first. Once moored, boaters often put a plank from their stern to the pier for access on and off their boats.
After Bruce cleared Impunity through customs, we walked Papeete’s streets. It was fun seeing it for the first time, but the city wasn’t for us. Papeete was noisy with heavy traffic and honking horns. It was difficult to stay on any kind of sidewalk. We would suddenly find ourselves in the street when the sidewalk ended or abruptly shifted over a few feet, or we’d find a car parked right in the middle of the walkway. We’re not strollers, so for people like us who like to clip right along, this was frustrating.
However, the marvelous Papeete open-air market had rows and rows of produce beautifully displayed and reasonably priced. We found meat a bit pricey, but we bought a couple of pork chops, a pineapple, tomatoes, and cabbage.
Open-air market in Papeete
The waters surrounding Tahiti are filled with coral reefs, so we stopped at a government office for a detailed chart. French charts can be annoying since they often don’t adhere to navigation Rules of the Road, which is accepted by the rest of the world.
Some French charts used Paris as the starting point for measuring longitude, rather than Greenwich, England that standard charts use. This difference affects longitude, which matters when plotting a position. Also, the French reversed the “red right returning” rule which to the rest of the world means that when returning to port the red channel markers should stay to the navigator’s right. In addition, we found that aids to navigation were not always maintained. Coming into a small harbor, the buoys or markers shown on the chart might or might not actually be there.
We checked in at the post office and found we had a couple of letters, but we were expecting more since this was our first mailcall since the trip began. We had left a list of general delivery addresses with family and friends for the next four landfalls. Our Tahiti “address” was:
Bruce and Mary Trimble
Yacht Impunity
Poste Restante
Papeete, Tahiti
French Polynesia
In addition, we suggested they write “Hold for yacht in transit.” Apparently something wasn’t working because various family members had mentioned when we’d talked to them via ham radio that they’d mailed us letters. We treasured the two we’d received, but were disappointed that the others hadn’t caught up with us.
Because algae tends to grow in diesel, particularly in warm weather, Bruce bought a good biocide to add to the fuel tank. We’d heard of a few boats having engine trouble due to algae clogging fuel filters, and he wanted to head off fuel problems before they got started. It was expensive, especially in French Polynesia, but we felt the precaution worth the cost.
After a couple of days, we’d had about all we could stand of Papeete with its noise and congestion. We craved a quiet, restful moorage.
The fuel tank on Impunity didn’t have a gauge, but Bruce could measure the level with a marked stick. We motored to the fuel dock, and waited in line three and a half hours before taking on 108 liters of diesel. While we waited, hot and miserable, we assured ourselves that leaving this teeming mass of inefficiency was absolutely the right thing to do. We couldn’t wait to get out of Papeete.
After working our way out of the Papeete Harbor, we sailed in a stiff breeze five miles southwest to Maeva Beach and dropped anchor in 50 feet of water.
Outrigger at sunset
About 40 boats anchored with us, but without the city noises it seemed calmer. We saw a few yachts from Seattle, but didn’t get acquainted with any of them. With this many boats around, we knew Maeva Beach was only a temporary anchorage for us.
Long outrigger canoes, some 6-man, some 12-man, glided past the anchorage in the early evenings, often to the rhythm of the paddlers’ chanting. Outrigger races are popular in Polynesia and both men and women teams participate in this vigorous interisland sport. They were thrilling to watch, especially against a setting sun.
Rowing 300 feet to shore in our dinghy, we walked through the dusty streets of a little shanty town. It was pleasant after the hustle and bustle of Papeete. Rather than cars honking we heard pigs snuffling, chickens cackling and lots of barking dogs. We stopped at a grocery store and bought a sausage to use on a pizza.
Later, as our pizza baked, a rank odor wafted from our oven. By the time the pizza was done, neither of us could eat it. That sausage must have been well past the due date. I opened a couple cans of chili for dinner, disgusted we had wasted time, propane, money, and ingredients on something inedible.
In Fodor’s South Pacific guidebook we learned of the Lagoonarium that was within walking distance. We again rowed ashore and tied the dinghy to a rickety pier. Walking to the Lagoonarium was a bit of a trek, but very worthwhile. The aquarium is built under a section of coral reef, so we were actually under water and looking at fish in their own habitat. After the heat of the walk, it felt good to be in the cool underwater atmosphere. The Lagoonarium was a photographers paradise and Bruce took full advantage of it.
