The day that never happened…

17/08/22, 2234, night watch 600 miles to go. The day that never happened is not the title of a 1950s B movie (well, it might be, but not one I’m aware of), but the result of changing the ship’s clock as we head west to Samoa. I thought it was just back an hour. But it’s not as simple as that (things rarely are). In reality it’s back an hour and forward a day (GMT+13, not GMT-11), because Samoa (but not American Samoa) is over the International Date Line (makes a similar clunk sound as you cross it, like the Equator). So, we went from Sunday to Tuesday,  just like that. Monday 15 Aug 2022 never happened.

Tuesday, yesterday, was sweaty.  I was in the kitchen all day (I refuse to call it the galley as it doesn’t sound at all inviting or homely) – there were black bananas that wouldn’t survive another day swinging in the fruit basket (now a delicious honey,  pecan and banana cake – getting our fill of nut cakes while Selkie is away!), bread that needed to be made for lunch,  and then soup to go with the bread (there’s only so many times you can eat bread and cheese for lunch – but when you’re trying to eat soup on a rolling boat you remember why sandwiches are easier – the non slip mat may stop the bowl from moving, but not the soup inside – the story about the time when Roo ended up with a lapful of spag bol in similar circumstances, when the plate stayed still but the pasta didn’t, is now the stuff of family legend).  I also made two dinners (chilli and macaroni cheese) as the forecast for today was not very cooking-friendly.  

And they weren’t wrong!  This is the ‘weather window’ we waited for for weeks, and this isn’t even the worst of it – Charlie named last night the The Night of 1000 Squalls – I ended up just pulling the hatch across and hiding downstairs on my watch – Lucky Girl was taking it all in her stride and looking after us wonderfully, and watching the wind meter rising to 45 knots was just making me panic (and I was getting soaked). Kit got up for a wee in the night and could see I was a bit anxious, so he went to get me his favourite cuddly toy (a gigantic blue Stitch) and said ‘Mummy, I love you’ – made me feel much better. No one got much sleep so we have said they can watch TV all day today if they want – we just need to survive today. [Added later – after writing this bit, the weather deteriorated again when it got dark (why is it always when it’s dark?!) In fact, the forecast was so far out the second night (35-40kn gusting to 50, with 5m seas, instead of 20kn gusting 25 with 3m seas) that Charlie has spent the last few days asking the hive mind of the internet what happened – was the forecast just wrong, were we looking at the wrong model, was there some sign we didn’t know to look for? Not sure what the answer is yet…]

So, here we are 600 miles to go to Apia (15 more miles and we’re half way there) – we decided to take a chance and go to Western/Independent Samoa rather than American Samoa as we were told that the anchorage in AP is dreadful,  the check in is lengthy and you can’t visit most of the islands.  Samoa has literally only just (Aug 1st) opened up after a 3 year covid induced isolation, but the reply we got from the harbour master couldn’t have been more welcoming, so we are really looking forward to exploring.

In contrast, our last few weeks in French Polynesia were not so welcoming – admittedly our experience was influenced by crappy weather (LOTS of rain and strong gusts (apparently this happens in August so much it’s got a name – Maramu) that meant we didn’t really want to leave the boat at anchor for long unattended), and missing our buddy boat Selkie (they are still in the States), but even taking that into consideration, we were pretty glad to be leaving Moorea, Huahine, Tahaa and Raiatea. We’d heard stories that for one reason or another (large charter fleet, lots of yachts unable to leave because of covid, putting pressure on local services?) yachts visiting the Societies (the islands west of Tahiti) have not been treated so well in recent years (from rudeness to actually being threatened), and so it was for us. One incident in Tahaa left a particularly sour taste (we took a private mooring on the understanding, from other cruisers nearby, that we could pay the owner to stay the night. We tried to contact him, but no reply. He came by at 1630, so not long before the sun sets, while it was gusting 35-40kn, to ask us to leave. Obviously it’s entirely his prerogative to do so as it’s his mooring. It just seemed really unreasonable to ask us to leave so late in the day with such unfavourable conditions making it hard to find a safe place to anchor before dark. Interestingly, we posted about this experience on a French Polynesia FB group, so other cruisers wouldn’t make the same mistake, but the overwhelming response there was that we were part of the problem, giving yachties a bad name by acting so entitled. No one likes being criticised (in fact, it upset me so much I had to leave the FB group as I was checking it so often to see what was being said which was upsetting me more) but it has got me thinking – maybe they’re right? Why am I just being defensive without trying to see things from the mooring owner’s point of view? It’s certainly uncomfortable examining your own behaviours and motivations. (As a slight aside on this topic, I can whole heartedly recommend Small Great Things, by Jodi Picoult – I’ve seen her name so many times in bookshops and just assumed from the covers she’s an airport chic lit romance novelist – ha! I couldn’t have been more wrong – this one was recommended to me by a free matching website (Charlie says you have to beware the free services – if you’re not paying for a product you *are* the product) and it’s about a black midwife (or labour and delivery nurse as they call them in America) and the fallout after she’s asked to look after a white supremacists’s baby. Kept me utterly riveted – a much needed distraction to the weather. Jodi, you need a new agent, or at least a new cover designed, because, no matter what folks say, everyone always judges a book by its cover).

