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Located a half a kilometer beyond the town is the Marina d'Dturoa where nearly the all the boats seemed to be French. We anchored in 90 feet of water not far beyond off the Te Mara Nui Plongee, the sea water swimming baths. These are not enclosed pools, but just concrete bulkheads along the shore with ladders providing access into the sea.
We sailed along Raiatea's almost unnoticed sister island. Tahaa is less scenic, has many pearl farms, but does not attract cruise ships. It has several harbours that deeply penetrate the island but are deep enough to make anchoring a challenge. We negotiated the lagoon passage between the northern end of Raiatea and the southern end of Tahaa in light that lit the shoals enough to dazzle the eyes. We dropped anchor in Baie Hurepiti, which lay opposite the reef pass.
The next morning, just as we were readying the boat for the 25-mile passage to Bora Bora, a woman paddled up to Sea Quest in her plastic canoe. She was from Arizona. She and her Australian husband were sailing a Moorings Charter yacht. "My husband would give his eye teeth to do what you are doing. And when I think of going back to running the businesses after being out here, I agree with him." She handed me a plastic wrapped package. "You might like to see this lastest issue of Cruising World." How friendly!
Bora Bora
The wind was light but picked up enough to set our sails. With Bora Bora's towering twin peaks gradually looming closer, sailing was an utter joy. Close under the reef we dropped the dinghy over the side so I might take a few pictures of Sea Quest with the famous silhouette behind her. It is surprising how much rougher the open sea can be, even when it looks calm, when you are in an eight foot skiff!
Bora Bora is an island that has more romance woven around it than cloud on its magnificent peaks. But as one approaches the island more closely, most of the illusions evaporate more quickly than water droplets in a hot skillet.
Hundreds of square small thatch roofed hotel units are arranged on stilts over shoal waters. In clusters of a dozen or so they can be picturesque. When by the score they depressingly remind you of new subdivisions before the trees have grown.
Ashore we found tourist facilities, post office, and Chinese grocery stores, along with stalls with bright pareaus fluttering in the sultry breeze, and black pearl shops. Here, more than elsewhere, the gregarious, generous native has retreated behind his friendly smiles and accommodating ways to a place so private that few tourists coming here will get to know one well. The French Expatriates know a good thing when they see it, and unlike the natives, are gouging the eyes out of tourists. Cyber cafes, admittedly are rather hard to come by, and by New Zealand standards, at US $10 an hour, expensive. But Bora Bora's cybercafe costs $60 an hour!!!
The gendarme welcomed us into his air-conditioned office from the meltingly hot afternoon outside. Michael addressed him in French and the official replied in the same, rapidly, as though Michael was a native speaker. My visa had just
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