Things Unplanned Run Amuck in Tahiti

Boats have feelings, don’t you know? They do not like to be left alone, unattended and seemingly unloved. This is a fact of which both The Captain and The First Mate are well aware, but given their lifestyle, they have no choice. Avante must go it alone every once in a while, and they know they eventually will have to deal with nautical hurt feelings and the consequences which follow. 

Most people who decide to sail around the world make a long-term, all inclusive commitment to the journey. They plan a passage of a year, a year and a half, 2 years, 5 years or until beset with money or health issues. Many sell their homes and free themselves of as many land-based possessions and bills as possible. If they do not sell the house, then they rent it. They set off for sea fully committed to the cruising life with no or very limited plans to return home. Home now is their boat, and it has their full and undivided attention. The Captain and The First Mate have done no such unburdening. Two other homes and commitments to family, friends and activities in both places draw them as much as their sailing life on Avante. It is a much more difficult and complex life style than that of the typical cruising couple. 

It takes a lot of research to locate a safe, clean and sheltered marina to leave Avante for the several months that we are usually gone while back in the States. We care very deeply about where we leave our boat, but no matter how pristine the marina of choice is, there is no getting around the fact that boats and their various components do not like being unattended and unused. A salty, damp marine environment is nobody’s friend, and that environment very quickly seeps into every nook and cranny on a boat bringing with it corrosion and mold. It matters not how clean and oiled things have been left. To make the situation worse for both Avante and ourselves, it does not help that we have also chosen to cruise extensively in countries and regions where there is limited access to replacement parts and to trained mechanics. Thus, there is no wonder when things unplanned do crop up and even occasionally run amuck aboard the s/v Avante. The wonder is that they do not happen more often! Wise is the sailor and sane he will stay if he accepts this inevitability.

July and August, 2010 – Home from distant shores, The Captain and The First Mate spent their time in Telluride. Granddaughter, Berlin, visited for 2 weeks, and we enjoyed watching her quickly get back into her ranch and mountain activities. After her visit, we hopped right into the normal whirl of summer activities in the mountains of Telluride. 

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Wednesday, September 1st – We fly out of Phoenix to LAX and on to Papeete, Tahiti. Arriving too late to catch the last ferry to Moorea, we overnight in Papeete. The morning ferry takes us the short distance to Moorea where we are relieved to find Avante looking well. On the surface, at least, she seems to have survived with just a little mildew below decks and a light coating of soot from the island ferries above decks.

Our sailing itinerary for the next few months is to continue further west and then eventually south, sailing to and around the Society Islands, the Cook Islands, American Samoa, the Kingdom of Tonga, Fiji and finally to New Zealand. We are eager to get started, but first we have to sail over to Papeete for some boat parts. Avante desperately needs new batteries, for there is no way the present batteries will get us to New Zealand. The Captain started work on the problem before leaving Tahiti last June. Our agent, Laurent, in Papeete checked on the availability of the particular size and dimension of batteries and reported that the batteries we needed were available locally but were very expensive. Batteries are cheaper in the States, but shipping is a problem. They have to go by cargo ship, since batteries are hazardous material and cannot go out by plane. This takes time, and there is the risk that the shipment could be delayed. The decision was made to buy the batteries in Papeete. We will purchase and install them upon our return. One item crossed off a lengthy to-do list.

Thing Unplanned # 1:  The new batteries do not meet all the specifications! Oh, they are the right size as far as capacity goes.  They are not the right size as far as fit goes. As with everything on a boat, our batteries have to fit in the space provided for them. Our French agent and the French Polynesian battery shop had overlooked the fact that size is every bit as important as capacity, even though The Captain had emphasized both and actually drawn the dimensions. Their batteries would handle the electrical load, but they just could not fit on the boat!

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We now must return to Papeete to personally visit all available battery shops in hopes of finding ones that we can use. Our agent, unfortunately, is unable to assist us, for he is leaving for France in 2 days, but he has worked an agreement with a fellow associate, Pascal, to take The Captain on this battery search.

Sunday, September 5th – Under an overcast sky, we leave Moorea for Papeete. Since our arrival, we have noticed that winds seem to be consistently stronger than they were last June. Such is definitely the case as we head across the channel. Heavy seas and 25-knot winds hit us directly on the nose. We decide to motor the short distance rather than raise sails.

