The Bora Bora Dash
Three weeks! It took us three whole weeks to get out of Papeete, and as a result, we are way, way behind schedule! The Captain, upon whom the Type-A Personality profile was first developed, is not pleased. The words “behind schedule” do not sit well with such a person. The First Mate is also not pleased but for a different reason. Setting up house in a pressure cooker would be a preferred option to the one of living with The Captain at such a time. She honestly does not understand what the urgency is all about, and why this South Pacific schedule of his must be adhered to at all costs. “What is his problem?” she wonders. For her, it is enough to know that on September 1st, they landed in Tahiti, and that on December 9th, they are to fly home from New Zealand. In between are islands, lots of islands. There is no way they can see all the islands. A few islands on a meandering route to New Zealand are fine with her. Spend a few days at a place that appeals. Head on to the next if a better spot is anticipated or when in need of another diversion. Relax, enjoy and savor the moment. For him, too, there are all these islands out there, but the real goal is New Zealand. We need to get there and be out of the tropics by mid-November. Many of the islands in between are mere stop-over points on the way to New Zealand. He thinks he is being reasonable. A full day or a 2-night stop can, of course, be allowed occasionally if a place is of interest. “Doesn’t she understand?” he ponders. “There is still a lot of ocean we have to cover.” Obviously, there is a divergence of opinion onboard the good ship Avante.
The distance between Papeete, Tahiti and Opua, New Zealand, our chosen port of entry, is well over 2,000 nm, but few cruisers sail there directly with all these islands in between to break up the trip. Most cruisers arrive in Papeete in June and give themselves 4 – 5 more months to meander on down to New Zealand or Australia. We had allocated only 2 and 1/2 months, and as much as The First Mate may moan, she is just as aware as The Captain of the impact of this 3-week loss. We must be in New Zealand by the end of November to prepare Avante to be pulled out of the water during our 4-month break to the States. This arrival time, by the way, was not totally determined by The Captain. Our insurance company had a great deal to say in it, for there are very few spots in the South Pacific where these companies will continue to insure a boat during the Pacific Cyclone Season. The cyclone season officially starts in December and ends in April. (Attention, Cyclones: Do you read and copy?)
It was Captain Cook in 1722 who first coined the name “Society Islands” for the several mounds of land that make up the Leeward Islands of French Polynesia. He did so because they “lie contiguous to each other”. It was much later that the Windward Islands of Tahiti and Moorea were included into the Society Island grouping. To the cruising yacht, the closeness of the Leeward Islands is a delight, for a simple day trip of 30 or so miles will get one to a new island. To The First Mate this sounds like a luxury. No more 3,000-mile, 1100-mile, 500-mile or even overnight passages to think about for a while, but first we have to get there.
Tuesday, September 21st – 1500 – Captain’s Log: “Left the quay at Papeete for the last time (Hopefully!) and motored out of the harbor.” Ahead is a short overnight passage to the nearest of the Society Islands, Huahine. After so many much longer passages, The First Mate sees no problem in a short overnight one, but she forgot that a mariner’s rephrasing of the axiom “big gifts come in small packages” could be “big sickness comes in small trips.” Such she experienced on this simple, short passage that ended up with double-reefed sails on rolling seas.
0300 – Captain’s Log: “Gusts to 25 knots. 50% cloud cover. Rolly swell. First Mate feeding fish.” Thus passed a miserable night for The First Mate. One would have thought her body would be fully in tune with the motion of the boat after living on it for the past 3 weeks. It had not even occurred to her to take her anti-seasickness cocktail. Think again, Lady! She cannot understand it. Not once was she sick on the 3,000 mile passage from the Galapagos to the Marquesas, and there they experienced some really boisterous seas. Why now? Though she dislikes the words “it’s unfair”, this does seem a bit unfair, but what is a body to do with such a weakness? Applying her extensive self-diagnostic skills, she has concluded that the cause of the problem is an exceptionally sensitive inner ear. She is too finely attuned to up, down, sideways and level. All this attuning occurs in that inner ear which when discomforted, sends out queasy warnings of impending distress. If the owner of such an inner ear does nothing to relieve said ear’s unbalance, Mother Nature gave the poor ear only one way of getting the owner’s full attention. It sends its message to the stomach which does not react well to all these queasy warnings running through its system. Irritated and finally unable to control itself, we all know what happens. 23,000 miles of ocean under her sea legs — this inner ear battle is wearing her down!
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Wednesday, September 22nd – Huahine is spotted off the port bow at 0530. By 1015, we have motored through Passe Avapehi in 25-knot winds and are anchored west of the village of Fare. The First Mate, now that seas are settled and so is her stomach, wants nothing more than a nap. That she does, and there are no complaints from The Captain who soon decides a nap would not hurt him either.
