Get Lost On Purpose

Category: Tahiti

  • Still anchored in Teahupoo

    Agh…I’ve got a case of writers block. Maybe it’s because we’ve had a pretty quiet week here on Dosia. Right now Drew’s off trying to get some good live shots on camera of the surfers out on Teahupoo. I usually use alone time like this on the boat to lay out on the bow, get some sun, write a new blog post or in my journal, and blast the iPod to greats like Chicago, Journey, or Lionel Richie. What? Don’t judge me. Lionel Richie will never go out style in my book.

    To be honest, the surfing competition is not measuring up to what I had in mind. As a spectator sport, I’m going to go ahead and throw it in there with the likes of golf, or tennis. No disrespect to any sports or those who like any individual one more than others. To some, I’m sure surfing is edge of your seat entertainment. Unfortunately for myself, I’m finding that even 45 guys with washboard abs and perfect tans isn’t enough to hold my attention for more than an hour or so. Now is when we really wish our fellow traveler, Kyber, who’s cruising on his boat Natural Mystic, were here so maybe he could explain things to us and I would be more into it.

    I remember caring less about football until I was about 13 and my dad explained to me what it meant to play the game. Hooked. Now if I had a magic genie grant me three wishes, one would be that I could be a college football player just for one day so I could play in a football game between the hedges on a sunny Athens Saturday. Man…that’s got to be one of the greatest feelings in the world. Much the same, I would imagine, for these guys who have found a passion for the water.

    Anyway, I think we both assumed this would be more of a party atmosphere…bands jamming out on the docks, people hanging out, meeting some new folks. After the competition on Saturday we went over to the marina and there was a band but poor things…no one was there and those who were were not paying a lick of attention to them. We stayed for a song or two, drank our two beers we’d come with, and went back to the boat. The one party that did go on that night was on a boat sponsored by Billabong and it happened to anchor about 50 feet from us. For that night we were going to live vicariously through the music, hoots, and hollars that were coming from that private party across the way.

    Ah, we did come across one new person. Saturday night about ten (I was already watching the back of my eyelids) I hear Drew scream “HEY” out of nowhere. Turns out he heard something outside the boat and looked up out of the hatch above the bed and found himself face to face with some guy. We still aren’t sure what he was up to because as soon as Drew jumped out of the hatch the guy pushed back, cranked up his dinghy, and took off. He obviously had some intention because he used oars to get himself close enough to the deck of the boat instead of motoring over. Guess he wasn’t quiet enough. Maybe he thought we were on the party boat next door or something. Next thing I know Drew’s in our dinghy chasing after him. Never caught him but it was a little spooky. I’m sure he was just some drunk guy trying to sneak a peek or try and snag a gas can off the deck. Regardless, usually anybody and everybody is welcome to come aboard and hang out with us on Dosia but I think homeboy blew his chance.

    Not real sure if we’re going to stick around for the rest of the competition or not. We may move on and check out some other parts of the island. Since it’ll only take a few more days, I think we are going to do the full lap around Tahiti. Hoping to find some hiking to stretch the legs a little.

    We got to call both of our moms and Drew’s Nanny yesterday but we want to take the chance to say Happy Mother’s Day to all our followers. Hope you all had a great one yesterday : )

  • Chillin in Teahupoo

    It’s been easy living these last few days in Teahupoo. I’ve been working on the dinghy motor trying to figure out the mysterious problem in the fuel system that’s slowing us down. Wednesday afternoon I was sitting in the dinghy, cover off the motor, with a completely puzzled look on my face. I look up and see a guy on an approaching boat holding up a good size yellowfin tuna. Judging from the endless stack of 100+ pounders inside the boat, he was looking to unload some of the smaller catch and we were the first takers he ran into on the way back to the marina. So we found ourselves with more than enough free tuna for the next few days. I grilled some last night with a lemon pepper and butter sauce and today I can’t seem to stay out of the soy and wasabi. This stuff would be so pricey in the states and even in the store in Papeete, but down here random guys we never met before just stop by and hand it over like they owe it to us. You don’t really know hospitality till you visit these islands.

