Fakarava, Rangiroa to Tahiti 14:57.6N 147:37.2W
Seaflute
Thu 3 Aug 2017 03:17
we arrived off the Northern pass into Fakarava slightly ahead of our planned
arrival time, which had already been calculated to see us there early to
observe conditions in the pass. From half a mile out the entrance looked
calm and although we didn’t have a clear view right into the lagoon there
were clearly no standing waves apparent. We inched in towards the pass to
get a closer look and "feel" how much current was still flowing into the
lagoon. Considering a three hour wait to slack tide and the calm appearance
of the passage, we opted to line up and have a run towards the pass with the
option to pull out if the current increased significantly before we were
past the point of no return, which was in the narrow part of the pass. The
first run was aborted due to the level of disturbance apparent in the pass,
no standing waves, but oily looking swirls and whirlpools. We held off for
another thirty minutes and sure enough our second run revealed a much kinder
looking flow. We headed into the narrow pass with two to three knots against
us. Once inside the pass, the navigation to our chosen anchorage in front of
the small village was very straightforward with a marked channel showing a
clear route through the many reefs inside the lagoon. We found a small patch
of sand amongst the coral and soon had our anchor snugged firmly with five
metres of water under our keel.
We spent the next five days exploring the atoll and diving in the pass which
is designated as one of the top ten dive sites in the world for very good
reason.
The largest village in Fakarava is on the longest motu on the eastern side
of the atoll. The pretty, brightly coloured houses are strung single file
along the waterfront facing into the lagoon. Like all villages in French
Polynesia the centre piece is a very Gallic styled church with a tall spire
and bell tower. Like all the churches we saw in French Polynesia, this one
was beautifully maintained and obviously very well attended. On our
customary visit, Lindy went inside to do her God stuff and I looked for some
shade nearby to wait. On the opposite side of the road was a small neat
shelter over what looked like a public notice board. I casually started to
decipher the contents using my not so good French. What I read and was able
to translate was utterly shocking. This was a full account of the French
Nuclear testing programme in the islands of French Polynesia. Between 1970
and 1997 there were 140 explosions, most substantially more powerful than
the bomb dropped on Hiroshima during the second world war. It was very hard
to reconcile how this could have been occurring here in this paradise…and so
recently. Fifty per cent of the explosions were sub aquatic and
subterranean. These resulted in large sections of the atoll’s and
surrounding reefs falling into the surrounding deep ocean and also the
lagoon bases subsiding. The air borne explosions would vaporise the sea
water within the lagoons and spread it on the prevailing winds across wide
tracts of the islands along with the radioactive fallout from the bomb. This
contamination was detected at alarmingly high levels as far away as New
Zealand. The final section of this notice board which was most upsetting was
an “official” record of the number of incidences of cancer suffered by the
locals in the last two decades. I’m no statistician, but the numbers
reported relative to the very small population were horrifying.
When I return home I am determined to research more about this dark chapter
in French history and discover how this was allowed to happen. Did they just
ask the locals to look the other way? Why was there not more of an
international outcry?
I must confess this played on my mind for some time. It did however explain
why the villages and infrastructure are so well funded, the roads so well
kept and the many expensive civil projects underway to serve so small a
community. Blood money methinks.
Not to dwell on so sad a story we strolled to the edge of the village where
the small café Papiotte owned by a lady who ran a café in Paris for many
years was situated on a white sand beach on the lagoon. Not only did they
serve the best coffee and crepes, they had amazing WIFI as well! Just to add
to our delight, our new found American friends Adam and Alesha were sat at
an adjacent table also availing themselves of the precious internet access.
They told us how they had been driven out of the idyllic anchorage by an
armada of Oysters!
Over the next few days, Tom and I dived the outer pass with a local guide.
Unfortunately Lindy was suffering with blocked sinuses and couldn’t join us.
The best time to drift dive in the pass is with a positive inflow. This both
ensures optimum water clarity and makes sure you don’t get swept out into
the Pacific Ocean! On both occasions we were dropped outside the reef.