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The anchorage below Fare is pretty but offers little protection from the winds blowing down on the boats anchored in the bay.
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Though The First Mate would not mind launching the dinghy to explore ashore, The Captain wants to motor down the coast to explore and find a more secure anchorage. We set off down a pretty coastline passing several deep valleys running inland. Each time we motor across one of these valley openings, we are blasted with winds in excess of 25 knots. It’s that Venturi Effect again.
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Under a rare blue sky, our afternoon cruise down the lagoon is delightful and relaxing. Huahine proves to be a very picturesque island. The guide books say that it has not been fully found yet by the tourists or exploited by the tourist industry. We hope it stays that way.
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We pass several of the over-water bungalow hotels that are popular in the Societies. The First Mate would love to stay in one. How romantic! But, it must be admitted that life on Avante is pretty romantic, too!
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Huahine is actually 2 islands separated by a narrow channel too shallow for us to navigate, but there is a large bay that looks like a possible sheltered anchorage. We motor in to inspect. It is sheltered, but the shoreline proves too steep for us to find safe anchorage. Leaving the larger of the 2 islands, Huahine-nui, we continue south to anchor off the coast of Huahine-iti at Mt. Teapaa.
It’s a nice anchorage and not as windy. With a good anchor set, we feel secure, and The Captain dives in for a late afternoon swim. Standing on the swim ladder testing the water as usual, The First Mate watches The Captain struggle back to the boat. He is caught in a current he had not realized was so strong. Giving up on the idea of a lazy swim back to the boat, he puts in a marathon effort and reaches the swim ladder exhausted. “So much for a swim,” thinks The First Mate as she withdraws the exploratory toe. “Maybe tomorrow.”
There is an inviting strip of white sand on shore with a small shack at the shrub line. One of those tourist boats done up to look like a war canoe is onshore. Several people climb aboard, and it motors away to parts unknown. Left onshore is a solitary man in the shack. Shortly he climbs into a small outrigger and paddles away for the night. We read in our guide books that at the top of Mt. Teapaa, there is the site of an abandoned resort, Hotel Bali Hai, which had one of the most picturesque locations and design plans in the islands. A governmental land dispute and strike had forced its closing in 1999.
The next morning, we decide to investigate. The man in the outrigger had returned to the little hut where he is busy carving coconut shell into amulets and jewelry. He is the local guardian of the place, and instead of barring us from touring the grounds, as we had feared, he readily describes where the various paths will lead us. We head on inland and upland.
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The resort once spread over a large area running from the beach to the top of the hill overlooking a pond and the lagoon, but the former trails, roadbeds and buildings themselves are quickly decaying and disappearing into jungle.
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We follow overgrown trails through dense vegetation wondering what we are going to see ahead of us.
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An old and deteriorating wooden staircase leads to the very top. Since it spans a small chasm, we climb the stairs very cautiously. The initial construction was solid and sturdy, but years in the tropics with no care have taken their toll. We checked each step for rotting wood and slippery footing.
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A bit scruffy and dirty from our climb, we reach the top of the island.
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What a view! Below we see Avante floating on an ocean of blues. Behind her, we can just make out the thin white line of foaming surf pounding the reef.
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Walking around the grounds of what was once the main resort area, we can see the skeletal remains of a grand old building. Judging by its size, we figure it must have been the central part of the hotel.
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The tropical flowers that once lined the walks and created more formal gardens have now grown wild. Even with the heavy jungle growth, it is not hard to imagine how impressive these grounds must once have been. What a shame that a government quarrel led to its closing!
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To our surprise, we find a cottage that is in reasonably good shape. With windows boarded up, we cannot see inside, but there’s no doubt this would have been a relaxing spot for a get-away vacation.
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Off to the side are a stone table and benches in the courtyard with a commanding view over the green forest and down to the bay. What a special place this must have been!
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Before heading back down the trail, we stop for another view of Avante. After this hike, that water is looking very inviting.
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Later that afternoon, under a partly cloudy sky and occasional showers, we motor back to the anchorage below Fare. Winds are a bit less and feeling more secure, we head ashore to explore. This pretty little village runs along the shoreline with a few tourist shops, pensions and places to eat. Heading into the magazin for a baguette or two, we are surprised at how large and well stocked the market is.
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To the right of the dinghy dock is an interesting restaurant whose wide porch would offer a fantastic sunset view over the bay, but with clouds again rapidly building, there will be no magnificent sunset tonight. We return to Avante in time to mix our own cocktails and listen to the rain patter on the roof.
