Return ticket Moorea-Tahiti.

My Captain with his brother and sister-in-law on our way to Moorea from Tahiti Iti.
Our anchorage in Tahiti Iti.

A broken spreader on our standing rigging—which is an important part of the mast support and which was torn to pieces by the lanyard (= rope for main sail) that caught the rigging with the momentum of a wild wave as we were hurriedly hoisting the mainsail with our electric winch (very dumb!), a tear in the upper right corner of our genoa sail as it had caught the sharp edge of that broken spreader, and a stuttering AIS system (Automatic Identification System) due to a dead antenna—forced us back from Moorea to Papeete, where all the chandleries and skilled workforce are. That’s how our week of pure Moorea bliss in the company of My Captain’s youngest brother and his wife came to a sudden end. 

View from the Moorea belvedère.
The entrance to Cook’s Bay, Moorea.
White Lotus pose in front of the Sofitel Moorea with O2 in the background to the left.
Ann enjoying the view as we are entering Opuhunu Bay, Moorea
Anchored in Opuhunu Bay.
Moorea’s eco-museum. The building steals the show.
Captain Cook is omnipresent, even on the wall of a small tool shed.
We went on a tour with a guide called Francky Frank and his charming driver Karen. Here, Karen is taking the praying pose of Mount Mou’aputa
When the picture of Mount Mou’aputa with praying Karen in front of it is flipped, the likeness of the 2 figures cannot be denied.
Pineapple plantations in lush country side.

As the family crew left, the sailing crew arrived. Our mate Jan was particularly pleased to discover that we were available for an airport pickup after all. This spared him the need to catch the Moorea ferry after his 35-hour journey from Belgium. This also afforded us extra time for an in-depth exploration of Papeete and its surroundings. All was well onboard O2. Until Jan tested positive for Covid.

A farewell lunch for our family combined with a welcome lunch for Jan. The Polynesian-French cuisine of “L’O à la Bouche” in downtown Papeete did not disappoint.

Jan didn’t feel too bad, apart from the sniffles, some wobbling of the legs, and a mild fever. (There is nothing like a fever in the tropics. ) We kept our distance as the poor guy was banned to his side of the catamaran or masked up in a faraway corner of the upper deck. All of this was happening while festive Papeete enthusiastically celebrated the successful Olympic Games. Wild music, even wilder dancing, joyfully undisciplined parades— the opposite of North Korean synchronicity, as a friend correctly observed— and fireworks lightened the mood. Jan bravely tried to get some sleep through all the racket.

This is Jan- still in mint condition- giving My Captain a hand with the repaired genua sail. The next day, Jan started coughing, but the sail was up & running again.
Using a grinding disk to fit the connection for the new antenna.
Rudy our Man from Holland. He diagnosed the AIS problem and fixed it with a new antenna

Papeete feels delightfully Polynesian, with birds tweeting in lush greenery and song and dance freely popping up in public squares. We are docked in the heart of town with coral growing right under our keel. The city also has a distinct French vibe—especially now with the Olympic Rings displayed all over the place—and monuments commemorating Polynesian sacrifices securing the glory of France. A trip into the administrative quarter is a journey into an era long gone.

Marina Papeete is doing a considerable effort to grow coral on artificial reefs. It works!
The administrative quarter boasts gorgeous boulevards.
Ici, c’est La France.
Playing pétanque on a sunny Sunday afternoon. How French can it get?
Practising “Ori Tahiti” , aka Tahitian dance, in the public square, how Polynesian can it get?
Above a memorial for France’s children in the overseas territories who gave up their life for France and Europe. During WWI, French soldiers received the nickname “Les Poilus”, aka the hairy ones, as a term of endearment. There was no time for shaving in the trenches. Below the mural honouring “Les Poilus Tahitiens” of both world wars.
The radioactive fall-out from the Centaure bomb which was tested on Moruroa reached Tahiti at 2AM on 19 January 1974, 42 hours after the explosion. A disaster for the population.
Vérité et Justice, truth & justice, that’s what the population demands regarding the French nuclear tests on Moruroa Atoll.
To celebrate Jan’s recovery today, we revisited Teahupoo on Tahiti Iti. It is a magical place, which was off limits during the Olympic Surf competition.
Happy to be up and about again.
A monument to the “true warriors of the wave”. French-Polynesian Kauli Vaast won Olympic Gold in men’s surfing on the Teahupoo wave in Tahiti Iti.
This old man with his face full of character claimed to be the father of Vahine Fierro, the famous young female Tahitian surfer who looks just like the girl in the statue. “C’est ma fille”, he proudly announced. However, he strongly disagreed with the explanatory inscription on the surfer statue pedestal. He was jotting it down in his notebook to correct it once he got home. He was planning to follow Jan’s suggestion to post the correction next to the statue for all to see.

We were getting ready to cast our lines for new horizons, Covid permitting. However, the rigging problem is far from solved, and My Captain has begun to reach for the box of Kleenex.

4 comments on “Return ticket Moorea-Tahiti.”

  1. Marc De Ruyte says:

    En weerom een prachtige “post” met mooie foto’s.
    Wat een belevenis en ja de gebruikelijke “ accidentjes” die het zeilen met zich meebrengt, scheur in de zeilen zal al eens meer gebeuren en zal wel meevallen maar een spreader herstellen is wel wat anders. De AIS antenne vervangen is dan schijnbaar maar een klein klusje voor een volwaardig mekanieker , aka werelszeiler als Luc.
    Hopelijk een snel herstel van de spreader en speelt covid jullie niet verder parten .
    We kijken al uit naar jullie volgende avonturen.
    En zoals we in “ Sinnekloas” zeggen ………. “ ik vertjeir min hert azèk die fotokes zie”.

    1. Viv says:

      Het was eigenlijk een geluk bij een ongeluk die kapotte spreader. Een professionele rigger heeft alles gecheckt en zo gezien dat het pinnetje van de voorstag zo goed als weggesleten was en dringend moest vervangen worden. De rigger kwam ons halen met de dramatische woorden: You could lose your mast. “ Deze morgen komt hij die voorstag herstellen. Zeilboten hé.

      1. Walter Hendrickx says:

        Heb het voor gehad met mijn kleine cat een kalfje(sluiting) van de zijstag was los getrild. De mast is tijdens het aftuigen vlak naast mijn hoofd neer gevallen. Voortaan tape ik alle kalfjes in zodat ze niet meer loskomen. Had dodelijk kunnen aflopen. Dat terzijde ik vind jullie avontuur onwaarschijnlijk super. Ik volg het verder met spanning het leest als de avonturen van Kuifje 🙂🙂🙂❤️

        1. Viv says:

          Amai, neen, dat wisten we niet. En het is exact wat die rigger ons toonde en preventief verholpen heeft. Goed idee dat extra afplakken. Onze spreader is trouwens maar provisoirement hersteld. Wanneer de wind van over breed stuurboord komt, mogen we niet te veel zeil zetten. Tot in Raiatea waar de spreader in zijn geheel zal vervangen worden. Vele groetjes van Kuifje & co.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *