A visitor to the Tuamotu archipelogo is concerned about the ciguatera poisoning, commonly found in fish caught in the lagoons. He approaches a villager:
"If I catch a fish in the lagoon, how do I know if it's safe to eat?".
The villager says: "I put a piece of the fish on the ground and look at the ants. If the ants go for the fish, it's good. If the ants don't touch it, it has ciguatera."
"Wow, does that really work?", asks the visitor.
"Well, sometimes it does. Sometimes it doesn't"
(Answer given to me by Eduard when I asked if the public tap water in the park is good to drink.)
Tuamotus
Suicidal rats and tree-climbing crabs
BANG! "I'll collect the body in the morning", I thought and went back to sleep.
Paradise or Hell?
The planet is in shambles because of too much democracy. We need less democracy and more good old dictatorship. People are like sheep. Who's the leader now? Our government? Media? Fox News? Tabloid press? Cosmopolitan? We elect politicians and look at them as if they knew how to govern. And the democratic governing? Taking turns in opposing everything the "ruling party" wants to do? Yelling and booing and interrupting one another in parliaments, like a bunch of 6-year-olds in a collective tantrum?
village street, Hao
It took about a hundred people sitting in several working groups and committees, producing 60 000 pages of printed documents in 23 languages over 5 years, only to set up a EU directive on how to define the correct dimensions of a licence plate of a commercial truck in Europe.(¿) A good dictator would have done the job in 3 seconds. (By saying: "I don't give a rat's ass")
And what if the dictator turns out to be a bad dictator? Well, revolutions are for that. People have always had, people will always have, the power over their own affairs.
If I ever find myself sailing past a newly erupted island in international waters, I will claim it and have my own dictatorship there. It'll be a good dictatorship. Because I say so! I'm glad I got that off my chest. Let's continue. There's more rat's asses to follow...
¿Note, that my statistics of the bureaucracy in EU are pulled out of a hat. If you want to spend a day online to find a needle of fact from a hay stack of opinions, go right ahead. I've thrown my straw into the hat. Stack. Whatever.
My fellow Americans, I am pleased to tell you I have signed legislation which outlaws Russia for ever. We begin bombing in five minutes.
- Ronald Reagan -
(August 11, 1984. Testing a radio microphone while on air)
Should I get to the cruising stuff? Allright then...
We left the Gambiers as soon as the weather was looking suitably mild and easy. We like it that way. The 400-mile sail to our chosen atoll in the Tuamotus - Hao - was perfectly long enough and short enough. Short enough to know that we'll be there very soon. Long enough not to think about what time to leave and what time we might get there. A tiny difference in wind speed would put us 24 hours ahead or behind any hypothetical timing. I left the main down and poled out a full genoa. Everything was ready for a 18-hour sleep. 20 minutes at a time.
Nice size but no ID. Being just inside of the lagoon, we ended up ditching our catch in fear of Ciguatera poisoning. I was hoping for a Wahoo, Mahi Mahi, or Tuna. In that order.
The chart was mostly covered in warnings: "Area to be avoided. Permanent nuclear testing". I had confidence in my modern history studies and news reports about the French nuke tests having ended more than a decade ago. We passed just over 70 miles from Mururoa - the main testing area. I'm still waiting for my x-ray vision to develop.
As any arrival time was perfect for us, we arrived perfectly in the middle of the night. This allowed us to tuck in close to the lee of the atoll and enjoy the starlit sky in the comfort of calm waters, while slowly drifting towards the dawn and the narrow pass at the NW end of the atoll. A day-time arrival would have been just as perfect, of course.
"The Marina" in Hao is 4 meters deep edge-to-edge and there's enough room for about 10 yachts.
We drove across the wide and deep lagoon, aiming to an old unused harbour. Nothing like a free marina, I thought and we pulled against a smooth concrete wall, tying up to old rusty ship bollards. For decades Hao was the supply base for the French nuclear tests. Up until 2000 the atoll boasted a population of 4000 people. A cinema, many restaurants and a thriving ... hmm... community. Not sure. 3/4 of the population was French military and while their presence and the government money certainly gave a lot of opportunities to the locals, all changed a decade ago when the military left. The feeling in the atoll was one of stagnant, abanonded decay. Over the last 10 years the locals had pulled all the useful bits off the old buildings. A small contingent of French army troops had started a 8-year project of cleaning out the remains of the atoll's nuclear empowered past.
Massive amount of metal junk was pressed into 1m³ cubicles, ready to be dumped into the abyss.
Hundreds of abanoned houses and units were scattered along the long and narrow strip of land. One could easily set up a home here with an ocean view both in the front and back yard.
There's no point in me making guesses about the positives and negatives of such changes in life. Employment, development, unemployment and disappearing of opportunities happen all around the world for different reasons, often by government projects; building roads or bridges, setting up a rocket launching facility, establishing a military base or cleaning up a massive oil-spill. Poor turning rich. Rich turning poor. One man's misery becoming another one's blessing. A knight and a few pawns sacrified for a winning position. Many people had moved to Tahiti for work and with only one pearl farm in operation, I was struggling to see any real economy at all.