The history of the ancients of the South Pacific reads no differently than that from any other ancient (and not so ancient) population group across this vast planet of ours. Strenuous and elaborate ceremonies to their gods were interspersed with equally strenuous and costly wars waged by local chiefs who fought each other generation after generation. Huahine, however, was, quite interestingly, the exception. Here the local chiefs divided the larger island, Huahine-nui, into 10 districts. In the town of Maeva, they set up a centralized government complex where all the 10 chiefs lived side by side and worshiped separately and freely at their respective marae. Why did not such a civilized concept spread across the Pacific and beyond? The answer to that is most likely found in the huge stone walls erected around Maeve to protect it from invaders from Bora Bora and much later from France. Many of these ancient marae have been restored, and, with a car rental, they can easily be visited. That would definitely be interesting. The First Mate also reads that there are many trails to hike and that picturesque roads meander around the island linking the 7 or so villages. She would love to hike and drive this pretty island, but we just do not have the time. “When we return,” thinks she and consoles herself with the realization that all the heavy rain we have had is not the best for hiking through dense vegetation up and down slippery hillsides.
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Friday, September 24th – On to Raiatea and Taha’a. These 2 islands are less than 2 miles apart and, enclosed by one circling reef, they share a protected lagoon.
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Thus far in our voyaging, we have seen “young” islands without significant reef formation (the Marquesas), “ancient” islands where only reef and motus remain (the Tuomotus) and “adolescent” islands whose volcanic heights have begun to sink while their encircling reefs are just high enough to cause havoc (Tahiti, Moorea and Huahine). The First Mate has been wondering if there are islands at a stage where their volcanic shores are encircled by both reefs and motus. Along her imagined time-span, one could say such islands had reached adulthood. Raiatea and Taha’a are such islands. Their shared reef is sprinkled with motus off of which one will find excellent snorkeling. After the neat experience of drift snorkeling in the Tuomotus, The First Mate has placed this activity much higher on her list of things to do.
At 0900, we motor out of Huahine’s lagoon through Passe Avamoa. Winds are already up to 20 knots and under a cloudy sky with occasional rain showers, we keep in the second reef we had not released when we dropped sail in Huahine 2 days ago. It is only about 20 miles to our next islands, and by 1300 we are motoring through Passe Tuahotu. Our destination inside the lagoon is Ile Mahaea, a motu described as a great spot to snorkel. The current is strong around the little island, and the anchor will not set, dragging across the hard bottom. We head in closer, but a local fisherman waves us away fearful we will get tangled in his lines. Frustrated, we give up, though in truth, even if we had been able to anchor, the strong current would have made us reluctant to leave the boat and probably would have made for murky and difficult snorkeling conditions.
After the past several nights of windy anchorages, The Captain decides to head to the advertised “hurricane hole” in Baie Haamane on Taha’a. This sheltered spot is at the end of a fjord-like arm. Winds are into the 30’s as we make our way down this arm. This is disconcerting, but as Baie Haamane is around a bend at the end, we figure it is that bend which will offer us protection.
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It turns out to be a sadly unimpressive location and though winds are diminished from those we encountered motoring down the arm, they are still in the teens and low 20’s. We cannot understand how this could be called a hurricane hole, but in an area with little shelter from cyclones, maybe this is the best they have to offer.
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Saturday, September 25th – 0740 – An anchor thickly coated with mud convinces The Captain that it is the sticky, thick, anchor-holding mud that qualifies this anchorage as a hurricane hole, not its questionable shelter from winds. Under partly cloudy skies, we motor back down the fjord in 30 – 35 knot winds. We head north up the lagoon in winds only partially diminished to 25 knots. We are in search of a motu where we can snorkel as advertised. Nothing has changed out at Ile Tehotu which we tried yesterday. We raise sails and sail all the way around the north end of the island and start down the west side without finding a stop that is very calm. The western side of the island offers shelter from the east winds, and we soon run out of wind and have to start the engine. The guide book says that on the oceanside of Ile Tautau, one will find a protected anchorage with excellent snorkeling. This sounds highly doubtful, but having nothing else to do, we decide to give it a try.
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We pass Taha’a Private Island and Spa Resort on Ile Tautau. The mountain peaks of Bora Bora, a mere 20 miles away, appear startling close as they hover over the small island resort.
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Motoring out Passe Paipai, we raise the jib and sail on toward this anchorage only to find that we cannot anchor. Captain’s Log: “An iron bound shore. No good place to anchor and nothing I want to go swimming in.” We about face, raise the sails, and return to the lagoon. The best part of the day is sailing through the pass into the lagoon. Sailing, rather than motoring, through a pass is always a thrill. There’s a bit of daring to it!
