Tahiti

 Tahiti is the main island of French Polynesia, and it’s where the capital, Papeete, is located. It’s a fairly large volcanic island, and in fact it’s actually two islands connected by a narrow strip of land, so it looks a bit like the number eight, with one island noticeably smaller than the other.

A short “digression”: a strip of land like that is called an isthmus — a word I really like saying. Partly because it’s an unusual, special word, and partly because it always reminds me of the person who introduced it to me: a retired captain from ZIM shipping in the 1960s named Ilan Meirson. I did my first ever offshore passage with him, from Israel to Greece, on a small boat he built himself in the backyard of his home in Omer over the course of 14 years. He was a tough and stubborn man, but sailing with him was fascinating — he told incredible stories from his wild days as a captain. He passed away this year at a good old age; may his memory be a blessing.

Tahiti is also a high island (2,242 meters), and it’s really interesting to see how that affects the wind patterns over the vast area around it. Out in the open ocean, winds are usually very steady in both direction and strength. But when they hit this big mass in the middle of the ocean, they get disturbed in a way that creates “turbulence” in the airflow for hundreds of kilometers. It’s fascinating to see this on meteorological maps.

And finally — it’s a stunningly beautiful island! As mentioned, high mountains, some of them very steep due to the volcanic structure, covered in dense, evergreen jungle, with dozens of truly tall waterfalls and deep canyons. All of this is very pleasing to the eye, but like many of the islands here, there aren’t many walking trails, and there are almost no roads or dirt tracks that go deep into the interior of the island.

We arrived by boat at Phaeton Bay, a very well-protected bay located between the two parts of the island, right next to the isthmus. A sheltered bay like this is called a “hurricane hole” — a place you can come to and hide your boat when a hurricane threatens. The bay is full of boats anchored there for long periods of time. Some belong to people who go home for a few months, and some have been abandoned by their owners and are slowly rotting away. There’s also a family living on a boat in the bay, making a living by watching over the boats of those who leave them there.

The day after we arrived in Tahiti, we rented a car for a week and drove to pick up the famous part that had been holding us up until now. We left it with a local mechanic to install it. A few days later we picked up the refurbished part and installed it in place, and I went back up the mast with another part that had been custom-made for us and installed that as well. I was really happy to do all this work myself — not so long ago, I wouldn’t have dared. 

Fixed!

We did two short car trips, but unfortunately we somewhat missed out on really getting to know Tahiti, partly because there was a lot of rain, and partly because I came down with the flu.

On our previous leg, we connected with a super sweet young couple, Moana and Adrien, whom we met at a soccer game on one of the Marquesas Islands (a match between the local team and the Tahiti team, which ended 11:1 in favor of Tahiti). She is Czech, tall, with light brown hair, so when she introduced herself as “Moana” we were sure she had adopted a local name in a slightly pathetic way — but it turned out that it’s actually her real birth name. Adrien is a Tahiti native, and they invited us to their home for dinner. It was really, really lovely spending time with them.

Toward the end of the week we stepped up our preparations for the upcoming crossing to the Marquesas. Among other things, we met a German woman named Johanna who asked to join us as a hitchhiker for the passage. It turned out she’s been traveling and sailing for many years and has a lot of sailing experience, and on top of that she once completed medical studies, even if she didn’t practice much. That combination encouraged us to take her along — it especially helps with splitting the night watches.

Ayelet worked incredibly hard organizing the chaos inside the boat to make room for the new crew member, and also sorting out the big grocery shopping we did. Preparing for an ocean crossing really brings fresh energy with it — some worries and repeated checking of weather websites to understand what’s coming, alongside excitement about the adventure itself. Overall, the expected conditions look good, and the crossing should take 7–9 days, most likely without stopping along the way.