Looking downward you can only see deep blue where the sea falls away to
several thousand metres. You then swim at around fifteen metres depth
towards the entrance to the pass. The current starts to pull you in until
you are being propelled at three to four knots along the pass wall. All you
need do is keep yourself facing the right way up and watch the amazing
aquatic world pass by. The concentration of fish swimming in and out of the
only entrance into the lagoon obviously attracts the big predators. At any
time we could see a hundred sharks, many large barracuda and a whole myriad
of large reef fish. The clarity of the water was incredible which added to
the illusion of flying through space completely weightless.
One of the main dilemmas on this trip has been trying to work out beforehand
where we want to spend most time and planning accordingly. Often it’s not
until you get somewhere you realise how good it is. We have also been
careful not to try and tick as many boxes as possible, but to visit fewer
places and do them justice. We had previously decided that we should spend
most time in Rangiroa with its legendary diving. Ironically when we got
there, the locals all declared the best diving in the whole of French
Polynesia is in Fakarava!
We reluctantly said goodbye to Fakarava and we were unceremoniously spat out
of the pass to begin our twenty four hour passage through the North Western
Tuamotus to Rangiroa.
Sailing through the Tuamotus at night is slightly disconcerting. We had set
a dogleg course through a number of smaller atolls en- route to Rangiroa.
Despite checking and double checking my course and charts, I never slept a
wink that night and I know neither did Tom.
We expected to arrive early at the southern pass to Rangiroa and although
the flow would be strong inwards, the pass is wide and well buoyed. I know
that fairly large cruise ships visit here, if they can do it, so could we.
The ride into the pass was like a rollercoaster. I had to be committed with
the throttle to maintain enough speed through the water to carry full rudder
authority despite charging into the pass at breakneck speed. I heard a story
later about one of our fellow Oysters crabbing into the pass sideways having
failed to apply enough gas! The standing waves that make the pass so
exciting are also the playground of a pod of bottlenose dolphins that have
made this their home. They delighted us with their aerobatics as they
followed us on our white-knuckle ride into the lagoon.
Rangiroa lagoon is immense. The vast majority of the area is given over to
pearl farming which is their biggest export by far. The famous black pearls
are prized worldwide but particularly by the Japanese who are also very
involved in the trade of these precious orbs. Despite the extent of the
pearl farms there is still plenty of space to anchor in sublime bays, mostly
adjacent to the numerous resort hotels with their archetypal thatched
bungalows suspended on stilts over the turquoise ocean. We chose a lovely
sheltered anchorage in front of a beautiful hotel within a short dinghy ride
to the town quay. From the remoteness of the islands we had come from,
Rangiroa seemed like a swinging metropolis with its four stores, seven
restaurants and a bank!
We had a very relaxing seven days here, sharing our time between diving,
cycling, eating and of course Lindys first opportunity of retail therapy
since we had left Panama. I inevitably also succumbed to a visit to a local
pearl farm where coincidentally they have a retail outlet for their wares. I
must confess the process is fascinating and we spent several hours here
learning how the pearls are seeded in farmed Oysters and can take up to
fifteen years to produce a pearl of around twelve millimetres in diameter.
The failure rate is also very high and this is why good specimens are so
expensive….they are believe me!
Whilst we had been in Makemo, I had been bitten quite badly by mosquitoes on
my left ankle which had become infected. My left foot had begun to balloon
despite taking antibiotics so we sought out the local doctor who turned out
to be a short cycle ride away. The clinic was immaculate, we were told there
was no need for an appointment and should just wait outside. I hunkered down
in some shade under a tree and prepared for a long wait. Two minutes later
we were called in and the doctor’s assistant took my details and undertook a
basic triage. As soon as this was complete, I was ushered in to see the
doctor. After a thorough inspection of my leg he prescribed a stronger dose
of the antibiotics I was already taking and over a longer period. The whole
thing was done and dusted in under fifteen minutes and we were cycling back
to town. The price for this service …nothing. Maybe the French aren’t so bad
after all…but maybe it’s all part of the payback strategy and I was a lucky
recipient. Just call me cynical.
Once again and all too soon, we were packing up and heading off to our next
destination, Tahiti.
We will be catching up to date with our blog over the next two
weeks…promise…unless of course we get distracted.
Best wishes from all on Sea Flute
Skipper Peds
