Cruising to Tubuai, Tahiti
Five days later and 10 pounds lighter — it was one hell of a trip down to Tubuai. We had rough waters during our five-day sail to the northern tip of Tahiti’s Austral Islands. Located on the Tropic of Capricorn, the five islands of this archipelago are recognized for their distinct geological characteristics and rich vegetation. The family includes Rurutu, Tubuai, Rimatara, Raivavae and Rapa, plus two uninhabited islands, Maria and the Marotiri. Together, these sister islands form the southern boundary of French Polynesia, the last islands before Antarctica. With high cliffs, a multitude of caves and coves nestled along the coastline and blue lagoons fringed by white beaches, the scenery here is a sailor’s dream come true. Really though, ALL of the Tahiti’s islands are so stunningly beautiful.
Back to the trip.
Did you know that one can subsist on grainy mashed potatoes and saltine crackers for several days? I read six books and slept for approximately 80% of the trip, trying to put my mind elsewhere aside from the up and down, topsy-turvy motion of Queequeg at sea. From my small porthole in my stateroom (a.k.a. bedroom), I went from seeing six inches of water to six inches of sky, to six inches of water to six inches of sky. And if that isn’t enough to turn one’s stomach, throw in the acrid smell of alcohol from our galley stove and the sticky 90 degree heat. I wasn’t the only crew member with a case of seasickness. Poor Aunt Dede was in a semi-horizontal position for the trip’s duration, Wes had insomnia and Lexi tried to catch up on homework but ended up with her head in the sink.
Choppy seas
My turn at the helm was from 4-6, both a.m. and p.m., offering an excellent opportunity for brilliant sunsets and splendid sunrises. As I was trying to concentrate on not getting dizzy and running for the rail, I missed most of these horizon-gazing opportunities and stared at the compass instead, willing my stomach to stay silent. We hit one gale with approximately 55 mph winds one grey evening. The QQ crew tried to steer through the blustery wind but finally decided to lash the sails, point into the wind and drift for the rest of the evening so we could get some well-deserved rest.
Queequeg at sea
Land ho!!
Finally, on the morning of the fifth day along our southeasterly course, I spotted the starkly pointed mountains of Tubuai off our port. A land sighting! By mid-morning, we were motoring into the channel, the only sailboat in sight along Tubuai’s striking golden beaches. Don and Aria waved widely on shore and, after two dingy trips, we were enjoying cold rum punch and grilled mahi-mahi on the back lawn of their two-story bungalow. Afterwards we all piled into Don’s blue VW bus for a tour around the island.
I feel I should backtrack for a moment to briefly explain why we sailed to far-off Tubuai and who Don and Aira were. My father built a boat in his mid-twenties and sailed around the world. During his three-year voyage, he befriended a multitude of colorful characters who sailed with him for different lengths of time; all of whom have made an appearance at some point throughout our lives. From time to time, these fellow adventurers showed up on our family farm to check in on the building of Queequeg II and to reminisce about the good ol’ days of their shared circumnavigation. A younger version of Don had joined my father and sailed with him across the South Pacific and Indian oceans. Eventually, Don met Aria (originally from Tubuai) and moved to the little island south of Papeete. Don and Aria traveled to Chicago with their two daughters twice and we kept in touch through the years. Now the sweet couple was welcoming us to their corner of the world. It was a wonderful reunion!
Seriously, Tubuai is stunning
Tubuai, or Tupa’i, the real Polynesian name of this island wonder, is a breath of fresh air. Everyone on the island welcomed us with open arms and wide, toothy smiles (and they rocked some amazingly white, straight teeth, by the way). From passing motorists to cyclists to grocery clerks, all of the island locals waved and paused to chat. With a population of less than 2,000 residents, it seems that most of the islanders knew Don and Aria and wanted to interact or invite us to lunch or a soccer game. We rented a little beach house directly across the road from Don and Aria’s, complete with two comfortable bedrooms, a kitchen and a front porch with oceanfront views. Not that we didn’t want to stay on the boat, which was anchored in the harbor, but we had ICE and an OVEN. Not having to row back and forth to shore was also a plus!
