news are very welcome to us. nordlys (at) mailasail.com

 

 

Tahiti proved to be very much as we expected.  In other words a very pleasant stop but not the highlight that the name conjures up.  The old, well known, waterfront mooring now fronts onto a dual carriageway with its accompanying noise and dirt.  The town is a mixture of shops designed for cruise ship clients and everyday articles for the local population.  The prices are astronomic for all.  My flip flops had died and a new comfortable pair of Reef ones would have set me back US $ 60 or about £38.  They were not bought.  There were several  places of interest amongst all this.  The Pearl Museum being one.  This excellent small museum told the story of pearls since man first collected them.  The descriptions were in English and French and all countries of the world where pearls have been harvested were discussed, not just the French colonies.

We hired a car and went down to the southern shore of Tahiti-Iti.  Here there are world famous large waves that a dedicated group of surfers come from all over to experiment with.  There is a very  pleasant feel to the village and we heard from one of the lads that the going rate for a room in one of the delightful small cottages was $14 per night and the only rule was no drugs or alcohol on the premises.  This was no problem to the surfers who seemed more interested in their sport than in getting high or drunk even if on initial contact their appearance would not have suggested this.  A good example of a bunch of youngsters who are not lost souls.  Looking through binoculars at the size of the waves and the nearness of the reef it was apparent that this surfing site was not for the faint hearted nor for beginners.

Nordlys was anchored off a marina that was about three miles from the town center but this was no problem due to the numerous Truks or local busses that ran at all hours of the day.  These converted  small lorries are owner driven and cheap and cheerful.  On one occasion Annette and I found ourselves just short of our destination when the vehicle suddenly did an about turn and headed back whence it had come.  Much gesticulating from the driver and before our blood pressure rose too much it became apparent that he had gone back to buy a sandwich.  He had already stopped on two occasions, firstly  to talk with a friend then to fill with fuel!  All good local fun.

Anyway we tore ourselves away from this scene and set off to sail the twenty odd miles to Moorea.  There were now four of us as a Danish friend, Steen Noglaebek had joined us.  An easy reach and we entered Cook's Bay.  Actually the name is a misnomer as Cook in fact anchored in the adjoining bay.  The date was the 13th July.  The reason for coming here was to view the July 14th dancing.  As the evening approached  the weather worsened, the skies went leaden and rain threatened but did not yet start.  Little did we know it but we were about to experience another fright.

One friend told me that reading our webdiary was rather like watching the Iraqi war on television.  Riveting but very stressful.  I am sorry folks if you want the stress free version forget the next paragraph.

We had dug our anchor in  with 50 meters of chain out in 12 meters of water.  The bottom was mud and there were a lot of boats so excess chain would have been very unsociable.  The boats swung around a lot due to the always changing downdraughts from the surrounding hills.  As I say she was well dug in with liberal use of reverse.  We went ashore to watch the dancing and have a meal.  The former was really fabulous, the movements of a large troupe of dancing girls in grass skirts  was enough to cause pleasure to all and send the imagination of all true blooded males racing.  However as they started the heavens opened.  Audience and dancers got drenched and very cold.  A solo dancing girl tried hard and did a magnificent job but the weather defeated her and the show was stopped.  We set off back to our home.

Ten minutes later a very wet cold crew were desperately trying to find Nordlys in the pitch black.  She had gone.  At this moment a very bright spot light shone on us and then swung to Nordlys.  She was some three hundred yards further out in the bay where I knew that it was too deep for fifty meters of chain to do any good at all.  Racing to her we found a Canadian and his son on board.  Apparently  she had shot past their vessel very nearly hitting them.  Luckily we had left the windlass handle in and they had let out all eighty meters.  This had stopped her.  The wind was now gusting hard in an offshore direction.  If they had not acted promptly the best that would have happened would have been for the old girl to find the pass and go out to sea on her own but far more likely she would have ended up on the reef.  We subsequently found that the initial alarm had been given by a guy on a sistership to Nordlys who saw what was happening but could do nothing as the rest of his crew were ashore with the dinghy.  His frantic calls on the radio went unanswered as everyone was ashore. With some difficulty we found a hole in reasonable depth and re anchored in the pitch blackness.

Well alls well that ends well!  We were shattered and to this day do not know what else we could have done.  In the morning we re anchored again as full reverse produced a slight drag. This time we used two anchors in tandem as the offshore wind was strong and gusty.  The temperature was colder than I have ever know it in the Tropics, 21C in the cabin and we were all using blankets at night for the first time since we had been on the Eastern Seaboard of America.  It really is being a funny year weatherwise.  The above is rather a shortened version of events but I do not want to be accused of scaremongering all the time.

After this event we moved round to Opunohu Bay or the final resting place of Varua the yacht that Robinson sailed the Pacific in after the war and wrote about in one of the great cruising classics.  We went to his house and gardens but there was unfortunately no one at home.  This inlet is unspoilt by houses and the valley that runs up from it is a gem.  Few cars, meadows with grazing cattle, fields of pineapples and all this with the backdrop of steep hills rising up into the famous sky line.  We walked a total of fourteen kilometres in this beautiful scenery and visited a look out that gave us views to both Cooks and Opunohu bays.  The legs and feet were rather sore but it was definitely worth it.

We left this idyllic place at just before twilight and motored out in a complete calm.  Thirty minutes later we were bowling along under full sail.  Fifteen minutes later we were reefed  well down and the wind was up to twenty five knots across the deck from astern.  We roared on into the darkness.  It is all so boring but yes it rained hard most of the night, the squalls sent the anemometer well over the forty knots mark and we found ourselves delaying our entrance to the northern pass into Huahine not due to light but due to driving rain reducing visibility to under half a mile.

We anchored off the village, had a strong whisky with scrambled eggs cooked by Christabel and fell soundly asleep. 

The village of Fare is very pleasant and in many ways has the same atmosphere as Bequia in the West Indes.  Last night after a very easy relaxed day we ate ashore in one of the local  food trailers.  These converted vans are a feature of French Polynesia and often give very good value.  We had had our day of pleasant weather and this morning have woken to driving rain and wind so that plans to do south inside the reef have been abandoned.  Emails tell us that in the UK you are experiencing hotter and better weather than we are!  We are not expecting sympathy but we sure as hell hope things settle down before we start the passages through the Cook Islands and on to Tonga.

 

 

Steen proving he can be domestic as Annette catches him

about to go ashore to wash his clothes under the local tap.

 

Moorea at dusk from our Papeete anchorage

 

Happy times to one and all

David Annette and Christabel