Fai Tira Blog Thursday 3rd June

Fai Tira in the Bora Bora 16:29.33S 151:45.71W

Supplement to Pete and J’s recent picture blog

We were on the Island of Huahine for 3 nights. We’ve seen so many spectacular skylines and landscapes that I think we’ve become a bit spoilt and perhaps just a bit complacent. Therefore new venues always have a lot to live up to. So sometimes it happens that we may make unjust initial judgements. I think, as far as I am concerned, Huahine may have had that effect on me. The Island is split in two: H Nui the larger one, H Iti the smaller, linked by a bridge and located in the South. Our first night’s anchorage was in a bay situated at its Southern tip adjacent to a couple of hotels and protected by a small peninsular called Tiva Point. Despite the proximity of the hotels and a plethora of white beaches, the location was quiet and relaxed, further confirmation, if needed, of the 60% decline (we told) of the tourist industry.

We were greeted by Ian and Glenda just returning in their dinghy from snorkelling, just time for a quick beer and chat before we ventured off ourselves, in dinghy, towards the hotel staging in failing light. As with all Polynesian Islands the initial impact was one of unspoilt tidiness. Quite difficult to convey the appearance, nothing clinical or contrived here, it just seems that neat colourful natural beauty forms an important part of their culture, something they do so well. And as usual all displayed to the accompaniment of crowing cockerels, barking dogs and the ever present smell of wood smoke.

The first watering hole, if we wanted it, was in the hotel, right in front, but  we decided to investigate further afield (not too much further, we were quite thirsty now). We passed a small restaurant before ending up at a small complex of buildings that turned out to be the other hotel. It was now quite dark, beach loungers beckoned, an attractive lady was serving, why go anywhere else?..... It was becoming rapidly obvious; we might just like this place!!

We’d also had an earlier conversation with Hans and Monica, They’d been eulogising about their bike ride. So the decision was made. That was our plan for tomorrow.

The start of the day was fairly leisurely. The distance quite short, about 30/40 kilometres and the terrain flat according to H and M...... They lied!!!! Probably the truth is they’re so fit they didn’t even notice the steep bits!

Our start was quite late. This time there were three of us and with only two bikes, the first task was to hire one for J. Not difficult (thanks Europcar) and one that was rapidly completed in the foyer of the hotel. Not a wide range of choice though. There were just two bikes and J came away with a half decent mountain bike. A good decision influenced in part, I think, by the shopping basket screwed to the front of the alternative.

Straight away, one of the notable differences between this and our previous ride was the reduction in traffic levels and although the distribution of dwellings was similar, some still revealing a ramshackle appearance. The feel of affluence was unmistakable, not ostentatious, but still there and very tangible.

Once more it felt good to be back relying on pedal power. The day was fine, perhaps a bit windy and with just a hint of rain in the air. The sense of personal pride in appearance persisted. Even the more humble dwellings seemed to be set in lovely gardens where often they were just visible through a jumble of palms and exotic plants that combined to present a mass of colour amidst a sea of riotous green foliage creating exciting gardens of seclusion and grandeur.

The dwellings rolled by with splendid towering mountains on our left and palm lined beaches to our right. It was soon that we pulled over for our first stop and photo opportunity. About 30 yards of the road and looking like a druid ring or ancient folly, in what looked like beautiful common land, was an isolated pond full of exotic lilies. There was no obvious reason for its location, so we just contented ourselves with its beauty, mystery and quirkiness then moved on.

The pace was a slow amble, we didn’t intend missing anything. So no surprise then that the ice cream sign, outside a private house, was spotted in unison. Ok we’d only travelled a few miles, but what the heck. We just had to stop and buy one (well three actually) That’s not three each, but three altogether that’s one each, just sounded like three each oh well anyway sure you know what I mean.

We parked our bikes against a bench opposite overlooking the tranquil waters of the lagoon and strolled towards the entrance to be greeted, almost immediately, by a very large, well endowed, underdressed and jovial lady, least I think she was jovial. J is the one who speaks French and he was smiling, s’pose there’s just the chance it might have been caused by something other than the conversation. Pete followed her into the house to pay for our order and re-emerged also smiling.........Jovial???. Guess so!!!! Anyway with cones grasped firmly in hand we walked back contentedly to the bench...ice creams just don’t come much better than this!!!!

Enough indulgence, we still had a bike ride to do and already taken an hour to travel about 4 miles. However this place was so full of interesting little jewels, that it wasn’t long before we stumbled upon another interesting diversion. It was a tiny workshop and gallery. Once more it was positioned in the garden of a house. This time right on the roadside and as always set amongst an array of exotically colourful plants. The workshop was open and unoccupied and dedicated to silk prints with part completed works stretched out on frames. The works were delightful, colourful, simple and very large. Although the place felt welcoming, the absence of people begged the question, Should we be there at all? With the appearance of two large dogs the uncertainty increased, so it was back on the bikes and off down the road.

