Tuamotus
Raroia, Makemo, Tahanea, Fakarava
Keeping time onboard a boat is pretty easy, especially when underway with keeping a watch schedule. With just the two of us we followed a loose schedule during the day but at night we went to 3 on, 3 off. Honestly, I felt pretty okay after 3 days and 3 nights of sailing with this regimen. Many, many people sail 'double handed' while still others sail solo. Of course I knew it was possible however I had not sailed so far with only two people on board keeping things headed in the right direction. Keeping track of the days, however, I find quite challenging. One gorgeous day flows into another, and I am in bliss!
During our sail to our first atoll, Raroia, we were met with beautiful, strong winds. We flew for the first time our staysail. This is a smaller sail at the front of the boat, set slightly back from the bow, that can be flown in stronger winds to bring the center of effort lower and back. Accompanied by a triple reefed mainsail we were feeling quite at ease in 30 kts of breeze. Even the boat felt way less stressed. She carried us along at a quick clip despite our efforts, and need, to slow down so we could time our entrance into the lagoon at Raroia with the slack tide.
Most everywhere else tides are pretty predictable. In an atoll that is not the case. An atoll, which is a string of motus (tiny islands) with hoa's (shallow inlets) in between. As winds and waves kick up they send water through the hoa's, filling the lagoon. This water, of course, needs an escape and the easiest is through the pass which is the gap we must sail through. So, if the tide is ebbing (going out) there is likely to be a much stronger current. If we are seeing a tide going at 6 kts, and the boat only goes about 6 kts when under motor, we won't be going anywhere if we were to try and fight it. I remember such a scenario up in the Puget Sound, and I learned my lesson. Now, if the tide is going with us, taking us into the lagoon, that could be perfect. It could also mean that we are going too quickly, being pushed into unknown waters, and have less control of the boat than would be comfortable or prudent. Add in the eddies that often take the keel and push us off course then you have a pretty uncomfortable set up. Sometimes the flood (ingoing tide) is overpowered by the waters trying to leave the lagoon rendering it almost impossible for a boat to gain entry. Add to that equation the narrow pass shouldered by reef and no sane boat owner would attempt it. Luckily I am sailing with a pretty sane skipper.
After heaving to (parking the boat in open water - Google it.) and doing our best to slow down we arrived outside the pass of Raroia. I had just come off my watch but got a quick nap in before we were to start making our approach. Chris' plan involved nosing up to the pass at the ebb (outgoing) tide, turning off the engine then clocking our drift away. If the tide was too strong we would wait half an hour then try again. A good plan!
As we made our initial attempt we found the current to be creating standing waves and strong eddies. This, of course, made it a 'no go'. We drifted back away, into safe waters, then waited. It took us two more approaches before we found the speed of the current to be only 2 kts and the turbulence much less daunting. With only 1/4 mi to make it inside we gave it a go. We had a plan on how to abort if things (we) went sideways. It was quite the relief once we were safely on the inside. But making the pass was only part of what needed to happen for us to get to our anchorage unscathed.
An atoll is what remains after a volcano has collapsed, leaving the outlying group of motus and a lagoon riddled with bommies. The name bommie refers to small coral islands that stand either awash or just below the surface. When the light is just right you can see these from a distance, giving you ample time to navigate around them. Of course we had read about these yet neither Chris nor I had any experience when it came to sighting them. And, a majority of these bommies remain uncharted.
Chris and I took turns at the bow keeping watch. Another boat's sight (Soggy Paws) had a compendium which included waypoints we could follow that would supposedly see us safely across the lagoon however we were not inclined to follow those blindly. At the end of our 6 nm lagoon transit, the first for us both, we anchored with a sigh of relief then jumped in the water for a snorkel to celebrate.
Anchoring itself brings on another new experience. With so many coral heads and rocks on the bottom we were instructed on how to 'float the chain'. This is a method of attaching floats on the anchor chain, spaced well enough to keep the weight of the chain off of the bottom, and less likely to wrap on a coral head. This not only protects the chain but also the fragile, already in decline, coral. It took us a couple of tries before we understood the formula for float placement that would bare the weight of our chain and still keep us in good holding but once we had it it was brilliant.
