Honolulu Star-Advertiser © Susan Scott
May 20, 2013
KAUEHI, Tuamoto Archipelago » With laundry done, the galley loaded with mangoes and a crew change (my husband, Craig, replaced friends John and Alex), it was time for my 37-foot boat Honu to sail on.
I was sad to leave the Marquesas after a year of planning and dreaming of those islands. But as stunning as their volcanic jungles are, the Marquesas were not my dream place. The islands’ steep drop-offs leave few places for coral reefs to grow, and river runoff clouds the bays’ waters.
No, heaven for me was the teeming Tuamotos.
Not that I had ever been there. When I was 12 years old in Wisconsin, I checked out of my town library the book “Kon Tiki,” Thor Heyerdahl’s account of his 4,300-mile raft voyage from Peru to the Tuamoto Archipelago. The story didn’t speak to me, it roared as loud as the 10-foot surf breaking on the coral reef in front of Honu.
The Tuamoto Archipelago is a chain of 76 atolls lying between the Marquesas and Tahiti Nui. At 1,000 miles long, the group is similar in length and layout to Hawaii’s Northwest chain, but with a significant difference. Here dense stands of coconut palms cover the islands that ring the lagoons.
The towering trees are important to sailors because we can see them from a safe distance. Our radar mounted high on the mast detected the palms, at night, about 16 miles away. After day broke, Craig and I could see the trees eight miles ahead.
At the palm’s bases, and in spaces between the atoll’s islands, we watched, soberly, as 10-foot surf broke like white fireworks against Kauehi Atoll’s encircling reef. Shipwrecks lying here and there are graphic reminder of the atolls’ name of old: the Dangerous Isles.
With GPS, radar and depth sounders, sailing to the atolls is safer, but far from risk-free. A skipper must sail close enough at night to make it to the narrow, current-driven channels in sunlight, crucial for maneuvering into the wave-protected but coral-strewn lagoon.
The four-day passage from the Marquesas to the Tuamotos started fine but the last 24 hours was a nightmare for me. Tradewinds began to blow hard, causing the sea to resemble that of Hawaii’s channels. The autopilot couldn’t steer in such steep waves and stints at the wheel left my hands and arms aching. Waves broke in the cockpit and sprayed the cabins, salting our bed, sofas and even my precious books.
All that plus killer reefs.
I was so miserable and anxious I considered canceling the Tuamoto leg and going straight to Papeete.
Fortunately, I now share the helm with my lifetime-sailor husband. Craig generously took my shifts (meaning he steered all night), singing boisterously for hours on end while drinking salty coffee and reassuring me that all was well.
Today Honu is anchored in a calm lagoon of clear turquoise water behind a palm-studded, white-sand island.
After getting the Tuamoto bug over a half-century ago, I am finally there.
“Purgatory was a bit damp,” said one of Kon Tiki’s crew after washing into a Tuamoto atoll. “But heaven is more or less as I’d imagined it.” I agree.