Ruby Slippers

to make landfall in Hauhine before dark.  The stars looked like diamonds scattered carelessly across dark blue velvet.  There was a full moon, which lighted the bow as I raised the anchor.  We threaded our way out of the bay we were staying in, watching closely for the lighted buoys that mark where the reef is.  Thank goodness for navigational aids!  We motored till we were in deep water, then put up the sails and had a long day with lots of wind.  The current and swells were at odds with each other, and it was a bouncy ride.  Molly and Jessie slept in, then came up on deck with major bed head and chenille marks on their faces.  They squinted into the sunlight and inquired as to our whereabouts, and why the boat was bouncing around, then went back to bed.  No math in these rough conditions!

We made it to Hauhine, about 80 miles from Moorea, just before dark.  We think it is a beautiful spot, but we really won’t know until morning. The wind has picked up, and we have our anchor alarm set, just in case.  I will be on worry-watch, just one step below anchor watch.

The locals on this island are having some sort of celebration.  We can hear singing and the never-ending drum beat.  We know there must be dancing going on. If we weren’t so tired, and if we didn’t feel like we would be intruding, we would go ashore and celebrate, too.  It sounds like a happy, cohesive little community, and we are looking forward to scoping it out tomorrow.  We are about 20 miles from Bora Bora, but we might spend a few days here, first.

These are the names that try our souls:
Raiatea, Rangiroa, Rarotonga, Raroia
Taaoa, Tahaa, Taharoa, Tahuata, Taiohae, Takaroa, Tikehau, Toahotu,
Faaa, Fakarava, Fatu Hiva, Fatu Huka

We have been to or discussed all of these places, and get confused every time.  We try to say them on the radio, mess them up in e-mails, and embarrass ourselves with the locals.  Other cruisers have the same problem; sometimes it feels like we are all aliens from another planet, trying to decipher a brand new language.  There are 12 letters in the Tahitian alphabet, 6 of which are vowels.  Sometimes I feel like I have been to the dentist, and all I can do is slobber a few sounds.

While tied up at the wharf in downtown Papeete, I went to a Catholic church with a cruising friend.  It was full of pageantry, the music was heavenly, and the decorations of fresh flowers and braided palms were amazing to look at.  As I sat there, soaking it all in, I realized that I didn’t have any “requests” for God, just a whole lot of thanks.  My dad used to say that in this life, we are usually having trouble, just coming into trouble, or just getting out of trouble.  It is nice to be in one of those between-trouble zones.

Well, it is the next day now. The wind has been howling all night and all day today.  We have been holed up in our boat, afraid to leave for fear of our anchor dragging.  It’s been too windy for snorkeling or boogie boarding, so we have read, done homework, and made beef stew – just like a winter day at home.  To think it is 90 degrees in the Northwest, and here, in the South Pacific, it is windy and cold – maybe down to 75 degrees!  We haven’t been to shore yet, and the drums and singing have started again for the evening.  Do they do this every night?  Another night of anchor-worrying…

The Bastille, a medieval fortress in Paris, was used as a state prison, housing mostly political prisoners, and people the King didn’t particularly like.  It came to be a symbol of the unfair way that the monarchy ruled.

On July 14, 1789, a mob approached the prison, and demanded that guards hand over their ammunition.  When they refused, the mob stormed the Bastille and set the prisoners free, marking the beginning of the French Revolution.

Somehow, the islands of French Polynesia have taken this holiday as their own, and used it to celebrate their own culture.  There is a huge festival called Heiva, an inter-island contest of singing, dancing, drumming, and traditional acts of manhood such as banana carrying, coconut-opening, out-rigger canoeing, and spearing.  It is celebrated for the entire month of July.  It’s kind of an American Idol meets Star Search meets Stomp, The Musical – type of thing.  Each island has eliminations, coming up with the brightest and best in each category, who then get to go to a larger island and compete against others.

