Dinghy Bar Days

October 28, 2010

14:00

We're in the midst of another set of rainy Tahitian days. I'd complain further, but I know these gray days are what keep this island lush. Okay I'll complain a little further. Sets after sets of squalls dump their watery reserves on us by the hour. In our rain-confined cabin life we are left to our own tasks: I, ukulele strumming, Dan, reading. Both of which are frequently interrupted by the need to close the boat down into its sweat box form in order to keep the rain out. We then resume our previous tasks and wait for the rains to abate to once again open her up and breathe. It's really a tough life here. The mooring field during one of these squalls:

With the squalls come howling wind (a squall is defined as any atmospheric phenomenon that causes the wind to rise by 15 knots or more for an extended period of time). It's different every time, but I'd put the average squall in the high 20s of knot readings (I take my precise wind measurements with the precise anemometer of my face stuck out of a hatch into the wind). Even with winds that would make any prudent sailor check and recheck his ground tackle, we have no fear for we have hopped onto a free mooring ball. I'm not sure I've ever explained a mooring ball, so here it goes. It's basically a permanent anchor with a line bent onto it for the sole purpose of mooring one's boat to. The mooring could be anything appropriately heavy and sunk into the ground (a mushroom-shaped anchor or even engine blocks encased in concrete).

Normally there's a charge per day for their use, but we were gifted one through annoying the French. Our initial drop once we got into Maeva was a little too close to the boats in the yacht harbor, so we were assisted over to the apartment complex we had been situated in front of previously. The same man who had told us to leave a month prior soon came out to repeat his request. Dan wasn't much into the Frenchman and Port Control rolled up at our proverbial doorstep within the hour. A Tahitian bloke, he was much more understanding and gifted us a free mooring ball. Our Norwegian friend, Hugo, got the same notice and he was willing to help us move using the patented dinghy-on-the-side method we had perfected during cooperative efforts between Brian and Leeway. It was a success and both boats now lay moored on the other side of the channel.

The Port Authority had coaxed us over here by telling us of a “big front” that was moving in. I found nothing abnormally large on the weather maps, but we were happy enough with a free mooring to never mind his false claim. Despite a front-void weather report, we decided to secure Leeway in an extra strong fashion to the mooring: two doubled lines were run aft from the mooring line to each of our sheet winches. The mooring anchor would have to pull out and tumble before Leeway would budge an inch.

So we sit in the gently rocking cabin with bowls under all the drips pondering courses ahead.

November 9, 2010

15:26

I'll give the latest and greatest new first. In the next few days I'll be departing from Leeway and joining Michael and Lara on their fine vessel S/V Walk On for their passage to Hawaii. (If you pay a lot of attention to my posts, you may remember her as the vessel whereupon the marina jam-session took place a month or so ago). Walk On is a 43 foot LOA, cutter-rigged, steel cruiser with a well-sized rig to push her along at a good pace. From what I've examined thus far, Walk On is finely crafted and will be a joy to sail on. I also hold high opinions of her sailors: Michael and Lara are a married couple with kind souls and have a happy outlook on life. They seemed very pleased to take me on as a crew member to ease the strain of the, inevitably, upwind sail back to Hawaii and I very much look forward to adventuring onwards with them.

Dan and I will soon be parting ways, always remembering the fine esapade we shared aboard Leeway. Leeway is straying in a different direction from her originally planned path which had pushed me to seek a different vessel. After some searching about this was found in Walk On. Dan is sure to enjoy some time single-handling Leeway across the blue water landscape. His current plan (liable to change, as are all plans involving sailboats) is to head west through the Leeward Islands of French Polynesia to American Samoa before cruising north to remove himself from the cyclone belt that is due to become active in upcoming months. He will ultimately make port in Hawaii, but several months later than the first-envisioned date.

Besides the search for north-voyaging boats, Tahitian days have been nothing but normal: occupied by reading, ukulele strumming, and the occasional boat chore to fill the cracks in between. I haven't brought myself to remove the strings of my instrument to begin its much-needed polishing up as I'm not sure I'd be able to part with strumming it every moment of the day. This task may end up being done in the lengthy passage ahead where the proprietors of my new vessel and I are sure to tire of it's hum. I have made a minor change in its tuning however. I altered it from its originally-imparted Tahitian tuning to a classic re-entrant ukulele tuning. This involved lowering the two middle courses (C and E) an octave. After a few days the strings settled back in (I'm not sure 15kg test fishing line was originally designed for this purpose) and what resulted was its high, tinny sound being supplanted with a fuller tone. This has encouraged me to get my right hand more active and various picking patterns now dominate my ukulele-rooted musings.

Not a few of my hours have been spent in a fine locale known as the Dinghy Bar. It's an exquisite lounge location appended to the illustrious marina-side restaurant: La Casa Bianca, the cuisine of which I have never partaken in. What I have partaken in, though, are the fine, locally-brewed, blonde beers that become quite-reasonably priced during happy hour at the Dinghy Bar. Of course I do not just come here to enjoy the warm atmosphere and drink cold beverages late into the night. This is a prime establishment for any and all laptop doings. It offers a cozy couch to view the infinite tubes of the internet upon and (after splicing a 220V plug into my power cable) provides shore power to my laptop to lessen the strain on Leeway's not-too-robust electrical charging system. Many a moment have waned away in the ambiance of this kind little corner of Tahiti.

As always, a couple of pictures to make you back home ever-so jealous: