The little village of Rikitea on Mangareva in the Gambier Archipelago. I flew here from New Zealand to meet up with Carelbi who had been sailed the 3000 miles from Opua in the Bay of Islands by Chris, Anders, Bill and Ken. Bill’s wife, Kerryn, met me in Tahiti and we took the little inter-island hopper down together.  

Bougainvillea and glimpses of the lagoon in Rikitea

Bill, Anders and Chris catching a wahoo on the way to Hao from Gambier,  sunset is a good time to get a bite.

 We threw Anders’s head into the water at Hao but the sharks were not tempted.

Sunset from the little harbour in Hao, our first stop after Gambier, where we refuelled. We didn’t have too good a time in Hao, our fuel tank was stolen from the dinghy; luckily we found it stowed away next to the Mayor’s office water tank. The island has lost many jobs since the French military who used it as a base for their nuclear testing at Mururoa have left and there is now much poverty with its accompanying and understandable theft and the atmosphere is not as friendly as it was four years ago. We left quickly.

Chris attempting to bash down a coconut

The beach at Tahanea, the atoll we see when we dream about the Tuamotus, with its lovely anchorages, its fish and coral in abundance on the reefs of its passes. Above all else, it was our own special secret, it was our personal desert island. Imagine, then, our dismay when we found that we were one of eight other boats.

Happy Hour drinks with Top to Top, a family sponsored by the UN who are sailing around the world, climbing the tallest mountain in each continent as they arrive and talking to children in schools about environmental pollution, global warming and what can be done to help prevent it.

 We have a waterproof bag for underwater photography for our camera, but I never managed to take a decent shot with it, this is a very bad example of the wonderful coral gardens in Tahanea, but it’s mine and it’s real, not a copy from somewhere else!

The reef sharks circling Carelbi, whose numbers increased to the point where swimming off the back of the boat was no longer a pleasure.

 Hermit crabs on the beaches of Tahanea

 A little graveyard; although Tahanea is technically deserted, Polynesians do come to the little village of Otao to make copra, and there is a little chapel not far from the graves as well as a few  huts.

Anders trying to knock coconuts out of the trees, with a little success.

Back at the ranch, opening them up

The reef where the lads went lobster hunting one night, you shine a bright torch into the water, the lobster eyes flash back at you and you just grab them.  That’s the theory, the actuality was that they came back empty-handed!

On to Fakarava, the bar of the little diving club at the southern pass of Tetamanu. The reef there teemed with fish including a huge ugly Napoleon who was so friendly that he was called Calin or Cuddles in English, and liked to be fed by swimming visitors. 

 Carelbi’s crew, Bill & Kerryn in the forepeak and Anders in the side cabin, having their afternoon siesta before going out to party at Manahi’s restaurant/pension at Tetamanu.

 Manahi’s magnificent party room

Our host, Manahi, late in the evening…

 Anders, a latter-day Pied Piper, with small Emma, who was fascinated by the furry beard.

A beach where we anchored on our sail up from Tetamanu to the Maitai Dream Hotel 

Maitai Dream Hotel just outside the village of Rotoava

Palm tree plantation for copra planted along the hotel beach and overlooking the brilliant colours of the lagoon.

Weaving baskets at Maitai to give to the guests, the matriarch of a large extended family who lived close by.

We had anchored for a couple of days off the hotel and were lucky enough to be there for a local dance evening. This was the band, happy energetic drummers.

One of the small dancers who pulled me onto the floor to  try to teach me how to sway my hips Polynesian style, almost impossible for Europeans.

All the dancers were the descendants  of the weaving matriarch.

Fiona, Chris & Anders partying at Maitai

We were taken to Hinano Pearl Farm, owned and run by Gunther, a German who has lived in the Pacific for the last odd thirty years and is now practically Polynesian.

The operation carried out on the poor oyster to encourage it to make a pearl is not edifying. The black frill is partially cut away and replaced with segments from an oyster who has a good colour, then a small sphere is inserted into its gonads, where, to stop the irritation this causes, it covers it with the smooth finish so prized by lovers of the black and green Pacific pearls.

Hinano pearls graded according to size and quality. Gunther sells to the general public such as ourselves as well as to the jewellery makers and middle men in Tahiti. Bill & Kerryn bought necklaces and pearls from him.

Anders was our breadmaker, displaying here his Jogger’s loaves, which were delicious.

The improbable colours of the Toau lagoon

From Fakarava we went to Toau where we anchored off the southern pass and walked along the shore there.

These two pictures were taken by Anders from the top of Carelbi's mast.

In Anse Amyot, a small indentation in the outer reef of Toau, we have friends whom we first met in 2001, Gaston, Valentine, her sister Laiza and her family. They open up their homes to the yachties who pass through from May to July and we share their lives, helping to catch or spear fish for the food pot, chasing lobsters on the reef at night, preparing the almost nightly communal feasts and joining in the games of volleyball and boules.

Gaston is chopping driftwood, which burns slow and hot, for the lobster pot. We were celebrating the birthday of Niki, from an Austrian yacht, and people had been working all day on fishing and cake making.

  Valentine, with the cake she made for Niki