Makemo and the Haeva
Pacific Bliss
Colin Price
Sat 30 Jul 2011 00:07
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Makemo
Other than strong winds and first
sightings of coral heads just below the surface of the water in the middle
of an atoll, Amanu had been a breeze. We had had a pleasant sail the 170nm
from Amanu and even tried to stop at another atoll with no pass to
enter it's lagoon, but to no avail. Just sailed by a couple of times
and waved at the bemused locals. We arrived at Makemo well before dawn and
stood off hove-to for a few hours waiting for the light. The pass
into the atoll, whilst scarey for the novice was not too much to cope
with. We pushed in against the 4kn ebb and made the logoon after about 20
minutes of motoring. We knew folk who had recently been to Makemo, so
armed with their information we knew where to go and what to do. All a bit
of relief as we know a relatively stronge S/E blow is due so we tie up, bows
to the modern and sturdy concrete quay with a stern anchor set, not exactly
the things of exotic Pacific island dreams but flipping fantastic for those who
haven't slept a full nights sleep for over a week due to anchor
concerns. We're actually more exhuasted than we realise. Being this
close to the village and tied up to the quay has it's pros and
cons. Besiged by kids all day, but getting to shore for morning bread (no
later than 6am) is a breeze and the water is cleaner than any Town dock you'll
have ever seen and the local children incredibly polite given there level of
excitement. Fish swimming under the boat in crystal water all day
long.
 Moored to the
quay with the supply boat Kora OraWe're in Makemo for the Bastille day
celebrations. We wanted to be somewhere where it's a production by
local folk for local folk. We're currently on a escalating scale of dance
excitment, from young school kids in Amanu to local atoll folk here in Makemo,
then eventually the finest biggest display of all South Pacific, The Marquesas
in December.
       There is a wonderful tradition for
Polynesians to adopt and accept gay/cross dressers to be honest we're just not
sure. But often it's normal for a family to bring a son up to adopt
feminine dress and tendancies. Our first experience of this was in Amanu,
first with the local shop keeper and most wonderful of all the second teacher in
the school who had coriographed the whole dance show. To see
him/her you would have thought he was a
wonderful retired dancer couriographing a wonderful avent-garde
show in New York complete with camp hands
movements and stern facual expressionss, but it was brilliant
Not in a billion years would you see this in a UK school, everyone's
so worried about corrupting the innocent children. Anyway these same self
Dancing queens where in Makemo too.
     Sports day for the kids
     The plumpicious
ladies add some weight to the occasion  Z
with friends  Fishing competition back with tuna
   I think the connection to Bastille
day is just a ruse, and in Polynesia this festival is know as the Haeva.
There is a fabulous display on the morning of the 14th but the event seems
to start at least a week before and goes on and on and on. By the time we
left the village nearly 2 weeks after arriveing the evening ritual of
dance and music was still in full spate. And it was truely
mezmorising the women tiny,small, big and extra big move there hip and
posteriors like nothing else, Z and I are still trying to do it but so far we're
no where near. Cosmo and Colin are also failing at trying to mimick the
male dance of knocking knees together and giving a loud, "huh ha".
The children are reacting very
differently to the frustrations of different language. Z is desperate
to learn. So we swiftly meet some very sweet 11 yr olds who then escort Z
each evening to the Heava, all very grown up, when one night they took her
out to attend the 'boom, boom' disco, only Z returned by 8 pm ready
for bed and before the disco had began, she's a long way to go before
she burns the midnight oil
 Z
all dressed up Polynesian style for the 'boom boom room'Supply boat arrived at night and
spent 3 days looking down into our cockpit
 Final goodbye to the
trusty boogie board - snapped
  kids playing on the mooring linesOur stay at the Quay is now getting a
little waring with all the children, We have at least been able to sleep a
whole night through. We've been recommended to visit the S/E of
the island with is quite a feast on the eyes and finally we find good sand
to play in. Two days after arriving we're beckoned over by
the chap who live on shore and asked if we would like to come fishing. So
Big C and Little C walk off to the reef with Toa to catch fish whilst Z and I
went black tip spotting and shell combing. We all left the rather camp
'Hubert' in the palm frond hut to make lunch. The boys have an absolutely
marvelous time catching about 20 delicious parrot and other such likes
fish. But best of all Cosmo comes back high as a kite as he got
to pick up a baby black tip by the dosal fin that had got caught in the
net, no mean feet when mummy is just a few meters away from
your toes. The invatation for fishing turns into an incredible
lunch we've been cooked for and served whilst our lovely hosts
sit by not eating but tucking into a liquid lunch, Huberts tipple is for
beer, but in fact is just fermented water and Toa downs the quater bottle of Rum
we bought as a thankyou, it's all getting a bit mad and before
we know it we're dingying Hubert back to his house 1 mile down the
shoreline. And boy what a treat, Huberts home is fantastic obviously
a good way to express his artictic temprement, managing to make disgarded
beer bottles and tins an artistic feature. And of course a thrown fit for
any Queen.
