#21 Gigantic crabs and scary passes – Society Islands II

“All I see are breaking waves!”

“Well there must be a gap, the chart says there is!”

“There might be one there but it can’t be the pass, its only slightly wider than the boat!”

“Sod it, tell the kids to hold on, we’re going in!”

What followed was us driving our most expensive possession not to mention our home straight towards a reef with ocean waves crashing on to it with only blind faith that what we had heard from other cruisers and vaguely shown on the chart was true and there was an actual passage through the reef there. I have never been so shaken on the water as I was at that very moment.

Raiatea

But before all that we had an engine to fix. The wonderful team at DHL managed to get our vital engine part from France to Raiatea in about 10 days smashing their estimate of 3 weeks so we hot footed it back from Bora Bora to pick up the part and find someone to replace it.  I was starting to really like Polynesian airports and Raiatea is one of my favourites.  You can anchor nearby and there is a purpose built small boat channel that runs right alongside the main runway so you feel a bit like Tom Cruise on his motorbike whooping and hollering as a jet takes off just metres away.  Then, there is a pretty little dock which is even closer to the check in and, more importantly, freight office, than even the closest car park.

I picked up the damper plus the new folding propeller to replace the fixed prop that Waterhorse had given us all the way back in the Marquases.  I then found my favourite Frenchman of the whole journey.  Now I won’t lie. Whilst I think its terrible to generalise and put a whole group of people in the same bucket, our experience with French cruisers up to that point had not been good.  We had been shouted out several times during anchoring including even before we anchored once and each time it was by a French boat. We’d also seen more naked French old men then anyone would ever need to see in their lifetime. I know we are sailing on the ocean all free and stuff but for god’s sake man, we have children on board, put on some bloody clothes!

Anyway, Thierry completely bucked the trend, the man is a legend.  We’d been recommended him by the Volvo mechanic who was too busy to help us.  He lived on a little boat with his wife who was a charter boat skipper and he made a living by fixing cruisers boats.  When I described the symptoms he said, “I sink you need a new propeller as well as a damper my friend, but we shall see eh!”.  The damper itself is a very heavy and large part and lives right in the middle of the engine somewhere.  How on earth was he going to replace it.  “You need to be strong sometimes eh?’ he grinned.  I couldn’t bear to watch as he disappeared into the engine room coming out every now and again saying things like “she is being very naughty eh!” and grabbing successively bigger tools.  Eventually he brought up a big lump of metal carrying it carefully as if the engine had just given berth.  “This one is, what you say? “Buggered” my friend, lets put on the new one and see if she likes it”.  An hour later, I was instructed to start the engine, he jumped in the side and confirmed that the damper replacement was a success but, as suspected, the prop was also “buggered”.

Oh bugger.

OK, some quick thinking required.  We could replace the “buggered” prop with the new one I had just picked up and then I could order a second new one to be delivered to Fiji. Then at least I’d have two working engines again.  Next, could either of the two cranes in Raiatea haul us out of the water so we could fit the new prop?  No chance, public holiday coming, busiest time of the season etc etc.  OK, so can we install a folding prop while the boat was still in the water.  A big grin from Thierry “my friend, everything is possible. But it is not easy eh?  You will need scuba tanks.”  No problem, but won’t you need them?  “Aha, I don’t use scuba tanks, I can guide you but you must do the work, I think you can eh?” Replacing a folding prop on land was tricky, underwater it would be extremely challenging.

Oh double bugger.

So next job was getting the boat into a marina berth where the boat would stay still and the water was shallow so if I dropped a vital part I could easily retrieve it.  Doing this with one engine in a cross wind on a catamaran was not fun but somehow we managed it without spearing anyone or thing with our new bowsprit.  By a stroke of good fortune there was a dive company located metres from our marina berth who let me have a tank and some gear, no questions asked, for $20 and by that afternoon we were ready to do some underwater mechanics!  It was quite a comical scene with me underwater, Thierry diving under to help and guide using sign language and then, when these failed, a few meetings on the surface where we would discuss the next steps.  We only dropped one part, which we recovered and broke one tool but 45 minutes later we had the old prop off and the new one on.  I could add a new (very specific) skill to my DIY armoury, but more importantly, we were back in business! On with the adventure!

After provisioning, there were two more things to do in Raiatea, visit the famous marae and pick up our crew for the next passage, my dear Auntie Lynnie. Due to a slight mix-up with the flight arrival date caused, no doubt, by Lynnie crossing the date line we ended up doing both on the same day. We hired scooters and dashed off to the south of the island to walk around this World Heritage site. First established over 1,000 years ago, it was once considered the centre of the known universe or, as we would call it now, the Pacific Ocean stretching from Easter Island and Hawaii in the East through to New Zealand in the West.  Priests and navigators from all over the Pacific Ocean would gather here and it was a place of learning but also of terrible human sacrifice.  Again, I felt honoured to be walking in the same steps as one of my all time heroes, Captain Cook, who was entertained here.

