Gambier - Heaven and Hell 23:07S 134:58W
Pacific Bliss
Colin Price
Tue 14 Jun 2011 01:23
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Gambier - Heaven and Hell For the first time really on our travel Colin and I find ourselves at odds over the place we are. Colin loves it, Me, I don't quite get it at all. In fact I really don't like it here. So, in honour of this we are going to make two entries... his and hers.   Arrival in
GambierColin's
The Town
Riketea is the capital (ha), of Mangareva
in the archipelogo of the Gambier Islands which are about as far of the beaten
track as you can get when crossing the Pacific. Riketea is a sleepy French
town deep in the South Pacific with 1 flight a week to Tahiti, so, though not
isolated completely, it is remote. Economy is mostly pearl farms, and if you
ever buy a high quality black pearl it could well have come
from Gambier (something to do with the colder water we hear, but more of this in
another entry). Backdrop of two high rocky hills and fruit and palm trees
border the waters edge. Pearl farms on stilts out in the water give this a
really foreign feel. But, once ashore, we find a very French order of
things. Tidy gardens, neat houses of wood and corrigated iron, concrete
road and poilite people saying 'bonjour' to us as we pass. It feels as if
noone is that interested in us or our purses, which is a refreshing change after
South America.
 Our picture log
of the passageFruit, and bread are abundant
 Note, the lone
and precious tomatoThere are delicious light french loaves to be
had each morning and evening and we end up training the kids to row ashore in
the kayake to pick them up, which is a great treat.
There are 11 boats in the anchorage, mostly
French but with a couple of Aussies thrown in. It seems that most have
come here from Easter Island and Pitcairn and are on their way up to
Tahiti.
Kids fetching bread from the boulangerie in the
morning by kayake
 Ramoras which are sharklike fish which play
under the boat and come up whenever scraps are thrown overboard
 We have
eight of them at the moment.Town quay
 and  Hi-tech postofficeThe Storm
We arrived as the wind was just getting up and
had a reasonable night, though our bodies were still, 'on watch' so neither LIz
or I slept the full night. Next day was a quiet day with just some
chilling out, checking in at the Gendarmerie (a 5 minute pleasure after the
protracted check in's of South America), ordering of French Bread (the really
fluffy light variety that you can't stop eating).
We knew there was a blow coming along, so
another anchor was laid to supplement the normal one which in 20m depth was
right on the limit of safe, with the amount of chain we had out.
Wind picked up during the evening and we were
woken as the boat lurched with a huge gust around 11pm. That signalled the
end of sleep for the night. The wind blew, twisted, and funnelled around
the bay. The rain lashed down and Liz and I ended up with full oilskins on
for the first time ever.
The wee aluminium French boat ahead of us
dragged back and without Liz's keen sixth sense for anchor-danger we'd have hit
it. Engines on and racing to push us away. The boat dragged away and
threatened three other boats before finally reanchoring around 2am. The
funny thing is that the old french couple aboard didn't wake up until they were
almost going to hit the third boat.
Three other boats dragged and everyone was
pretty shaken up. Long term sailors said afterwards that they had never
been in anything like that night in all their years sailing.
We recorded steady 37kn winds, with gusts well
over 40, and the boat in front of us saw a gusts of 52kn. But it wasnt the
strength that was so frightening, it was not knowing which compass point the
next gust was going to come from.. One moment you'd be straining back on your
anchor, and the next riding right over the top of it at 5 knots, only to be
brought up short and expecting it to have broken out of the bottom
completely.
All in all very unordinary night.
The next night we had a 'Survivors' party for
all the boats around us and filled cockpit with 20 for a lot of chat and plenty
of grog. Once again it is the catamaran cockpit that comes to the fore for
these events.
All that aside, I'm really warming to this
place. It is a lovely view, we are in an adventure, there is lots to do,
and, there are at least 5 other great anchorages to explore.