The water here is the bluest, clearest I've seen. And, although these bommies are hazardous they provide beautiful snorkeling grounds. We had one of these just off our starboard (right) side, but at a very safe distance. Chris and I decided to swim right over for our first venture. Spectacularly vivid, beautifully colored fish, black tipped reef sharks, and nature made coral sculptures provided a rich underwater garden to explore. We had also been made aware of the probable manta encounters so our heads were on a swivel, both for sharks and for rays.
Our anchorage was pretty remote. There were a few other boats in the area, and we were spaced well enough to have great privacy. There is a small village here in Raroia but that is on the other side of the lagoon. On our side, the southeast side, there is a lonely, virtually abandoned pearl farm. Chris and I took the dingy out for some exploring and happened upon said pearl farm. It was maybe 8 in the morning.
Leaving our dingy on the motu just shy of the pearl farm we waded across the hoa then walked up to the first set of buildings. It was quite a surprise to be greeted by a local named Kiki. From what we gathered the farm was shut down due to COVID (of course) and Kiki had lived there, on his own, since. Prior to going defunct Kiki had worked at the farm. Kiki, we assume, is the care taker. He's also quite the farmer. From his garden we traded for bok choy, papaya, & coconut. Kiki also took us on a little tour of his area and sold us floats for our anchor chain. Ours were holding up so well under the water pressure. We needed floats that wouldn't collapse. Kiki was the man who had what we needed. Not so sure if the pearl farm owners had given their consent however we trusted Kiki knew what he was doing. As a gift of gratitude I presented Kiki with a hemp bracelet I had made. As if his generosity wasn't already enough, he walked into one of the buildings and returned with a shiny on the inside, craggy on the outside shell discarded after the pearl had been harvested. The gift exchange was a sweet one, and I gladly accepted.
It was a day or two later that Chris and I decided to pay the village a visit. This involved weighing anchor and retracing our track back to the pass we had entered but going further north and west inside the lagoon to the village. Feeling a bit more comfortable with the bommie free zone we deployed our genoa and sailed across. This, of course, took a little bit longer since we were seeing only 8 - 9 kt winds but that was just fine.
There is a nice little wharf out in front of the village. We aimed to anchor somewhere close. There the bottom is much more riddled with rocks and coral. We knew right away we had a challenge ahead of us. There was one other boat anchored nearby. We headed in their direction and found a spot clear enough. Once we were settled, anchor chain properly floated, we deployed the dingy and in to town we went.
I think we actually pulled our dingy up in someone's back yard. This owner came out and greeted us, telling us it was okay to leave our launch there. The next gentleman we met we asked about the town's 'magasin', or store. Lauris is how he introduced himself. Before he pointed us in the right direction he invited us down to the waters edge where he thrust his hand into a bucket and produced a larger than I am used to seeing sardine. He quickly scaled it, cut small slits into its side, and offered up very fresh sardine sashimi. Chris accepted and I took a nibble of his. Lauris then walked us back to the street then gave us directions to the store. Chris, knowing a little French, got the gist and off we went.
Having left the Marquesas with zero eggs due to a salmonella outbreak we were hopeful that we might find some at the store. No joy! The shop owner, who spoke English much better that our collective French, repeated what we had heard about the eggs and said it was causing a shortage there as well. Bummer!!! Instead we got a few other things, including an ice cream, then we about our walk through town.
Chris likes to get his exercise through walking, I like strolling instead. We decided to part ways and meet up later by the wharf. When I got to the water front Lauris was still there, and with several others. One man was cast net fishing for those sardines we had eaten earlier. As I stood watching him he noticed my interest then asked if I wanted to learn. YES!!!