Local teens. There is a large school in Hao and kids from many surrounding atolls come here for high school.
After three days in a private marina, three other yachts arrived from a beach combing expedition from the other end of the atoll. "Up to you guys, but I would consider tying up Med-style", said Bart from Holland. "Every boat that has tied alongside here has had rats onboard", he continued while adjusting the rat-stoppers in his stern lines. Rats? Surely not. There's no garbage, the jetty is all concrete and we haven't seen any. My eternal optimism got a little dent when back onboard I noticed a few little pellets of rat droppings on deck. The enemy was already onboard.
A million small shells, a big roll of fishing line, a small drill and lots of smiling labour was producing beautiful artifacts and jewellery.
Dogs are an integral part of any Polynesian society. Mostly timid, often sick and scabby. Not nice enough to love. Not evil enough to hate. A hissing sound will usually turn them away, but street dogs can always be unpredictable. (Once bitten, twice shy.)
We quickly confirmed the location of our visitor. She had settled in the forepeak, on top of the water tank. She was equipped with half a handful of nachos, carefully carried from the bag, one by one, through the narrow gap behind the filler hose, underneath the plywood covering the tank. (Later investigations confirmed that she had been building a nest, chewing on insulation foam and paper to make a cozy home for her newborn.) As much as Polynesians love little puppy dogs but throw stones at the adult ones lining the roads, I too think little baby mice are the cutest thing ever. But I have no sympathy for a pregnant rat in my home.
This leads us so realise that us humans are animals too. Aren't little babies soooooo cute? And teenagers? We only just tolerate them. Adults? We tell our kids not to talk to them. We tell ourselves not to trust them. Babies = good. Adults = bad. Birth = wonderful. Death = awful. Kids can not vote, adults rule the world. The survival of the planet depends on our kids. But once they become adults, they will tell their kids... ah, never mind.
Children have never been very good at listening to their elders, but they have never failed to imitate them.
(James Baldwin)
The story? The story! sorry...
All is calm in Hao harbour
And then a tropical squall turns it not so calm.
We sealed off the forepeak and left a mouse trap inside, loaded with fresh coconut. Just after dusk, BANG! I ran to the foredeck and saw the poor creature through the front hatch, lying on her side next to the trap. Hang on... next to the trap? Yep. She was knocked out but not dead. I wanted to get rid of it but how long would it be unconscious?
Killing animals is not in my nature but when I was a child, I sometimes liked playing doctor. Playing a vet was now the natural progression, while still maintaining my humanity. I took the biggest syringe we had on our medical kit and filled it with alcohol. Maybe I could still get a victory photo with a dead rat, without brutal violence? After all, using a syringe on an animal is not "killing", it's "putting it to sleep".
Rats are incredibly crafty and clever. If the world was a soccer field, they'd be the Pelés, playing for their life. My hand was not steady and the rat was too quick. I lost my photo-opportunity and the rat kept its life. Fortunately I did my vet reenactment on the dock and the rat ended up back in the bush. We pulled Aliisa's stern off the jetty and set up rat-stoppers on our lines. Happy ending for all.
Gorgeus weather, warm water, happiness all around. Life is good!
But just like in any good action movie, just when the couple is kissing and the evil is gone, the camera turns to a dark corner and the Cello starts to play a low pitch vibrating tune of danger. The rustle in the forepeak confirmed that the fat lady had not arrived alone. Now rat-stoppers were separating any pests from land. There were two small males still onboard. It was time to play out the game by my rules. Three more traps. BANG! A perfect hit at 0200 AM on the deck. The poor creature held it's head up and took only two deep breaths while admiring his new slim waistline, before releasing his soul into eternity. One down, one to go.
Descending back into the aft cabin I saw the other running out from the galley to the deck. I left his brother's corpse out as a warning and moved all traps on deck. We closed all hatches and blocked all access back into the boat, leaving him to contemplate his options under the star lit sky. BANG! At 0400 AM. "I'll collect the body in the morning", I thought and turned around in my bed.
Lauri and the rat
But there was no body to be found in the morning. Only the closed trap without it's victim. We quickly closed all hatches again and proceeded to flush the decks, particularly the junk yard at the back. No rodents to be found. We even removed the sail cover and hoisted the main to eliminate the refuge of a neatly folded sail with its many hiding holes. To this day there has been no signs of the last rat - the one I saw with my own eyes jumping out from our galley and running towards the back deck. The only plausible solution is SUICIDE. With his brother almost squashed in half, his mother/sister squeeling from the shore, rat-stoppers on the lines and vicious land mines all around him, he must have jumped over the side. I still hold the opinion of Rattus Exulans (Polynesian Rat) - with it's ancestry proudly sailing into the atolls with Captain Cook himself - is cute. A beautiful little creature. I just couldn't trust my ability to toilet train it, neither could I risk the wiring of the boat.