Liz's
memories
What a joy to make landfall, I'm
delighted but exhausted, Colin is in rapurtures over the sheer beauty
of the place. I'm feeling like his enthusiasm is being embelished due
to our now rather bleak expectation of this place, and for some
reason he's feeling guilty and responsible for the choice to make the long
trip down. We wiggle our way into the harbour and watch another boat
leave on passage to Tahiti, I wouldn't relish what they are about to
face weather wise over the next few days. To our surprise there are
11 boats at anchor, most are long stay French, the others seem
to all hae broken something, from rigging to engines and are unable to
leave, or having been to Easter and Pitcairn are now waiting for
a weather window to move up to Tahiti. Everyone is super
friendly and helpful. It seems many have abandoned the idea of
wiggling up the Tuamoto chain.
We are both fatigued as hell, Colin
taking the pressure with heightened agitation and launchs into getting
things done and I'm on the other end of the scale unable to bearly concern
myself with the 3 weeks load of cleaning. The Islands are volcanic
with few beaches. I'm really surprised by the architecture, nothing
in the way of rustic charm and everyone drives around in 4x4 truck,
which seems like a bit of an overkill. As expected many of the
local inhabitants are embracing the culture of plumpness or rather
obesity. First night despite being dead on our feet we manage
to russle up Steak Frite as a celebratory meal. We fall in
to bed darn early but find sleeping an issue as we are both still
totally strung out, it feels like it will be days before our
muscles and minds will learn how to relax again. The wind has started to
pick up so Colin spends his first night on anchor watch.
Day two and the
Storm
The Day was spent weather watching and talking
with others in the anchorage about what to expect. We hear reports from
one boat, we knew from Panama, that left the habour 2 days ago, are having a
hideous time suffering a knock down followed by autopilot failure. Colin
is in a even larger state of agaitation due to increased exhaustion and pending
weather doom, but it does mean he's in safety mode and everything is
considered, just in case the worst happens....... Most importantly
another anchor is laid. But eventually the kids and I can't
cope with Colin's fretting, so send him to bed mid afternoon. I
finally hit the sack about 9pm (cruisers midnight) and about 1hour
later Colin is back awake fiddling with anchors. Half an hour
later I realise the wind really is picking up and perhaps I need to go help, and
it's just as well as Colin is sorting stuff at the bows another boat who
has dragged started to speed towards our stern. We just and
I mean 'just' get the engines on in time to get out of his way, he misses
us by no more than 4". I'm still in a thin shirt and am being battered by
the wind and rain but I can't leave the helm in fear we will either drag on our
anchor and carear towards another boat, a reef or our rather too friendly
neibour may come back for a second go. By the time Colin has
sorted the line to the second anchor my teeth are shaking uncontrolably the
sun shades have some how unleashed themselves turning in to lethal weapons,
whipping anything and anyone that gets in the way. So before I can find
our oilys, we have to perform an operation on these evil out of control whips.
by 1ish things have calmed down considerably but we continued to watch the
aliminuim boat, despite being honked at by various people, almost t'bone
two other boats before the occupants woke up, they missed most of the action and
narrowly escaped the reef, god knows how. I was finally able to get a bit
of shut eye in the saloon, so tired was I as soon as my head hit the
pillow I was out, dispite the adrenoline coursing through me.
Two hours later things really have settled,
So Colin wakes me for my watch, and as the sun rose the following
morning you realised that we where not the only folk who hadn't
slept. Boats appeared to have been playing musical statues during the
night. Thankfully the kids slept like babies last night and just wondered
the next day why boats had change position!
I can't remember the next day, but I'm not
warming to this place..............
The rallying in the harbour over the first few
hours of sunshine was definitely a bonding experience. The type
of folk who make it down this far are either
French, Old hands of living at sea, or Bonkers folk.
But each one of these groups was shaken by the experience, with
stories of there 'worst night ever' even for the die hard 9
year live-abourd circumnavigated twice etc etc.