Man, those nets get heavy quick! By the time I gathered it up and laid it out in my hand I noticed my left arm complaining. Interesting how you lead with your dominant hand virtually unburdened and throw the weight of it with your other. My first attempt was a full on failure. We all chuckled. This lovely guy said, 'see me' and gave me more instruction. This second throw had the net landing half open so I felt half successful. Maybe the potential wasn't quite seen by my instructor or maybe he just needed to get on with his fishing but, with a gentle smile, he took his net back. "Merci beaucoup" is all I could say. The sad thing about being on my own for this experience is that none of you have the video of my comical first attempts at net casting to chuckle at.
When Chris met up with me down on the beach I was sitting in the water with two local women trying to find ways to communicate. Funny enough one of the women spoke better Spanish than English, and with my okay Spanish we could talk some. Limited but some which is better than nothing. Fantastic!!!
Between the two of us Chris and I decided to bring in a few things that the kids who were playing with in the area might enjoy. While I hung out Chris went back to the boat and brought the paddle board and bubbles back with him. I walked it all over to where the kids were. Once I gestured for them to join me on the paddle board it was as if I was suddenly magnetized. Those kids, ranging from maybe 9 - 12 years of age, descended on me with wild abandon. After maybe 2 hours of entertaining and playing I was exhausted! Chris rescued me with announcing he'd like to get underway back to our far side anchorage so I said my good byes and paddled the board back to the boat.
The next several days brought a great deal of excitement. First, we found the motu that laid claim to where in 1947 Kon Tiki landed after Thor Heyerdhal set sail from South America attempting to prove a theory that Polynesia could have been populated by people from the east. Although his voyage gave credence to this claim genetics points heavily towards migration from the east. In honor of this mission there stands a monument on the very motu Mr Heyerdhal and crew arrived on. That was definitely a cool thing to see.
That night, and a majority of the next day, things would prove very thrilling. We had seen a forecast of winds gusting up to 25 kts coming across the atoll. Feeling confident in both our holding ability and the forecast we didn't think too much of it. At our location we would also be sheltered from the direction we were to see a majority of the wind coming from. Okay, no biggie. What happened, much to our dismay, was not what was forecast!
The rain and wind had picked up over night. We were still quite comfortable. By morning we were in gusts up to 55 kts, unable to see very far in torrential rains, and in the midst of a very temperamental shifting of those high winds. At one point we were getting huge waves building up over the 11 miles of sea room we had between us and farther end of the Raroia then crashing over our bow slooshing about a foot of water down our gunnels. That'll wake you up!
We were feeling quite trapped in this situation. What if the anchor didn't hold? Literally we were being swung in a full 360 degree circle which ended up putting us on a lee shore for about 3/4 of the time this storm was pummeling us. If we began to drag we weren't so sure we could power up enough to keep us off either the beach or nearby coral. Would we attempt to bring it up, taking off the buoys we had attached one by one, or would we cut it loose? And then??? Then we would be motoring through a bommie mine field hoping not to get pushed into one. In meager efforts to keep this from happening we took some of the load off the anchor by motoring into the waves in concert with the sets. At the end of the day it worked and we avoided any tragedy. The experience, of course, had Chris and I talking through a myriad of strategies if we were ever to find ourselves in such a situation again.
Although we were very fortunate there were reports of other boats that were not. One catamaran was washed too close to a coral strewn shore and lost both sail drives. That was our second worst nightmare. The first being sunk. Some sailors feel it better to face such storms offshore where you are less likely to find yourself struggling to keep from hitting hard things that could hole a boat. After that 24 hours I am inclined to agree.
Despite the storm we enjoyed our time in Raroia. A most memorable, magical moment was when, after a snorkel, we returned to Bird Song and found two huge manta rays snacking. Re-donning our snorkel gear Chris and I slipped into the water to observe. These two were not at all bothered by our presence. They continued feeding, circling back several times towards us. As I floated up on the surface the smaller of the two swam so close that his wing touched my outstretched hand!!! OMG!
