The Tuamotus Achipelago with the friendliest people we’ve ever met

Finding an Internet connection isn’t easy here in the Pacific. We managed to send the last blog for far too many dollars with a slow connection. Later we saw that the photo album didn’t load properly. Now we have just arrived at Tahiti and the Society Islands. Tahiti is the biggest island in French Polynesia, and Internet is expensive, but finally possible. Finally, after weeks of storing it up since the Marquesas, we can get rid of our rubbish in a normal way so that they don’t just dump it in the sea on the other side of the island.

My (Florian’s) sweet love, Laura, is going to be coming on board with us for three weeks here. Feels almost too good to be true – being able to see and hold your girlfriend again after six months! Right, though, first our blog about the Tuamotus that we still owed you, then you’ll be up to date again!

In our last blog, we already told you how special these atolls are, situated between the Marquesas and Tahiti. Coral, sand, palm trees and unbelievably friendly people. It is also a dangerous place, if you believe the books, and this is something that we were also confronted with. It’s always a bit tense, approaching an atoll. Anecdotes from the navigation books that we had fortunately made copies of in the Galapagos call them, ‘The low and Dangerous Archipelago’, others say, ‘Navigation between the atolls can be very dangerous without radar’; ‘All in all to navigate through these Islands without radar is most unwise.’ Okay, we’ve got radar (which was one of the great gifts from our friend Andre in Curaçao), but it’s still lying in one of the cabins, not connected yet. We also read that ‘the atolls are very dangerous, since even in daylight the reef cannot be seen until close-to and the sound of the wind and sea often masks the sound of the hazard’ and ‘do not underestimate the dangers of travelling in these waters; the increased numbers of yachts lost and stranded on reefs attests to the hazards’. Now, when all is said and done, we are now moored safely on Tahiti, and despite a few nervous moments, it went pretty well. Without radar. Luck? No, just taking things easy and being careful.

We left from the Marquisas a few weeks ago, quite suddenly, for these little pearls of the Pacific. Raroia was our first destination, because we knew that the Norwegians were going there. Sailing into an atoll was a whole new experience. It is only possible when the tide is going from high tide to low tide or vice versa.  It is also highly recommended that you do it during the day, given the large number of bits of coral sticking out of the water. There are therefore two points in the day when you can go in there without too much current or crazy waves, and then you need to calculate when these will be very carefully by checking when the moon rises. The fact that it is easy to see it here is pretty handy. We checked our first calculation with the Brazilians, who bought a nifty little computer for this purpose. Up went Arjen, climbing the mast in order to tell me where the deep water was, and so we zig-zagged our way into our first atoll. There was not a single boat there, so we had to guess where a good place to anchor would be, without too much coral. Two days later, the Brazilians arrived, and after them the Norwegians, who couldn’t believe their eyes! They thought that we were somewhere else (because we had told them that to surprise them), so of course that meant a big party.

Everything is incredibly expensive here in French Polynesia - 12 dollars for a little jar of peanut butter is nothing. 12 old eggs (imported from Tahiti, seeing as they are too lazy here to build a coop for the chickens) cost about 6 dollars. The people here live from the proceeds of Copra, an oil that they extract from the coconuts, which they sell for a very good price (supported by the French government, as they have a bit of a debt of gratitude after their nuclear tests here). They also fish, but on most atolls it’s for their own consumption. The boats are too small to catch too much for sale, and then they would have to find a way to keep it cold and get it to Tahiti. There are black pearl farms on many of the atolls, which are mainly run by foreigners (nowadays many Chinese). The local people are not exactly very enthusiastic about them, even though a few work on one of the farms. As I said before, the local population is seriously lazy here. They like drinking, music and that crazy weed that they also know what to do with back in Holland. They weren’t too lazy when they met us, though. We already hit the jackpot on the first evening on Raroia. Fortunately our French was getting better and better, and while enjoying a little Panaman rum we soon got chatting with the music-making local population (there are about 70 people living on Raroia). One of the elderly people invited us straight away to come and eat with him the next day. When we told him that the Brazilians would also be there, they were immediately also invited. The next day, we went by his house three times, where he and two ladies were busy in the kitchen all day. The food was also delicious, and especially the cold oyster salad with paw-paw… mmm… Arjan probably wants to tell you some more about the rest of our adventures in the Tuamotus – I’ll go and see where he’s hanging out in these few square metres that we have been sharing for six months already. You only really get to know each other now, each one has his own little habits that you notice and take into account. But it’s still going pretty well, don’t you think, Ar?

It’s going fine. Except maybe for a few strange body odours.
The Norwegians arrived at Raroia from Easter Island after 16 days at sea. Pegasus and Canela welcomed them with the dinghies. Four astounded faces. To Fluer didn’t have much fun on Easter Island. They lost 3 anchors and were ready to pack it in, ready to leave the boat. But they were there, without any further damage. Like a beer, boys?
After we left Raroia, the landing place for Thor Heyerdahl in his Kon Tiki raft, we organised a min-regatta to Fakarava with Canela, To Fluer and Pegasus. Marcus, one of the Norwegians, sailed with us for two days. With an unbelievably strong wind, torn sails and contact every 6 hours, we didn’t make it to Fakarava. Calculation error. To Fluer won the race with their 50-footer; Canela had all its sails unfurled on its two masts, but we lost it from sight at sunset. We changed course for Kauehi. We were the only boat to catch fish.
It turned out to be a good choice: we were once again overwhelmed with friendliness. One woman gave us a whole load of coconuts, which we finished in her back garden, eating the flesh and drinking the milk. At another house, we were invited for snacks and drinks. When I told them that my birthday is 2 days after their national holiday, I received a gift of shells and 24 pearls. I was speechless. Because they said that it came from ‘Le grand monsieur’ (pointing to the sky), we also paid a short visit to the local church to give our sincere thanks to The Big Man.

After Kauehi, it was time for the third and last atoll of the Tuamotus, Fakarava. It is one of the biggest, and so there were also more boats there. It was the tensest and roughest atoll entry yet. Canela took a hit to its propeller, thereby twisting and breaking the gear-box. They could still do about 2 knots on the motor, but you can easily have about 6 knots of current in the passes in the atolls. Floor co-ordinated everything over the marine telephone, and I stood at the helm. Beduina, a Brazilian catamaran, went through the pass first to let us know how it was: rough. Canela followed in full sail and the little bit of motor power that they had left, and we went in after them in case they needed help. Everyone made it without any problems, but the waves and currents that we came across were pretty hectic. Some hard hits, waves that smashed over the edge of the boat from behind, and the bow of the boat ploughing through short, steep waves. Respect to Canela.
On this atoll too, we were invited to spend time with the locals. We had spent the day fixing up our little folding bicycles, and went on a little cycling trip, Dutchmen that we are. When Floor’s tyre was already flat at the end of the day, we were noticed by a bunch of guys in a pick-up. They gave us a lift and eventually we went with them to their house, where we made music and ate for the rest of the day. I can honestly say this is one of the most friendly and hospitable places on earth that I have ever been. When it comes to atolls, when you’ve seen a few, you’ve seen them all, but the people are always interesting.
So, Grand Monsieur, thank you for these beautiful islands and memorable times!