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We anchor in Baie Apu on Taha’a below the Taravana Yacht Club where we pick up one of their mooring balls. Recognizing a boat whose owners we had briefly met in Cook’s Bay, we motor over in our dinghy. Marion and David Paul are on onboard Kilkea, an Amel 53, and had just returned from a hike across the island. They invite us to join them and another couple at the Yacht Club for dinner this evening.
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We continue onto shore for a short hike at dusk. Taha’a is sparsely settled with one main road running around the island. We walk through a well-maintained residential area. Everywhere there are flowers and landscaped walks. Some of the small homes have been painted with artistic murals.
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Since many of the residents do not own a car, for groceries and other supplies, they rely on a specially outfitted van that circles the island daily. We happen to be walking down the road as the van is making its rounds. It’s a neighborly time as everyone awaits the van, and we enjoy greeting local residents while strolling along their flower bedecked road.
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Meeting fellow cruisers from all over the world is part of the experience and fun of being out here. We all have our stories to tell, and there is always something new to learn from each other. On shore for dinner, we meet up with David and Marion who introduce us to a young Hungarian couple, Nellie and Joseph from s/v Epiphany.
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Over dinner conversation, The First Mate decides that Marion and David are her ideal cruisers, and their philosophy is certainly one from which The Captain could take a few hints!
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On their boat, David is The Captain, but Marion is The Admiral. Not a bad idea. Perhaps The First Mate has something to learn, too. Our new friends have been cruising for over 5 years. Though they have a general plan of where they want to go and when they need to be there, they have no set schedule. As David says, “any schedule they write gets written in the sand and washed away with the next tide.” When they arrive at a place they like, they stay for as long as they like. Many times their plan for the day is made over morning coffee. That sounds wonderful to The First Mate. She marvels that life could be so relaxed. Can it? They ask about our plans and exclaim at the pace and energy of our schedule. They marvel that anyone would want to cruise in so structured a style. It’s a good thing that The Captain really really likes these people, for he is able to take their chiding of his all too obvious Type-A Personality with good nature.
Sunday, September 26th – Under overcast skies yet again, we drop off the mooring ball and in 25-knot winds, motor the short distance across the lagoon to Raiatea. For the ancient people of Polynesia, Raiatea was the religious, cultural and political center of their civilization. This was a sacred island, for their major gods originated here, and from here, they spread out to create the other islands. It was also from here that legends say the ancients themselves first set out in the canoes to explore and settle all of eastern Polynesia. Raiatea was something of a pilgrimage site for these ancients, but The Captain and The First Mate feel no sense of pilgrimage as we motor down a dreary coast on a dismal day.
The weather calls forth memories and comparisons. We are reminded of our journeying up the Pacific Northwest coast to Alaska where dressed to repel the weather we were forced to motor on day after rainy day to our next destination. There, however, we were not put off by the heavy, low-lying clouds and rain, for they were to be expected.
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Here, we are frustrated by this weather, for we had expected endless days of sun with frequent cloudbursts that spent themselves quickly. We did not expect to be dressed in rain gear enduring day upon day of overcast and rain. Though it is of small consolation, we hear the locals complaining; yet for them, the weather is a worrisome harbinger of an early and ominous cyclone season. We had already heard talk of this in Papeete, and as we are technically fleeing that same cyclone season, their concerns fuel our concern about our impending departure to New Zealand.
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The First Mate peruses her photos for further comparison. A photo taken one dreary day motoring toward a fiord in the Pacific Northwest is not much different from …..
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….. a photo taken heading down the coast of Raiatea one dreay afternoon.
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Traveling inside the lagoon, The First Mate is fascinated by the many small motus she sees. Some are nothing more than exposed ridges of rock shore that she is thankful are well-marked with buoys. Others are barely large enough to hold a fisherman’s shack perched precariously on the exposed surface.
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The swirling rain clouds baring down on us call up images of tornadoes. In the distance, The First Mate can see the white roof of a fisherman’s shack plucked down on a motu.
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“We’re not in Kansas anymore,” she thinks as she gazes at a fisherman’s shack that looks like it could have fallen out of the sky and is somehow magically floating out there on the water.
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Definitely not Kansas anymore and definitely not a place she would want to weather out a tropical storm either!
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Motoring south along the east coast of Raiatea, we pass the town of Uturoa. We see masts of many boats in a large marina along the shore, and the cruise ship, Paul Gauguin, is tied up to the dock. We head around Point Opeha, which looked tricky on the chart, but proves to be benign as it is well-marked.
