Pitufa.at

For the past week we’ve had a convergence zone sitting between here and Tahiti and three lows have moved over Raivavae giving us just a one-day break with sunny weather which we used to rent bikes and cycle around the island. Otherwise it’s been rainy, grey and windy, so we spent the time doing indoor chores on a–depending on the wind direction–more or less bouncy Pitufa.

Raivavae is supposed to have the best anchorage in the Austral islands, but from the N and W only the outer reef gives protection. We had pretty nasty weather last night and today. Strong winds from N-NW (of course!) and several squalls with gusts up to 45 knots caused Pitufa to rock and roll in the anchorage. It was particularly bad around high water (now is spring tide!) when the reef cannot entirely keep awyay the massive waves.

At the moment, the South Pacific Convergence Zone (SPCZ) is brewing up quite some weather between Samoa, the Cook Islands and here, mass-producing troughs and depressions like on a conveyor belt. And the GRIB forcast sees the next depression moving right over Raivavae in a couple of days…

Raivavae’s a small island, the coastal road that goes all around is only 23 km long. There are two ‘route traversiere’ (paths across from north to south) and we walked both of them last week. The tracks lead up the ridge through lush vegetation, large taro fields and countless banana plantations (who can eat so many bananas??). The scenery resembles the Society Islands and so does the ‘Ia orana’ the friendly locals shout out from their gardens. Down on the coastal road again we walked along the southern coast past little houses with manicured gardens and nice views of the narrow lagoon and the motus on the barrier reef. We had hoped to hitch a ride back to Rairua, but the only vehicles that passed us were bicycles, even though we saw cars next to most of the dwellings, so we walked all the way to the eastern cape and then along the northeastern coast, where the cliffs of the mountains ridge rise vertically skywards.
We had heard that it was possible to hike up to Mount Hiro (the highest mountain) from that side and after admiring the stunning view, decided to inquire about the path at the first house we saw a man mowing the lawn. The answer was a simple ‘oui’ and a big grin. Did he know where exactly the path started? Yes, here! What, in this village? No, right here! With an even wider grin he showed us around the house where a narrow footpath leads into the thicket. What a coincidence that we asked at exactly the right house… We’ll return next week for this rather ambitious hike.

Now it’s the weekend and we expected the same hustle and bustle that we’re used to from the Gambier, where fishing boats zoom out into the lagoon, children jump from the dock, youngsters plays loud music from their cars, families spend the day sunbathing and swimming on the village beach or take picnics out to the motus and the smell of BBQ hangs in the air. But nothing like that is happening here. It’s almost creepy quiet, only the sound of church bells breaks the silence–numerous denominations fight for the souls of the few islanders here… French cruisers who have spent the cyclone season here, just told us that it’s even forbidden to take a boat out into the lagoon on Sundays.

The Îles Australes are the southernmost and least visited islands of French Polynesia. We have started exploring Raivavae and we’ll see how many more stopovers on the way to Tahiti can fit into our schedule…

Waiting for a weather window is always frustrating. We get new forecasts twice a day and then the strategic games begin: we try to “sail” the cursor in expected daily runs through the area of the grib file where arrows indicate the wind speed and direction, trying to avoid becalmed zones and galeforce winds. Of course the further into the future the prediction goes, the more the planning resembles crystal-ball watching…
Anyway, we’ve been waiting for wind to go to Rapa now for 3 weeks, which lies south of the trade wind belt, has depressions moving by on a regular basis and isn’t easy to reach. We went to get the very last veggies time after time, kept Pitufa in oceangoing shape and kept on hoping. For the last 3 days the grib looked really promising, so we deflated the dinghy and secured it on deck, baked bread for the passage this morning, drugged the cat with her anti-seasickness medicine and were about to lift the anchor, but then we decided to get a last-minute grib. The damn thing had changed completely since yesterday, a low had changed course, gone was the steady wind for the trip, instead we’d be becalmed for two days only to arrive with scary strong winds in the tricky anchorage of Rapa.
We’ve learned the hard way that heading out into an unstable weather situation guarantees an uncomfy trip, so we’ll stay a bit longer and we’ll keep on playing the weather game…

Until three days ago it was really hot and calm, but then southerly winds set in, sending up chilly air masses with best regards of the icebergs down there The weather forecast had predicted light westerly winds, so we were anchored off the western motu Tenoko when a procession of squalls approached, hiding Taravai and Mangareva behind a dark grey wall. When the squalls reached us, the wind shifted south (not so nice being suddenly with the stern towards the outer reef and fetch building up over the lagoon), so we decided to head to the shelter of the village anorage of Taravai. We motored there against 25 knots of wind and heavy rain, reached the channel into the anchorage just before dark and the helmswoman was surprised and relieved how smoothly the manoeuvre through the tricky corners of the entrance went, despite gusts on the beam and the barely visible landmarks. Good that we’ve practiced that narrow, shallow entrance so often in good conditions before…

The cool southeasterly’s still blowing and many boats that have spent the cyclone season here, use it for a downwind ride to the Tuamotus or straight to Tahiti. Pitufa and her crew are also ready to go, but as we’re still hoping to make it to Rapa in the Iles Australes (the southernmost island of French Polynesia) this weather window didn’t really work for us and we’ll wait for the next one.

Autumn’s gifting us with gorgeous weather here this year. Last year it was already cool and windy in April, but at the moment we’re enjoying perfectly calm, sunny and hot days. Just looking over the pastel shades of the lagoon in the early morning when the mountains are reflected in the sea like in a mirror with the corals gleaming through the crystal clear water, we feel almost obliged to seize the day. So we split the days between chores that need calm weather (cleaning the hull, climbing the mast to check the rigging, etc.) and fun like kayaking, snorkeling, hiking and hanging out ashore on Taravai. Taravai’s getting more and more attractions: an extended petting zoo and hiking trails! Additional to their two charming goaties, Pierre and Lolo now have two horses and Valerie and Herve have two kittens and two puppies It was always difficult to hike on Taravai, as we had to cut tunnels through the dense vegetation and make our own trails. If you try something like that yourself, always bring a machete with you and think of our memorising rhyme when planning the ascent: pine, your’re fine, reed, you bleed Now it’s much easier, because Pierre has made a huge effort and has cleared a path along the old, overgrown road all the way from the village to the southern bay of Taravai. We walked it yesterday, it takes about 1 hour each way and features lovely views.