French Polynesia, Gambier Islands, 08-04-15

After yet another week long passage we finally arrived in the Gambier. Unlike the other island groups in French Pol that we've seen, this one is just a few Islands all huddled together. The Tuamotus and the Society Islands are spread out over massive areas, but here the islands are all in one place. You can pick which one you feel like anchoring at each day, just ducking round the corner if the wind changes or you want a change of scenery.


Another sunset under way


Approaching the Gambiers

We pulled up next to the island closest to the pass when we came in. There were two boats already nestled in a little bay between the main island and another tiny island but our charts all said it was too shallow for us to venture in. We were losing the sunshine and didn't want to run aground quite so soon, so we went past them to the other side to look for some sand. We eventually found a patch and as we turned the engine down to drop the anchor we heard our name on the radio. We hadn't heard anything on channel 16 for weeks and didn't even have the cockpit speakers turned on. The mysterious callers were friends with Mark and Liesbet on Irie, who had emailed them so we'd have some friendly faces when we arrived. They'd been calling us since we came through the pass, ready to hand out waypoints that would lead us safely into the bay. Doh! We stayed put seeing as the day was getting on and it was incredibly calm, but Birgit and Christian informed us that there had been breaking waves in our anchorage a few days earlier and that the water was never calm enough to hang around where we were. We lucked out because the water was completely glassy.



We were rewarded for our nautical adventures with a beautiful full moon that night. It was so bright that it felt like it was day time we I was sitting out in the cockpit. I had to change the settings on the camera to take a picture. But I was trying to make it darker instead of lighter like you normally would at night. No matter what I did it still looked like it was day time and the moon still looked like the sun.


11pm and it looks like daytime

Our new neighbours came to visit us the next morning, accompanied by a tray of fresh fruit. Fruit! They were both so lovely and welcoming, which was amazing after the month we'd had getting there from Tahiti. After we spent some time tidying up they led us in a convoy to the outer reef so we could go snorkelling. It was ridiculously calm. Christian and Birgit told us that over the whole cyclone season it had only been calm enough for them to get out there once before.





It was so much fun swimming in amongst real coral again! We've had a great time swimming in the crystal clear waters of French Polynesia, but the coral has all been the same. It's mostly scattered coral heads littered with reeds. There was a solid reef here though, littered with gorgonian fans and other interesting corals. There wasn't an abundance of aquatic life, but we did find lots and lots of brightly coloured parrot fish. They don't usually let you examine them up close for very long as a general rule but these ones were fat and friendly, ignoring us completely as they munched away on the coral.




Pretty little parrot fish

We also came across two white-tipped reef sharks and neither of them seemed too bothered by us. The second one showed up as everybody was climbing back into the dinghy and I was the only one with my head in the water. The others were above the surface discussing our previous sharky friend and so didn't really catch on that we were being circled by another one when I yelled out 'Shark!' This meant that by the time they figured it out and replaced their masks he was already gone. I hate being alone in the water with sharks and I'm glad he wasn't too interested in us.


They always want to play with Garth

So we had a lovely swim. In the end we didn't get to take in any of the other beautiful snorkeling spots the Gambiers are famous for, so I was really grateful for the escort out there. We would have had no idea where to go. After we got both boats organised, Christian and Birgit led us to another anchorage on the other side of the island we'd been behind the night before. It was a little bit rolly but we were so happy not to be enroute to somewhere that we thoroughly enjoyed throwing the anchor down and chilling out. They had us over for dinner that night, as well as every single night over the last week. It took us so long to organise the boat after all our passages that by the time we had it tidy and ready to receive guests, it was time to go again. Unfortunately Birgit wasn't feeling well on our last night anchored away from the town and we didn't get to repay their hospitality. But we felt thoroughly spoiled the entire time we were there.



The next day we did some boat work before following Christian and Birgit out to the next bay over. There were quite a few boats there already but everybody was so friendly. Birgit said there were only a few boats in the Gambier for the entire cyclone season (I think she said eight), so they've got a nice little cruising community here. Everybody knows everybody.