   A [et coconut crab - 'pet' that is
until it is big enough to eat
  Beer and
cigarettes Oven for bread   Hubert;s queen's
palace
    motoring in thro turquise
waterLater, the children and I are
not going any where near the shore post twilight but Colin as ever is
up for adventure. and here's how the evening paned
out:
I putter ashore with Hubert in the dinghy, which he promptly falls out of and into the water - all ready well on his way in the evening's entertainment. Toa is not amused when we turn up. His special tool for scraping out copra is missing and he acuses Hubert of having taken it. Quite why the old queen would want a scooped bit of rusty steel I don't know - anyway, as the evening progressed the subject kept reoccuring with more flailing of arms and accusations. The two of them would warble off in Tahitian until they remember I am there and revert to French. Whisky and beer are consumed. There is much talk of how the 'bad people of Makemo' are all thieves - clearly not true from our experience. Ocassionally in the silent dark night outside the hut there is a thump as another coconut hits the ground and the mantra, "100 Francs" is muttered as each coconut is said to be worth 100PF (approx$1.20) when dried and sold. More whisky and beer are consumed, and finally just as it looks like I can make a swift exit, Toa learns that Hubert has offered to make us bread the next day, and, not to be outdone, decides that he will make some that night. It looks like it is going to be a long evening. I watch the first couple of stages, and the coconut fire being lit before making my farewells, and being escorted across the stream oudside the hut, and over the sand flats by a rather tipsy, very tatooed, copra farmer originally from Morea. Kind people through and through - a lovely evening.  So having thought we would have moved
on yesterday we finally get away about 11am the following morning, having waited
to go and pick up the promised bread from Hubert, that unsurprisingly didn't
materialise. A quick whizz into the town for the weekly Veg delivery, it's
a bit of a bonanza as I strike lucky and get in 2 mins before
the airfreight delivery arrives so I am able to buy the children a massive
treat, broccoli. We've not seen it for 7 months and my vegetable
indoctrination is working. Z gets to hang out for a few more
hours with the her 11yr old girl friends then with a tearful fairwell and gifts
of beautiful shell necklaces they had made, we cruelly drag our daughter away to
the northern mottus of the atoll.
We have up until now managed rather
well on our motu-moving, I don't enjoy, actually find it positively
stressful, but it's do-able. However getting to our next anchorage is
no easy feat. We've left too late, and halfway down the light is heading
us, which makes coral-head spotting really difficult. So up the mast I'm
hoisted or at least up to the spreaders. So, the, somewhat, already
stressful job is made even worse when you discover you have missed a small,
just under the water fearsome brute and now the boat has just past it
missing it by only 4metres. So I'm hating my journey and it's just about
to get a whole lot worse when we turn the boat by 45% and I am being bashed
about up the mast with 17knot of wind. I'm going off Atoll sailing pretty
bloody quickly.
But once safely anchored we discover
that it's beautiful here and the sand is fine and the shelling is
good. With only one other boat in the bay, Colin trys out
a new pastime of Windsurfing in the buff , he thinks this might
be an Makemo First. Luckily Randell the solo American Sailor on the other
boat hasn't got his bino's out and accepts an invitation for dinner.
Having had quite a rauchous night with Randell late on in the evening
I decide it's a good time to give myself a new look. On a
trip to the loo I spot a pair of Scissors, I must have had 'Vidal
Sasson delusionary moment' , as 5 mins later I had achieved a rather
unsuccessful attempt on the five point bob. Finally having come to my
senses I realise that Randell real would think we/I was stark raving mad, it's
not most suppers your host appears back with hair 4" shorter than when
she went off to powder her noses minutes before hand. So I was unable to
say my goodbyes to the poor chap, better to think me mildly rude than completely
insane..... But boy the boat is now carpeted with the offending 4", Colin and
the Kids are not amused.
  Beach scene
  and
sunset Randal arriving
for diner Rather like the
san Blas - but clean  Due to my now rather fast developing
aversion to atoll sailing I'm not keen to move on quickly. But that isn't
how Colin feels so after four days we are off to find a new atoll, only a
22nm hop away.
Katui
Katui, is, we think a very
seldom visited atoll - it seems that many of the Tuamotos are
frequently visited now what with the advent of GPS plotters and cruising guides,
and we want to get off the track a bit more. Many atolls now have airports
and if not the supply boats are coming in every few weeks. As normal
we arrive at the pass and our predictions of low water and slack tired are
proved wrong, again. We make an attempt on the pass getting through the
first section and then have to get through an extremely narrow, unmarked,
shallow entrance, did I say I'm having a sense of humour failure about atoll
cruising. Colin asks a local fisherman if he would motor his
panga ahead of us to show us the way .................... And when we
get to the anchorage it's not exactly easy anchoring, deep water strewn with
coral heads. Luckily, very luckily there isn't a drop of wind so we are
safe for a night, tucked up next to the islands Generator!
   Chandelier is all made of shell -
beautiful
 
from town quay into the lagoonThe pass at almost slack, looking out
to sea
   Katui
featuresLooking back to the pass in - you
dont get an impression of how narrow and how shallow this was
  After a night of bad dreams
about never getting out, which is now the plan, we sit and watch the
water, the anticipated 9.30 slack never comes and it's not until 11.30
when we realise it's now or never, we need to make a run for it. We've
never upped and left so quickly. Same old story there is a big blow due in
a days time and we need to get to a safe place and Katui is by no mean
safe. We make it out not with a few screams and scares. So now we have
24hrs to make the 45nm run befor the next blow. The day ahead is relaxed,
fun and an enormous relief to be out. Katui may well have been a rather
lovely place to hang out at, but the short 16 hour stop over we had didn't give
us time to discover. It's pointless going to an atoll for less than a few
weeks, is our humble opinion.
Come night fall the wind begins to
fill in and it's looking like the weather is ahead of schedule. I was
hoping I could let Colin sleep till 1am but the sea state is making be feel
decidedly ill, Colin take over watch and for the first time in 2 years
he's feeling sick as a dog too. It's getting quite close to me
having one of those frank chats with Colin again. But It's 5am and we need
to get through yet another pass when the water is screaching
out. The weather is foul and joy of joys the anchorage by the pass is
untenable in a South Easterly, guess what that's means.............
So in hideous conditions with near no visablitly we are now having to make the 9
miles through another coral strawn atoll tp the protected SE corner. I
think it's fair to say I'm not really enjoying the Tuamoto's.
But 2 days later our weather and
world changes dramatically........
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