Fresh fish for every meal!
A week on Tubuai
Many lazy South Pacific days followed. Between doing 20 + loads of laundry in Aria’s washing machine and cleaning Queequeg from bow to stern, we spent our humid, sunny afternoons kayaking, fishing, swimming, lounging and reading. I borrowed Don’s bike for a day and circled the island, passing colorful villages skirted by lush, tropical forests. Swinging in Aria’s hammock for hours, followed by lunches featuring island cooking, filled our days, and we attempted to march to the beat of typical island life. On this small island, one creates their own adventures and be content with the slower pace of life – perfectly fine with me. In the evening, after feasts of potatoes, locally grown produce and delicious fish, we looked at old photos from dad and Don’s two years of sailing together. It was wonderful to see their boyish sides come out as they talked — and giggled — about their mischievous adventures. I’m sure there were may adventures that were left out!
The slow beat of island life.
An Umu Feast
During our final weekend on Tubuai, we celebrated my mom’s birthday and treated our island friends to an authentic island umu, or earth oven feast. A pig was slaughtered for the occasion and we invited everyone we knew to come and enjoy the festivities. Being new on the island, this didn’t amount to much so Don and Aria helped out by inviting some friends and extended family.
To properly have a traditional umu feast, it takes man power and many hours of labor. We helped as much as possible but it was Mere, Don’s sister in law, and her wonderful cooks, that really got the wheels rolling. First the pig is chopped and cleansed. The pieces of meat are rolled tightly in banana leaves and placed on the bottom of the umu, which is basically a hole in the ground. The oven was prepared earlier in the day, having been dug out and piled with coals and nearby sand. Taro root and sweet potatoes are placed on top of the meat, followed by red snapper and several other kinds of fish, also wrapped in banana leaves. Heaps of fresh oysters and green taro leaves and spinach are mixed together and placed in a pressure cooker that is also then lowered into the earth oven, followed by a simmering pan of curry and vegetables.
A traditional ‘umu’ oven
The pile of assorted goodies is covered in leaves, sand and stones and set to roast for approximately five-six hours so the juices and flavors can simmer and mingle. Meanwhile, we completed other odd jobs. Carrey and I journeyed to the local grocer to stock up on Hinano, the local beer. We also husked a pile of coconut shells to gather the fresh milky pulp from the inside. If you’ve never seen an islander open a coconut shell in record time, it is an amazing feat indeed. I’ve spent hours with a rock and knife trying to open my own stubborn coconut, only to become frustrated and finally kick the bloody thing across the beach. Mere completed the task in about 20 seconds.
Our Tubuai clan
By 7 p.m. that evening, our banquet table was piled high with food. We were decked out in the best that our “boat clothes” could offer, though they were slightly wrinkly and a bit musty. Baked bananas were added to the platter of sliced taro and sweet potato. Bits of pork were mixed into the sautéed greens and oysters were thrown in to a type of yellow curry. Although some tastes were a bit foreign, I tried everything and had seconds and thirds of many dishes, as did the rest of our laughing party. As I looked around the table, I was struck with how out of touch with the rest of the world we were — no cell phones, no internet — yet, how justifiably happy and content we felt. Living in this little corner of paradise, however far from the mainland it was, offered a spell of fulfillment that many rushed Americans are severely lacking in our forever fast-faced, frenzied lives.
The following morning, we bid farewell to Tubuai. Don and Aria joined Queequeg to sail with us to the Cook Islands, which would be about a week’s journey. As we unfurled our mainsail and picked up a westerly breeze, we tossed our leis into the ocean. Legends claim that if the lei drifts to shore, the traveler will return one day. I hope that is true!