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They use a pattern of docking here that is common throughout Europe, especially in the Mediterranean. One’s boat is secured at a right angle to the dock rather than running parallel to it. This is a harder maneuver than just gliding in next to a dock or fitting into a slip, especially if there is any kind of crosswind. It does, however, allow more boats to be tied along the length of a dock. To accomplish this Mediterranean mooring feat, one normally approaches a dock, turns around to prepare to back down to the dock, drops an anchor and then backs down to the dock. The boat is secured to the dock and then the anchor line is drawn up tighter to secure and keep the bow of the boat pointed straight out from the dock. 

At Quai des Yachts in Papeete, things are a bit simpler. Instead of having to drop an anchor and backing down to the pier from that dropped anchor, one slowly pulls up to the pier either bow or stern, your choice, where there are supposed to be 2 lines for each docking position. At the pier end, these pick-up lines are thin ropes and are simply tied to the pier enabling a boat handler to retrieve one. They are about 30 feet long and are attached to a thicker anchor rope that actually holds the boat in place, for the anchor ropes are secured to concrete blocks deep in the water where one’s anchor would normally have been dropped. 

Last June, we expected to drop an anchor as is usually done for a Mediterranean mooring and just like our books informed us to do. But as the anchor was going down, a very excited Frenchman on a boat across from ours ran out shouting to The Captain to stop.  No anchor needed. In fact, let’s all hope out anchor did not get fouled up on all those lines down there. No fouling. Anchor up. Meanwhile the wind has blown the boat causing us to have to re-aline the boat and then back down to the dock again. This time an American yelled to The Captain to put on a pair of thick gloves. The pick-up and anchor lines have tiny barnacles on them from being in the water. He said he was still suffering from the razor-like cuts his hands received 2 days ago. The Captain grabbed his mesh fish gloves and was he ever glad he did! The lines were lethal. So were the winds that were blowing down the length of Avante. That first day, we had 14-knot winds in the harbor, which is not much except when one is attempting to hold the bow of a boat into the wind with little to no way on. Now a J/160 does back down beautifully, but holding her bow and all 52 feet of her straight into any wind over about 12 knots is hard, very hard, almost impossible — at least it is for The First Mate. It was very hard that first day, especially when having to deal with a totally unfamiliar and unpracticed docking procedure. Needless to say, our first docking at Papeete was not a pretty sight with anchor out, then back up, then having to reposition the boat and starting over. Today, we know exactly what to do. There is no angst, and all hands do a very professional job.

Well, not totally true. There was a little angst. When The Captain picked up the second line, he came up with a short line attached to nothing. The pick-up line had been cut. Now we only had one line holding Avante’s bow out, and in the current and wind of the harbor, it was not enough to hold us perpendicular to the pier. If the wind or current changed direction, our bow would be pulled off to one side causing one corner of the aft end of the boat to angle in closer to the dock and possibly hit the dock. Not good. What to do? We really did not want to go through another docking exercise again in a different spot. We had done so well the first time. The First Mate had no desire to push either their luck or her skill! The Captain added more of our lines from Avante to the pier, but, though they helped, they did not completely eliminate the problem. Studying the whole set up, The Captain noted that the marina’s lines were merely tied to the dock. There were other free lines further down the pier, and since there was no other boat near ours, he simply untied the nearest line, yanked it closer to our spot, and retied it to the pier. Then he ran it out to our other bow cleat, made a few adjustments, and voila! we were secured.

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We join them for dinner that night on the quay in a park area where dozens of gaily lit vans known as les roulottes set up every evening offering food cooked to order. Tables and benches are set up, and lights are strung. Grills are set up for what cooking is not done in the vans. There’s a carnival atmosphere to the evening, and night after night, the place is packed with locals and tourists.

Monday, September 6th – In the afternoon, The Captain and Pascal head out to find batteries. Pascal has a truck which is a necessity since these battery places are located all over the city. Pascal’s English is very good. The Captain’s French is very poor. It is a good thing Pascal is along to explain the battery requirements. The search continues into Tuesday, but finally batteries are located that will fit. They are Bosch Heavy Duty batteries, not really designed for the deep cycle job needed on the boat, but with careful handling, they will work for us until we get to New Zealand in 3 months. 

Definition of a boat:  a hole in the water into which one throws money. We have just spent $2000 for batteries that we will have to replace in 3 short months!

Thing Unplanned # 2:  As we start anchoring in Cook’s Bay, The Captain presses the switch to activate the anchor windlass. Nothing happens. It will not work! When he cannot free the windlass with the winch handle, he is forced to lower the anchor and chain manually rusty link by rusty link. After 2 months of sitting in the damp anchor locker, the rust drops off the chain in chunks leaving a large orange-brown mess all over the bow of the boat.