The south coast of Tahiti was known to be rather isolated and sounded more to our liking. We weighed anchor from Maeva Beach at 5:15 in the morning and by 6:00 were outside the reef. Strong trade winds forced us to reduce sail, then suddenly we were in the wind shadow behind the island and had to drop the sails and turn on the engine. Coming around the south end of the island, the trades were strong again and coming straight at us. We knew
that to get to the anchorage at Papieri on the south side of Tahiti, we’d have to navigate through narrow channels and a coral reef, so we motored to make better time, rather than tacking back and forth under sail. For good visibility we wanted to have the sun high when we reached our destination, Papieri, so that we could spot hazards in the water.
Reefs are under water, often just below the surface. Geologically “older” islands like Tahiti have a barrier reef surrounding them with only small gaps where boats can pass through. Between these gaps, the water may only be two to eight feet deep over the reef. Because trade winds generally blow in the same direction, water washes over the reef on the windward (upwind) side of the island, and rushes out through gaps in the reef on the leeward (downwind) side. Taking a boat through a gap in a reef means dealing with a strong four- to six-knot current.
Bruce’s insistence on having good light when crossing a reef was important here. With heart pounding, I stood at the bow with Bruce at the helm, watching for signals from me on which way to turn.
As we approached the windward side of Papieri from the open sea going three to four knots, huge swells passed under Impunity, then crashed on the reef. But we could also see a stretch of smoother water marking the pass through the reef. We knew we had to be on exactly the right track through the correct gap in the reef. With the current pushing us along, there was no turning back; we were committed. Bruce lined the boat up with the reef’s opening and we shot through the gap at a combined ten or so knots gained from our speed plus the current’s speed.
During the 14 months we cruised the South Pacific, we personally knew of five boats that were lost or severely damaged due to running up on a reef.
Once in the lagoon, we wove our way between the channel markers, keeping our eyes on the shallow coral heads disturbingly close on either side of the boat. Soon the bay opened up wide, and we breathed easier.
Only one other boat was in the bay. Lo and behold, it was the Genesis, the 30-foot sailboat that had been in the Kenmore marina, in Washington, the very boat our friends had told us to look for. We surprised them when we motored alongside and waved to the fellow on deck and said, “Bill and Alice from Kenmore send their greetings!” His amazed look made us laugh.
We found a spot a good distance from the Genesis to drop anchor. How delightful, only two boats in the bay. No worries about swinging into each other, or about hooking each other’s anchor chain, always a worry in crowded anchorages.
Greg and Kathy would be our only neighbors for one glorious month. We had just settled in when Greg rowed over in his dinghy and invited us for coffee and pineapple scones.
Aboard Genesis, we learned that Greg and Kathy had lived at the Kenmore Marina about a year before we had, and since then had sailed to several French Polynesian islands, Cook Islands, and New Zealand, where they spent the hurricane season. They sailed back to Papieri where they planned to stay a few months before sailing to Hawaii and then home to Seattle. They had both worked at a Seattle post office and had lived only a few blocks from us in the north end of the city. Small world.
Kathy and Greg had taken French lessons for a year at a Seattle community college so they were well equipped to handle themselves among the French-speaking Tahitians. They had made friends with a local family and could easily converse with them.
It was hard to imagine why this place wasn’t well-known as an anchorage. Officially, the area was called Botanical Gardens and once a day in the late afternoon a busload of tourists came to stroll among the gardens, visit the Paul Gauguin Museum, and perhaps enjoy a meal at the small restaurant in the complex. Otherwise, we had the place to ourselves. It was unreal.
Bruce put up the awning, and with an almost constant breeze we stayed cool and comfortable.
We often rowed our dinghy the 200 feet to shore and strolled among the colorful gardens and perfectly trimmed lawns. A gentle stream with multi-colored water lilies gurgled its way through one end of the gardens. Small frangipani trees, sometimes called plumiera, were in bloom. Brilliant white tiare Tahiti, the flower Polynesians often used in leis, contrasted against glossy dark green leaves. I loved their peachy scent. Hibiscus grew in abundance in shades of fuchsia, orange, and blue. We couldn’t get over the peace and quiet. Our souls absorbed the serenity.
At one time we had talked about spending time at Moorea Island, visible from Papeete, but now we knew better. Moorea was a popular boaters’ destination and would be crowded. No thanks. We were content right here in this paradise off the beaten path.
Amazingly, we hadn’t been swimming since we started this journey. You might think cruisers would simply take a dive off their boat, but that’s a dangerous thing to do, even on a calm day. A sudden gust of wind can quickly push the boat away. We decided we wouldn’t take that kind of risk. In the Marquesas we didn’t feel like swimming in the choppy anchorage and, because of the stinging sandflies did not linger on the beach.
For surface swimming and shallow diving to view colorful tropical fish, we had masks, fins and snorkels. I began an impressive shell collection at Papieri. The water temperature was perfect for swimming, just cool enough to be refreshing.