J spotted a prominent roadside sign just in front of a basic looking home and stopped to read. Before long a very large bloke waddled out. His massive hips swayed and the cheeks of his ample bum leapt up and down with each stride. The size of his chest prevented his arms from hanging vertically and they swung about two feet away from his body as he walked. Ex rugby player came to mind. J and he struck up a conversation. It transpired that the sign was some sort of public proclamation relating to a longstanding land dispute. The intercourse was brief, but just enough time for him to let us know of an approaching “baby hill” before his attention was distracted by the approach of two friends.

So after another delightful interlude, we were off again. The hill was short, but no baby and at the top we pulled over, paused for breather and wallowed in the views across the lagoon.

The ride continued at the pace of a brisk snail. Even so at about half distance we almost missed the ornate sign indicating the location of a small roadside location proclaiming artisan. An inquisitive glance inside revealed a small restaurant with a very low ceiling of woven fronds. Fairly basic but tastefully decorated tables and chairs sat on a floor of loose granite like pebbles. An array of colourful pareos hung from frames of recovered wooden flotsam and at one end stood a small bar that lead to what looked like a kitchen. The whole lot was set in a small courtyard nestling amongst a mass of colour generated by a huge range of, randomly placed, exotic pot plants. Soon we were greeted by a figure appearing from the jetty opposite. It turned out to be the owner, a lady called Lolita. She confirmed they sold beer. So in we went. Just in time. The heavens opened and we spent a congenial hour or so in fun conversation (she spoke good English) in very attractive surroundings. Eventually temptation took over and a flurry of purchases had us leaving with pareos stored neatly in our rucksacks.

Back on the bikes, we were soon at the bridge linking the Islands. Although not the direction we wanted, we just had to cross. On the other side was the start of a dirt road that was too tempting to resist and shortly we were travelling up hill, dodging puddles, getting spattered with mud and climbing upwards above the lagoon. We passed an array of dwellings and communities before rejoining the main road for the descent back down to the bridge.

Rain was now sprinkling and we set off in the direction of the bay to be immediately confronted by a serious hill that wound onwards and climbed into the distance. For me the only good thing about going up is the knowledge that the drop could be exhilarating. And so it was, there then followed a lagoon side, relatively flat ride, we were then back at the hotel bar. It was closed. A quick turn around and three travel worn, weary looking and mud spattered blokes turned up at the restaurant. Funny how appearances provoke reactions and we quickly found ourselves in conversation with a group of attractive, friendly French people from St Tropez chartering a yacht and on a month’s cruising holiday of the Islands (sorry A & K they didn’t know you. Hadn’t even heard of St Antonin).  An entertaining half hour followed. It was now dark, end of another fun day with a great conclusion.

The next day, following a search by the French customs, we moved the boat North to H Nui and anchored in a bay just off the village of Fare and a bunch of BWR boats. The place was fairly forgettable,  apart, that is, from the incongruous massive supermarket doing its best to imitate Dr Who’s Tardis and pretty much succeeding, the small entrance belying the huge interior selling a staggering range of goods that included a mini petrol scooter. For those who get tired from all that shopping perhaps?

We looked around, met up for drinks with others at a harbour bar, ate ice cream (of course) bought a hand printed local T shirt and did some good snorkelling off a boat permanently moored next to the reef.

The stay was brief, although long enough, not really too much here to commend it. Hey ho, they can’t all be good can they!!

The trip to Raiatea was short about 20 miles, but the sail good. Much of the time was sent on a beam reach with Fai Tira skipping along at a brisk 6 ½ knots. We arrived at the bottom of the island about midday and picked up a mooring buoy alongside Enchantress, Aspen and Camomile. They were all away investigating the river. Their return provoked a drinks get together turning into long session that ended up with us arriving back late and a little worse for wear.

Our turn for the river trip the next day, we set off early. The entrance was shallow causing the outboard prop to occasionally bounce off the bottom. About halfway up we resorted to paddle power, just the sounds of lapping water and birds all to a backdrop of craggy and often lush mountains, blissful tranquillity!!

As we drifted back, a conversation with a friendly canoeist took us to a rickety staging. It was the entrance to a botanical garden. Initial impressions weren’t great, muddy underfoot and fairly unkempt. However, the further we went the better it became, eventually revealing the natural charm that encapsulates all Polynesian gardens.

Back at the boat we just hung around, relaxed, absorbed the atmosphere and prepared ourselves for another day in paradise!!!

Good here!!!

Bye for now Pete, John and Jeremy