Back at the helm - sailing the Yaghan to Antarctica, Patagonia and the South Pacific

by Martensson, Helene

  At Marina Tahina we moored next to real super yachts. A hundred feet boats were not uncommon. Yaghan was the smallest boat on our jetty. She looked tiny and scrawny beside the old, 130-foot J boat Endeavour. Not far from the marina was a Carrefour supermarket and two of the best restaurants in Papeete. We liked it there.

  We rented a car to go back and forth between Papeete and the marina. We also took a few days off to make a tour of the island. It was not as beautiful seen through a car windscreen as it had been during our slow approach towards the north coast. Here too, we went diving at one of the entrances where we saw brightly coloured fish in the twenty-eight degree warm, clear water. There were sharks too, but they were probably not being fed, therefore they were friendly. They came as close as a few metres away from us, but they were utterly indifferent, which was nice.

  In June we would be receiving visitors from home for the first time since leaving Sweden. Arne's sons, Jonas and Oscar, and Oscar's girlfriend Ellen were arriving at Papeete Airport on June 10 to spend ten days aboard Yaghan. To make this visit as successful as possible, we decided to sail around the Leeward Islands, about one hundred nautical miles to the north-west, to find out which ones we would like to visit together with them. We would not have time for all, but we were definitely going to lovely Moorea. The Leeward Islands are mountainous, lush, dramatic and very beautiful, surrounded by barrier reefs with narrow passages leading into turquoise lagoons.

  After a visit to Carrefour the fridge was yet again full of food, fruit and vegetables. After eating our final dinner of chilled, French red wine at our favourite restaurant, Pink, we were ready to weigh anchor and sail the ten nautical miles to the green, mountainous and lovely Moorea. The first thing I noticed on the morning of our arrival in Tahiti was the outline of the island. I had been looking over towards Moorea every single morning from our boat in Marina Tahina. A few nautical miles further west, the volcanic island rises tall and jagged out of the sea. Depending on the weather, light and time of day it constantly changes colour. It was normally a fuzzy grey or blue, but on some days the natural, fern-green colour emerged and you could distinguish every peak, waterfall, valley and bay. When the sun set behind Moorea after a hot day, the air turned cool.

  During the crossing we ate a light lunch. The distance between the islands was less than ten nautical miles. We entered inside the beautiful Cook's Bay in the north, overlooking the sharp peak of Mount Mouá Roa. It was a delightful island with bright green slopes against a clear, blue sky and the water was shifting in greens and blues. We went on a tour of discovery in the dinghy. Along the coast there was one resort after the other. There was a hotel at the end of each lovely little inlet. Those who like bathing or snorkelling can do that on the reef, which is where all the fish and lovely corals are found.

  After a few days we continued to Huahine, our first Leeward island; a distance of eighty nautical miles. It would be a long day's sailing, and to make sure that we would arrive while it was still light, we left Cook's Bay early in the morning, before the crack of dawn. We had no problem finding our way out since the passage was well marked. The sailing was lovely with a cool breeze blowing. Later in the afternoon we motored through the gap in the reef by Fare, the main community on Huahine. The next day we continued along the south coast.

  We continued all the way down to Baie d’Avea, the southernmost point, where we anchored at a depth of only five metres, between the island and the reef, and so close that we fell asleep every night by the sound of the waves crashing against the reef. The water was crystal clear, and thanks to the reef and the island we were well sheltered from all winds. We went bathing and snorkelling on the reef, trailing the dinghy behind us, and swimming in the lagoon, generally enjoying life. It was a marvellously beautiful place; sometimes you could not even see the reef on the horizon. The sky met the sea, forming shades of blue. Shallow water had a turquoise hue. At noon the water turned emerald green. We did not want to leave our anchorage, but we thought that even more divine anchorages were probably waiting around the corner.

  You should always enter an atoll at noon so you can distinguish the coral spikes. It is hard anyway, since the water is so clear that you tend to misjudge the depth. I frightened Arne several times when I was keeping look out in the bow. I called out when I thought it looked shallow, but the water was always more than four metres deep. My heart was in my mouth, just waiting for the keel to lodge in the coral when we were in fact at least two metres off. I got better at judging the depth by the colour of the coral.