I think I stayed in the water for at least an hour and a half playing with these gentle giants. When they feed they might be seen serenely 'flying' through the water or other times you might just see them doing graceful back flips. At this moment they were choosing the 'flying' method. So, I got inspired to dive down and do a back flip to see what they might do in response. I was gleefully surprised when the two of them began executing back flip after back flip after back flip. This led to that extra hour of me staying in the water working on my back flip form. Who could resist, yeah? At one moment the smaller one again got so close that when he, or she, did her back flip her, or his, gill covered torso was mere feet from mine. Holy HELL! What a blessed and amazing moment to have. It's definitely a most momentous experience I will not ever forget.
The next morning we were meant to leave Raroia however we were hailed by First Light. They had entered Raroia and were now making their way over to where we were. Although we had already pulled up anchor and were underway we decided to stay one more night so we could catch up with Don and Julie. It was a great call!
Leaving Raroia behind we made way for Makemo, just about 68 nm further south and slightly more westward. The next morning we got Here we hoped to maybe find eggs as it's said to have an actual egg farm near the town, and catch up with more friends of ours on other boats. Both ended up happening!
Entering Makemo felt pretty easy, especially now that we have one atoll pass entrance under our belts. We knew more what to expect, of course, and we timed our pass tides perfectly. The first anchorage is just off the village, very close to the pass entrance. We found a decent patch of sand to drop our hook in and felt confident in our holding once all was said and done. Here we reconnected with the crew from Sea Bella.
What we've come to understand is that the whole of French Polynesia is preparing for a cultural dance competition to be held in Tahiti. What this has meant for us if that we get to take in the practice sessions in a couple of different places. Makemo was one of them. In a waterfront, open air ball court the drummers and dance troupe practiced for the upcoming event. They allowed spectators as long as we promised not to post photos or videos to social media. I took that to heart and didn't take a single photo but rather stayed in the moment, enjoying the dance. Take my word for it, it was lovely!
The next day, after we scored 6 dozen eggs, we moved to an anchorage further west, along with a few other boats. Having forgotten we had promised to pick up eggs for Sea Bella and Second Sun we found ourselves a tiny bit less excited about our egg haul. We had to leave some for the locals and other boats, yeah? Of course we did. We were just happy to have eggs on board again and knew we were headed closer to more abundant provisioning options.
Down at this second anchorage I sent out a broadcast invitation to have a sunset cruisers social and bon fire on the beach. What fun that was! We went in early so we could see the coral heads we'd be navigating in our dingy later in the dark. Getting to the sandy shores proved to be quite the feat. There was a reef splitting the anchorage in two. We chose a spot for our social somewhere hopefully easy for all to get to. What that ended up being was good for those on the other side and a smidge more difficult for us as we had to cross the reef, dodging coral heads despite being quite close to shore. Oh well. We survived.
Our time in Makemo was filled with good weather, clear water, and a bunch of snorkeling with friends. With Chris and I on a slightly shorter time line we've had to spend less time than we want hanging out. We set out for maybe Fakarava, maybe Tahanea and said good bye once again to our buddy boats. If we chose to spend a day or two in Tahanea we would see most everyone once again. That's the decision that was made literally in the last hours of our sail.
Having set out in the early in the am we were faced with either arriving in Tahanea just before sunset, risking missing a day time pass entrance and anchoring, or continuing on to Fakarava. As luck would have it we had sailed far enough towards Tahanea, which lays just to the south and east of Fakarava, to be able to turn on the motor and make the pass about 30 minutes before the sun was to be below the horizon. We went for it! I think it was 15 minutes from the time we were safely on the inside of the atoll until the time we dropped our anchor. Talk about a 'by the skin of your teeth' moment. The anchorage we wanted to get to lay just to the west of the pass. The anchorage we ended up in, the easier and quicker to access, was just to the east of the pass. Unfortunately the winds were also out of the east and we had no reef to protect us from the swell that it raised. Our first night in Tahanea was a bit rolly.
In the morning we made our way to the west anchorage, easy enough. Here, once again, we were joined by a few of our buddy boats. With most of them having long stay visas that give them a year to tool around French Polynesia vs our 90 day stay we know that we will be saying good-bye to these guys soon so we relished the time we got with them. We had drift snorkeling ventures through the passes, swim dates, paddle board meet ups and even shared land time with our friends. Tahanea proved to be yet another gorgeous place to enjoy all sorts of activity.