It left me shaken, stirred
and generally really rather jigged up. But the best thing to do in these situations is, organise a drinks
party. So that's what we do and invite most of the boats in the
anchorage. After a nights
sleep though.
 Colin appears to have turned into mister
motivator
The Walk up Mt
Mokoto
Quite a hard walk up this 1400' hill behind the
anchorage. Took a couple of hours or so up through fruit trees, pine
forest, grass slopes and finally scrambelling along a precipitous arete
to get to the top and the most fabulous panoramic view of Gambier, taking in all
the islands, and surrounding reefs.
The kids where incredible it's the first big
mountain walk they've done without a squeak of a complaint
from either. Cosmo ran up only to be tethered to us on top of
the precepice. Yet more learching tummy in mouth feelings for
me. Both kids enjoyed the skidding down on there bottoms through the
pine forest. And of course the glut of mangoes, these are the
sweet non-stringy variety so bonus, we get to devour them half
way down and it is even more than Cosmo can consume so we pile our
ruck sacks to the brim and make our way home.
  breathtaking viewsBut no time to relax for the crew on Pacific
Bliss, Captain Colin rallies us for another adventure the following
day.
The Circunavigation by
Bike
We broke out the bikes again and set off round
the island, duely warned by a friendly Belguim Eddie from s/v Helena that the
route took in 25km of the total 32km of road on the island, and was a bit
hilly. We made it round in 5 hours, with several stops to fill our baskets
with Pamplemoouse, breadfruit and Lemons. Cosmo is a fanatic Bike rider
and I'm sure he's already starting his training for 'Iron Man' he's got
the most clapped out rusted bike with no front brake but still manages to whizz
up hill faster that an adult on a bike with 3 gears. The scarey bit with
him is making sure he gets down the hill, with his love of speed and the lack of
breaking power it makes for a jaw clenching experience for the parent trying to
keep up. By the time we're back to the boat Colin and I are
truely pooped but not the kids, into they hop kayake to play jelly fish
disection games and then get dispatched off to buy the evenings supply of
Baguette. Whilst the adults open a box of wine, finished for the
day.
  The Popee where the breadfruit is stored in lean
spells
 Break Point
I've been supprisingly quiet for the past few
days, some might think it's a god send, but I just don't seem to be
able to find any peace or a way to unwind. I finally have to fess up to colin
that I've lost all confidence in the program. I feel trapped, frightened,
I can't speak French, I feel as each day passes I am less capable of knowing how
to sail and I sick of having to pump the stiff loo handle
30 times after each visit. I loath having to get permission if I can use
the washing machine, this doesn't happen often as I know it's a waste
of water and energy. but boy I would for once like to take a long
shower, run the washing machine, hoover the boat and whizz some
soup without it being a flipping issue. I'm constantly concerned that we're
not educating the children enough, will they fit back in to mainstream education
bother socially and academically. The long and short is I'm
feeling like the cup is half empty and I'm unable to find a way to fill
it. This all comes as devistating news to Colin.
who didn't have a scooby and is loving every minute, or so he
says...................
But he's great and starts looking for weather
windows to get us out of here. But with fickle mind it's not what I
want. Actually what I want is untenable. so we need to find a
way out. the idea of another 10 day passage is beyond hideous, plus the
feeling of defeat will be with me for a very long time to come. But
we have to get out of here some how. So we orgainise to accompany an
Aussie boat (s/v Pyewacket) up to Tahiti and skip any death defying routes into
reef strewn atolls in the Tuamotos.
The day before our departure we head out of
Rikatea, to have a night somewhere new before we flee.
   Manage to fit in
a rare visit to the huge Euro-funded project to refurbish the cathederal (find a
Gambier history on the internet for more on the despotic history of the
islands)All Change
Fickle is not the word.................. After a
brief motor round the corner, we find ourselves at anchor around the South side
of Ile Taravae in the Southern part of the lagoon.
