December 7, 2010
08:45
Walk On has begun her lengthy beat to windward. Yesterday afternoon we left Moorea's Opunohu Bay, a magical place. Since then the trades have been guiding us north (and a tad east) to our pretty-much-decided-upon destination of Rangiroa, the Tuamotu's most populated spit of sand. We were very reluctant to leave Opunohu. It was the perfect anchorage. After being slowly eaten away by a month in Tahiti, sailing into this quiet, beautiful anchorage was a godsend. The minute we beam-reached through the pass into the still lagoon waters, I felt a completely different ambiance diffused by the shores. Palm trees lined the reef-tinged beaches instead of apartment complexes and McDonalds and houses no longer littered the devastating mountains known to the Soceties. I could feel of a bit of Polynesia was still left in this island.
We anchored on a sandbar just inside the pass under the watching eyes of a towering cliff to the east and a string of peaks to the west. The sun sets behind these Western peaks creating the warm light of a tropical sunset for several hours each evening. Everyday children on shore man Hobicat catamarans and little optimists to play bumper sailboats around the buoys in the bay. Stores were close and well-priced due to Tahiti's proximity. What more could one ask for?
We mostly lounged through the days loving the environment with a boat chore on occasion. I'm glad to say that there were no more mast escalations, though. During our short stay, Pesa invited us to his daughter's (she's a resident of Moorea) 30th birthday party, which turned out to be a true Polynesian shindig. Pesa fearlessly manned the barbeque using his fingers as the only utensils to cook and flip steaks and sausage while most others fraternized. Pesa did a fine job and everyone present, about 30 people in all, enjoyed his treats of his barbeque. When the plates were licked clean, instruments began to appear. An ukulele, a guitar, an electric bass, and pure Polynesian lyrics wafted harmoniously into the air late into the night. The crew of Walk On retired early due to an early start that day. The next afternoon Pesa and Dan joined us on the boat with some Marquesan cuisine: kaku (mashed breadfruit in coconut milk), goat marinades in coconut milk and onion, manioc, and some diced pineapple. We had a good time and I gave my final goodbyes to them on shore.
We prepped the next morning and left around noon. Reinforced trades of 25 knots lay dead on the nose. We came out make pretty good headway under triple-reefed main and staysail, but eventually eeked out some genoa with the fine furling system Walk On is equipped with. The first night tested out seamanship by delivering upon us numerous squalls. The crew and the boat handled it handsomely. As the winds hit 30 knots, we'd simply ease the mainsheet and fall off downwind until it passed.
Sleep was hard for me the first night. Walk On exudes all new sounds, each of which I must understand before being able to fall into a contented sleep. In addition, I had a rare bout of seasickness. It was nothing too serious, but it was far from pleasant. I had been spoiled into landlubberdom by the quiet lagoon waters of the Societies. It has since cleared up and, feeling pretty exhausted, I bet sleep will come easily tonight.
We're cutting up into the wind at a comfortable angle of a little less than 60 degrees to. The wind is steady and not too firm and Walk On cleaves the swells with relative ease at just above 6 knots. Two lines trail aft with lures we hope will be attractive to mahi. Any prospective atolls are still quite some distance away and dead into the wind.
08:45
Walk On has begun her lengthy beat to windward. Yesterday afternoon we left Moorea's Opunohu Bay, a magical place. Since then the trades have been guiding us north (and a tad east) to our pretty-much-decided-upon destination of Rangiroa, the Tuamotu's most populated spit of sand. We were very reluctant to leave Opunohu. It was the perfect anchorage. After being slowly eaten away by a month in Tahiti, sailing into this quiet, beautiful anchorage was a godsend. The minute we beam-reached through the pass into the still lagoon waters, I felt a completely different ambiance diffused by the shores. Palm trees lined the reef-tinged beaches instead of apartment complexes and McDonalds and houses no longer littered the devastating mountains known to the Soceties. I could feel of a bit of Polynesia was still left in this island.
We anchored on a sandbar just inside the pass under the watching eyes of a towering cliff to the east and a string of peaks to the west. The sun sets behind these Western peaks creating the warm light of a tropical sunset for several hours each evening. Everyday children on shore man Hobicat catamarans and little optimists to play bumper sailboats around the buoys in the bay. Stores were close and well-priced due to Tahiti's proximity. What more could one ask for?
We mostly lounged through the days loving the environment with a boat chore on occasion. I'm glad to say that there were no more mast escalations, though. During our short stay, Pesa invited us to his daughter's (she's a resident of Moorea) 30th birthday party, which turned out to be a true Polynesian shindig. Pesa fearlessly manned the barbeque using his fingers as the only utensils to cook and flip steaks and sausage while most others fraternized. Pesa did a fine job and everyone present, about 30 people in all, enjoyed his treats of his barbeque. When the plates were licked clean, instruments began to appear. An ukulele, a guitar, an electric bass, and pure Polynesian lyrics wafted harmoniously into the air late into the night. The crew of Walk On retired early due to an early start that day. The next afternoon Pesa and Dan joined us on the boat with some Marquesan cuisine: kaku (mashed breadfruit in coconut milk), goat marinades in coconut milk and onion, manioc, and some diced pineapple. We had a good time and I gave my final goodbyes to them on shore.
We prepped the next morning and left around noon. Reinforced trades of 25 knots lay dead on the nose. We came out make pretty good headway under triple-reefed main and staysail, but eventually eeked out some genoa with the fine furling system Walk On is equipped with. The first night tested out seamanship by delivering upon us numerous squalls. The crew and the boat handled it handsomely. As the winds hit 30 knots, we'd simply ease the mainsheet and fall off downwind until it passed.
Sleep was hard for me the first night. Walk On exudes all new sounds, each of which I must understand before being able to fall into a contented sleep. In addition, I had a rare bout of seasickness. It was nothing too serious, but it was far from pleasant. I had been spoiled into landlubberdom by the quiet lagoon waters of the Societies. It has since cleared up and, feeling pretty exhausted, I bet sleep will come easily tonight.
We're cutting up into the wind at a comfortable angle of a little less than 60 degrees to. The wind is steady and not too firm and Walk On cleaves the swells with relative ease at just above 6 knots. Two lines trail aft with lures we hope will be attractive to mahi. Any prospective atolls are still quite some distance away and dead into the wind.
Thanks for all your blogging, Daniel. I can't wait until we throw the lines off and head that way.
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