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Taking advantage of the winds on this blustery day, several kite surfers race across the water. The more skilled of them execute amazing somersaults as they spiral through the air. We on Avante keep a watchful eye on them as they whisk across our bow.
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Pulling into Baie Faaroa, we drop anchor. The Aoppomau River empties into the head of the bay and is wide enough and deep enough to motor a dinghy up for quite a distance. As this is a recommended side trip and the weather appears to be lightening up, we launch the dinghy for an outing.
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Coconut palms, banana fronds, tropical flowers, papaya and lemon trees thickly line the banks.
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Along the banks of this sheltered river, many locals have built simple sheds to store their small boats or racks have been constructed to hold their outriggers.
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We enjoy a pleasant trip up the river until we are finally stopped by a series of rocky rapids over which we cannot haul the dinghy.
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On our return, a young man by the name of James approaches us in his kayak. We cannot fully understand all that he is saying, but it appears that much of the land around us is a botanical garden. He would like to guide us through the garden, and if we would like some fruit and vegetables, he can give them to us for free. Highly skeptical, but not wanting to offend the young man, we follow him along the river. He and we pull over to a spot where we wait while he runs ashore and disappears. He returns with several papayas and pockets full of limes.
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James then tells us to follow him down the river to an old dock where we tie up and follow him ashore.
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We are led down a muddy trail through a an area that truly looks like it once was a botanical garden. Our guide points out and names a wide variety of plants. A field of Birds of Paradise catches The First Mate’s eye.
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We cannot figure out what this place was or what it is now. Much of it is overgrown and obviously no longer being showcased, but an overgrown area with a stone bench is testament to a space that was planned for sitting and enjoying nature.
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To our surprise, James leads into an area of planted rows of vegetables. Did he do this? We cannot completely understand what he is saying. We just hope he is part of this operation and that we are not now trespassing.
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This botanical garden is a Garden of Eden. James enthusiastically keeps cutting and culling more fruit and vegetables for us. A “few” papaya turns into “many “ papaya. Our pockets and arms are full of the bounty of this garden. To The Captain’s dismay, we even end up with a stalk of bananas. “Stains and more stains,” thinks The Captain remembering his arm numbing scrubbing of purple stains left by dripping banana stalks we brought on board in the Marquesas. The First Mate promises to wrap the ends securely in towels.
Back at the dock and motoring behind James down the river, we wonder what to give James. Should we offer to pay him? We have read that such an offer can be considered offensive here on the islands, but still this does not make sense to us. Free fruit and free tour? As we are unloading our cache onto Avante, we ask James if he would want anything. Chocolate? No. Soda? No. Beer? Well, maybe a can or 2, that’s all. How about half of the banana stalk, for there are too many for just the 2 of us? Okay. So James paddles off with 2 cans of beer and half a banana stalk. That is all he wanted for the fascinating tour and an overflowing larder of tropical goodness. What an interesting experience!
We endure another windy, rainy night at anchor. In the middle of the night, the anchor alarm goes off. The anchor has dragged back a little, just enough to trigger the alarm, but we have plenty of room. We are the only boat in this large bay. The Captain is not overly concerned. He lets out more anchor rope increasing the scope and resets the anchor alarm. What a great invention this anchor alarm is! Back in bed, we have no more alerts for the rest of the night. Pulling up the anchor the next morning, The Captain notes that though the bottom is mud which is usually good holding, this mud is very soft probably from the silty run-off from the stream. That is why the anchor did not hold as expected.
Our experience here in Baie Faaroa was delightful compared to the visit of friends of ours, Cindy and Stephen Everett, on Salacia, a J/160 like ours. Waking up after a stormy night, they found their dinghy and brand-new engine gone. The painter or rope attaching the dinghy to the boat, was cut. They had to order a new dinghy and engine to be shipped out to them. We later heard that another couple had the same experience on another stormy night, but they did hear some noise over the sound of the wind and were able to foil the thieves. Warned by these two encounters, our dinghy and engine were securely strapped and locked onboard Avante. Fortunately, these occurrences are not common in the South Pacific, but we all stay watchful.