That evening the fun continued with a BBQ on the beach. We were joined by a nice German guy on a catamaran and a young guy called Jan, who has sailed his tiny boat across the Pacific all on his own. He's the first person we've met on a smaller boat than ours. Its really tiny for a liveaboard, 28 feet I think. His boat is also the first we've encountered that was designed by Bianca as well, just like ours. It has a similiar racey feel to it but is much smaller. It rocks back and forth like a dinghy if you move from one side to the other, which means he gets absolutely slammed by waves as well as from the wake as other boats zip past.




It was a lot of fun to just head over to the beach and light a fire. We sat around until quite late in the evening, drinking and being social. Birgit even made stick bread to put over the fire. I've never encountered anything like it before but Garth was quite familiar with the concept. We each got a stick and wrapped our bit of dough around the end of it in a spiral pattern. Then the stick went over the fire as if there were a marshmallow on the end. It quickly went crispy and golden on the outside and was an amazing addition to our dinner. I wish we could cook more things on sticks over fires.


Stick bread!

The only thing I didn't love about the beach were the centipedes. We rocked up bare-footed like we always do, to the surprise of everybody there. Apparantly there's centipedes everywhere in the bushes. I had a brief brush with one when we were building our dinghy on the dock in Bora Bora, but it was quickly destroyed and forgotten about. I did not love the idea that the mat we were sitting on could at any time be overrun by dangerous bitey things with lots of tiny legs. Luckily Birgit has a keen eye for the little buggers and she both spotted then removed a few babies from our circle before they bothered anybody.



We were also shocked to find out that it was Easter. How on earth did that happen? We had absolutely no idea. Our new German friend passed around chocolate to celebrate the holiday, which was more than welcome. He also supplied us with some fresh pamplemousse juice which was absolutely amazing. I'd only just tried my first Pamplemousse in Hao when our French neighbours on the dock next to us handed one over as a parting gift. The're giant, sweet grapefruit and they're as big as a small melon. In France i'm sure a pamplemousse is just a regular grapefruit, but here in French Polynesia they're giant and awesome. I hadn't even thought to juice it before and now I'm really disappointed that I've missed out on them the whole time we've been here. Every single house has a tree laden with the fruit. Both Juan and Birgit said that to get free pamplemousse in French Polynesia all you have to do is compliment somebody on their beautiful tree. The people here are so nice that they then force you to take some of the fruit. If only my French was better I could try this out.

We moved to another anchorage the next day. You really don't have to go far here to be surrounded by completely different scenery. There's so many bays and they're all gorgeous. This next anchorage was around the corner from where we spent our first night. There was a shallow channel in between two islands where the wind was funneling through, which was nice for our wind generator. It would have been a lovely spot to go kiting but the wind died by the time we wanted to give it a go.



There was a nice house with a concrete dock to tie up to nearby. Christian and Birgit know the owners, who were on holiday for a while. So we were able to go ashore to try and find a path up the mountain for a nice view. The Gambier used to be heavily populated, with thousands of people living on the island we were trekking over. I think Birgit said there's only something like four people living there now. All the houses are long gone but some of the tracks remained. They led us through the forest over an invisible path - there was no way in hell we would have been able to find the way on our own. All the mountains here are populated with pine trees, which is really bizarre. It was like stepping into another world. One minute we were climbing through soggy dirt in amongst the tangled roots of old trees and stepping over rotting coconuts, and the next we were engulfed by the unmistakble scent of pine trees as we made our way over all the needles scattered on the ground.

We headed up and up, clinging onto trees as we tried not to slip over on the nasty combination of soft dirt and loose pine needles. We eventually made it to a ridge where we had a nice view of the Gambier islands and the water down below. But the sun had run away so it wasn't exactly picture perfect. Birgit suggested we wait for the sun to come back, but the boys disappeared into the woods like a couple of mountain goats. Garth found some animal tracks leading up the mountain, so up we went. The reeds we were walking through were deadly, slicing through your hand if you slipped and grabbed for them. They whipped at our arms and legs as well, leaving me covered in tiny cuts. We had been warned about them though so at least I wasn't surprised. Birgit and Christian had obviously done this before. They came prepared with a machette to hack the path and a lemon to squeeze onto Garth's hand when he got bitten by a paper wasp. Four months surrounded by the cheeky little buggers and that was our first attack. I think we got off pretty lightly... probably because I'm not the one who got bitten.