Although we left Papeete before any of the contests began, Bora Bora is also one of the major centers for the finalists to appear.  Last night, we dinghied to town and watched the best of 5 islands in male solo dancer, female solo dancer, and drum group.  It was quite a show.  Most of the dancers were 15-18 years old; the youngest female was only 13.  They performed a dance, telling a story with their hands and hips.  The faster the hips could shake in time to the drum beat, the better the score.  Jim’s eyes were rolling around in their sockets like cartoon eyeballs by the end of the evening.  I’m sure he was just trying to decipher the story being told.

The drum groups were extremely creative in their use of local materials.  Empty plastic Coke bottles were used as drumsticks, while other drummers tied a large bunch of bamboo sticks together and placed them on a saw horse, and used that as one of the drums.  It created an interesting sound.  There were 10-15 people in each group, all banging away in a native beat.  It was very rhythmical – nice beat, easy to dance to.  Costumes, of course, were an important part of the pageantry, and were colorful and inventive.  There were little 2- and 3- year old girls around the perimeter of the sand-covered dance area, who were practicing their hand and hip movements, and were doing a pretty fair job of it!  When Molly and Jessie fell asleep during one of the drum solos, however, we knew it was time to dinghy back to the boat in the dark and go to bed, with that jungle rhythms dancing in our heads.

I don’t know why it has taken us so long to get to Bora Bora.  We kept discovering fun things to do in Raiatea and Tahaa.  We are acting like we have all the time in the world, when, in fact, our visa expired at the end of June and we could be thrown into the Bastille ourselves if we don’t get out of French Polynesia soon.  We found a few lovely snorkeling spots today, and visited with some friends we haven’t seen in a while.  The mountains of Bora Bora are majestic, and very green.  We hope to find some easy hiking trails, and more good dive spots.

The routes from Bora Bora to New Zealand seem to fall into two categories:  the north route and the south route.  This time of year, the consensus is that the north route has the most favorable weather.  We had always planned to go to Rarotonga, in the southern Cook Islands, but now we are thinking of going to Suvarof in the northern Cooks, then to American Samoa, Western Samoa, the small island of Nui, then to Tonga, Fiji and New Zealand.  We will be able to re-provision in American Samoa, and pick up some mail and boat parts.  Jim and I have been to American Samoa; it is a dirty, smelly island whose main source of income is a large fish-processing plant that runs 24/7.  We hear that Western Samoa is quite the opposite; lush, unspoiled, and great cruising grounds.  It is about 700 miles from Bora Bora to Suvarof, and about 500 miles from there to Samoa.  More night watches, coming up…

Right at this very moment, there is a bit of a drama going on.  Tom, a young British man who is single-handing his Sweden Yacht 34, went snorkeling alone off his boat this morning, about 4 hours ago.  Last anyone knew, he went to check his anchor, about 75 feet down, then check Coconut’s anchor, then go spear-fishing.  No one has seen him since.  He is a strong swimmer and diver, but there are many, many boats out on the water, and he could have been hit.  Almost every cruiser anchored in Bora Bora is now in their dinghy, circling the reefs and the passes, looking for Tom.  Molly, Jessie and Jim are out in our dinghy, and I am helping man the VHF radio.  The local police are out looking; if he is still missing in a couple of hours, I am sure helicopters will be summoned.  It is comforting to see the cruising community band together so quickly in an emergency.

Sad, very sad news.  Tom was found lying by Coconut’s anchor.  He had been down there for a couple of hours.  It doesn’t look like anything in particular happened – he wasn’t caught in the anchor chain, or damaged in any way.  It may have been CO2 poisoning or something like that.  The anchor was down pretty deep.  Tom was only 23 years old.  He had taken free diving courses, and was an expert diver.  No one knows whether he was checking the anchor, or if he was spear-fishing down there.  It’s amazing that the current didn’t sweep him away after he died.  The diver who found him said he looked like he just went to sleep.  Tom had no family back home, just one sister who lives in Thailand.  The family on Coconut will try to reach her, and will probably sail his boat back to Raiatea, where it can be hauled out and maybe be put up for sale.  A very sad end to Bastille Day in Bora Bora.

We will try to have some pictures up in the media gallery in the next couple of days.  Take good care of yourselves, and we will do the same.  Jeanna