Monday, September 27th – Raiatea is supposed to be a good spot to get fuel and a better spot to provision than Bora Bora, our next and last island in the Societies before we continue west. We do not need much. For The First Mate, it will be just another much appreciated opportunity to explore ashore. We know there is supposed to be a fuel dock in the town of Uturoa, but none of our information shows exactly where it is located. We motor along the coast looking for fuel pumps on shore. For the first time in days, the wind is light. We spot the grocery store, and it looks like there may be fuel pumps in a small dinghy basin across from the store, but we are way too big to get in there. Perhaps the hose stretches all the way over to the seawall? Winds have begun to pick up, and by the time we get near the seawall, winds are up to 20 knots. The harbor is tight, and the easier, most accessible docking spots are already occupied. A big catamaran has tied up right in the middle, his wide beam effectively blocking three spaces. No space is available anywhere near the fuel pumps. The Captain wants to try docking anyway. The First Mate is instructed to back down to a nearby dock, but she does not feel she can hold the boat into that crosswind at the slow speeds necessary to get close to the dock. She attempts it as instructed, but very quickly realizes the bow of the boat is rapidly being blown sideways by the wind. There just is no room to maneuver. She aborts the attempt powering up to quickly head out of the tight space and tells The Captain that if he wants to dock in there, have at it! She’ll handle the ropes. He concedes the improbability of the effort.
We head for the northwest corner of Raiatea looking for another fuel dock. We locate the Raiatea marina where cruisers do leave boats during the cyclone season. The First Mate would like to investigate for future reference, but The Captain is totally uninterested. He takes a quick look at the aging buildings and at the boats berthed there and is unimpressed. There is no obvious fuel dock either. We then motor to the nearby charter yacht marina knowing that they must have a convenient way to refuel their boats, but we see nothing. They probably have fuel pumps, but there is no sign that would indicate that fuel is available to the public.
We return to Uturoa to try to at least get ashore for groceries. We consider anchoring and taking the dinghy ashore, but the only nearby anchorage is too deep. We would have to put out a lot of chain in these winds, and the space is too small for that. Returning to the small harbor to see whether a boat or two has vacated the area, we find everything, including the wind, as it was when we left it. Frustrated and foiled, we give up on both fuel and food for today.
Determined to get at least one round of snorkeling in before we leave these 2 islands, we motor to nearby Ile Taora. We dive in for what turns out to be a marginal experience. Under an overcast sky, visibility is reduced as less light is filtering through the water. There are fewer fish and interesting coral than we had expected, and the water is murky from the recently churned up seas. We at least accomplished one mission for the day and can check “snorkel in Raiatea” off our list!
Tuesday, September 28th – Due to weather and our tight schedule, we saw very little of Taha’a and Raiatea, and now we are headed to Bora Bora. The island’s original name was Pora Pora, for there is no “b” in the Tahitian language which causes The First Mate to wonder why the name was changed over time to Bora Bora in the first place. Who did that? Pora Pora means “first born”, and according to ancient legend, it was the first island created after the sacred island of Raiatea. Famed to be the most perfect of Polynesian islands, its majestic peaks rise above an expansive lagoon of variegated blues. Shorelines are rimmed with some of the most beautiful beaches in the Pacific. Amazing reefs await any avid diver and mountain trails offer eye-popping views for the adventurous. First class luxury resorts dot the motus with private bungalows perched over the blue lagoon. James Michener, who was here during WW II, has figured greatly in spreading the mystique of Bora Bora, for his magical Bali Hai was modeled after this island. A fond wish of The First Mate’s is to anchor below one of the luxury resorts where she would love to cast aside her boat clothes for an evening and don tourist attire for a dinner ashore. She can just picture it. An outdoor dining room with stars twinkling above. A full moon or any kind of moon would be nice. Candlelight reflecting off a lagoon lit to show off its gorgeous blue hues. She can’t wait. Bali Hai, here she comes!
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Winds are moderate as we exit the pass heading to Bora Bora. We raise the mainsail. Captain’s Log: “Keep 2nd reef in main for luck. First peaceful sail since we returned to the boat.” Twenty minutes later, with winds under 18 knots, we shake out both reefs. It’s a short sail to Bora Bora, but what an absolutely delightful sail! Isn’t it always supposed to be like this?
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The tropical sun is hard on everything. “Betsy Ross” gets to work reinforcing the seams of our flag on the trip to Bora Bora.
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Bora Bora is another “adult” island with a necklace of reefs and motus. An item of interest from a mariner’s point of view is that it only possess one navigable pass, Te Ava Nui Pass. Approaching the island, our eyes are torn between the view of the mountain skyline and the crashing surf on the reef, but Te Ava Nui Pass proves to be wide, deep and well marked posing no problem.
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Once inside the lagoon, we motor toward the principal town of Vaitape stretched out along the shore below Bora Bora’s majestic peaks.