The clean black sand beach lined with palm trees was beautiful. An outdoor shower on the beach was a treat. It was out in the open, so we kept our swimsuits on, but we really didn’t need to—no one ever came by when we showered.
On August 31 we celebrated my birthday by rowing our dinghy ashore, then going to the Paul Gauguin Museum. The artist lived in Tahiti for several years in the 1890s and a museum with his works was a popular feature at the Botanical Gardens. We enjoyed strolling through the small gallery and Bruce took a picture of a painting. We topped off the evening with a fish dinner at the cozy but pricey Gauguin restaurant.
The Botanical Gardens had a small, local artisans gift shop and one day we stopped in and found a beautiful oblong bowl, made of coconut wood, 27 inches long, four inches deep, and almost eight inches wide. We wanted to get at least one high-end souvenir from this trip, but this bowl cost $70, which we felt was a little steep. We decided to wait.
We took “le truck,” Tahiti’s term for a small bus, to Papeete to check for mail and stop at the open-air market. The ride took a little more than an hour. Again, Papeete was fun to visit, but we were so glad to be away from its noisy crowds.
We stopped at the post office to mail our letters and inquire about mail. Only one letter. Bruce had an inspiration. In his limited French he asked the clerk to check under “B” for Bruce and “M” for Mary, and “I” for Impunity, in addition to “T” for Trimble. The clerk wasn’t very happy with his request, but she found six more letters.
At two Papeete gift shops we found our same coconut wooden bowl for $200. The $70 bowl at the Botanical Gardens’ gift store was suddenly a bargain.
Although we visited with Greg and Kathy, we took care to give them space, as they gave us. They often left to visit their Tahitian friends ashore, a family that had sort of adopted them.
Only on two occasions did other boats come to that bay, both in the evening, but they were gone early the next morning. Could they not see what a treasure we had here?
One day Greg, Bruce and I hiked up to a waterfall. It was a strenuous hike with lots of streams to ford. We grew weary of taking tennis shoes off and on, so began crossing with our shoes on, which made for squishy walking. Once at the falls we stepped underneath and enjoyed cooling off with the cascading water pouring over us, clothes and all. It was fun, but we were hot and ready for a swim when we returned to our boats.
As I floated on my back near our boat, I looked up at our tall mast and thought, this is like a dream. I can hardly believe we’re doing this and that we have this paradise almost to ourselves. It was a thrill to look out at the expansive sea from our calm anchorage, to see waves breaking on the reef, to look toward land and see rolling green hills, and palm trees swaying in the breeze. All that, and we had the Botanical Gardens to stroll in. It couldn’t have been mo
re perfect.
Occasionally we walked down the street about a half-mile to a little grocery store run by a Chinese family. In addition to canned goods, sugar and flour, they carried locally grown fresh fruit and vegetables and good French bread. We could buy jugs of Tahitian wine that was quite decent. We often spoke at length with Lillian, the daughter of the store owners. She was born in Hong Kong but was on a summer break from San Francisco State University. She invited us to go on a drive with her so that we could see more of the island.
The next morning, Sunday, when the store was closed, Lillian picked us up at the Botanical Gardens in her parents’ car. We wound uphill on a road leading to the island of Tahiti-iti, which is connected to the big island of Tahiti by a long, narrow strip of land. The view of the reefs and tropical mountains was spectacular. We drove through the peaceful countryside where we saw modest homes with beautiful, lush tropical gardens. It was delightful to cover so much ground in a private car.
Even after 200 years of white man’s influence, the Tahitian and Polynesian culture is very much alive. Driving around the island, it became obvious what attracted writers and artists such as Robert Louis Stevenson, Jack London, Somerset Maugham, Paul Gauguin and Henry Adams. Each, in his own way, tried to capture Tahiti’s essence and charm.
We invited Lillian for dinner the next Sunday. That was her first time on a live-aboard boat and she marveled at the size of it. I served cheese souffle and a salad and she was surprised we could fix such complete meals on a boat, especially without refrigeration.
Meeting local people made our travels richer. Again, we were glad we’d changed to “Plan B” and had the leisure to do this, rather than keep a hectic sailing schedule to circumnavigate the world.
Greg and Kathy extended an invitation to us from their local Tahitian family. The family lived within walking distance in a nice, small residential neighborhood where all the houses looked pretty much alike: white, cement block with a corrugated roof. The beauty of this home was its garden with brilliant red and yellow flowers, and several fruit trees including a banana tree drooping with fruit. It was interesting to enter a local house, which was plainly furnished, but very tidy, and visit Irene, the mother, William, the father, and three children, a son and two daughters. Irene served chilled glasses of guava juice and little cakes.
Sailing with Impunity Page 8