Thing Unplanned # 3:  Brand-new salt water wash down pump, purchased at high cost 5 months ago in the Galapagos Islands, does not work! Frustration wells up, as The Captain is now forced to wash down the bow with bucket after heavy bucket of sea water. The labor, however, helps to diffuse his irritation.

Thing Unplanned # 4:  Relatively-new sump pump, installed in Mexico last March, is not working properly. Discovered while we are taking showers this evening, the pump started as it should to drain the water in the bilge but kept running continuously. What is going on? Floor boards are pulled to access the pump. The problem:  It is running, but it is not pumping water out of the bilge. The pump is set up to turn on when the bilge water reaches a certain level and to turn off when the water level drops to a certain level. Since no emptying is being accomplished, the pump just keeps on running.

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We are definitely not leaving for Huahine this afternoon. Hopefully, we will be able to do so tomorrow. The loss of the wash down pump is a nuisance. The sump pump can be worked around if necessary, but the loss of the anchor windlass is serious. We have a lot of anchoring ahead of us. In fact, we will be anchoring almost every night for the next 3 months. Either The Captain gets the anchor motor fixed or he is going to have the best set of shoulder and arm muscles he has ever possessed! “That might be interesting”, thinks The First Mate.

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On to the wash down pump which is also heavily corroded. The inside of the sail locker on the bow of the boat is no place for any motor, even if it is designed with the specs necessary for a salt water wash down pump or an anchor windlass. There is just too much salt water in that environment, and built-up dried salt and corrosion are inevitable, especially in a boat sitting idle as we have done to Avante. The wash down pump is disassembled. Inside the motor, it is heavily corroded and one of the magnets that operates the motor has come loose. It will not work and cannot be easily fixed. 

On to the sump pump which, to The Captain’s relief, was merely fouled with dried and hardened matter. It just needed to be cleaned.

Tactical decision:  The Captain remembers that in June he saw wash down pumps in a Papeete marine store. It is decided that we will return to Papeete to pick up a pump before proceeding on our trek across the Pacific. As it is too late to return today, we will remain in Cook’s Bay over the weekend and return to Papeete to be there when stores open first thing Monday morning. Tomorrow, we will rent a car to tour Moorea, which is something that The First Mate has been wishing to do. “Occasionally, something good can occur when things unplanned run amuck,” thinks The First Mate. 

We now decide to head ashore to pick up the carved fish we had commissioned last June. To our dismay, the fish carving shown us is not anything like the one we had commissioned! Though we are relieved to get our deposit returned without a squabble, both of us are deeply disappointed. For The First Mate, the quest for a Polynesian memento, preferably a carved fish, for Avante continues.

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Saturday, September 11th – Unlike the previous day, Saturday dawns grey and overcast with threatening rain showers. Not the most promising start to a touring venture, but we decide to rent the car anyway. With yesterday’s repairs completed as much as humanly possible, The Captain has cabin fever!

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We stop at the various maraes built along the hillside. They are the usual flat stone platforms we have seen many times on many islands since our arrival in the Marquesas, but two do stand out as definitely different. 

Sunday, September 12th – Another grey day dawns. We motor back to Papeete through intermittent light rain and back to the Quai des Yachts where we tie up next to our friends on Sula. Once again, one of our pick-up lines is missing. The one that should be ours is being used by a large tourist catamaran. Why are all these lines missing or broken? Herb on Sula gives us one of theirs since they had put down their anchor for extra security. Within minutes of being secured, rain pelts us in earnest driving all of us below deck for the rest of the afternoon.

Monday, September 13th – Another grey day dawns. The Captain hurries off to the marine store at 0730 intent upon buying a replacement salt water pump, installing it and returning to Cook’s Bay so we can once again be in position to leave for Huahine and get going on our cruising schedule. Alas, no luck! All the salt water pumps are gone, sold out, and none expected. Thing Unplanned # 3 will be sailing along with us to New Zealand!

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A storm is forecast for the evening, but we are not concerned as we are anchored well in a secure harbor. Relaxing after dinner, we note that winds have begun to rise. By 2100, winds in our sheltered harbor are 40 knots with gusts to 45. Where did all this come from? It is a Venturi Effect. Winds are being funneled down from the mountains across the harbor and out to sea.   

A sailboat makes a lot of noise, all the time, even when seemingly at rest and motionless. To The Captain’s irritation, The First Mate is acutely aware of all manner of noises on her boat. Some she can live with, and some she cannot — again to The Captain’s irritation since he is the one most often called upon, most often in the middle of the night, to trouble-shoot such noise. To her credit, she has become much better about noise. She accepts that things on a sailboat do groan and creak. Shrouds, lines and wires vibrate. Loose lines snap in the wind. Living on board, one soon learns the noise of one’s boat, and listening to the noise of one’s boat becomes something one does subconsciously. Unusual noise is a warning, and when a noise starts that is not part of one’s “noise vocabulary”, ears prick up. 