The goat tracks through the reeds were annoying. Because the wild goats are goat height, their paths were little tunnels through the reeds instead of sensible human sized paths. We got down on all fours to crawl through them, which made life a lot easier. Eventually the path disappeared completely and we were left with some tricky steep bits of soft dirt to clamber up and some big rocks to scale. I would have ended up at the bottom of the mountain a few times if Christian hadn't caught me.




But we finally made it to the top, and the view was well worth the hike. It's been ages since we've made it up a mountain! The last one was probably in Moorea, but we didn't really hike up it. The view is always more rewarding if the walk is a bit of a mission. We all hung out taking pictures of the pretty islands for a while before trekking back down, tired but triumphiant.




I stole this one of all of us from Birgit 

When we got to the bottom again we spent some time raiding the garden that belonged to the house. Because the owners were on holiday and Christian and Birgit knew them we weren't bothering anybody. Their garden was huge. There were several big lemon trees all heavily laden with fruit and we each gathered bags of lemons from off the ground to make lemonade with. Christian found a big pole to knock some green papayas down and I stood at the bottom with Birgit trying to catch them. They also cut down some green plantains to share with us and we all got into the green coconuts. I even managed to score the only ripe breadfruit, which i acquired by sitting on Garth's shoulders.


Our anchorage from the top of the mountain. You can just make out the house next to the water

I was interesting to see how these two seasoned cruisers did things. They've been living aboard for a long time and have systems in place to make life as easy as possible. They do washing every morning in the water from their shower the night before (everybody out here washes in the ocean and rinses the salt water off with fresh, so it's essentially fresh water that would otherwise go to waste). They bake fresh bread every morning. And they collect coconuts by taking a machete, a spoon and a heap of jars to shore and getting stuck in. The water gets poured into a jar to drink later. The jelly gets scooped out and saved to cook with in leu of coconut milk. And the bits of husk and shell get left on shore while Birgit and Christian escape back to the boat with nothing but a few jars. All this time I've been dragging coconuts back to the boat and making a slow mess in the cockpit, for fear of cutting the boat. It obviously makes more sense to deal with all the mess away from the boat!

We've been seeing things like plantains and breadfruit all the way across the South Pacific, but had never tried to cook with them. I hate bananas and no matter how many people tell me that they're not the same as plantains it's hard to believe when they look so banana-y. Neither of us is too fond of papaya either, so we've avoided those as well. But Birgit and Christian had us over for dinner yet again that night and made a curry from the green papaya, plantains and the coconut jelly. And it was delicious! They explained that whilst green, both can be used as generic vegetables in pretty much anything. Birgit fried up some plantain chips as well, which were also amazing. So now we're a lot less scared to cook papaya and plantains at least. I even had a go at cooking breadfruit for the first time after they told me how to figure out if it was ripe. I cut up and boiled the whole thing like Mark and Liesbet had told me to and now we're putting it in pretty much everything. So that was exciting, both because we learned a lot and because we had fresh food again for the first time in a long time.

They told us that we could go round to the village where we anchored the first night to get vegetables. For $10 the lady there sells mixed bags of whatever fruit and veges she has to cruisers. I absolutely loved the idea of just being handed a bag of unknown produce and putting it to use. But unfortunately we didn't have time. After two days in that beautiful spot the weather started looking promising for us to leave, so we had to say our goodbyes to our new friends and head over to the town to stock up for our big passage. Eep!

Xxx Monique

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French Polynesia, Tuamotus, Hao to the Gambiers - 01/04/15

It took us six days, but we eventually made it the 270 miles to Hao. We gave in and motored the last 17 miles, because it only took 3 1/2 hours. If we'd kept "sailing" it would have taken 12 to 20 hours to go that last little bit, and we'd had enough.

