A Couple of Tuamotus

Milly in calm, very blue Raroia lagoon

Our route through the Tuamotus.  Each of those amoebic shapes is an atoll - a few of almost 80.  The outline is the reef with some habitable "motus".  The inside is lagoon.  The distance between is too great for a day sail so an overnight sail was required for each hop.

After a 2 1/2 day passage from Fatu Hive in the Marquesas, we arrived at the pass to Raroia, our first ever Pacific atoll.  The Tuamotu archipelago is dotted with atolls - some inhabited, some not, some with passes,  maybe even two passes and some without any at all.  Once in an atoll, you had to find your way to wherever you wanted to anchor through the "mommies" - large coral head that were like pillars from the lagoon bed topping out just below the surface.  These were not charted accurately on our Navionics boat chart plotter which we have used everywhere else.  Peter had bought a new device and uploaded satellite images of the South Pacific areas we were going to.  Multiple overlayed satellite images along with eyes forward (mine) offered the best navigation.  So it was necessary to arrive at any atoll when the inflowing or outflowing current was going with you as you went into or out of the lagoon, with the least amount of conflicting current which creates big "standing" waves, and also when the sunlight is behind wherever you are going within the lagoon so that the bommies are clearly visible.  Finally, when anchoring the anchor chain needed to be floated with fenders or pearl farm buoys.  I've written about this in a "Change of Plans"  so won't go into detail again except that it added yet another unique layer to the Tuamotus experience.  It worked most of the time, although we did get temporarily snagged here and there.  A bit disconcerting as a pull with the windlass on the chain made crunching sounds, and then pulled the bow down.  Releasing the snagged chain was all about Peter approaching from different angles with the aid of my hand signals and while I grimaced as the chain became under tension and then released.  In each case, the chain would suddenly be free and the anchor raised.

Fenders ready to float the chain.  Each fender attached to the chain about 10m apart.

And the chain is floated for the first time in Raroia.  Under the surface the chain is raised above the bottom looking like a pine bower - a sway between each fender.

We had chosen Raroia because it was closer, reportedly had an easier pass to negotiate, had a small town, a remote anchorage and where the Kontiki had landed/wrecked.  We neared Raroia in the middle of the night, requiring that we slow the boat down to enter in daylight.  As we got to the pass shortly after sunrise, another boat was just going through and we could see two more approaching.  Time to go.  We entered to find rather large standing waves on our starboard side and big reefs on both sides.  Peter revved up and, with a few exclamations by yours truly, we powered through the current which Peter shrugged off as "no big deal".

Once in the lagoon, we carefully picked our way to the more remote east anchorage - remote in the sense that there was no habitation but there were at least half a dozen boats.  We could both easily see the bommies, the satellite images clearly and accurately showed them, even the deeper, smaller ones could be zoomed in on.  Amazing technology.  Even a few short years ago, eyeballs would have been the only way through.

We spent a few days exploring by foot and by dinghy, including a night alone at the Kontiki anchorage.  

All the best shells were taken by hermit crabs.  This one was outgrowing his home.  He/she was attempting to hide.

There must have been a reproductive bonanza of sea cucumbers in this sheltered part of a channel between  motus.  Just lolling about on the bottom doing what?

A wild palm forest with coconuts galore sprouting new growth.

Then on to a town of about 150 people where we met up with two other boats whose crews we had only met through the Mex to FP WhatsApp group.  They were our "friends".  This happens all the time - we know people by boat name and that is enough to get together and socialize.  We visited a black pearl farm, a cooperative farm garden, and had dinner at a local woman's home who cooks a traditional meal for cruisers on demand.  All more fun in the company of others.

A woman selling black pearls at the town dock.

The pearl farm.  The owner didn't allow further pictures - afraid that we would steal his secrets, I guess, and start a farm of our own? - but he did give a limited tour, allowing us to see how the oyster was seeded.  We were not permitted to see a pearl harvested, nor would he answer any questions about how it was done.  He did, however, ask what we had to trade for coconuts.  We agreed to bring a couple of giant fishing lures to the dock at sunset and, indeed, he brought a pick up truck full of coconuts.

Nets and lines hung out to dry to which the oysters clung under buoys along the shoreline.  We always had to be on watch for the (unlit) buoys.  Picture taken before it was vetoed by the boss.

Cute kids swimming among the oysters.

Pearl farm buoys cruisers could buy to use to hang the chain.  We found ours on a leeward shore but these were much more colourful than our sun bleached ones.

This town had an entrepreneurial cooperative farm.  A boat arrived only once a month with supplies so this farm was a real bonus to the locals and to cruisers.  The only "store" in town had meagre supplies on two or three shelves - mainly chips and sweets.  This farm was a godsend.  The bok choy was huge.  Of course, you could only buy what was in season - bok choy, zucchini, cantaloupe, a few tomatoes, a papaya and a few beans.

A cantaloupe was a special treat.

Main Street, Raroia.  Everyone waved and smiled.  We felt very welcome.

Next stop Makemo, another atoll a night sail away.  We went directly to a stunning anchorage at the end of the motus, looking out over the reef and into open ocean.  A walk through coconut plantations to the ocean side took us along sandy beaches with calm ponds of glorious blue water backed by pounding surf on the reef.  

Far east anchorage, away from it all, in Makemo.  Surf pounding on the reef with beautiful blue water in the calm lagoon.  A haven and, oh, so beautiful.

On shore on a couple of the larger motus, were coconut plantations.  A bit scary walking underneath so coconuts.  During school holidays, families come out to harvest the copra and stay in cabins such as this.  Bare necessities.

Then on to town, this one a few hundred with a couple of stores, a pizza counter, a couple of hardware stores and a very large Catholic Church beside a smaller Mormon church - the same combo in every village we have been to.  In both towns, everyone was very friendly, waving and smiling as they went by in car/truck, on bike or sometimes even on foot.  We are usually the only walkers.  

The town harbour on Makemo, population approximately 300.  Several stores,  each offering slightly different items.  One had eggs, another had fresh bread, one had cucumber.  The rule is that when you see something you think you might like, you buy it immediately because they probably won't have it tomorrow.  Happened with oranges.

A larger channel between motus in town, separating one neighbourhood from the other quite different hood.  School, college, sports area on one side, downtown on the other (three stores, harbour, ATM, post office and churches)

A final stop at the westernmost pass for a couple of days to shelter from a strong southern wind.  Walks one way on the motus and then the other way on the motus, wading through channels kept us a bit busy but mostly a very chill few days on the boat.

Then we headed to Fakarava, the Tuamotu most developed for tourism with sensational diving and snorkeling.  Unfortunately, after a night sail, there was a major blow and as we entered the north pass, planning to anchor by town, most boats were leaving.  We could have motored upwind the length of the lagoon (large) but decided to forego the dive at the Shark Wall and head directly to Moorea.  We were already feeling time rushing toward our visit to Canada and then through the Society Islands on our return.  Onward!