Thing Unplanned # 5:  (Enough already!)  At 2100 with that wind clocking in at 45 knots, our attention is alerted by a sound we do not recognize. As we try to pinpoint its source, we feel an unusual tugging on the boat. Heading topside, in the dim light, we see a wild shadowy-white flapping at the bow. The Captain races forward to inspect. The jib has come partly unfurled and the sheets (ropes) that normally wrap around the jib keeping it tied up have tightly knotted about 12 feet up the forestay. Like some kind of ghostly figure in the time light, the upper and lower part of the jib are unfurled and filling in the wind. They are cinched in the middle by the tightened sheets. In the ferocious wind, they are causing Avante to careen from one side of her anchor chain to the other. We are sailing at anchor, and the force is causing the anchor to start dragging. While The Captain lets out more chain, The First Mate quickly starts the engine to motor Avante slowly into the wind and reduce the pressure and pull on the anchor. 

Both The Captain and The First Mate have a fight on their hands. The Captain cannot lower the sail due to the pressure of the wind on the sail and that tight knot partway up the forestay. He cannot untie the sheets, for there is too much strain on the knot. At the helm, The First Mate finds it difficult to see in the wind and rain. With very few lights on land and only anchor lights pinpointing the dim forms of other boats in the harbor, it is hard to get one’s orientation. Thankfully, we were anchored far enough out so that we do not have many boats around us, though there is one large boat off to port that we are now nearer. There is also a light marking a reef located out there in the dark directly behind us. The large boat to port and the reef behind are now on The First Mate’s personal radar while she dances a wild tango with the wind.  Enough power has to be applied to hold Avante in position relative to the anchor, but not so much power that she is moving forward to potentially overrun the anchor. When a strong gust of 45 knots catches that partially opened sail, the engine has to be revved up higher than The First Mate has ever put it and even then, it most often is not enough to keep Avante from whiplashing across the bay at the end of her anchor rope. 

We are in an impossible mess. The jib is being beaten to death in the wind, and parts of the sail appear to be tearing and flying off of it. Fear crosses The First Mate’s mind that The Captain could get hit, cut or knocked out by flying rope and metal up there. What would or could she do then? Bunched sail, hurt Captain … it makes no difference, for she is stuck at the helm struggling with the engine in the wind. Even if she did radio for help, no dinghy could ever get near us in these seas with Avante careening about so. Will this ever end? Are we going to be at this until daylight? 

We wrestle our individual battles for almost an hour until a sudden brief lull in the wind relaxes the pressure on the sail, and The Captain is able to start lowering the sail. He hauls the whole thing down and lashes it in place on deck. Catching our breath and our wits, we remain on deck a long while making sure the anchor is holding. Without the sail propelling us through the water, the anchor is holding just fine, but the winds remain strong, gusting well into the 40’s, until early in the morning. A sound sleep is only a wish.

In the morning, The Captain inspects the sail. Is it mendable or not? Though The First Mate knows it is not wise to voice such a thought, she really cannot imagine how it could be mendable. Such a beating that sail took! She remembers seeing what looked like white parts of sail flying off the boat. To her surprise, The Captain declares it to be mendable!

Captain’s Log:  “The leech line cover has almost completely torn off. The UV Cover has come unstitched in several places, and the fabric along the foot of the sail has torn. The basic sail is intact. All the damage is from the sun-rotted threads breaking or coming loose. Clearly we need to go back to Papeete and take it to a sailmaker to be repaired.”  He calls Pascal in Papeete who contacts a sail shop. They can do the work, and to our relief, they say they can do it within the next few days.  

Tuesday, September 14th – 0850 – Guess where we’re heading? Feeling like dogs dragging their tails between their legs and with one of those cursed rainclouds over our heads, we motor back to Papeete. By now, Avante should be able to do this alone without our assistance!

