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a drink of juice and to meet her husband. The next day we shared their barbecue lunch near the basin where we had moved Sea Quest. Lydia was native to Hao but Marcello hailed from the Marquesas. When he met his wife he was in the army. He stayed after the military left town in '98. He talked freely to us of the dislocations and frustrations the native people had felt with the testing at nearby Muraroa, where more than 150 nuclear explosions took place, a third of them in the atmosphere, which rained down contaminants throughout the Tuamotus and beyond. He spoke of sickness, the need now for reparations and medical help from the French Government, who he said had never considered the welfare of the Polynesians over which they had imposed a Protectorate in1847. Why did they not do the testing in France, he wondered?
After the base shut down most families departed to find work in Tahiti, he said.
"Why don't people farm the pearls as everyone seems to do in Gambier," I wondered aloud?
Marcello explained: "Many stolen pearls are on the black-market. The price fell to about half."
Then in 1994, he said, a cyclone reeked havoc contaminating the lagoon with so much silt that its limpid waters turned milky. Juvenile oyster spawn did not develop on the "collectures" or soon died. Only two pearl farms out of thirty operating at the height of productivity still exist today.
In the late afternoons we explored, peddling amongst the abandoned bungalows that had once housed a bustling community of expatriates in a prettily thatched community of clubs, and tennis courts, adjacent to sheltered beaches with cabanas for shade. When the French left they stripped the buildings of air conditioners, toilets and kitchen facilities. They cut the water supply (desalinized) and electricity. Now, four years later torn window screens and doors bang in the wind. Roofing iron squeaks.
During our time in Hao, our son was undergoing a big operation to graft skin to his arms and legs. We stayed on a few extra days to be near the phone. On Sunday, 17th August we dropped our lines, waved good-bye to Lydia and her children who had come down to wave farewell.
In light southeast winds we drifted along at only about 3 knots, arriving at the wrong side of Hikueru atoll as the current swept us to leeward. Hikueru was the island where the grafting of Black-Lipped oysters was first introduced in the 70's. Turning the motor on to give us a boost we headed right in close to the reef, which like all atolls, drops from the reef edge to great depths. Hikueru has no pass large enough for us, but as we passed a bend in the reef, a skiff, containing two youths hurtled from the shore towards us. The brandished a string of fish. "Whiskey! You got whiskey," the demanded.
"No. We have no whiskey." But Michael handed them some cigarettes we keep on hand. The older boy shrugged his shoulders and tossed the fish on the deck. I looked at the colorful little string of reef fish. A small grouper, a leatherjacket, triggerfish and a unicorn fish with a leathery hide and a single horn. None but the grouper was nice to eat and we were fearful of ciguatera. It's doubtful that the youths had taken much care in selecting the fish. Unwilling to take the risk, I tossed the fish, still quivering, back into the sea.
That night, with the engine silenced, we sailed silently through the black night, only the stars giving us any light. A family of porpoise arrived to cavort under the bow, twisting up to look at Michael and I above them, applauding their playful antics.
Tahanea appeared on the horizon, only about 6 miles away. It is one of the 44 Tuamotu atolls that has a pass, but without a GPS it
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