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We slowly cruise along the coast easily spotting the fuel dock which we will definitely need before we leave the island. As we cruise by the town, we study the best method to access the town itself, for we will need to provision before we leave. There is a wharf, but it is only for the use of island ferries, smaller motor boats and dinghy tie ups. Anchoring off the town in 80 feet of water appears to be the best option for us.
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We continue on across the lagoon with those picturesque mountains off to our left. Several resorts are nestled along the water’s edge which The First Mate eyes with interest, but The Captain is taking us to Baie de Pofai.
We are going to anchor at the southern end of the island in front of the famous Hotel Bora Bora. This location reads like it is going to have everything we could want: a luxury hotel for The First Mate’s romantic, star-studded evening ashore, the best snorkeling on the island is right there off Pointe Raititi, and for an early morning walk, the beach which stretches from the hotel to Pointe Matira, is one of the best on the island. Location, Location, Location!
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From a distance, we can see the thatched roofed bungalows at the waters edge, and we can pick out the dinghy dock for going ashore.
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But wait, stop, hold it! Things do not look right! As we near the bungalows, they look derelict, in need of repair, empty and unused. What is going on? What has happened? We do not know, but Hotel Bora Bora has definitely seen better days.
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We go ahead and anchor. We may not be enthralled by the hotel, but we are intrigued by the boat which is already anchored below the hotel. It is well over 100 feet long. It dwarfs Avante. The saying goes that a “yacht” is any boat bigger than your own. Well, our neighbor here definitely qualifies as a yacht! Her lines are beautiful and elegant. This boat was built for speed. How we both would love to see it under sail! Better yet, to be on it under sail would be a thrill. Much later when The Captain has internet access, he looks up Imagine. It is for sale if anyone is interested!
Resigned to dinner Chez Suzanne tonight, The First Mate joins The Captain in launching the dinghy. As we motor around Raititi Point to the beach, we see one solitary hotel guard sitting on a lawn chair. It is fantastic view, but its “Location, Location, Location” came to naught. The hotel is definitely closed, and they do not want people just wandering around the property. The beach itself is pretty, though we see nothing spectacular about it. Sheltered as it is by the reef, it is a wonderful spot for children, and the several cruisers that are anchored nearby look to have children onboard.
Returning to the point, we slowly motor over the reef. The coral shapes below us are fascinating. Attired in our snorkel gear, we get in the water and drift with the current. We drift near a mooring ball, grab it and hang there watching the many fish below us. Of the most interest, however, are several large bat-winged stingrays which gracefully glide and swirl through the water. To The First Mate, their movements remind her of seabirds effortlessly soaring through the sky, diving and then quickly changing direction with only minute movements of their wings.
Back in the dinghy, we motor in the opposite direction along the coast. There is a noted restaurant up the way called Bloody Mary’s that has been in existence since 1979. All kinds of famous people have supposedly supped here, and though the food can be so-so, the atmosphere is said to make up for any gourmet deficiency. We find the restaurant, and they even offer a dock to tie up one’s dinghy. Surveying the place from the water, it has an island funky look to it. That is not what The First Mate has in mind for her romantic, star-studded dinner! Chez Suzanne aboard the s/v Avante is more enticing to her, even if she is the chef du jour.
Wednesday, September 29th – Fuel and Provision Day. Trailing the dinghy behind us, we motor back to Vaitape and anchor off shore. Disappointed with our short stay in Bora Bora and unable to talk The Captain into another day, The First Mate is allowed as much time as she wants to browse around the town. This is not exactly what she had in mind to see and do in Bora Bora, but it is better than nothing. There are several black pearl stores, and though she does have a simple necklace bought in the Tuomotus, she would like a fancier one if she can find one that pleases both her and The Captain.
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He tolerates her meandering, and several of the stores have even thoughtfully provided for the not-so-interested spouse. Here The Captain relaxes while The First Mate looks. Tired of browsing and unable to find that special piece, we head over to the grocery store.
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Browsing done and provisioned, we head back to Avante and motor over to the fuel dock.
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The simple act of fueling becomes a hassle. We have a certificate that allows us to buy duty free fuel. What The Captain had not been told is that he would need copies of the certificate and some other documents! This must be a fairly common occurrence with the number of yachts passing through; yet there is no copy machine at the fueling office. The nearest one is a 15-minute walk down a dusty road toward town. Off The Captain marches leaving The First Mate to tend to Avante on the dock. On his return with copies duly presented, we fill all of Avante’s main and auxiliary tanks. We will not be able to easily get fuel again until we reach the Kingdom of Tonga, 1500 miles down the ocean road. The Captain pulls out his credit card to pay only to be told that – sorry – they only accept cash!