Over the years, The First Mate has frankly described her many learning snafus aboard Avante, and early on she discovered that no matter had badly she did, there’s was always someone out there doing worse. Small consolation, but it has helped at times, especially when facing The Captain’s exasperated, unbelieving looks. Such is the case here at the Quai Des Yachts where she has watched boats from all over the world, who should have some experience with the wiliness of Mediterranean mooring, make disastrous messes of the operation. Her observations have shown her why and how so many of the pick-up lines are cut or missing. It is the wind which blows frequently through this harbor that causes most of the problems by catching and pushing a boat askew at a time when there is neither room nor time to power up to counter the push. The First Mate saw one woman unable to release the last mooring line when it was pulled too taut by the boat being pushed sideways off the dock. The First Mate had jumped off Avante to try to help, but there was nothing she could do. Screaming to her partner who was trying to move counter to the wind without pulling completely away from the dock, all that poor woman could do was duck out of the way hoping the pick-up line did not whiplash her when it finally snapped. Snap it did, and with the lessened tension, the port corner of the stern narrowly missed smashing on the dock. Another time both The Captain, The First Mate and a man from another boat rushed to help a boat that had gotten so pushed askew that it was now lying flat against the pier, 90 degrees off its desired docking position. It was a good thing other boats were not near. The 2 men on the boat grabbed a mooring line, wrapped it around a winch at the bow and attempted to winch the boat away from the dock and out into the middle of the fairway. These 2 men were so intent on what they were doing at the bow that they failed to monitor what was happening behind them between the boat and the dock. If it were not for the 3 of us pushing their boat off the dock and pulling and lifting their dinghy, hanging from its davits at the stern of the boat, they would have badly ripped their dinghy and taken out one of the marina’s electrical boxes. Given the sophistication of all things electrical in this almost third world city, probably half the city’s power grid would have been taken out with it! Unbeknown to us, they had a second pick-up line on their boat but had forgotten about it. As the boat was winched away from the dock, this line tightened. Our attempts to get their attention failed, and in the end, all we could do was back away and watch another line snap. Such is the sad life of a line here at the Quai Des Yachts, and though The First Mate’s docking attempts have not all gone smoothly, she is pleased to say that she has never snapped a dock line!

Later that afternoon, our sail is picked up by the sail shop. They will let us know their verdict tomorrow and will work on the sail as soon as it dries. 

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Wednesday, September 15th – Rain all day! We stay on the boat working on projects. The First Mate makes a trip to the local market to buy the fixings for a fish chowder. When the fish monger adds another fish to the amount already purchased, The First Mate decides to invite Betty and Herb for dinner. Betty brings along some absolutely delicious, gooey fudge brownies, and we have a fun evening in the coziness of Avante with the rain pelting away above our heads!

Over the next few days, we keep ourselves busy. The sailmaker confirms that the sail is in decent shape and can be repaired fairly easily. We had hoped our sail would be ready by Friday and are disheartened to be told it will not be ready until late Monday. Our few days of sail repair have turned into a week’s delay. We learn that our quick return to Papeete and our even quicker contact with the sail maker did save us a few days, for we were not the only sailboat with a damaged sail the night of that storm. Our sail maker now has a full schedule, but fortunately, we’re at the head of it.

During this period, The Captain manages to get the wash down pump working again. However, he does not give the fix much hope of lasting very long. For a pump to be so corroded after only for 5 months of use is horrible. We will not be buying any more pumps from that manufacturer if we can help it!

A weekend plan to rent a car to drive around the island is foiled by heavy rain all morning, but in between rain showers, we do get out and walk the city. Our legs and minds need to be stretched! Sad to say, Papeete really is not a very pretty city, and we are beginning to learn that, like much of the South Pacific, it is not drawing the tourists that it used to in the past. This has been a growing trend over many years and not a result of the current world economy which, of course, is not helping things. We probably would have a far different view of the city, of Tahiti and even of Moorea if we had come as tourists and stayed in a high-end resort where one is coddled and careful orchestration goes into what one sees and does not see. Living on a boat “parked” right there along what might be called Main Street gives one a different view. Trekking along the back streets and side streets in search of laundromats, marine stores and other sundry vendors shows a Papeete that the average tourist does not see. Still there are some picturesque sites, and we did manage to capture a few in the many days we were there.

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Tuesday, September 21st – Sail was finished on schedule late Monday, but the sailmaker could not bring it back to the dock then. It arrived first thing Tuesday morning and is promptly installed and furled. The Captain checks out with the authorities, and we are ready to go. We will leave after lunch, for this will be a short overnight passage. Not wishing to tempt fate, we have decided not to go back to Moorea but to leave directly for Huahine from the Quai Des Yachts in Papeete. Forget all this stuff about positioning ourselves in Cook’s Bay, for that delightful bay has not brought us good luck. Though both The Captain and The First Mate are well aware that Thing Unplanned # 6 is waiting out there somewhere (this is a boat, remember?), we sure would like to get a few miles down the ocean road before it strikes.

1440 – Turned on engine, untied those silly docking lines and motored out the Passe de Papeete.

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1530 – Turned off engine, raised sails and, under sunny skies, we headed northwest to the Society Island of Huahine.