28th May 2024
Kon Tiki, Raroia, Tuamotus, French Polynesia
Cliff Richard sung a great yarn about ‘Going on a summer holiday’, apparently there would be ‘No work for a week or two’ and along the way, knowing his wild ways, there would be lashings of fun with friends, excursions to local attractions, extravagant meals in amazing venues and adventures galore. If these were Cliff’s ingredients for a summer holiday then in Raroia we’ve been on a summer holiday.
The summer holiday kicked off in true Ruffian style with some ‘fun with friends’. Our windlass had been making some worrying straining noises and more worryingly would simply stop while pulling up the anchor. These stoppages were simply resolved by a quick bit of physical violence involving a winch handle, but this violent solution wasn’t sustainable.
Taking the windlass to bits, covers were removed, massive cables disconnected and we got into the inner workings. With the final cover removed a pile of carbon dust escaped and it was time to call in friends from Shimshal II to elicit advice.
Tim had the great idea to blow out all the carbon dust out of the motor with a dinghy pump which promptly settled on every surface around the bow making Ruffian look like it had just done a stint down a coal mine. Then armed with contact cleaner, the motor got a liberal dousing and gallons of carbon slime oozed out. With everything reassembled, the straining noises were gone and there was no longer any need for us to threaten it with physical violence. We’d had our first fun with friends.
As jobs were being ticked off on Ruffian it was time for us to take in a shoreside excursion and once again this had a classic Ruffian slant. Instead of wandering around pristine historic sites with cordoned off areas and a high level of health and safety we were bound for an abandoned pearl farm factory complete with all the sketchiness you’d expect of decaying industry.
We were welcomed ashore by the ‘caretaker’ and simply pointed on our way. We wandered around sheds full of kit who’s floors were slowly rotting above the turquoise water and through warehouses full to the brim with pearl floats, miles of nylon rope and mountains of mother of pearl. Venturing across the coral atoll we came across the scant workers accommodation which now gave shelter to hermit crabs and gave clues to the harsh lives of those who impregnated oysters, let them grow and then finally split them apart looking for shiny pearls.
The pearl farm was just the start of the historic shoreside excursions. Ruffian rested on her anchor in a place made famous by Thor Heyerdahl and his crew on the Kon Tiki raft, as we were mere meters from where they were shipwrecked. We made our way over to the windward side of the atoll where razor sharp coral guarded the interior and we could only imagine being washed up in this desolate location knowing this was just the start of the adventure. Nestled in the heart of a tiny piece of land, mere inches above sea level we found the memorial to these intrepid adventurers who’d drifted across the Pacific in the name of science* and who ultimately had their theories disproved, but did end up with an amazing story of survival.
All this shoreside fun was punctuated with water based escapades. Ruffian was surrounded by water that was gin clear, shone like the sun and was home to a myriad of creatures that were almost asking to be discovered. Sharks the size of small houses swum over reefs that were encrusted with clams of vibrant colours and fishies of unfathomable variety danced in every wave. This was so very different to everything we had seen in the Atlantic, including the temperature of the freezing** water.
Cliff’s ingredients for a good summer holiday were all coming together but we were missing a vital one in the form of local fare. That however was put right as Kalli, complete with his fast boat whisked us into town and as we landed on the dock we could hear the distant stumming of guitar and and ukulele accompanied by the chilled tempo of a box drum and harmonious voices.
Walking through ‘town’ the music grew louder and we were welcomed like long lost friends into the fold of Kalli’s family. The fishes that he had caught that morning were served on a table that was shaded by the palms that gently swayed in the wind all while his boat bobbed just meters from us. Kalli’s family gave us insights into life on a remote atoll, where opportunities are rare and where we were the major attraction.
With our little summer holiday complete we’d taken Cliff’s words to heart and next we’ll have his classic 1983 hit ‘Ocean Deep’, to think about as we once again head offshore.
* They wanted to prove that the original Polynesians could have arrived by raft from Peru. A long journey, but now disproved, since DNA tracing shows the original Polynesians came from Austronesia 3000 years ago.
** We’re such wimps. The water is a balmy 26 degrees, but that feels cold cold cold.
*** Photo credit to Blown Away (fitting dinghy wheels to their tender).
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