The pass was exciting. Despite there being no wind we could see standing waves in the middle of the channel. Not good. Again we had no idea what the tide was doing or when the best time to go through was, so we just went for it. Usually when we're approaching a pass that Garth's not sure about he says things like "Don't worry, it's not dangerous," "Look, there's plenty of room," and "We'll be fine." This time he was saying things like "Shut all the hatches," "Put in the washboards," "Be prepared to get really wet," and finally "Hold on tight." This was not promising. Usually as we head in he assures me that everything is under control. This time as we were pulled into the swirling mess of waves he said "I don't think we're going to make it through."

We got swept up in the waves and I turned around to see that we were completely surrounded by walls of water. We were being pushed through the pass by the waves behind us but our progress was being hampered by the swirling mess of currents in front of us. I'm glad Garth knew what he was doing, because I saw no way for us to safely turn around. He again assured me that if it all went wrong it would still be safe, just not dry. My job was to focus on a point on the shore in order to confirm that we were still moving forward. We slowly made our way through at under 1 knot, until we were through the worst of it and the land slowly started moving past at a normal speed. Phew!





The atoll of Hao used to be a big navy base, so there's a lot of disused navy things everywhere. Which is fabulous, because there was a big concrete dock just lying around not being used, waiting for us to tie up to for free. There was already another boat there with an adorable little kid and a lovely couple onboard. They helped us tie up then had us over for appetizers, which became our dinner. After such an unexpectedly long passage there was no way we were cooking. Amilee and Dejay were visiting from Raiatea for a few months so Amilee could fill in as a teacher on Hao. They were wonderful company, filling us with wine and food. They even sent us home with a giant pamplmouse from their garden in Raiatea, which was delicious. Neither of us ever feels like socialising immediately after a passage, but we had such a nice time with these friendly people. We don't meet people very often and it's always nice to be in good company.





Dejay filled us in on his own run through the pass, which was similar to ours. He strapped himself in and wrapped up in a life jacket as he got close to the reef and expected the worst. He had more trouble than we did, as he was afraid of the engine overheating from running it so hard for so long to get through the current. I'm so grateful that ours is new and tough. Their boat made me ridiculously jealous though - it's the same length as ours except it's 1m wider, which made it feel twice as roomy as our racey little thing.





Because we had a dock right next to us, we took out the bikes for some on-land exploration. Boy do they make life easier! It was wonderful being on the dock and we could ride along the sea wall straight off the boat, eventually connecting with a road. The concrete roads are all flat and empty which was perfect for bike riding. In fact we didn't see many cars in town at all, just pushbikes. When we were riding along we saw a little boy playing with his tricycle outside his house. He left the bike on its side in the middle of the road to go inside and play with his dog before returning a few minutes later. Nobody cared. The streets were busy, but everybody just went around. There's not many places where you can leave a bike in the middle of the road on its own knowing it will be okay.





It was a bit strange biking along the Motu. It's the narrowest one we've been on, with a beach on one side of us and houses along the waterfront on the other. It's crazy to think that you could cross a whole island just by crossing the road.



We left early to get fresh baguettes at the recommendation of our neighbours. We went past countless people heading back the way we'd come from, all carrying fresh bread. So we knew we were going the right way. We went to the wrong shop at first, where my broken French was useless (which is frustrating because I know the word for bread!) We were eventually pointed towards another shop which had people lined up out the door. That was the one! We had to wait in line for ages for more bread to come over in a big bin, straight from the oven. It was distributed quickly amongst the waiting crowd and we all walked out with more than we could carry, leaving the bin empty again. This was the best bread we've found in all of French Polynesia. It was soft and fluffy inside, light and crisp on the outside. I wished I'd taken more than 4 after we devoured a whole one on the way home.


The centre of town, taken from outside the post office




Sunset from Hao

We planned on staying in Hao for a few days, resting up and then taking off again to the Gambier. We stayed one day. This obviously made me unhappy. But Garth was adamant that we wouldn't have a good weather window for another week, so away we went. We made good speed for about half a day before the wind died off and we were left bobbing along at 1 - 2 knots. So much for our weather window. We had even gone to shore to get internet, downloaded grib files on the tablet which we transferred onto the laptop, which we needed to run the engine to charge in order to get the most accurate forecast possible. We should know by now that the weather forecasts for French Polynesia are never going to be right.





