20th June 2024
Rotoava, Fakarava, Tuamotus, French Polynesia – Carrefour Bay, Tahiti, French Polynesia via Venus Point & Airpoirt Anchorage, Tahiti, French Polynesia
In 1776 Captain Bligh and his trusty crew left London on ‘The Bounty’ with a mission to make landfall in Tahiti. The Captain hoped to find both fame and a land of plenty* while the crew hoped to find a land of naked women, fresh fruits and lots of sweet water. We have followed in ‘The Bounty’s’ wake both literally and figuratively.
Our trip from Fakarava was nothing compared to the perils that ‘The Bounty’ faced as they tried and failed to round Cape Horn but it was not without drama. We had timed our exit perfectly with the start of the flood tide, but this also coincided with the divers who’d been exploring the deep. Just as we reached the narrowest part of the pass, just meters in front of us the water erupted in bubbles, a SMB popped up and was instantly followed by a score of divers**. Thanks to a keen lookout we deployed our ‘handbrake turn feature’ and skirted past the divers with just feet to spare and then we were out.
Unlike ‘The Bounty’ our miles to Tahiti just slipped by and we then found ourselves dropping our anchor in exactly the same spot as Captain Bligh did all those years ago and this was not the only thing we had in common. We’d both now entered a world of plenty.
The first stop in the land of plenty was a supermarket. In the Tuamotus we’d been lucky to find a shop that stocked as much as a wizened onion or limp carrots. Tahiti was a world apart. We salivated at shelves full of fresh crispy produce; where lettuce was so firm it squeaked and tomatoes were radiant in their redness. Being in France all this shopping was performed to an aroma of freshly baked baguettes and pastries that oozed sweetness. Clearly lacking in vitamins we opted for days of lettuce sandwiches for lunch and tomato salads for dinner we were not going to suffering from scurvy in Tahiti.
While Ruffian sat where ‘The Bounty’ had, we walked in the footsteps of Bligh, and the mutinous Fletcher Christian. Plaques on the shore commemorated their arrival, leaving and subsequent shameful return. There were mournful reminders of the indigenous men that they took and the women who would be forever imprisoned on Pitcairn Island, far to the south of us.
As we made our way around Tahiti all the anchorages had one thing in common. A long dinghy ride to get us where we needed to be. Propane was at one end of town and our bottles were empty, the laundry was at the other end of town, and our clothes smelt not unlike the cheese we’d bought in the supermarket, and then there were all the tanks that needed filling. Our petrol reserves was worryingly low and Ruffian’s engine was almost running on fumes. While Fiona dealt with the stinky cheese based clothes, Iain made run after jerry can run filling Ruffian to the brim.
While in the Tuamotus had been kind to Ruffian but they’d not been so kind to lots of our electrical gadgets. Two waterproof camera’s had proved to be unwaterproof, our drone couldn’t drone*** anymore, and our action cam was not up to catching any action. Venturing into the electrical shop we suddenly realised why French Polynesia’s ‘expensive’ reputation preceded it. There were so many 0’s on the prices our minds couldn’t comprehend the numbers and we yearned for the bargains of ebay and the worker abuse of Amazon.
Our final chore on Tahiti tied up with our first one, retrieving our now full propane bottle and this was going to be completed in true Ruffian fashion. The long dinghy ride to the propane store was beyond even trusty Brock and the only alternative was public transport. We thought to ourselves ‘What could possibly go wrong when mixing public transport and the illegal transportation of dodgily overfilled, out to date, propane bottles?’
Picking up the bottle it felt somewhat heavier than usual and as we walked along the high street it left a trail of leaking propane behind it and this added a little more jeopardy to our final chore. After a couple of drinks**** where the bottle slowly reached pressure it was time to hop on the bus and hope for the best. As we bumped our way over potholes and slew around corners the bottle behaved itself and every passenger alighted unscathed.
Like Captain Bligh we found a world of plenty in Tahiti and faced jeopardy in restocking. The big difference is that he left with an unhappy crew and a sick ship. We are happy and Ruffian is even happier.
* To help the slave-trade, they were tasked with bringing Breadfruit saplings to the Caribbean.
** This is not best dive practice. The SMB (surface marker buoy) should be deployed well in advance of the divers, so vessels on the surface can take evasive action earlier. We tried to contact the professional dive boats waiting ½ a mile away, but they were not listening on Ch16, also not good practice.
*** Amazingly Iain never crashed the drone it suffered the most unusual of drone fates. It simply wore out from too many air miles.
**** We took the leaking propane bottle to the kick off drinks of the Tahiti – Moorea Cruisers Rendezvous Rally.
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