| We decided to visit the Austral Islands before
sailing on to Tahiti.
Raivavae, 698 miles slightly southwest of the Gamblers, was described as having a beauty rivaling Bora
Bora, so we decided to go there. We left May 24, prepared for a 5 or 6-day sail in reasonable weather. First night out we got slammed with the same type of weather we encountered on our way to the Gambiers - high winds, huge confused seas. Next morning we radioed back to
Yacht Obsession in Gambier who were planning to leave the next day, also for
Raivavae, to tell them to wait until this unsettled weather had cleared, because it was most unpleasant sailing, especially first day out when one hasn't gotten their sea legs back. Neither our wind vane nor our autopilot would hold the boat on course during that first twenty hours or so, so we had to hand steer. Poor Peter had the majority of the duty because my first-day-out seasickness (called "the vapors" by Peter) did not leave me after an hour or two as usual, but stayed with me for the first twenty-four or twenty-six hours. I'm lucky that these "vapors" don't really incapacitate me, but I don't function very well - the most serious manifestation is that I become uncontrollably drowsy, so I'm not sufficiently alert to trust. But after a day the weather settled down to just "uncomfortable" and I got over my vapors. After two days things had quieted down and we had lovely weather.
Then the wind died, so for almost two days we had no wind. Motored for almost 24 hours until there was enough breeze to start sailing again. After the nasty conditions we had had, it was such a relief that for the first time since we left Ecuador I was able to "putter" about while sailing. I did some hand sewing, cooking, and I worked on the mother-of-pearl. But our progress was frustratingly slow - the first day because the weather was so bad that we had to slow down in order to conserve our energy, and then two days with no wind. On May 30, 70 miles from Raivavae the winds came back, and we were hoping that we would be able to make the entrance to the pass before the end of the day. At noon we could see the island rising up, just 25 miles away, but we couldn't, just couldn't, get there in time.
All our arrivals since leaving Ecuador have been at night, so each landfall has been characterized by our hovering around until daybreak could allow us to get in. But this was the most frustrating, because we hove to at 4 in the afternoon, and couldn't get going again until the sun rose at 7 the next morning. We drifted quite a distance in 15 hours and we found ourselves fighting wind and current to get back to the atoll. But we made it in with no surprises, and anchored in the lagoon, which is wonderfully protected.
Raivavae has three times the population of Mangareva (1500 people on
Raivavae), but it is a much poorer island. Whereas in Mangareva there are at least 7 small stores, here there is only one in each of the three villages, and the selection is even poorer than on
Mangareva. But we were fortunate to arrive just two days before the supply ship came in, which is quite an interesting experience. It looked as if they were having a party on the dock, so many people turned out for the unloading of the ship. We had hoped that we would be able to buy goods from the ship itself, but that wasn't possible - all its cargo is consigned to the shops on the islands it visits. But I immediately went up to the little store and was able to get fresh apples and eggs and onions. Eggs and onions are necessities, the apples were a pleasant luxury. But surprisingly, no other fresh fruits, and no fresh vegetables, were delivered. Of course, the islanders all have very extensive gardens here (much more so than in
Mangareva), but the selection is a bit limited, and they are hesitant to offer any to us (although I can't blame them).
All the children are taught French in school, but my “street” French is dreadful. From my readings about
Raivavae, and our experiences in Mangareva, I didn’t expect to find a soul who would understand our English, so I had been brushing up on my French since we left Ecuador, but had not found it particularly useful so far. When we had gone ashore to meet the supply ship, several young children came to the jetty to help us with our dinghy painter, and just to look at the foreigners. Among them was a lovely young girl of about 7 or 8 years old. I blurted out in English as we climbed out of the dinghy, “oh, how pretty you are,” not expecting her, or anybody else, for that matter, to understand me. Imagine my surprise when a woman said in perfect American English “do you really think so?” The woman had spent several years in the U.S. living with an aunt before returning to her home, and was the only person on the island who spoke English. She became our unofficial guide, and we had a great party day watching the canoe elimination races. Each of the out islands was sending a contingent to Tahiti for their Bastille Day celebrations, which included dancing exhibitions and contests, and canoe races.
Raivavae is really lovely. The island is three high mountains inside a circling reef, with a few motus dotting the fringing reef. It's much smaller than the
Gambiers' reef, and also the water is clearer. Makes it more manageable to go around exploring. When Obsession got in three days after us, we went exploring and "foraging". Since there are houses all the way around the island, there isn't much we can forage that doesn't belong to someone, although it's surprisingly lush for such a small island. But at almost 24o south, it's cold now during the southern winter, not terribly different from the Bahamas during northern winters. One night, when the wind was howling through I slept in blue jeans and sweatshirt and socks to keep warm (our blankets are more suited to the tropics' 65-70° nights than the 50-60° nights here). The combination of the intertropical convergence zone moving north at this time of year and the southern winter gales makes the weather this far south rather unsettled - two days of dead calm, two days of moderate winds, and five or more days of howlers. The unsettled weather with the bad spells getting longer and closer together forced us to bite the bullet to leave and finally go north to the tropic belt. It's been hard to leave, as the people are very friendly, although reserved.
This "off the beaten track" route has been quite interesting for us. The most yachts that Mangareva has had anchored at one time in its history is 14 - there were 13 at anchor when we left there. In Raivavae the Gendarme brought us their visitors book to sign - in 30 years they've only filled about 50 pages. In the early years they would see one or two boats a year. Normally they see six or seven. 1990 was a record year with 20 boats, 1991 they had two. 1992 they've had seven so far, but it does not look as if any more are going to arrive - it's too late now. So we've enjoyed tranquillity and unspoiled islanders. 200 boats arrived in the Marquesas in June, and our friends tell us that the islanders are getting spoiled and a bit hardened to all the boats.
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