So we're taking another week to go another 300 miles. We've spent the past three weeks sailing almost nonstop. While incredibly boring it's at least slightly promising that we haven't gone crazy, because if we'd gone at a normal speed and in the right direction we'd be a lot closer to Panama than French Pol by now. At least we've been eating like kings on this passage. We're hardly moving and the seas are calm, so over the last few days we've made focaccia, chocolate pudding and a cold noodle salad (salads are usually the hardest because chopping up little bits and pieces is impossible when the boat is all over the place). So the food situation is good, even though the sailing situation is not going well.


More sunsets on the way to the Gambiers



Xxx Monique

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Passage to panama

Hello! We haven't had any internet for ages. We've come to town today to restock our provisions and refill our water, but don't have enough time left to upload the blog posts from Hao and the Gambier, where we are now.

We were going to stay a while but if we leave today the weather might actually be good enough for us to stop at Pitcairn island, which it rarely is. So we're off! Dale will be updating our location on the spot tracker site (the 'where the hell are we' tab up the top) until we're in range of satellites again and it can do it on its own.

It will probably take around 6 weeks for us to get to Panama, so we'll see you on the other side!

Here's the view from a mountain we climbed in the Gambiers



Xxx Monique

French Pol, Tuamotus, Fakarava South to Hao, 25-03-15

We're back at sea again, which is ridiculous. Actually, it's ridiculous that we can still see the same island that we went past yesterday. This is because we're not moving. Actually, that's not true. For a while we were going backwards at 0.5 knots, and earlier today we were just spinning slowly around in circles over a glassy sea. It feels like we'll never get to Hao. It's 270 miles from Fakarava, which would ideally take 2 to 3 days. But not for us. It looks like this trip will take at least a week.



We did get to go for a swim yesterday though, which was nice. It was the first time I haven't been scared swimming in 3000m of water, because the boat wasn't going to wander off and leave me if I let go. In fact, I could have swum circles around it if I'd wanted to - it was just sitting there as if it were at anchor. When Garth got in the water he tried to push us along by kicking as hard as he could, but the old girl wouldn't budge.




Sunrise

Sunset

It really is like another world out here in the Tuamotus. There's nowhere to get water from - everybody has a water tank. You collect your own. There's no taps and no communal water. There's no bins to throw rubbish into - you light a fire and burn it in your backyard.  So we've been seperating out our rubbish into stuff we can throw overboard, cardboard that we can burn at sea, and plastic. Today we chucked out the bag of stuff for the ocean, which was really exciting. We had tins and glass bottles and other biodegradable stuff which we always throw away at sea but will end up on the beach if we're close to shore. So with no rubbish bins we've had to save them at anchor. Today we filled them all up with water and dropped them in. They reflected the light, so we just watched each shiny thing sink further and further down into the depths. Eventually, after at least a minute of watching them sink, they didn't disappear. The dots just got so far away that they shrunk into something we couldn't see without binoculars. It's crazy how clear the water is. 

We spent two more nights at Fakarava before heading out to sea again. We headed towards the southern pass, which was 27 miles away, but we stopped about halfway down the Fakarava lagoon when the sky got cloudy again. We didn't want to navigate through coral heads if we couldn't see them. We found a nice anchorage tucked in next to a cute little sandy beach that was easy enough to get into. The wind howled all night, but we awoke the next morning to a bright blue sky spread out above us and beautiful morning light shining on our bed through the hatch. It was lovely! The turquoise water was so bright it hurt to look at it, and a white beach lined with palm trees was spread out in front of us. We had to wait for some washing to dry, so went to shore for a bit of exploration.







There was a small house hidden in amongst the trees, so we wandered off in the other direction. The islands in the Tuamotus are flat with nothing to break up the skyline other than the palm trees. They land is made up of coral and sand, so I guess not much else will grow here naturally. The beach was covered in washed up coral, which was piled high a bit further back from the water. There were actually quite a few pretty shells in amongst all the bits of broken and sun bleached coral that we're so used to seeing. Perhaps because there's a lot of beach here and not many people to collect the shells for jewelry. There's probably the same amount of people living here as there are on the tiny island of Maupiti, but this atoll is a lot bigger so the houses are a lot more spread out.









