It comes to mind that I have not really covered a typical day on an island in paradise. As we drove around Raiatea it came to me just how foreign a way of life it would seem if I were back home. As we left Huahine, we could see Raiatea and Tahaa across the 26-mile channel. Then, as we were sailing across, we saw Bora Bora rising in the distance, another 18 miles farther on. When we entered the lagoon that surrounds Raiatea and Tahaa, we headed to the Moorings Marina, where we picked up a mooring. In the morning, we rented a car. It was raining and we needed some supplies, so we headed to town, and then drove around the island. As we drove, we watched the side of the road for certain trees. We got a stalk of bananas off a tree on the south side of the island, and then found a good papaya tree with some almost ripe fruit. When we stopped at a beach to check out a small island that was about 25 feet around (no kidding) and had three palm trees growing on it, we saw some coconuts and grabbed them. The only thing we didn’t find was any pamplemousse trees, and they are my favorite, but tomorrow is another day. After we drove around the island we headed into town to watch the start of an around-the-island bicycle race. Then it was back to the boat, where Jody made cookies and the rest of us kicked back and read. It’s a tough life out there.
Tahaa is, as I know you have heard me say before about almost every island, the best island we hit so far. It is everyone’s ideal of a South Pacific Island. A small island surrounded by a reef with small atolls of white sand and palm trees, complete with the deepest colors of blue and green you can imagine. We anchored off a small island called Vahine Island. It is owned by a Frenchman who stopped cruising and bought it, and run by Charles, another Frenchman and a sailboat captain by trade. It’s idyllic, with the bluest, greenest water you have ever seen and a couple of good moorings, along with excellent food and a view of Bora Bora that is hard to beat, especially at sundown.
It’s time to go out and do a little snorkeling, and then we have to sail about five miles to our next anchorage, a small bay that overlooks Bora Bora and have a lunch of papaya, pamplemousse and breadfruit with cheese. Are you sure I have to go home some day?
I was worried that Bora Bora would be a letdown. After all, all my life I’ve been told it’s the most beautiful island in the world. It is everything it has been rumored to be. A hundred shades of blue and green, unspoiled by high rises. It has friendly people and good anchorages. We pulled into the Bora Bora Yacht Club after a 15-mile downwind sail at well over eight knots. The passes getting out of Tahaa and into Bora were both real nerve tinglers. Breaking waves and you have to hope the charts are right. Leaving Tahaa was the most nerve-wracking, 15-foot breakers a hundred feet on each side of you. A boater’s worst nightmare. But I have to admit, it did add a little adventure.
One evening we were having dinner at Bloody Mary’s, which is a most excellent dive, with dirt floors and a list of customers that reads like a who’s who. Rick, the manager, invited us to go with him for a little shark feeding and diving expedition on Sunday. Sunday morning in a blowing squall we loaded up the old dinghy and headed out. The trip to the other side of the island was about like riding a bucking bronco in a rainstorm. The waves broke over the front of the dinghy and the only dry spot on the boat was where our butts clinched the rubber of the dinghy. It was so wet I couldn’t see to steer the boat. Then I got a brainstorm. A minute later, I had my diving mask on with the snorkel upside down so I could breath, then the others got the idea and put theirs on. Now picture this, five grown people with their snorkel gear on, roaring around Bora Bora in a dinghy from hell. It looked like a very wet Martian invasion.
As we came around the south side of the island it got shallow!. Like about one or two feet deep, for about two miles. We alternated between motoring and pulling the dinghy like Humphrey Bogart in some demented scene out of The African Queen. We finally got into deep enough water to motor again, and then we had to cross a reef to meet them for the shark feeding.
Now folks, let me ask you this, what kind of a dunderhead gets into a rubber boat and goes over sharp coral that can make your boat go “pop” where there are a hundred or so sharks in a feeding frenzy? Anyway, as we pried the boat off the reef, thanking whatever deity there is that we didn’t actually go pop, we turned around and headed back to the beach of a small island, to discuss among us just how stupid we really were. Then, to prove it, we decided to head on around the rest of the island in the dinghy. Eight hours later, blistered by the sun, every muscle in every body so sore you couldn’t move, we made it back to the boat. There was not a dry shirt, towel or body on board, and the dinghy looked like we had just been through Hurricane Mitch. In the morning, our bodies felt like we had just finished the second day of Marine Corps basic training. I was so sore even my hair hurt.
We headed over to a safe harbor on the south end of Tahaa. We spent two glorious days doing nothing but getting sun and reading. Then we went to Raiatea to pick up my friends Keith Ball and Toby. Keith has been the editor of Easyriders for the past 27 years, and Toby is from Massachusetts. I’ve known Keith for 20 years, and when I started to plan this trip it was when he and I were sailing over to Catalina for a weekend. The original plan was for him to join me for the whole trip. Then he was to sail with me for three or four months. Then it was 10 to 15 days. He finally came, and stayed for six days.
In order to teach him it isn’t nice to screw with my plans, while he was here I ran him through the paces. We started when he missed the connections from Papeete to Raiatea and came in on another flight. I missed him at the airport, but he found his way to the boat. We loaded their stuff onto the boat and gave them a 15-minute 50 mph tour of Raiatea. Then we departed for Tahaa, and back to the Vahine Island resort, which has become our second home. That night we supped on the finest meal we’d had in awhile and in the morning we struck off for Bora Bora. There we showed Keith and Toby no mercy. We ran ’em over to the Yacht Club and forced them to drink mass quantities of Hinano, the local brew, and then dragged them off in the dinghy to a small atoll for snorkeling. Back to the boat for a sunset drink, and then over to the yacht club for dinner. By the time we returned to the boat, they were exhausted.
At dawn, we woke ’em up and threw them into the dinghy. This time for a whirlwind tour of Vaitape, the small town on Bora Bora. After a half hour of “leisure” sightseeing, we dragged them back aboard the boat, and we shoved off for a little daysail.
We started by sailing out of Bora Bora’s reef, across the channel to Tahaa and into the reef there, across the reef-strewn channel between Tahaa and Raiatea, and out the other side at Raiatea. We passed Huahine as the sun was setting, and through the night we watched the two of them vie for the better position at the rail for precision projectile spewing. Toby won with the best toss of the evening. For the rest of the trip across, 100 miles directly into a 20-knot six-foot sea, they stayed in their bunks, while Jody and I fought the seas. About halfway we watched our brand new mainsail disintegrate. A small tear appeared near the top, and a few minutes later the sail was little more than a rag hanging from our mast. We got it down and settled in for a rocky-rolly trip. Then we smelled something burning. Our transmission! We managed to motor the rest of the way and at ten the next morning, we arrived in Moorea. Our transmission was toast.
I pickled the overheated tranny in motor oil while Keith and Toby started to recover. Finally they got what they wanted. Two days of rest and relaxation. Moorea is one of the nicest stays in Tahiti, and we made the best of it, but first thing Saturday we were off again, motoring to Papeete. There we got to play transmission mechanic for a few hours, took them to the quay to eat Chinese food from the side of a truck, and shipped them out, complete with a bag of ripped sails, to Los Angeles at two a.m. via Air New Zealand. I don’t know about them, but I sure needed a rest after they were on the plane.
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