Day 26
Makemo has given us everything we could desire. Sapphire-azure-turquoise water, white sand beaches littered with hermit crabs, blue coral and black-tipped reef sharks, and a breeze keeping everything just cool enough. We slept in the cockpit, and when I woke in the middle of the night (as is my wont) the waxing moon peeped through a perfect smattering of cloud.
Leona left the Mario Brothers in peace yesterday, instead throwing the challenge to Georgie and me: we discovered the Monster Freezer had broken free of its shackles and defrosted all the meat and shrimp. An epic period of cooking took place in an attempt to salvage what we could. Ground turkey went into chili, chicken breasts were marinated and grilled, chicken thighs got the Ruby Chicken treatment. Best of all, Georgie cooked up the shrimp for a gorgeous lunch today. Crisis managed.
I’ve been thinking about tourism again. Last night we experienced a new level when we were invited into a world I knew little about. I’ve read some books and had a couple of conversations, but never truly grasped the reality of the world of Cruising, the waterborne version of what the people in the film Nomads were doing (I haven't actually seen the film, so forgive me if I err). We stood around a fire on the beach with three different groups from different parts of the world, each with a different story to tell. Escape, adventure, desperation…the reasons these voyagers left their land-bound lives behind varied, but the welcome and willingness to share with another crew of strangers was universal.
What these voyagers had in common was an open-ended calendar: not weeks, or even months, but years on the water. Anchored for weeks at a time, they dig in and get to know these islands thoroughly, no connections calling them back to the mainland. They know when the grouper will come into Fakarava in late July or which islander will put a pearl into salvaged whale bone. They plan their lives around different festivals and weather patterns and where and when they can next provision.
As I listened to the tales of lost sails, 9-month holds in Panama, and learning to sail on the go, I realized I was a tourist, observing and learning about a culture that wasn’t mine. We are fleeting, where they have a type of permanence in these waters. But as with our exchanges in Nuku Hiva, there was a mutuality: they needed the new faces and company we provided, and we needed the fresh perspective and local information they gave us. A mutual exchange of respect, I hope.
Life finds a way
And then today, the day that inspired this whole trip, David’s Big Birthday. A born adventurer, he has dreamt about sailing the Pacific ever since Leona showed up in Santa Barbara. To celebrate this particular milestone, all he requested was a perfect beach, as far from his everyday life as possible. The two dreams collided and we here we are.
We walked along the perfect beach and over to the ocean side, watching the rollers crash in, deep in conversation and avoiding potential falling coconuts. We stopped to introduce ourselves to Théophile, the local man curing coconuts, who spoke a multitude of languages and was happy to welcome us. We floated in the perfect water.
David and Georgie e-foiled (no shark-jumping this time), and David was invited to try out a winged contraption pulled by our neighbor’s dinghy that allowed the user to dive down, flip around, move side to side. An hour or so playing in the water with powered toys, what more could he ask for? Afternoon rain allowed a feisty game of hearts (he Shot the Moon multiple times!) accompanied by a bottle of champagne and Lays potato chips.
A birthday video from 2-year-old Willsy to his beloved Papa reminded us why we are only tourists in this land of Cruisers.