But we couldn’t dally there for long.  Lynnie’s flight was arriving soon so we dashed back across the island at full speed, I jumped in the dinghy and raced around to my favourite airport dock just in time to meet her off her connecting flight from Tahiti.  We gave Lynnie the usual welcome and we were treated to various luxuries from Australia such as vegemite for Lottie, presents for the kids and a toilet servicing kit for me, yay!

Bora Bora

Now that we had both a working engine and our new crew member we were keen to get going so the next day we mad the half day passage to Bora Bora for the third time and took a mooring off the famous Bora Bora yacht Club to treat Lynnie to a slap up meal ashore and then a couple of nights at our favourite spot, the swimming pool.  Here we did our final chores, such as cleaning the bottom of the boat, but also had our favourite heiva experience.  The main square in Bora Bora had been transformed for a month into a showground. A sandy square had been laid bordered by barriers to keep the crowds at bay and at one end a big grandstand had been erected for VIPs.  Alongside this a couple of pop up restaurants had been opened to service the crowds and the nearby market hall had been converted to a kids games hall with row upon row of foosball tables. The best thing was that almost all of the crowd were locals.  This wasn’t a made up show put on for the tourists, this was a celebration of culture by Polynesians proud of their heritage and eager to keep their traditions alive and thriving.  The sight of 100 dancers, the women sensuously shaking their hips in the trademark Polynesian way and the men looking fierce, clutching weapons, their bare chests glistening with sweat while a 10 man band played on with ukuleles and drums was an experience like none other. I have to say, though, that men’s fierceness was slightly tempered by what we called their “knobbly knees” dance, a bit like the Charleston dance of the 20s, which made them look to us like they were shaking in fear rather than being fearless.

We also made firm friends with the Bubb family on a smaller version of our boat, a Nautitech 40 Open called Quickstep II.  Sophie was an ex professional iron woman and all round Amazonian who you warmed to instantly and their two young boys, Rory and Billy were balls of energy and related countless stories about all their adventures to anyone who would listen. Finding out that Nick was a racer and was from Lymington, not far from where I used to race yachts in the 90s, I peppered him with questions thinking him an amateur like myself. With classic British modesty, he tried to play down his experience but it didn’t take me long (with the help of google) to find out Nick had actually been a world class professional sailor racing singlehanded across the Atlantic, competing in a Volvo Round the World Race as well as sailing an incredibly fast trimaran non stop around the world.  “Do you want to buddy boat with us to Fiji, it could be fun sailing together?” he asked.  “Er yes, but its not a race Is it?”  “Well your boat is significantly longer than pours but you do have a fixed prop slowing you down so we should be quite well matched”.  Well matched? Hmm, that didn’t really answer my question but we were very happy to agree.  Its so much nicer going out into the expanse of ocean on a long passage knowing that you have a friend within a few hours of you if things were to go wrong.

Maupihaa

After a couple of days of towing each other’s kids around on foil boards and wake boards we cast off our moorings and followed Quickstep out of the pass.  Rather than go straight to Fiji, we thought we’d try to stop off at a remote atoll called Mapihaa which we had heard about and was directly on the way, shortening the big voyage by almost a day.  Little did we know this was to become one of our favourite islands of them all.  But first we had to actually get through the pass.  After an overnight sail, we were the third boat to enter that morning. Avalanche, a beautiful American owned 55 foot performance catamaran had gone through at dawn followed by Quickstep who had beaten us there proving not only Nick’s racing credentials but also that sailing with them was not going to be a relaxed pleasure cruise.  We therefore knew that it had to be possible and before we knew it we were through the breakers and into the channel with vertical coral sides just metres from each hull.  The current was running at 5 knots against us so we were extremely thankful we know had two working engines.  I’m not sure we would have made it with just one.  Even as we punched through into the lagoon and turned north to the anchorage my whole body was still shaking and I could hardly grip the wheel. It was by far the most scared I had been on this adventure to date.

But, my word, it was worth it! We spent five magical days in the atoll with our two companions.  The island receives one ship a year (A YEAR!!!) but that only comes if there is enough copra (dried coconut) harvested to make a full load.  The population fluctuates but there were just five people living on the island when we were there and we anchored just off the home of Harry and Norma, a lovely old couple who adopted us as their guests.  The first night we were there, the couple invited us ashore for dinner on the beach where they served us grilled fish from the lagoon, curried coconut crab and coconut rice.  We provided salads and were asked to bring beer and wine and given a bottle of their pineapple “beer” to cool down in our fridges. This stuff was like rocket fuel and whilst delicious (if a little sweet) it bore no resemblance to beer, it was more like schnapps.

