Fai Tira Blog Wednesday 28th April

Fai Tira Still somewhere in the Pacific 13:31.90S 142:02.87W

The Marquesas experience has proved to be both wonderful and at times magical and a wrench to pull ourselves away. Expensive they undoubtedly are, but if that’s part of the cost for being remote, inaccessible and unspoilt then it must be a price worth paying. However before we departed altogether, we planned another treat prior to starting our next major sail of 500 miles to The Tuamotu Atolls, with a stopover at the island of Ua Pou. Before we set out, though, there was work to do and Friday, the last day before we left, was spent in the form of final checks, servicing and provisioning. One of the major causes of concern was the detachment of one of the foil junctions during our Pacific crossing. We had debated the merits of an inspection, due to the difficulties of accessibility, but the decision to go ahead proved to be a good one. Pete’s trip up the mast revealed many insecure joints. It also showed lose screws and a tear to the sail luff and string. Both were in need of attention and although it was obvious that what we did do, tightening the screws and sewing and patching the sail, was somewhat stop gap; it did at least have the effect of boosting our confidence by removing some of the uncertainty. My Friday job before undertaking the unenviable task of re-provisioning (this time stocking up with loads of beer and wine since David’s had run out) was to change all the fuel filters, both pre and main engine. The warning signs had been obvious for some time now, with the occasional unexplained drop in engine revs. We’ve now had plenty of experience to let us know that this has been a pre-cursor to the next stage, a sudden loss of power or even complete cut, something just too scary to contemplate at the entry of an Atoll passage. So a hot, sweaty and smelly mornings work, with my head firmly stuck in the depths of the bilges proved to be another worthwhile boost to our confidence. And on completion, with the engine bursting into life before confidently purring away, I allowed myself to indulge in a certain smile of self satisfaction.

Even though our next trip was only going to be 25 miles, we were all up at first light, the stores opened at 4am and whilst Pete carried out the final preparations, David and I completed the final stages of provisioning with the purchase of the fresh food. A couple of hours were spent treating and stowing and with the dinghy hoisted onto the aft deck, at about 10am we turned our backs on Nuku Hiva and pointed the boat at our next exciting destination.

Almost as soon as soon as we left the protection of the bay, the sails’ were up. The winds were easterly at about 20 knots and the seas lumpy. You could almost hear Fai Tira let out a sigh saying a big yes as she clenched a metaphorical fist. This sort of weather is her stamping ground and with the sails set on a beam reach, she lifted her skirts and headed directly at the island leaping along at an effortless 7 ½ knots. The exhilarating trip seem to last no time at all, much of it being spent watching the progress of Hans and Monica on their cat Natibu as they chased us from a distance, eventually speeding past with all their sails reefed right in.

The anchorage turned out to be popular and busy and a choice of many other BWR boats. The reason why? It was stunning! We were met with the view of a majestically imposing entrance protecting a small village with the red spire of a church poking through a landscape of lush foliage. It all nestled under spectacular mountains that were dominated by the individual almost vertical peaks of four glorious pinnacles looking, initially, strangely incongruous, a sensation that soon disappeared, however, with the realisation that they were in exactly the right place (why on earth should I even have thought about questioning nature’s judgement?)

The congested anchorage forced us into a less sheltered position than hoped for (although not really sure there was anything much better to be had) and the boat rocked wildly. We were knackered!! The 5.30am start taking its toll. Both Pete and I are on strong medication and alcohol free, so we declined the party invitations. We sat on deck in the fading light. I sketched while there was still a chance, before preparing fresh open cheese, onion and salad baguettes that were consumed under the stars in the cockpit as darkness fell. The atmosphere was brilliant.....Places like this really do exist!!!.

For all of us it was now hard to resist the call of bed despite the absorbing pull of the surrounding beauty, but the severe movement of the boat heralded an uncomfortable night in prospect.

The berth in my cabin lies across the boat and the natural list to starboard means that I sleep with my feet above my head, on a calm night on anchor just about cope-withable. However it soon became apparent that things were getting way beyond my tolerance threshold. The feeling of the movement, in bed, can best be described as being in a layer of outer skin that stayed just where it was while your body moved up and down inside it, this combined with the stifling heat, due partly to the dinghy being parked on the aft deck preventing the hatch from opening and restricting the flow of air,,,,,, something had to be done.

The solution hit me as I climbed in to the cockpit dragging my sleeping bag. The very thing preventing my hatch from opening was ready made inflatable bed with supporting sides and built in pillow. The seat was out so there was plenty of room. With the sleeping bag spread out and clothing cast aside, I stretched out luxuriating in the feeling of blissful freedom. With the moon and stars overhead, the cool breeze blowing through my hair, the sound of the surf crashing on to the nearby shore and the backdrop of the mountains silhouetted against the night sky; I had everything I wanted. Everything......That is except an umbrella. Yep down it came. Showers at first so I persisted, but the final downpour finally beat me, sending me retreating to a rock and rolly night in a makeshift berth in the saloon. What an ignominious end to all that romantic energy!!

It was Sunday. We we’re up early eager to explore the new surroundings. Our first intention was to seek out the spire that was so prominent from the sea, hoping that with good timing we would be able to attend a service and listen to the distinctive and very beautiful Polynesian singing. Once ashore we were immediately confronted with the usual unspoilt natural cleanliness we’d come to expect. The sounds pointed the way. We crept inside the entrance. The small interior revealed a packed colourfully dressed congregation. Mass was coming to its conclusion, the singing was indeed beautiful. The friendly crowd acknowledged us as they filled past and we joined them for breakfast served from a trestle in the neat narrow concrete street under the shade of overhanging trees. We struck up a conversation with Peter, the teacher. Both David and myself had expressed an interest in doing a local trek. Pete opted to look after the dinghy on its’ dodgy mooring, whilst at the same time giving himself a chance to join in the festivities caused by the village hosting a visit of the Tahitian Minister for Sport. It all worked out great. Peter, the teacher, fixed up David and me with a brilliant, knowledgeable, young and charming guide who took us on a jungle trail that led way above the town before descending to a secluded waterfall and pool, where we both stripped off and went for a swim. Pete was treated like guest of honour (despite the illustrious company) and invited for lunch and even presented with a garland of flowers by the minister himself.....A brilliant day in a brilliant place.

We relocated later for the night in the hope of a smoother anchorage. Not only did we find gentler water, but we were also rewarded with another stunning view with the moonlight reflecting off the craggy surface of the cliffs illuminating them in a sort of subtle greenish light and the bonus was complete isolation, no other boats, not a sound from the radio, silence........What bliss!!

An early start the next day. 470 miles to go. This really was goodbye to the Marquesas and they quickly disappeared as we sped off with the wind firmly in our sails. If only it had lasted. Putting it politely, the weather has been mixed. Hot, chilly, wet, squally, lumpy, calm, but almost invariably no wind and what little there was so unpredictable that the sails were going up and down like..........Well you know what!!!

Any way that’s where we are now 206 miles to go before we reach our destination Makemo.

Let you know what it’s like when we get there!!

More photos of the Marquises when we get to Wi Fi

Bye for now Pete, John and David.