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Cruising
Home
H&M's
2001 Adventure
Voyages of Sugar Blues
Sugar
Blues
Flowers
in the lagoon
Aitutaki
- Maybe this
time
Niue and Tonga
Godzone
- Life in
the
left lane...
Tonga
II
I
Got My Sevusevu
in Savusavu in my
Vulavula Sulu
Rotuma
- A Split
Island
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Aititaki
- Maybe This Time
by Harry and Mary Abbott
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| A three day old moon was rising
out of the sea as I came on watch. Dead in our wake, it cast its shimmering
reflection onto a calm Pacific, while ahead the scorpion curled its tail
high above the Southern ocean. Three days out of Maupiti, "Sugar
Blues" was reaching under light, steady trades towards Aitutaki in the
Cooks, a calm and rare passage in this year of a mild El Nino. Aitutaki had
been an illusive goal of "Antigone" during her years in the
Pacific. It was possible that even now, with only 140 miles to go, weather
or a harbor over crowded with cruising yachts could once again force us to
miss this fascinating island, and sail on to Tonga. |
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Five months back, we had entered
French Polynesia at Hiva Oa in the Marquesas. In spite of the increase in
visiting yachts, it was as unspoiled and beautiful as it was in 1977. Old
friends and familiar anchorages mixed with new experiences made it a true
highlight.
Papeete during the July fete (Heiva)
was fun but hectic and we soon slipped our anchor for a double digit
downwind ride to Moorea. Our crew was Luc, a Marquesan from Taipivai,
Melville's valley of the cannibals, whom I had met 16 years ago when he was
17. In the crowds of downtown Papeete, we had walked up to each other,
looked each other in the face, and said, "I know you." Anchored on
the backside of Moorea, away from the crowds of Cooks Bay, we met his
cousin, with a one month old tamarii, and a pineapple plantation. After a
four wheel drive tour, we were given pineapples and bananas until I was
fairly sure that I never wanted to eat another banana again. Out at Huahine
after an overnighter we arrived at Fare. Just above the town is what is
probably the best archaeological dig in the islands. Dr. Sinoto, from
Hawaii's Bishop Museum, has uncovered and restored dozens of maraes and
living sites. A trail winds through the thick vegetation and gardens planted
with papaya, banana, and vanilla plants. Over on Raiatea, entry is granted
to Faaroa Bay through the reef via Te Aua Moa, or Sacred Pass. We ghosted
into the anchorage past the restored marae of Taputaputea, where it stands
guarding the point. It is believed that the great double hulled canoes left
from here, laden with up to 200 people plus pigs and taro. These people
would eventually spawn the great Maori nations of the Cooks and New Zealand.
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| Bora Bora was an island of mixed
feelings. On one hand, it was almost an emotional overload to meet dear
friends from years ago and to find the same gentle and generous people I had
known. On the other hand, it was sad to see the island that Mitchner had
called "the most beautiful island in the world" rapidly
degenerating into tourist hotels and polluted lagoons. |
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| Maupiti is only 25 miles from Bora
Bora but might as well be light years away. It is a strange mixture of
Marquesas and Tuamotus and maybe even a bit of what Bora Bora once was. A
"no hotel" policy keeps most tourists away, and a pass with a very
bad reputation keeps most yachts away. Well, at least those with common
sense. A normal southeast wind and a current outflow of up to six knots
generate incredible rips and back eddies combined with six to eight foot
swells. Later, on the way out, our friends' Santa Cruz 40 would twice try to
launch itself into orbit with water well aft of the keel. Once inside,
however, it was easy navigating and shallow anchorages. The gendarme not
only declined to check us in but gave us a slice of watermelon and half a
dozen papayas. Asking to buy some iita (papayas) outside of the main village
of Vaitea was our last chance to speak Tahitian. It brought the usual
out-island smile and response, "No, but you can have some. How about a
stalk of bananas? Can you take some pamplemousse?" Struggling back with
more than the load of a stalk of bananas, we also carried the weight of
knowing just how much we would miss these islands and these friendly people.
But Aitutaki beckoned. |
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| The wind and weather held for the
last day of the passage and the sea tossed in a nice mahi mahi. Even under
reduced sail, we found ourselves hove to off the pass before dawn.
"Sugar Blues" draws less than 3.5 feet, so entering the narrow,
shallow pass presented no problems. That is, other than motoring flat out at
6.5 knots and just barely moving forward. Eventually the current lessened
and we found ourselves tied to two palm trees in a newly dredged and
protected harbor. Dredged to only six feet at high tide, I might add. Just
my kind of anchorage: no chance of drowning if you fall overboard. |
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| I had actually come here because
of old Fred. Fred has been building and sailing boats since I first met him
in '66. Back then he was just launching a 46' Piver Trident, and as I was
just starting "Antigone," a sister ship, I eagerly awaited any
news of his South Pacific adventures. Now any Aitutakian over 30 can tell
you about the hurricane season of '67/'68. It, unfortunately, produced the
worst hurricane to hit Aitutaki to date, and guess where Fred was. Even in
the most protected spot on the island, the boat managed to drag its mooring
and ended up high and dry hundreds of yards from deep water with the bottom
torn out. Still, it was better than the fate of the only other sailboat, a
small monohull from Japan who elected to stay in the harbor. Not a trace of
it was found. For two months the entire village of Vaipeka, men, women and
children, dug and pulled until Fred was able to move the boat to a beach
where a bulldozer dragged him up and left him for four months of repair
work. |
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| As I filled out the Health
Officer's forms, we talked about boats and canoes, Hawaii's 'Hokulea"
and their "Ngapuariki," and the upcoming 1995 voyage to Hawaii by
at least five canoes from five countries. Although young at the time, he
remembered the storm and the big boat, and the next day presented me with
some names to look up. On a rented moped we skirted the island and stopped
at the first house in the village. "I've been expecting you." said
Rura Teko. This coconut telegraph is better than fax. We were given papaya
and drinking coconuts at each house as they reminisced about the storm. They
still remembered with thanks all the clothes we had sent to Fred to give
away. They are extremely poor by our standards, a good government job paying
about $5,700 U.S. a year. Yet, no one goes hungry as everyone has a piece of
productive land. Aitutaki is a rare place, and I think Fred would not be
disappointed, should he return again, after 25 years. |
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| For how long it will remain
unspoiled, I don't know. Plans include dredging the pass and anchorage so
ordinary boats can get in. It's a crowded madhouse down at Rarotonga with up
to two dozen boats in the harbor bumping each other when the wind blows and
waiting days just to get a spot to tie to the shore. The serenity of the
anchorage at Aitutaki will certainly be disrupted by progress but as for the
people, only time will tell. |
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After a week, the weatherman said,
"Chance um" so a course was set to Tonga, 850 miles away, via Niue
if weather permitted. Niue would definitely be a new adventure for us as we
knew absolutely nothing about it and on our only chart that included the
island, it was about the size of a match head.
So again we head west under a new
moon and starlit skies. Cooler southern seas are painting trails of
phosphorescence back to the past. Ahead there is a hint of cooler climes and
maybe, just maybe, one of those nights where you merge with the rare clean
air that only oceans and deserts know, and an entire eon will pass in one
beautiful night.
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