We eventually made it to the southern anchorage that afternoon, weaving our way in amongst reefs and coral heads to find a nice spot where we could drop the anchor. We've had a few incidents with the anchor getting stuck and I'm terrified that one day we won't be able to get it back. With no dive gear onboard and no other boats around, we always try to find a spot that's shallow enough for us to swim down and sort it out if we have to. Which can be a lot more difficult to manage around all these motus, which always seem to be surrounded by scattered patches of coral just close enough together that we can't fit in between.



Unfortunately for us, our timing was off yet again. Even though there was very little wind the current in the pass can still get quite strong. For snorkelling purposes we had to time our trip over to the pass on an incoming tide so we wouldn't get swept out to sea. The visibility is only really good at slack tide (when it's dead calm as the tide changes), so we wanted to go snorkelling on the slack tide just as it changed to incoming. But we had to leave the next day and to get through the pass we also wanted to head out on the slack tide. Problem. We ended up going snorkelling just before slack tide and leaving just after, which was safest but not ideal. It meant that the water was cloudy when we were swimming and very clear as we sailed out, but such is life.


Looking back at the reef from inside the pass



Just getting over to the pass was a mission in itself, as there was a huge reef in between our anchorage and where we were heading. I'd read that you couldn't take a shortcut across the reef and had to go all the way round (2 miles). We ignored this information. With our very shallow draft and the outboard lifted almost all the way out of the water, we made a beeline for the reef. Eventually we pulled the motor up completely and rowed until our very shallow draft didn't cut it any more and we became stuck on the reef. Not to worry... we both just shifted our weight onto the same side of the boat so we heeled over and were away again. I love our dinghy. It was a really beautiful day and I couldn't help thinking how lovely it would be to sail around in the shallows. I can't wait until we find a mast to get it sailing!





There are supposed to be countless numbers of sharks swimming around in the pass and we were only slightly disappointed. We couldn't see them very well in the cloudy water but we were definitely swimming in amongst some monsters. They were slightly more threatening than the cuddly chums we made friends with in Moorea, but I was a lot less afraid of them after already being so close to so many. They were all hanging around on the edge of the drop off into the main section of the pass, as they normally do. But there were lots of other interesting things just inside the ledge as well. We swam through huge schools of fish who entertained me immensely. They were a kind I hadn't seen before, with a pointy horn on the front of their faces like a unicorn. We also found the biggest Napoleon Wrasse we'd ever seen as well, just hanging out with the sharks. He must have been way too big to be of any interest to the sharks.





The sharks mostly stayed in the deep water, except for one rogue who followed me into the shallows. Garth had already abandoned me to get the dinghy started and I was left floating in the water with a huge shark circling me. At first he didn't seem that interested, but just as I started to breathe again he turned around and headed straight for me. Garth chose that moment to start the engine and play the 'I'm leaving without you' game. As soon as the engine noise blasted through the water, the shark turned and fled. I'm sure he was just coming over to say hi, but I was grateful for Garth's childish games.



Leaving through the pass was slightly scary. Garth has recently discovered that he needs to give me something to focus on so I can't freak out about scary things. So he was on the bow directing us and I was at the wheel steering. This meant that I couldn't look down at the water until after we were safely in the channel and Garth had the wheel again. This was just as well, because the water was crystal clear. Perfect for snorkelling. But I could vividly see every bit of coral and rock underneath us through 6m of water, which was seriously unsettling.





So here we are again. Sailing seriously slowly towards our destination. I've never been sailing in such little wind for such a long period of time, but here we are. We won't die of starvation because the boat is overloaded with food, but we may be here a while...

Xxx Monique

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French Pol, Tuamotus, Tahiti - Fakarava North 19-03-15

We're finally in the Tuamotus! Fakarava to be exact, which is on the northern end of the island group. It's not exactly a tropical paradise right now, though it's certainly tropical. The weather keeps jumping between torrential rain and gusty wind, unable to find a happy middle ground. The passage here was supposed to take two and a half days and the weather along the way was supposed to be 20-30 knots. Like everything we do, this did not go to plan. We didn't check the weather properly before we left, keeping an eye on the Tahiti area and not managing to find time to check the Tuamotus as well. The weather reports here are so innacurate it probably wouldn't have mattered anyway. We did know we were in for a bit of wind and rain, but expected it to pass quickly as it always does.