  Next on our list was Taha, where vanilla is grown. It was the sister island of the considerably larger Raiatea Island. We had planned on going to Raiatea, but we changed our minds and went to Taha instead, which was easily done since the islands share a lagoon and are situated close to each other. Raiatea is the more exploited island with a major tourist industry, so we went to the one we thought was less touristy. Again, we anchored up as close to the reef as we dared, at a depth of just under five metres and well away from all tall coral spikes. A little further off was a small, beautiful coral island, or motu, called Île Mahaea with swaying palm trees lining a golden beach. The scenery was unbelievably beautiful, and we spent hours just taking it in.

  After enjoying a few days at anchor we decided to sail round Taha looking for an even better anchorage. We returned just before sunset and dropped anchor in exactly the same spot as before. This was without doubt the best anchorage on Taha that we could find. If you, like we do, like to hear the waves breaking against the reef, enjoy the crystal clear water that glimmers so enticingly turquoise green and watch the sun set over the green hills of Taha, the best anchorage is found at latitude 16°38.24 S, longitude 151°25.43 W.

  We were not planning on going any further this time. We had decided where to take Arne's children; we would not have time to go any further from Tahiti than Taha.

  We spent several days at the reef before we felt that we ought to go back to Papeete. More maintenance needed to be done, which was possible since we were in a very convenient place. We cleaned and polished the hull and scrubbed barnacles off the bottom. It is only at times like these that it briefly occurs to us that Yaghan is too big.

  We took a swim around the boat after sunset and before preparing to eat in the dark. The cockpit was lit by the stars, a sliver of a moon and two candles. Before dinner we had a glass of rosé wine, sitting on our deckchairs in the bow. We were enjoying life, listening to the waves roaring against the reef. We would have preferred to stay longer, but one early afternoon we set sail and set off for Tahiti and Marina Tahina so we would be ready to sail again before the children arrived.

  Finally, early in the morning on Sunday June 10, our boys and Ellen arrived. They were pale and tired and fell straight into bed. Only two of their five bags – two of which contained spare parts for us – had arrived. According to the airport staff the missing bags would arrive during the day, and on that note we all went to bed. It was nice and relieving to see Jonas, Oscar and Ellen again. We had not seen them for over a year.

  The day before I had been to Papeete and bought three pareo of various colours and patterns. A pareo is a length of fabric that you can wrap around your body in a number of ingenious ways. This was perfect since only the spare parts had arrived. We were worried that the luggage would take even longer; we had planned to sail on Monday morning. Two more bags turned up in the afternoon. All that was missing now was Oscar's suitcase.

  After lunch at Pink, where we all had Poisson Cru – raw fish, fruit and vegetables in a coconut/lime sauce served in a pineapple shell – we all squeezed into the little rental car and drove to Papeete.

  The next day we sailed to Moorea with our boat loaded with food and other essentials. We followed our plan, stopping a few days on Moorea and then continuing to Baia d’Avea, the southern point of Huahine. We stayed there for a few days, bathing and snorkelling with the kids.

  Arne, Oscar and I went scuba diving at Fare. As usual, severa
l sharks came up to us, but they were shy, not at all like the more curious, fed sharks at Rangiroa. Then we continued to Taha, where we yet again dropped anchor in the dazzling green, clear water where you could see every single coral and rock. Yaghan's bow was turned towards the reef and the horizon. We then went to Île Mahaea for a few days of snorkelling and Polynesian buffet lunches.

  The days passed quickly, too quickly, and soon it was time for the children to go home. It felt as if they had only just arrived; now they were leaving us. The afternoon before we were due to leave Taha we anchored up in the bay where there was a small restaurant, the Hibiscus. We all had dinner together and watched a show with traditional dancing and entertainment. The following morning we sailed back to the reef off Île Mahaea for a few hours of swimming and snorkelling at our favourite spot on Taha.

