We had been going to do some more snorkelling before we left but it’s not really bright enough to make this worthwhile so after breakfast we get the anchor up and head to Tahaa, the sister island of Raiatea, the smell of garlic, herb and olive bread cooking to accompany our journey.
The two islands are separated by a couple of miles of dodgy navigation; channels, coral, hundreds of floating coconuts and markers showing the airport’s flight path across the water. At the edge of the reef, surfers lie in wait for the breakers and in the distance we have our first glimpse of Bora Bora.
Photos: Surfers, breakers, coral reefs and Bora Bora
Mike calls on the VHF to check that it is OK to cross the flight path but no one bothers to answer, so we cross anyway, hoping that some low flying aircraft doesn’t clip our mast on the way. Around the Raiatea Yacht Club we can see lots of WARC boats, gathered there for the start of the Tahiti Pearl Regatta tomorrow. (Mike decided not to bother entering this.)
We arrive around lunchtime at the Tahaa Yacht Club and pick up one of the moorings. We have been told that this establishment has ‘crazy Tuesday parties’ but I have to say it looks anything but crazy at lunchtime. Not one person is in the bar, and checking on the internet (which we managed to get free for one of the only times in French Polynesia) it says (although it hasn’t been updated since 2007) that Tuesdays are Polynesian evenings, and that doesn’t exactly sound crazy either. Added to that, I think that if I eat any more poisson cru, I will begin to smell like raw fish myself. So we give it a miss. At least I manage to get three days’ worth of blog published before we pull up the anchor.
Photo: Carole and John keep watch
We motor round to the east side of Tahaa and go to anchor at a motu that was recommended but are shooed away by one of the locals. Not knowing quite why he doesn’t want us there, but not wanted to piss anyone off, we move away. Mike actually finds that it is easier to anchor in what looks like the middle of the sea – it’s just 18 feet deep and crystal clear.
Photo: A tiny motu is the only bit of land any where near
Mike goes to snorkel over the anchor, and Carole and I go for a relaxing swim with the help of a noodle or two. Suddenly every man and his canoe seems to be in the same square mile as us. As Carole points out “as soon as you get your tits out there are more men in canoes than you can shake a stick at”. And yachts, as a Moorings boat comes very close, gazing in wonder at the two nubile maidens (yes, that’s Carole and I) frolicking in the water.
Mike, now out of the water and dry, offers us a drink and we both agree to a gin and tonic. You’ve never seen us swim so fast back to the boat to get them.
Photo: Sundowners in the sea
Drinks in hand, we float off again although by now, there is a bit of a wind blowing and the tops of the waves keep flying off into our drinks, the only remedy being to drink them faster and turn our backs to the wind. I do this and then discover that I have been drifting further and further away. I kick gently and try to swim backwards still clutching my drink (it is a large one and too strong for me to knock back). Eventually John has to come out and drag me back by the noodle. It isn’t painful. Mike thoughtfully ties a rope to Jeannius and throws the other end out, so I finish my drink tethered to the boat.
Photo: Tied to Jeannius to finish my G n’ T
In the distance we can see storm clouds gathering again and as we watch, a beautiful rainbow develops from the reef.
Photo: More rain on its way
As we sit in the salon later in the evening, heavy squalls dump shedloads of water onto us. This is the most rain that we have had since leaving St Lucia. Thank goodness we weren’t out enjoying that crazy Tuesday evening at the yacht club - we would have been drowned in the dinghy.
Our position is: 16 deg 38 min S, 151 deg 25 min W
Distance so far: 6815 nautical miles
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