We had a nice day of sailing when we left Tahiti, with about 20 knots of solid wind helping us along. Then on the second day it picked up to 30 knots and the rain started. Torrential rain. We couldn't see a thing. We tried to keep a good look out like we always do, but eventually resigned ourselves to the fact that it was useless. We'd stick our heads up into the darkness with rain pelting down all around and we couldn't see more than a few metres around the boat. The waves got bigger. The rain got harder. And then the wind got stronger. I was very glad to have the AIS keeping an eye on anything lurking in the dark.

The Tuamotus can be quite dangerous - they are made up of about 40 atolls, all surrounded by reef. The passes to get inside the reefs are often dangerous and have to be done in the right weather at the right time. Then once you're inside the lagoon you need good visibility to be able to watch for coral heads reaching up from the bottom, just waiting for you to crash into them. So we couldn't enter in the dark, or in the rain, or in strong winds.

We were hoping to make it to our destination by the third day but the weather wasn't agreeing with us at all. We went from flying along at 7 knots to hardly making any ground at all, getting tossed around like a cork as the sea got bigger and bigger. About 20 miles out from our destination we gave in to the fact that we weren't going to arrive before dark. We pulled in the headsail, added a second reef to the main to make the sail as small as possible, and waited. The wind picked up to at least 40 knots and we got absolutely hammered, sailing back and forth all night long as we waited for the storm to pass.

I haven't been so scared since our first horrible trip up the coast of New Zealand with our brand new boat, almost two years ago. If feels like a million years have passed. Our first passage all alone. Our first, second, third and fourth storms. Our first lesson in the importance of securing and waterproofing. But it was also the last time I've been in such big seas or such massive swells - we've been spoiled with relatively good weather ever since. Like on that nasty passage, this time we again spent more time underneath the waves than on top of them, with water constantly crashing down on top of us. Neither of us could sleep properly, lying in a wet bed and constantly being woken by the crushing noise of a ton of water landing on top of us. The boat creaked and groaned. Coupled with the constant crashing, it sounded like it was being beaten up. The poor thing was crying.

The swell was huge, and steep. We were sailing back and forth with the wind hitting us on the beam, so we were side on to the waves. Sitting in the cockpit I would watch them approach, towering up above me. Then all I could do was hold on as we fell down with them, tipping sideways and landing in the trough with a mass of water landing on top of us. It was like a horrifying rollercoaster ride. Everything got ripped to shreds as the storm passed over us and I spent that night terrified that there would be nothing left after the rain cleared and we could see again. Our spare water jugs along the lifelines got ripped away from where they were tied on. There was still a rope attaching them to the deck, but they weren't as secure as they had been before. Every wave that smashed over them shuffled them around, making a huge racket downstairs. We lept over the waves before slamming down again, which lifted the jugs up a little and thumped them back on the deck. One of our gas bottles got ripped away from where it was mounted at the back of the cockpit. We didn't lose it (we had two seperate ropes holding it on, so it was still attached to the boat) but i was terrified that it would be washed away when I heard it come loose. We almost lost the outboard. I popped up to check on the situation after hearing a brand new noise and found it balancing over the water at the back of the boat, caught by our windvane steering. Our windgen refused to work because there was too much wind. It would start up but then stop itself immediately - I don't think it could handle going that fast. Multiple times the solar panel was flung up vertically as the wind got underneath it, which left it vulnerable to attacks from the windgen.

So we had a scary night. The boat was a mess, but one thing I can say was that it was a lot more secure than normal. Our lounge is completely filled with boxes of food ready for our time in the Tuamotus and our trip to Panama, but nothing much made it onto the floor. We had the cushions from the cockpit strewn around, but all the bits and pieces from around the boat mostly stayed where they were meant to be. Except for the navstation and the cupboard next to it, which are both next on my list to sort out anyway.