You know, once you've accomplished something as cool and wonderful as crossing a big chunk of ocean somewhat together tight bonds are created. Being a sailor and a cruiser initially connects you in two different ways but when you add on top of that the shared increase in vulnerability that you experience when doing a big passage the bonds become stronger. Before leaving land there are meetings that provide great information for the passage, and there you meet fellow puddle jumpers. You are all milling around the same town you are launching from and you end up grabbing a meal together to hear your stories. Maybe you've even met some of them somewhere along the way, beginning your relationship early on. Then everyday of your time at sea you hear or read updates on each and every boat that sends one in to the net controllers. This is done via single side band radio, satellite, or, now thanks to Elon Musk and his Starlink, internet. All participants in the Pacific Puddle Jump or PacVoy provide coordinates, speed over ground, wind speed & weather, sea state, and status of boat and crew. Of course this is to offer up not only 'we are all here with you' support for mental and emotional wellbeing but also to provide physical support if something goes wrong. Then, the bond is pretty much cemented.
Here's an example of the value of these group crossings. Just as we were leaving Mexico a boat that was not officially registered in either of the two organized groups got de masted (their tall stick holding up the sail came crashing down). We don't really know what exactly happened but we know that the combination of confused sea state with big swell and rigging issues were involved. On board was father, mother, & three little ones. Travis, the father/ skipper, emailed Chris to tell him what had happened. Their boat and Bird Song had been on the same dock for several weeks & they had chatted several times. Immediately we emailed the whole of the Pacific Puddle Jump posse via the emergency email address. This notified all boats on the list to be on the look out and for those in the area to be ready to assist if a rescue was necessary. Of course we also called the US Coast Guard. Due to the well organized communications help was quickly on its way. The coast guard was able to divert a tanker or cargo ship to the location of the disabled boat, safely retrieve mom and children, and provide anything dad/ skipper needed as he attempted to motor their boat back to Mexico. Over the following days we got word that the family had be taken to Hawaii and that sailors who were still leaving on their crossing were delivering fuel, food, and even crew to the boat in need. What an amazing testament to how sailors come together!?!
Okay, so back to the story. As we were feeling the time crunch of our short stay visa we knew it was time to move on. We were faced with many sad see ya later's. As it was we would only have a few days in Fakarava, our final atoll, and we had hoped to make the best of it.
Laying 50 nautical miles to the northwest Fakarava would be a short 8 - 10 hour sail away. As always we paid attention to the weather noticing the possibility of winds clocking around from the southeast to coming out of the northwest, essentially hitting us right on the nose, sometime late in the night. We wanted to get underway with enough time to maximize the optimal wind direction so we took off near sun down. With enough light to show us the way out of the pass we left Tahanea, & our friends, off our stern.
My personal preference when making a short passage like this, all things being equal, is to sail at night so we might enjoy more daylight hours in these gorgeous lands. We were offshore, under moderate winds & clear skies, sailing right along. I was in my happy place. Then, as predicted, the winds began to shift around and die off. At sunrise we could be found just at 1 nm off the southeast pass of Fakarava, drifting in dead calm conditions. We did have a squall or two blow through to give us a good fresh water wash down while we waited for enough light to navigate our way safely into the atoll.
The SE pass of Fakarava, called Tumakohua, has a bit of a notorious reputation for being a moderately uncomfortable pass. We had agreed that the conditions were ripe for a good entry, promising to report our experience to those who would follow in our path, so gave it a go. The pass, as we read, was quite narrow and, at times, shallow enough to put me on edge. Bird Song draws 7' of depth (her keel hangs 7' into the water) and we were motoring through 12' of water! Yes, we had some wiggle room however not enough for my liking. I stood on the bow watching for any unexpected diversions to our smooth entrance, bracing for a potential bumping into sand or coral. I sighed a huge breath of relief when the depth gauge number began climbing again. It was 0800 when we had successfully dropped anchor. I was exhausted!