  We had booked them on a flight from Raiatea to Papeete. They would be spending their final night at a luxury resort by the airport. Their flight via Los Angeles back to Sweden was due early in the morning. Hopefully, they would be able to go for a last swim in the lagoon before leaving Polynesia. In the afternoon we motored to the anchorage on Raiatea that was closest to the airport. We dropped anchor, and Arne brought the youngsters ashore in the dinghy. It was sad to see them leave. We would not be seeing them again until the end of the year.

  At sunset Arne and I were back on Yaghan at the familiar anchorage by the reef. We would be spending the next two days cleaning the boat inside and out, washing sheets and clothes and then continuing to Bora Bora, which is reputedly the most beautiful island in the world with the most wonderful lagoon of all. When we had finished cleaning, we motored all the way to Bora Bora. It was dead calm, but there was a heavy swell, which was rather uncomfortable. We were excited about seeing this famous island. We saw the characteristic twin peaks at a distance. It was very beautiful. So far, we agreed that Bora Bora was a lovely island. We dropped anchor just off the famous restaurant Bloody Mary that had a small guest jetty where we could moor our dinghy. Naturally, we had dinner there on our first evening: first their famous Bloody Mary, then grilled tuna.

  We had arrived at the most exploited of all the islands in French Polynesia. It was recently discovered that the lagoon on Bora Bora suffers from coral and fish death. According to the newspapers there were several different reasons for this: an increase in water temperature, too many visiting boats or simply the fact that every single square metre of land and every single, tiny coral island along the reef was exploited. There were luxury resorts everywhere and not an inch of free coastline for people who were not staying in them. We had planned to be on Bora Bora for the July 14 celebrations. Very soon after we arrived I think we both wished that we would be far away on that day.

  The weather had got worse, it was windy and rainy. We took out our bikes to explore the island. Our weakened bodies were happy in the saddle. Cycling was great, and the traffic was not bad. The trouble was all the scabby, vicious stray dogs that insisted on barking at us and running behind our bikes. Arne is not fond of dogs, and he had decided that if the dogs attacked, he would not be the one who suffered. He cycled around with a diving knife tied to his leg. I hoped there was no law against carrying knives in French Polynesia, or we would have been forced to stay longer than we had planned on. The country's large budget deficit could easily be remedied by the introduction of a substantial tax on dogs, which would render our cycling tours a lot nicer as well as safer. That was Arne's best suggestion to the local politicians. We spent two days cycling around, and then we thought we had seen everything we wanted to see of the island from land.

  We then sailed as far around the inside of the reef as our 2.5 metre draft allowed. One day we anchored outside the finest resort we had found in Bora Bora – the Bora Bora Nui Resort & Spa, which had opened fairly recently. We went over in the dinghy to take a look and perhaps have lunch. I thought I spotted some odd-coloured corals of a muddy green hue only some ten metres away, slightly off course. We had consulted the chart before entering the small bay. The water depth all around our anchorage was supposed to be ten metres. After our visit to the resort I insisted that we go back to the Yaghan to pick up our portable sonar and drive past the corals to measure the water depth. I thought I had become rather good at spotting and identifying suspicious-looking corals by now. I was right, when we measured the depth we saw to our dismay that the water depth was just over two metres. The corals would be within Yaghan's reach if the wind changed direction, which it does relatively often, especially when the weather is as unstable as it had been over the past week. We quickly moved and dropped anchor well away from the area. We then drove an extra circuit around the boat with the sonar.

  The day after having enjoyed an excellent dinner at the Bora Bora Nui Resort & Spa we sailed back to our anchorage by the Bloody Mary. It was not only the restaurant we were attracted by – even if it was the best value for money of all the restaurants we had found – but the nice jetty too. It was one of the best anchorages. Getting ashore, mooring the dinghy and going off anywhere we liked on our bicycles was easy. Even though we had planned to spend almost three weeks there we were ready to leave after ten days. The island with the beautiful lagoon had nothing more to offer.

