Over and Out

 

Ia Orana!

I write this from my desk in Glasgow 36h after touching down in Edinburgh.  Our departure had been as chaotic as our arrival giving absolutely no time for writing let alone video splicing.  

Crescent moon rising

Goodbye from Gustaf

I had imagined an orderly exit with neatly packed bags sitting tidily in the cockpit, a decluttered, mould free boat gleaming in the background with skipper and I sitting sipping cocktails and toasting our 18-month adventure against a glorious sunset.  Never could I have been so far off the mark!!  By Saturday night we were completely exhausted, the “last minute” jobs having taken their toll.  My particular favourite, scraping the hulls, was a case in point. What’s not to like diving down again and again, legs whirling to maintain position and arms outstretched clutching the scraper?  The object is to remove unwanted marine growth.  It lifts off the surface easily enough but is accompanied by a haze of blue antifoul that masks any advanced warning of approaching black tipped sharks.  I find the task both physically and mentally challenging.   Emerging from the depths after the second day, legs cramping on the boarding ladder skipper remarked “you seem to have acquired a blue rinse”.   I certainly wasn’t “mother of the bride material” at that point, but eyebrows were raised, and a day off suggested.  We still had to clean the hulls, scrub the decks  and pack the bags but this particular crew member needed a break. 

Exhausted final days

Customised seat (Tahitian style) in the Departure Lounge. Bag open, owner nowhere to be seen - who's worrying!

The choice was a boat trip with the “Cheeky Boys” (my words not theirs!).  This tour departs from Uturoa harbour and has long been on our radar.  Two or three outrigger boats appear every morning around 8am, each skippered by a perpetually cheerful young man sporting a red and white swirly patterned Tahitian shirt and a bright red loin cloth.  Not surprisingly they all receive rave online reviews!  On Thursday we were in Tere’s boat (pronounced “Tierry” he tells us solemnly and most definitely not to be confused with “Eirry”  - you can look up what that means in Tahitian but “body part” beginning with “P” will give you a clue!!).  

The irrepressible Tere

Blowing the Conch

What a fantastic day we had and such a fun distraction from our departure preparations.  In the morning, we ticked off a number of Taha’a industries including a vanilla farm, a rum distillery, a coconut oil producer and a pearl farm.  So much information in so little time.  

Precious Vanilla Flower	Vanilla vine growing up companion tree
Pods drying in the sun	Rum barrels

The whistle stop tour was rounded off with a quick snorkel session at the coral garden and an unscheduled sighting of a Manta Ray.  It was now almost 3pm and even by laid back Tahitian standards time for lunch.  To this end we were whisked off to a private Motu in the north of the lagoon and treated to a feast of Tahitian food served up on palm frond plates and washed down with coconut water.  With tables arranged at the water’s edge we ate with our fingers entertained by shoals of fish nibbling our toes, baby sharks hoovering up the leftovers and live music and song from our hosts. It was quite magical.   Afterwards Tere’s gave us a quick demonstration of how to climb a coconut palm - very impressive but not one for audience participation perhaps! 

Raiatea Snorkelling	Floral displays
Lunch tables	Showing off at the top of the coconut palm

We returned to the boats thinking our day was over, but it was not to be.  After much discussion the occupants of the third boat climbed back out and onto the shore.  One of the fathers explained that they were a Maori family from Rotorua in New Zealand and that cultural tradition has it that you thank your hosts for a day out like this.  The “thankyou” started with a song and was followed with a full-blown Haka initiated by the youngest son. Tere and his fellow hosts watched on.  After it was finished, he beckoned the cook to grab his drum and then with his fellow guides proceeded to perform a Haka of their own complete with the most menacing grunting and panting I have ever heard.  After it was all over, everyone greeted each other with the traditional “Hongi” where noses and foreheads are touched.  It was so moving.  Two sets of people living thousands of miles apart in the Pacific Ocean but sharing so much common culture.  What a treat for us westerners to experience.

Rotorua Haka begins	The French Polynesians respond
Haka continues	Hongi at the end

We returned to Papillon with renewed vigour for the last big push.  Hulls were cleaned, decks scrubbed, ceilings and interior surfaces wiped down with vinegar to stop mould regrowth and finally … the inevitable packing was begun.  By Saturday it was clear that an additional bag was required.  Skipper seemed unable to part from an ever-increasing pile of “essential” items that I had previously deemed “non-essential “.  Much discussion was had but a comparison of the costs with that of an additional bag finally had me relenting and another was reluctantly procured from the hold.  All 3 were in a terrible state after 18 months in this maritime climate, split seams, multiple tears and frozen zips all round.  I literally had to sew the contents into each one...so No – my ideas of neatly packed bags never did come to fruition!  For the record neither did my cocktails at sunset in the cockpit!!  By Saturday night it was raining heavily, and the sinking sun nowhere to be seen.  The decks at least got a great freshwater rinse but with the ship’s stores reduced to a packet of dried pasta and a packet of lardons it was not exactly a feast to remember!  But it was a significant one.  Our last on board Papillon and our last in Raiatea so very poignant. 

Last croissants

Last views of Papillon

On Sunday morning we left the boat and flew to Papeete – our first leg in a 50h trip back to the UK. We don’t know if Papillon is sold but Nick from Hawaii is planning a visit and survey in early August, so things are definitely moving in the right direction. Good news to be sure but strangely we can’t help but feel a little conflicted.  The boat and this place have provided so many wonderful memories.  Coming home will obviously be lovely too, but I don’t think either of us was surprised to shed a tear or two as we sped away from the mooring enroute to the airport on Sunday.  The adventure, like this blog was well and truly over.  Thank you for reading and at least for now...  Over and Out.   

Leaving Raiatea	Flying over the lagoon
Flying over the marina	Over and Out