Taking a nap was my first order of business but for Chris, Mr Energy, he decided to take the dingy into the small village for some exploring. Later on, when the current was incoming & I was rested, we took off to snorkel the pass. Fakarava is famous for it's shark population, boasting the highest concentration of grey reef sharks in the world. We were hoping to see some of this for ourselves.
The water wasn't the clarity we were used to from our experience in other atolls. That was probably the first thing we noticed. However, once we made it through the pass, it proved clear enough to see probably 100+ sharks down below us. That'll wake anyone up, and quick! Black tip, grey, white/ silver tip ranging from an itty bitty 3' in length to a few around 6'+ we were astounded but still not too worried. What we've read tells us reef sharks are not aggressive, nor are they interested in humans. They seemed quite occupied 20 - 25' underneath us. We were quite happy to observe from afar.
The small village on the motu of Tetamanu has several homes, a church, a hotel & restaurant, and many dive operations. Chris arranged for us to do a dive on that Friday and booked us a reservation at the restaurant the night before. This buffet style meal was decent and for what it lacked the setting made up for it completely. As we sat at our table on the pier, me barefoot because I could, probably 10 black tip sharks swam in the shallows all around. At one point one of the cute little beasts swam with its dorsal fin just out of the water mere inches from the dock. I dropped down to my belly and grazed my finger along its fin. So cool!
The day of our dive we knew the boat would come collect us around noon. It had been almost a year since my last dive but I was more excited then nervous.
As promised the dive boat come to get us and take us, with several others, out to dive the pass. I had heard that Hammerhead sharks could also be seen here in Fakarava. When I asked the dive master he confirmed this and told us that hammerheads were quite skittish and a sighting was unlikely. Much to our gleeful surprise with in 5 minutes of being at depth a hammerhead swam through our sights. He didn't stick around too long at all but long enough for me to get it on film. What a bonus!
After the first full moon in June there is a spotted grouper spawning that occurs in Fakarava. During our dive we saw the start of the congregation of these grouper. Some of the other fish we also saw were Napoleon wrasse, angelfish, unicorn fish, and red snapper, just to name a few. The wrasse is a pretty huge fish, and one of my favorites to see. We ran into several during our first dive.
For our second dive we would go down deeper and drift close to what is called the Wall of Sharks. That's a pretty scary but accurate description for what we were to see. We went back out of the pass where we rolled off of the boat and descended for the second time. Our instructions were clear. Stay behind the dive master as he is most familiar with the behaviors of sharks, and, of course, knows where to go. We were also to stay in a tight group so the air bubbles were going up in one column instead of all around the school of sharks, potentially dispersing them. Okay, cool!
Following these instructions we followed our guide near to this wall of sharks. We were slightly lower and off to one side when were found our way to the bottom where we braced ourselves to keep from continuing to be pushed through by the incoming current. From this perch we hung out and watched hundreds of sharks swim nearby. When it was time to move on I happened to be down stream of the dive master. When I let go of my hold I began leading the group on the drift, getting pushed right into this wall of sharks. Well, that's not what I wanted! Luckily a few kicks had me back in the middle of the other divers but man, that was a feeling I don't care to have repeated. It would be one thing if was choosing to get right up and personal with a wall of sharks but to be pushed into one, no thank you! At the end of the dive, and the end of the day, both Chris and I were quite pleased with our experience. When the dive outfit dropped us back onboard Bird Song we immediately went to relive the dive through videos we had taken.
When we were to leave Fakarava we would also be leaving the Tuamotus. The next stop, Tahiti! Looking at the weather we decided to wait another day or so before moving on. This gave us a chance to not only connect with crew on Icaros, a catamaran we had seen in La Cruz, but also reconnect with single handed sailor Jacob who was sailing Finnesterra.
On Monday, May 29th, we were up early getting ready to go. By 0608 we had exited the south pass of Fakarava, beginning our 250 nm sail for Tahiti. The winds were favorable putting us on a port tack at a close reach. Yipee!