Being treated like royalty by our lovely hosts Norma and Harry

The next day we asked Norma and Harry if we could accompany them in their quest to gather food.  “No problem!” was the response.  Nick and I were assigned to Harry as his spearfishermen and Lottie, Sophie and the four kids were assigned to Norma to help her hunt coconut crabs.  Our fleet of boats (2 dinghies and Harry’s longboat) cruised across the lagoon to a different island which they said was best for hunting.  Nick and I felt like real men in our “dive wear” clutching our shiny high powered state of the art spearguns while Norma was happy enough clad in a pair of old saggy underpants and wielding a short stubby gun that had clearly been repaired multiple times and looked like it was about to fall apart.  Harry towed an old dinghy fuel tank sawn in half around behind him and while Nick and I were still trying to load our guns he’d already plopped his first catch into the receptacle and was on the hunt for more.  Watching Harry for a while, we noticed that he was targeting bright red squirrel fish so we fanned out and joined the hunt.  Our contribution was comical.  Harry had speared about 8 fish before we even saw our first one.  Even when we did spot one, they were incredibly flighty and by the time we brought are long spear guns to bear down on them they had long since disappeared. It was great fun though and fascinating to watch how in tune Harry was hunting in his local environment.  We returned triumphantly to the beach, testosterone coursing through our veins, chests puffed out and lugging a heavy bucket of fish (21 all told) between us.  The scores?  Alex: 0, Nick: 0, Harry: 21.  He probably would have caught more had us “helpers” not scared some of the fish away with their clumsy efforts.

The ladies and kids had a much more inclusive experience.  They had managed to catch five of these monster crabs each about the size of a cat (but less cuddly and much pinchier).  Everyone would help find a a suitable crab hole  which was about the size of a badger hole.  When Norma was satisfied the hole had promise she would drop down on her belly and ram her arm and a stick as deep as she could into the hole until she was in up to her armpits.  The resident crab annoyed by this intrusion would clamp on to the stick and she would then drag the animal out and tie it up to another stick making sure to incapacitate the strong claws.  Each kid (and Lynnie) was assigned a crab to hold and look after while the hunt continued,  They were so big, the kids could barely lift them.  It was not only their size that was remarkable but also their colour, being either vibrant blue, bright orange or jet black.

Coconut crab hunting!

There was another feast on shore that night and even more pineapple beer, normal beer and wine to consume. There was one surreal moment when the marshmellows had all been eaten and the kids were getting tired and restless.  Norma, took them into her one room shack, unveiled a TV that was powered by their solar panels and batteries and before long they were all settled down watching Bridgeton in French!  Perfect TV for primary school kids don’t you think?

We spent a morning snorkelling the pass.  It was an exhilarating experience.  We jumped into the water inside the lagoon near the pass and the current gradually took us towards the channel.  As we got closer, the current and variety of marine life increased rapidly and before we knew it we were rushing past the coral walls past large trevally, sharks, barracudas and a myriad of other fish before scrambling into the dinghy, gunning the engine and speeding back into the safety of the lagoon before we were spat out into the ocean.  It was so fun we tried it three times before we felt we were pushing our luck and motored safely back to the anchorage.  Captain John Barry The Third from Avalanche generously took Nick, Sophie and myself diving with his gear.  Harry came along resplendent in his underpants to go spearfishing.  We found the remains of a world war 2 wreck and swam around that as well as peering over the drop off and watching shoals of pelagic fish swim past. In between these adventures and other watersports, Nick and I kept a close eye on the weather. 

On day 5, the conditions were as good as they were ever likely to be.  If we left the next day we’d get a building Easterly breeze, strong but not overly so.  The only problem was some large waves forecast but they would be going the same way as us and have a long period (ie not steep) so we felt it was manageable.  After conducting our final checks, we hosted a morning tea inviting Harry and Norma and the crews of Avalanche and Quickstep onto Kilauea for a big goodbye.  Avalanche gave us crew shirts, we gave Harry and Norma fishing gear and received papaya and coconut crab in return. They even brought us all flower necklaces to wear for our leaving event. What stunning people. Again and again we find that the people with the least are both the most generous and also the most content.

After decanting a few last jerry cans of water into Quickstep’s tanks (their water maker was broken) and having a last lunch, we motored out of the pass, hoisted our sails and set a course for Fiji 1,600 miles to the West.