Taha’a Island

 The person calling us from the dinghy was Adva, an Israeli woman, partner of Anton, a Frenchman. Their child’s name is Ori. Adva has a boat here, and so does Anton, and she’s been sailing across the Pacific for the past eighteen years. She immediately mentioned that in all those years, she’d never heard Hebrew spoken on this side of the world. We met the next day for a long and pleasant sailors’ chat.

We’re currently on the southern side of the island of Taha’a, just four kilometers from Raiatea. Here there’s a cluster of about twenty mooring buoys that can be used for free. Most of them belong to a nearby pearl farm, and there’s an unwritten rule that whoever ties up here goes to visit the farm—and maybe ends up buying something.
These buoys usually belong to someone who installed and maintains them. When you tie to one, it’s important to know that it’s well maintained, because it replaces your anchor. If the buoy line isn’t properly secured, or is worn, or simply not thick enough, you don’t want to trust it! Often, therefore, the owners of such buoys—if they even allow you to use them—will charge a fee.
The island’s name, as mentioned, is Taha’a, and it’s a good opportunity to say a few words about the local language. It’s very rich in glottal stops and uses relatively few sounds. It’s read exactly as it’s written, letter by letter. So the previous island, Raiatea, is pronounced Ra-ee-a-te-a. The international airport in Tahiti is called Fa’a’a. Hello is Ia orana, and thank you is maruru.

A street sign 

As for the pearl farms: there are quite a few across French Polynesia, and we already visited one on the island of Rangiroa in the Tuamotu Archipelago (the atolls). The process is semi-artificial—the pearls grow around a small bead inserted into the oyster. It’s a long and complex process: oysters are grown in mesh tubes submerged in the sea for about three years. Then they’re brought out, a small incision is made, the bead is inserted along with a tiny piece of another shell that determines the pearl’s color, and the oyster is returned to the sea for another year and a half. Then it’s opened, the pearl is removed, and the process starts again—up to five times. Fascinating!

In the picture, there’s a table with pearl oysters for demonstration. Behind it hang spherical buoys used to support and mark the plastic mesh tubes in which the pearls are grown. These buoys are everywhere, and aside from their original use, they’re often used as decorations. Yachties like us also need them: we use four of them to lift the anchor chain off the seabed at intervals of about five meters, so only the anchor and a bit of chain lie on the bottom. The reason: to keep the chain from snagging on coral “bommies.”

Meanwhile, we’ve restarted the watermaker, and to our delight, it’s working perfectly and producing good-quality water. Having one onboard is a game-changer—it frees us from the need to conserve water and, more importantly, from worrying about when and where we’ll next be able to refill. Another special thing about being here in the South Seas (I love using that term—it connects me to all the adventure books I read as a kid that sparked my imagination): the desalination is done with an electric motor that pressurizes seawater through a special membrane. Normally, that motor consumes quite a bit of power, and you have to run the boat’s engine, even when not sailing, to generate enough electricity. But here, there’s no need! We have solar panels, and the sun is so strong it provides all the power we need for as much water as we want. In short—we’re impressively green! That’s on top of the fact that most sailing here is done under sail, so the engine runs very little.
The spare part we ordered for the anchor windlass has arrived, and another full day went into installing it. I tried to be as German-precise as possible with the installation—which doesn’t come naturally to me. To protect all electrical connections from the endless humidity of the sea air (which causes corrosion fast), you have to wrap them carefully with rubber sleeves, check for oxidation, replace wires if needed, and so on. Once again, I spent five or six hours crouched inside a deck locker and was actually impressed by my own patience. As often happens with repairs, there comes a moment when I’m not sure I’ll be able to fix everything, because I don’t fully understand what’s going on. I have to admit that it scares me for a moment, and I need to remind myself that I usually manage in the end—and even if not, there’s always a solution. In this case, I did finish the installation successfully, and the satisfaction was huge!
Besides pearls, another big thing here is vanilla cultivation. It’s grown throughout the Society Islands, but it seems especially common here on Taha’a. Yesterday afternoon we went with Adva and her son to a nearby vanilla farm to have some of the vanilla ice cream they make there. Delicious! And tonight, we had fish in vanilla sauce at a restaurant—absolutely amazing!

Fish in vanilla sauce 

The restaurant story: it’s in a different bay from where we’ve been anchored the past few days, and we moved there today. We’d read many glowing reviews: run by a French chef, best food in all of Polynesia, worth the trip. Ayelet was very excited to go, and even though it was already dark, we didn’t know the shore or where to land the dinghy, and the weather had been rainy and windy most of the day—she pulled me along. We took the dinghy toward what appeared on the map as the local pier, in pretty heavy darkness. When we arrived, we found the pier half dismantled, so we tied to what was left of it and climbed over some rocks to shore. We walked to the restaurant, ordered a full meal (cocktail, starter, main, and dessert). The food was good, especially the surprise dish—fish in vanilla sauce—but I wasn’t blown away. Then, near the end of the meal, the wind picked up and rain started again. We moved inside from the terrace to wait it out, and the French chef-owner struck up a conversation with us. He’s a very nice guy, married to a Tahitian woman he met in France, and has been living here for over thirty years. He clearly loves the place and the people. The chat was lovely, but outside it didn’t look like things would calm down anytime soon. So we put on our rain jackets, returned to the dinghy rocking in the wind, and bounced back through the rain to Ester, waiting calmly at anchor. A hot shower and a cup of tea made everything right again.
This morning, before moving to the bay with the restaurant, we visited Adva, Anton, and Ori on their boat. We love visiting other people’s boats, especially those owned by technically skilled sailors who’ve customized their vessels themselves. Anton definitely fits that bill—he’s a marine engineer by training, with tons of technical knowledge and a real love for boat work. His boat is an aluminum one from the 1980s, which he bought cheap after it had sat unused for about twenty years. He then spent three years restoring it before setting sail. He completely redesigned the interior to suit his needs and ideas of how things should work. He talks about it with such passion—it’s a joy to hear! After finishing the refit, he sailed from France through what’s called “the Northwest Passage”—a route from the Atlantic to the Pacific not through the Panama Canal but north of the American continent. This passage has only become navigable in recent years due to melting Arctic ice, and it’s still an incredibly adventurous route. Respect!
We’re now headed to the island of Maupiti, the most remote of the Society Islands and supposedly a real gem. The tricky part is that the pass through the surrounding coral reef can be dangerous depending on the direction and strength of the ocean swell. So we’re waiting for a good weather window to enter safely, which looks like it’ll come in a few days. That means that, unlike our usual habit of staying at least a week in beautiful places like this bay, we’ll be leaving after just two nights. On the way, we’ll stop briefly at the famous island of Bora Bora—but won’t stay more than two or three nights, since it’s considered over-touristed. Plus, we need to reach Maupiti in time for that weather window.