Having said all that, we did visit a lovely family run pearl farm on Raietea, where the owner showed us round and we got to see the grafting process (where they gently prise the oyster shell open a few centimeters so they can introduce a nucleus (a bead made in Japan from Abalone from Mississippi) into a special ‘pouch’. Eighteen months later they prise it open again to see if the oyster has covered the nucleus in mother of pearl – if it has, they remove it to sell, and replace it with a slightly larger nucleus. If there’s no pearl, they eat the oyster instead). And we had a great tour of a family run vanilla farm on Tahaa. No wonder it’s so damn expensive – it takes 3 years and 2 months to produce vanilla – 18 months for the newly planted vine to produce flowers, which only open for a few hours before they die, and have to be hand pollinated during this time (in Mexico where they come from they have special bees and hummingbirds to do this, but not in the pacific apparently). It takes 9 months for the flowers to turn into vanilla pods which have to be harvested green (so the birds don’t get them) and then dried over 4 months in the sun (but only an hour at a time, so it doesn’t burn). There must be some other step to the process that I’ve forgotten as that doesn’t add up to 38 months – they boys wrote it all down though – good practical homeschooling! We’ve had some good boat school days recently too – Roo and Kit are both getting the hang of picking up mooring buoys (although you do have to remind them that if there’s a choice between holding on to the mooring to the point that you’ll be dragged into the sea, or losing the boat hook, it’s ok to lose the hook).

Our last stop in FP was Bora Bora, and it was, despite all our expectations, totally fab. We had avoided it last time because we thought it would just be high end resorts, and honeymooners (we tried to get kid bikes to cycle round the island but there weren’t any to be had as I don’t think anyone goes on holiday there with children), but more fool us – it is absolutely stunning (iconic mountain surrounded by the most picture perfect turquoise lagoon – we attempted a hike up the mountain, and got about half way, which was pretty good going considering how steep and jungly it was – there was one section where you had to use ropes to get up a sheer rock face. I was worried about the boys, but it turns out I was the one who had a total breakdown at the top instead – when I finally got down Roo and Kit gave me a spontaneous round of applause!) And the people could not have been kinder – when we bought fruit and veggies at the side of the road (from their own bountiful gardens), they insisted on giving us more than we paid for and welcoming us to their island; when we went snorkeling in our dinghy, we were dropping the anchor when we saw a tour boat approach. We readied ourselves for being told it was private and being asked to move…but the guy just wanted to tell us we were in the wrong spot – he let us follow him for 100m or so, weaving through the coral heads, til he found the right place and we snorkeled with the most amazing clams I’ve ever seen – the frilly bits in between the shells were every shade of green, turquoise, royal blue, navy, brown. Wow! He didn’t want to be paid, he was just very proud of his home. We wished we could’ve stayed longer, but we had to get moving to catch our weather window (ha!) We left wondering if we’ll ever be back – when we left the first time, we were sure we would be – this time, I’m not convinced – maybe we’ve got another big sailing adventure in us, but maybe not the Pacific (or Caribbean) again?

PS After the storm there was no wind for 2 days so we motored. Two things of note happened. It was glassy calm, so we stopped and went for a swim. And “Mummy! Kit’s put chewing gum in my hair!” (turns out there was, as is often the case, blame on both sides. Roo had bitten Kit on the arm. But when Kit had returned the favour, biting Roo on the head, he’d forgotten he’d got chewing gum in his mouth. Oops. There was much wailing while it was removed.

Vanilla farm explanation

Pearl farm – grafting

Bora Bora lagoon

Bora Bora mountain hike

The view we were looking at in the last picture!

Swimming on the way to Samoa