  Bora Bora did not live up to the wonderful descriptions we had read in books and brochures; it was more like an over-exploited island on a dangerous course towards mass tourism, despite the price level. Everything is expensive and hardly ever worth the money you spend. The most beautiful parts of the island are without exception within the compound of some hotel or resort and only available to the people who stay there. The lucrative wedding industry has made inroads here too, and every respectable hotel specialises in weddings. Bora Bora is a lot more Americanized than the other islands since there was a major naval base there during the war, and most of the newlyweds that invade the island are from the United States. One result of this is that people are a lot better at speaking English there than in the rest of Polynesia. I was able to take a well-deserved break from practising my school French. On the whole, we thought that the island was beautiful, but only from a distance. When you walk or cycle about, it appears unkempt and neglected. Only the lovely luxury hotels can match the tempting pictures you find in the travel brochures.

  Naturally, we visited the prestigious Bora Bora Hotel with its beautiful beach and fine restaurant. We both lunched and dined there, but we were not impressed. We had eaten better and more reasonably priced dinners in the charming Veerhafen area in Rotterdam, La Coruña in Galicia and Punta del Este in Uruguay. The French Polynesian kitchen was not up to their standard.

  When we were setting off for Huahine and Taha with the children we were informed by the Papeete authorities that we did not need to contact the authorities in Bora Bora as long as we did not stay longer than the three months our visa was valid for, which meant that all we needed to buy before setting off across the Pacific again was water and fuel.

  After another few laborious and costly trips to the two Chinese shops and fuelling, we were almost ready to set off on the 1,400 mile leg to Tonga via the small Suwarrow atoll. We weighed anchor at seven o’clock in the morning of July 4, with our tanks full and our fridge and freezer bursting with food. Then we left this legendary lagoon and French Polynesia.

  The Ultimate Paradise Island – Suwarrow

  We had almost seven hundred nautical miles, or four days at sea, in front of us before we would arrive at the small atoll of Suwarrow, one of the Cook Islands. Cook Islands is a self-governing state in free association with New Zealand. Fifteen thousand people live on the fifteen islands, most on Rarotonga, approximately five hundred nautical miles from Suwarrow. Cook Islands receive financial aid from New Zealand and many islanders attend university there. Many others have moved to New Zealand. There are more Cook islanders in New Zealand than there are on the islands.

  Suwarrow is situated at latitude 13°13 S, longitude 162°06 W, which means that we had to make a wide arch to the north
in order to get there. The other Cook islands, except Penhryn and Rakahanga that are situated even further north, are distributed like a string of beads between French Polynesia and Tonga. These days, Suwarrow has national park status and is uninhabited apart from an administrator who lives there six months a year, outside the hurricane season, to protect the island and the fish in the lagoon.

  Suwarrow has an unstable and violent past. The atoll was discovered in 1814 by a Russian trading ship. It was on its way from the Baltic port of Kronstad to a Russian secret colony in Alaska when the look-out sighted the small atoll. The captain brought his ship through the entrance passage and anchored behind the first island he set eyes on. It was later named Anchorage Island. Ever since Cook's time, ships have sailed in these waters without finding any other atolls than the ones that were already marked on the charts. The captain named this new discovery after his ship, the Suvarov, which was in turn named after one of the boldest and most cruel Russian generals of the 18th century. The Russian admiralty did not take much notice of this new discovery, however, and for a long time it remained unknown to the rest of the world. As a result, many ships were shipwrecked on the reefs over the next few decades. Infamous villains, sailors that had jumped ship, at least a couple of shipwrecked people a year and a large number of pearl divers from Tonga and Samoa have lived on the island for shorter or longer periods. One of them was the American author Robert Dean Frisbie. He arrived in 1923 to find a lovely island with coconut palms, beautiful beaches and a lagoon full of fish and mussels. He could not stop thinking about the lovely island, and often stayed there a month at a time on holiday with his family. This ended suddenly in 1941 when a cyclone devastated the island. The family survived, tied to the thickest tree, but Frisbie did not give up his love for the island. Britain and France had posts there during the Second World War to keep a look-out for Japanese aircraft, war ships and submarines. In the three years they spent looking out over the sea they did not spot one single Japanese ship.