    Beautiful sunsets
 We arrived in probably the most beautiful
anchorage we've ever experienced, with only one other boat. A youngish
couple came by later that day, having visited the only house on shore, armed
with a bounty I could only drawl at. Aubergines, Butternut, Armfuls
of Basil and Mint, delicious lemons and not yet ripe Papaya. These are the
first fresh vegtables we've seen since leaving Galapagos and they were never
particularly fresh.
 Our new boat neibours turn out to be serial French Polynessian
o'fils So over the next 3 night of dinner on PB consuming all our
delicacies we review our plans, not just by a bit, but by about a
year.I also recieve some immaculately timed emails
from friends bemoaning the education system and beaurocratic state we live in
and push our children into, tests, tutors etc all from the age of 6, what are we
doing to our babies? The another two emails arrive describing the desperate
state of British shoppers when in a supermarket, and it all starts to put my
moments of woe into context.
Coco and Thiery (lovely French couple from
s/v Majorque) take the kids off to the shore to visit our bounty providers and
they come back full of stories, it's the most animated they've been about a
place. So we then go visit the golden
people and there garden it turns out to be the Polynesian hospitality of
old, and our new friends are a joy. The children feed the ducks, play with
the chickens run around this beautiful lush place and build camps in the
volcanic rocks next to the white coral sand beside the cristal clear water, it's
the kids favourite place. Denise and Eduard are so totally relaxed, and
having had 7 children, Eduard is a Bear of a Man and Denise is a big beautiful
Polynesian Mama. But each time you visit these guys they just won't let you
leave without an armfull of produce.
 feeding coconut
to the ducks feels a far cry from Bosham quayThey invite us to lunch the following
day, another day late for our planned departure! We speak to our
Aussie friends on s/v Pyewacket by radio each morning (they left a day before we
intended to), and keep apaologising and saying we'll be leaving shortly and
catch up with them. Instead we busy away at making pudding with the
eggs and lemons provided by D&E, Lemon Merigue Pie.
We arrive to be handed a Mojito with real
ice, followed by the most delicious meal we've eaten in a very long time.
It's no wonder the poly-wot-nots are plump given the courses we ran
through.
1) Muscle de Nacre (oyster muscles);
with trepidation Colin tried one of these delicacies, and once tried finds
it almost impossible to resist a second, third and so on.. the kids too couldn't
get enough of them. Unlike their Oyster cousins in Europe these guys are
so large only the muscle is extracted so it's free of all the excriment and
usually kills. They are eaten raw other than a little cooking in lemon juice the
doused in raw Garlic, Parsley and Olive Oil.
2) Poisson Cru, Again raw white fish
left in lemon juice for a quick 5 mins so it's still raw in the middle then
having grated your fresh coconut from the tree you squeeze the milk and
then chop fresh organic vegtables from the garden. All served with rice. Again
it's delicate and totally morrish. It's hard to stop but the end is not
near and we are already starting to feel stuffed.
3) Poulet Localle (Local Chicken),
these are about as free as a chicken can be, With no natural preditors on
the islands there are glute of ferrel bird running around the place.
All you have to do is catch one. And of course Eduard has devised an easy
way. It seems that these guys are about the only folk to eat the
rangy birds other Gambians chose to buy the expensive french imports, most
odd. So chicken casserole in a coconut stock accommpanied with my
rather embarracing potato salad.
4) Mousse au Chocolate.
Denise's very french Chocolate Mousse
5) And finally trying to squeeze in a
slither of good old lemon merangue pie is something we're struggling to do
but Denise seems to still have a room and wolfs more pie than the rest of
us put together. I'm delighted to see I've been able to produce
something that is appreciated as much as we appreciate our time here.
   We hardly see the children as they ferret
around in this Garden of Eden and we drink good coffee and are offered
Colins banana cake that we'd given them the day before.
 We are all now well rested, fed and in
raptures about the Gambier We will leave, one day, but for now we're
taking life in the slow lane, with no intention of leaving
Polynesia until April next year! How's that for a change of
plan...?
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