Author: Scott
We should have just stayed in bed. As the day wore on, this became my mantra for the day. Some days are absolutely superb, like the day we swam with the sharks and rays. Then some days start out badly and just keep getting worse, and today was one of those days.
We woke up with lots to do as we were leaving Huahine and heading over to Tahaa. Tahaa is a bonus because we had decided to mark it off our list because it was inside a barrier reef that it shared with Raiatea and our first instinct was to just sail around the reef to Bora Bora, but with some input from Mico Verde and a little chart work we decided the pass into the reef was safe for us. The pass lies directly between two motus (small islands) making a very clear channel for us to enter the barrier reef.
We should have taken the hint when we looked over the side of Tournesol and saw the lagoon percolating with angry wavelets and the winds were starting to howl, and maybe we should have more closely considered the unpredictable state of our dinghy engine, but we threw caution to the wind (quite literally) and jumped in the dinghy with our backpack and camera to get a few final pictures of Huahine and to make one last stop at the grocery store in town, though neither of these missions was a high priority.
The grocery store visit was routine, but we did manage to find canned beets and black olives, fixings as good as gold to doctor up a salad (in my opinion). We got our intended photos, mostly of completely useless things like the grocery store and internet café. Back at the town dock we jumped in the dinghy and guess what, I bet you guessed it, the ------ engine would not start - BIG SURPRISE. After many pulls of the starter cord, much tender stroking and cooing, and a few pointed obscenities, the creature came to life, but with only about half the normal power of its already humble four horsepower. If the engine wanted to take it easy today, that was good enough for us, and we headed back to Tournesol. While we were shopping the wind had continued to build and the fetch in the lagoon continued to increase and it soon became obvious we were in for a very wet ride back to the boat. We kept our heads held high as the dingy filled with water as we putted agonizingly slowly across the lagoon, with bottles and jars sneaking out of their grocery bags for a refreshing morning swim in the tub. Every few seconds a wave would come rolling over the bow of the dink and into our laps filling our traveling baby pool even more. When we finally inched up to Tournesol the dinghy must have been over half full of salt water. While Pam tied our painter line to the boat, I happened to glance down and noticed our bright yellow camera case floating in the dinghy like debris from a vessel lost at sea. No worries because we keep our camera in a watertight, waterproof, expensive, and reliable Pelican case. We heaved our waterlogged groceries aboard and looked around in disgust to see what could be salvaged from our soggy purchases. One of Pam’s prized boxes of angel hair pasta was transformed into tangles of slippery slimy worms. Just then I piped up with my relief that our new camera was so well protected in the Pelican case, and opened it to show off the fully functional and preserved gadget, but to my horror the foam on the inside of the case was suspiciously damp. “No problem”, I said to myself, “it is only a little damp”. I tentatively tried to power on our new baby and it lay cold and quiet in my hands, there was no little electronic tune and the whir of the camera coming alive and focusing, just a dead camera carcass staring back at me. “Oh no”, I moaned, “it can’t be damaged; it was in a Pelican case”. Both Pam and I stood there among the wreckage of our groceries, in shock, holding the lifeless body of our camera and looking down at it like it was the shattered body of a baby bird that had dropped out of the sky. Maybe we can… Well there were lots of maybe attempts that morning and they all led to one conclusion, the death of our new and beloved camera.
We finally managed to get things stowed and we headed out from Huahine at 1130. The passage over to Tahaa was only 18 miles, but we had rough conditions under a cloudy sky the entire trip. We managed to make 5.5 knots with only a partially furled headsail flying, and the turbulent conditions did nothing to lift our sour mood. When we came to the pass, I took up my station on the bow of the boat to issue steering commands back to Pam over the walkie-talkie. Normally I have a lot of gear to help with this task, and today I was holding a walkie-talkie, monocular, VHF radio, and GPS. As our bad luck would have it, no sooner had I stepped up to the bow when a renegade jib sheet smacked my left hand, giving me a perfect view of our bright yellow GPS sailing six feet in the air, with the battery compartment door and batteries dramatically exploding away from the mother ship, then all of the debris plummeting downward for their eventual splash down. Now we could add the demise of our GPS to our earlier camera loss.
The entry through the reef, with swirling surf on either side and the lush motus, would normally have been a stunning scene but all I could think of was the second loss of the day. Once through the pass we sailed into the bay and were given radio instructions from our friends on Mico Verde to find the mooring balls in front of the Hibiscus Restaurant. This would be our first experience catching a mooring ball together since we practiced this skill in class, and the exercise went smoothly, only requiring two attempts, not bad for a blustery day. We had officially arrived the island of Tahaa at 1630.
We quickly got settled, both a little shell shocked from the grueling trip and loss of our camera and GPS. We invited Warren and Stephanie over for a refreshment and recounted our journey and losses to them, an experience that all sailors can relate to. Later we all met for dinner at the restaurant. The Hibiscus Restaurant is well known in the islands for their role as a turtle sanctuary. The owner takes in injured turtles from fishermen and revives them to later be released in the sea. On our way into the restaurant we had a look at the turtle pens and saw a few of the gentle creatures paddling around in the clear water. Dinner was a set menu of fresh caparccio, grilled parrot fish with fresh vegetables (our first lagoon fish served whole) and a choice of delectable desserts (I had the vanilla Creme Brule). While we enjoyed our dinner we all marveled at how expertly Pam picked every morsel of meat from her fish body, leaving only the bare frame intact. It reminded me of my childhood, watching a cartoon cat hold a fish by the tail, dip it into his mouth and pull out the spotless white skeleton. Pam is undoubtedly the most talented and refined Maine blooded seafood machine that I have ever seen. During dinner we were also asked to sign the log of all visiting yachts, and we had good fun looking back on other cruisers entries from past years. The dinner helped rebuild our attitudes, making it easier to survive one of our toughest days out cruising.
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