As we are now leaving French Polynesia, we have purposely depleted our supply of their money. The nearest ATM is 15 minutes back down that dusty road. Repeat: Off The Captain marches leaving The First Mate to tend to Avante on the dock. While he is gone, a small delivery barge, which had been waiting for us to move off the dock, decides he has waited long enough, pulls up and wedges himself along the side of the dock. The First Mate feels a bit guilty for having hogged up the small dock, but there is nothing she can do about that. A copy machine and ATM would have helped!
The Captain returns. As we always do when leaving a dock, we discuss our take-off strategy. There is a strong wind pushing us against the dock, and that is going to take some tricky maneuvering to overcome. Our efforts coordinated, we start. The fuel man jumps into help, but he pushes in the wrong place at the wrong time. His help makes matters worse for us. We would have been just fine if that metal barge had not stuck out from the end of the dock. Our aft end clears the fueling dock but not the corner of the barge which left a small scrape near our stern. With the wind pushing the boat back onto the dock, there was nothing either of us could do. Unhappily, we continue on our way taking solace in the fact that we had already planned body repairs to Avante in New Zealand. Those nifty little harbor taxis back in the Galapagos had left several dings along our stern.
We motor over to the Bora Bora Yacht Club. Doesn’t that sound neat! The Bora Bora Yacht Club has mooring balls for visiting cruisers. If you come in for dinner, use of the mooring ball is free. We would have joined them for dinner, free ball or not! We dinghy ashore to make a dinner reservation only to find out that they too are closed! At least their dining room is, and so are most of the club’s former services. What happened? Is this another Hotel Bora Bora? No, they most certainly hope not! Hotel Bora Bora closed its doors 3 years ago unable to compete with the much newer hotels built on the isolated motus.
Last year’s cyclone caused heavy damage to The Bora Bora Yacht Club, and they are still in the rebuild process. Right now, they are happy to finally have the mooring balls secured and the dock rebuilt. The fee is $30 for the mooring ball since they no longer offer dinner. That is fine, but is there a good restaurant nearby? None that are close, but all the restaurants offer free taxi service. We ask their recommendation for a really nice restaurant. Sounds good. They call the restaurant to make a reservation, and we are told the taxi will pick us up at 6:45 outside the gate, don’t be late!
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In a light sprinkling of rain, we wait outside the gate for our taxi. We discover that the island restaurants jointly run this taxi service. There is already one couple in the van, and we pick up another on our way. We are dropped off at the Kaina Hut, an intimate thatched roof Polynesian style establishment. The taxi driver tells us that he will return at 9:30 for our ride home.
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We walk into a small dining room. The waitress tells us to chose a table, but she would suggest the one on the outdoor patio. With rain threatening, The First Mate is not too sure, but we go outside to look. The patio is covered and protected — and there is only one little table out there! All ours! We readily accept. We later find out that this is the most sought-after table, and it is a rare night that it is free. We are delighted. Our own private dining space. What a treat! The First Mate could not have been happier. The service is warm and friendly. Dinner is superb. The best we have had since Telluride! We start with an interesting dish: Tuna Tartar with Watermelon Gazpacho. What an interesting combination! The First Mate vows that she is going to research Watermelon Gazpacho when she returns home. It was served more as a sauce, but it was so good that both of us greedily dunked chunks of French bread in it. None of that delectable sauce was going to go to waste on our plates! For dinner, we both had a favorite dish: Magret de Canard. This was served with a Papaya Glace, and it too was absolutely delicious. Full, we pass on dessert. We sit back, sip our remaining wine and enjoy the patter of rain on the thatched roof in our private dining retreat. No way was The First Mate going to eat under twinkling stars anywhere on Bora Bora tonight, but that’s okay. Our private dining patio at Kaina Hut was perfect!
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What a wonderful evening our last night in French Polynesia was! We relaxed, we enjoyed, and we savored the moment.
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The Bora Bora Dash: no doubt about it, for that is what it was! We spent the month of September in French Polynesia, but our forced stay in Papeete left us with only 9 days for the Leeward Islands. Our visit to the Leewards is best described as a wind-swept, rain-chased forced march (from The First Mate’s perspective, that is), but we had to make good on a schedule to get us out of the South Pacific and to New Zealand ahead of the cyclone season. Though this tight schedule did prevent us from doing and seeing a great deal of what there is to enjoy on these islands, The First Mate must admit that weather played a big part in curtailing our activities. There is not much one can do on land or water with rain a constant threat. We do plan to return in 2 years when we circle back through the South Pacific. Hopefully, then, we will be pulling the sun and a plethora of clear, bright days with us.