The other redeeming factor from this shitty passage was that I wasn't sick. Not even queasy, let alone hanging onto the boat with my head over the side, steering upwind with my foot as Garth is being flung around on the bow while he tries to launch our storm sail (which is the scene you would have come across had you witnessed our last big storm in NZ). I hope I'm just more used to the boat now, which is probably at least partly true. But i suspect it's the liquid sturgeon Liesbet passed along to me. I can only take a little bit at a time but I can take it often and the liquid works fast. So thank goodness I've finally found a seasickness remedy that works!

I think one of the only things that keeps people sailing after horrible passages like this is having a short memory. When you're wet and cold and hungry being tossed around in huge seas with the wind knocking the rigging around, you just want out. You want to go home to a house, drive your car to the store then sit in a bubble bath with a glass of wine and a cheese platter. You want to be anywhere else but trapped in a storm in the middle of the ocean. But once you're dry, the sun is out and you've slept and been fed, it doesn't seem so bad. The longer you're comfortable and happy, the further away that horrible passage seems. Its a beautiful day and you're surrounded by turquoise water. What storm? What horrible nightmare? It becomes less and less memorable until it's just a distant blur in the whole sailing experience. Then you go and do it all again, and the words "I HATE THIS BOAT" can be heard over the howling wind, as something breaks at the same time as we're soaked by a massive wave, and whatever Garth was holding goes flying out of his hand and sinks to the bottom of the ocean.

Coming through the pass at Fakarava was a little frightening, although only in hindsight. You're supposed to go through the passes at the right tide (you should enter at slack tide just before it starts coming in. Or if that's not possible, anything except the outgoing tide). The current inside the pass can get really strong so if the water is flowing against you, you can get into trouble if there's no room to turn around. You have to head into it at full speed to give yourself as much control as possible, so everything's moving really fast as well. Once the wind calmed down to about 20 knots, we finally decided to head on through. With no idea what the tide was doing or what was going on inside the scary little passageway (It wasn't actually that little compared to some we've been through, which was lucky).

The first time we attempted it the rain came back and we had to abort. Getting trapped in the lagoon with no visibility to watch out for pearl buoys or coral heads was even worse than being stuck at sea. The squall eventually cleared and we tried again, hoping that the next lot of rain behind us would hold off for a while. We got close enough to make sure there were no standing waves in the middle of the pass (that's the main indicator that you do not want to go through) and crossed our fingers. With not much visibility, we relied heavily on the charts. Which is never safe.

Garth was steering and I was downstairs trying to keep the water out of the boat, yelling up directions. When I did pop my head up we were in a washing machine, in amongst a mass of churned up water. A pod of dolphins were jumping all around us, playing in the waves. I didn't have time to watch them, but I did see a group of them through the water as they swam over the crest of a wave. Dolphins are always good luck!

Garth stayed to the side of the channel, trying to avoid the swirling vortexes of current and tide making a mess of everything in the middle, whilst still avoiding the reef that lined the sides. We eventually made it through safely, and the washing machine slowed to a halt. It was a bit nervewracking though - we need to find out the tide times!

Fakarava wasn't a South Pacific paradise until the bad weather passed. We had grey skies and squalls for the few days we stopped at the village of Rotoava, and spent most of that time recovering and hiding. We were going to check out of French Polynesia (sort out the papers and such) then make our way to Panama via a few more of the atolls. But no such luck. The Gendarmerie we had been told was there was actually nonexistent, so now we have to make our way further south to Hao. It could be about five days away, which is frustrating. So we'll stop here for a bit to recover and prepare the boat before heading off once the weather is right.

There were five other boats anchored outside the town, but none of them seemed particularly friendly. We did make friends with a remora though, who moved in underneath us. He must have thought we were a whale or something. He was always at the surface, circling us. So every time I looked down, there he was. He entertained us immensely.

The village is really sweet, with a post office and a few little shops (kind of like tiny corner stores). This is one of the bigger villages in the Tuamotus, so it's probably a good start to prepare us for the isolation to come. I really wanted to find a pearl farm, but it's the off season and they all seem to be closed or really far away. So we left the village after two days and started making our way south. The lagoon here is 27 miles long, with another pass at the bottom. There's supposed to be amazing snorkeling down there though, so hopefully we get a chance to go swimming before the wind changes to the right direction and we have to go with it.

Pearl farm

Xxx Monique