Taha’a to Moorea, or The mast and me

 During our anchorage in Taha’a, Ayelet looked up at the mast and noticed that the track used for hoisting the mainsail was bent at the top. Uh-oh… another problem. Which meant I had to go up to the masthead again — something I really don’t enjoy. But this time, there was a twist! After ten years of procrastinating, we finally bought a proper harness for working at height, and I was about to try it for the very first time.

Until now, because our mast has steps that you can climb (and because the previous owner told me that he used to climb them without any safety line at all), it always seemed obvious to simply climb the steps. Of course, I was responsible enough to secure myself with a partial harness attached to a halyard, but the climbing itself required my full strength, and once I was up there, I could only work with one hand while the other held on to the mast. Hard, awkward, and not fun at all.

But now we tried a new technique with the new harness: I still climb the steps, but at the same time Ayelet hoists me with the halyard, making the ascent incredibly easy. And best of all — once I’m at the top, I can sit comfortably in the harness and work with both hands! What a difference.

While writing this, I imagine possible blog readers rolling their eyes, thinking I’m boring them to death with such technical descriptions. So first, apologies if that's the case. But the whole point of this blog is to convey what life on the boat actually feels like and what occupies our minds. And this mast‑climbing thing was very meaningful to me — something that used to frighten and stress me out has now become easier and much less intimidating.

Anyway, I went up the mast and inspected the bent track. I managed to straighten it, but then realized that a major piece holding it in place had broken — a result of a workaround I had done earlier so that we could keep using the mainsail while waiting for a spare part from France (remember that? From earlier chapters). So now we were waiting for the part from France *and* needed to fabricate a new piece to replace the one that broke.

Somehow, we were taking it all in stride, and Anton, Adva’s partner, helped us a lot. He instructed me to go up the mast again (no problem, happily!), remove the broken part and another similar one to use as a template, then took me to his friends at the boatyard and explained in French what needed to be made. He sent me up the mast *again* to measure something I had missed (no problem, happily!), and even agreed to send the finished piece to us at the next island so we wouldn’t have to wait in the same anchorage. This was important because we had a weather window that would finally allow us to sail toward a direction that is usually very hard — once again, straight into the wind.

We spent a bit more time in Taha’a — a lovely ride around the island on electric bikes, and some beautiful snorkeling along the reef that surrounds it. But the number one thing that stays with us from this island, and from most of our land visits here, is the flowers. I’ve written about this before, and I’ll probably write about it again. Everything is blooming! In the gardens, in the wild jungle between villages — everywhere. And beyond the beauty, the smell! Even when anchored a few dozen meters from shore, the breeze carries waves of sweet floral scent, and the water is dotted with fallen flowers. Paradise, already said that, right? And as if that wasn’t enough, one day a stunning rainbow appeared right above us — so close it felt like we could touch it.

Two days before leaving, we got curious about a boat anchored near us — one that looked different from most boats. We paddled over to check it out and met a relatively young Swiss couple who immediately invited us aboard. They’ve been living on their boat for six years, but are now selling it and ending their sailing chapter. The unique thing about their boat is that when you sit inside, you’re surrounded by windows — you can see outside and even open them for ventilation. It’s different from our boat and from many others, where you can only see out when sitting in the cockpit, but once you go inside to the galley or saloon, you’re too low to enjoy the view. Their boat has several other special features too, and Ayelet got so excited she suggested we consider selling “Ester” and buying theirs! I calmed things down — I’m not in the mood for that kind of adventure.

We ended up spending several lovely hours with them over the next two days, and it was really nice. These sailor-to-sailor encounters are truly something special. When the chemistry is good (and it often is), conversations quickly become deep, open, fascinating — and you get to know life paths and perspectives so different from anything you’re used to.

The next morning, we “popped into town” for fuel and a big grocery run — the last proper restock we had done was a month earlier — and then headed out, under engine, for an overnight sail to Moorea, a close neighbor of Tahiti, the main island in French Polynesia. A few words about night sailing: Ayelet and I take shifts. This time, I stayed up until around 2:00 AM, and Ayelet continued into the morning. Night watches usually pass pleasantly — tea and cookies, watching downloaded shows, listening to podcasts and music, and all the other distractions electronics provide.

In the morning, we arrived in Moorea, anchored in a gorgeous bay, and collapsed into a deep sleep.

Cooks’ Bay, Moorea