Tahanea
With the victory of the rat war under my belt, I was ready for a break. Perhaps one with no jetties, no village and no population at all. You see, Hao also reminded me of the sticky fingers. I lived in Tonga during 1993-94 and I am familiar with the wonderful Polynesian way of sharing resources. People sometimes call it stealing. Of course, if your outboard gets nicked, that's a theft. The thief now has your outboard and you have none. But what if you had TWO outboards? Ah, now it's only reasonable that someone who has none would take one of them, leaving everyone with an outboard. Thievery? Nah, not in Polynesia.
Thieves respect property;
They merely wish the property to become their property that they may more perfectly respect it.
G. K. Chesterton (1874 - 1936)
British writer and poet.
Outrigger canoe on the beach, Hao
Nothing much got stolen from us. While we were riding our rental bikes around the atoll, the kids around the harbour had decided to come onboard. The hatches were open and there was plenty to take; hand-held VHF, GPS, radio, cameras, binoculars, torches and so on. Fishing is more important than owning gadgets. You can't eat gadgets. While we were away, someone had opened our tackle box and removed half of the contents. The items were nicely divided so that we were left with some lures, some trace wire, some sinkers and swivels etc. We still had some fishing gear and so did they. Perfect!
We took the easy weather and drifted quietly towards the uninhabited atoll of Tahanea, an atoll that would become our private little paradise for 5 days. Fire on the beach. Running around naked. Swimming. Snorkeling. Running out of beer. Not being able to update Facebook. Nothing to do. Absolutely perfect!
(Top) Tahanea beach was empty, beautiful and relaxing.
Letting go completely in to the arms of gravity confirmed that my head is still the heaviest part of me. One of these days I'll be falling belly first.
To check the anchor and its holding required a walk up to the front and a look down to the bottom.
Aliisa sandwiched between too hot fires. Cooking on fire is nice. It brings back memories. Million-year-old memories...
To describe our stay in Tahanea would be unfair. "Rubbing it in". It would also be boring to read, it was so nice. No dramas, just private time. Nature time. Until we ran out of supplies. We had Tahiti in our minds. Big supermarkets. Shopping list. Catching up with friends? Our time in the Tuamotus was limited to two atolls, Hao and Tahanea. I was almost going to add the word "unfortunately" to that. But it wasn't unfortunate at all. We were happy with what we had experienced and we were happy to continue. For me one of the greatest things in cruising is being able to continuously mix, blend and alternate between the elements of solitude and social life. Exotic and familiar. Natural beauty and modern comforts. Even in traveling I am an omnivore.
Plants are as resilient as humans. A young coconut is starting a life, relying on nothing but a spit of rain and a fragile layer of rotting plant matter which may turn into soil.
Hermit crabs probably climb up trees to get a nice view and to see if there's any good empty shells around. That's what I think, anyway.
Jean Paul Sartre noted that "hell is other people". Sometimes it is. But being born in Finland I have always known the pleasure of sitting in a dark room of 100ºC, with a burning fire humming under the glowing hot rocks, with read-skinned people rendering their sweaty bodies quietly into the heat, occasionally beating eachother with birch twigs. A five day successful climax in what could be called the ultimate South Pacific atoll experience was not our ultimate place of residence. Hell can be a Paradise. Paradise can turn into Hell. Papeete*, here we come.
Postscrip....
Remembrance Day 30 May 2010.
War is a crazy thing. The tribal leaders send their sons and daughters. When they run out of them, they sign a peace agreement. At least until they have enough soldiers to send out again. A bunch of American dudes killed in action because of some questionable war did not have a personal meaning to me. I was removed, emotionally and otherwise. Until I got an email from Nick. I've never met him, but he took the time to tell me about four of his friends killed in action. They were no longer anonomous soldiers. Like the millions of good people who die each day all around the world by making a wrong decision, crossing the wrong road, ending up in the wrong place at a wrong time or not doing anything wrong at all. I promised to spill a drink to Nick's mates.
Here's to you guys.
CPT Sean Grimes, KIA 4 MAR 04, Iraq
CPT Jon Grassbaugh, KIA 7 APR 07, Iraq
SGT Alex Funcheon, KIA 29 APR 07, Iraq
SSG Mark Stets, KIA 2 FEB 10, Pakistan
Each man got his own drink from a different shot glass.
I have no personal opinions on the cause, the futility or the necessity of their death. But I identified with the pain of loss. I've lost people close to me too. Through drowning, suicide and cancer. My own welfare has been possible because my "tribe" killed and got killed. Yet, I'm very anti-war. But remembrance is not about war or anti-war. It's about remembering souls that - like all of us - did their best to find their place in this crazy world and suddenly vanished, helping us all remember how precious and fragile our lives are. We are all alive TODAY. Let's drink to that.
Abandoned cubicle on the beach, Hao
*It's pronounced: pa pè-ètè, with each "è" sounding the same as the "e" in "men" - not the "e" in me.
Two out of three cameras had hung up the gloves. Our Olympus stylus flooded, Canon Ixus dead. The 2-year-old Canon EOS 1000D was still functioning, with manual focus, manual exposure and no flash. Look out for my Product Review part II.
Next: Society Islands