    Yesterday was the official opening of the Billabong Pro and today was the first day of surfing. Although the contest runs from May 9-20, they only surf three full days. I assume they choose the days based on the weather systems lurking to the south that affect the break along this coast. Everyone tunes into the major radio station at 6:30AM to find out whether that day has been chosen for the competition. We don’t really need to turn the radio on since we’re anchored right along the channel from the marina to the pass where the break is.  Many of the surfers and most all of the media and spectators gather at the marina to catch boats out to the inlet so by 7AM the size of the wake from passing boats rocking us around is our best indicator of competition days. It was the same deal for the trials which took place last week while we were anchored here.

    Margie and I aren’t the most seasoned surfing spectators but we’re learning. We take the dinghy out to the pass, tie onto one of the buoys, and try to eavesdrop on the boats next to us to find out who’s surfing, why he didn’t take that wave, and how in the hell this thing is scored. We finally figured out the scoring but as for who’s surfing, we’re probably surrounded by professionals and we haven’t a clue who they are. We’re flashing pics of everyone with hopes of making identifications later when we have a good internet connection. The only person I’m certain I’ll recognize is Kelly Slater from his days on Baywatch. It’s pretty cool there’s no roped off areas. This morning we pulled up and practically tied off to one of the Billabong media boats where they interview the surfers after they compete. The unique line up at Teahupoo also allows for the regular spectator to get some pretty good photos.

    Teahupoo surfing 1 Teahupoo surfing 2 Teahupoo surfing 3

    We put up a bunch of new photos in our Flickr Photostream. Check em out whenever you get a chance. Also, if you’re interesting in watching the competition live on the web go to http://billabong.manaspot.pf At least that’s where we can watch it for free from the boat. I assume you can access the site from out of the country.

  • Some Photos from the South Pacific

    Here’s some photos from around Teahupoo we took yesterday! It was the most colorful sunset we’ve seen yet. That’s the media and announcer stand for the Teahupoo Billabong Pro in the third pic.
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  • How to Fall in Love with French Polynesia

    Looking back on the month I spent alone in French Polynesia I have decided I’d rather not spend a month alone in French Polynesia again. It’s beautiful here. I love swimming and snorkeling. The sailing has been fantastic. But what good is any of that is you can’t share it with someone? At least that’s the way I feel about it.

    It finally hit me that I’m living every sailor’s dream out here. Eight months cruising around the islands of the South Pacific is the type of trip I’ll remember and talk about for the rest of my life. And there is no other person in the world I’d rather share this time with than Margie. Saturday, sitting in two feet of water on a sandbar dotted with coral heads a half mile off the south side of Tahiti, I asked Marge whether she’d ever thought she’d find herself here. She looked around at the scenery before her, the group of Polynesians surrounding her, and her toes in the clear water below. Without looking up she grabbed a potato chip out of the bag floating by on a life preserver and said “not in a million years.”
    Our two year anniversary of meeting each other comes up in two weeks.
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    If you’re ever invited to dine with Polynesians, remember this rule. You must fix your plate first or you will sit there all night. We finally figured out why it always took so long to start meals here. The food would be ready, the places set, and we would just sit there. No one ever told us we should go ahead and fix our plates so we were being courteous guests and waiting for our hosts to begin. We finally had to ask Friday night at Youenn’s house. “Are you guys waiting on us?” Yep…sure enough.

    We’re anchored out in a small bay just across from the Teahupoo Marina. We have lush green mountains coming right down to the lagoon on one side of us and the designated “most powerful wave in the world” on the other side of us. The surfing at Teahupoo is legendary and much of life in this village revolves around it. The marina houses the boats and jetskis that shuttle the surfers back and forth, the long line of snacks (small, shanty-looking restaurants) at the mouth of the river feeds the surfers, and the store sells the beer they drink all night. We’re here at the biggest time of year for this community. The yards are clean and landscaped, the signs for paid parking and camping are displayed proudly, and the guesthouses and private homes are overflowing with the tanned, buff bodies of international surfing playboys (yes Margie’s single-lady friends…we are telling them all about you…). This place is the polar opposite of the busy streets of Papeete. The people who live here go there only when they need to and from here out, we’ll do the same. We hope to stay here a couple of weeks before heading back to town to collect the little Honda generator that’s being repaired, provision the boat, and begin the dance westward to cheaper waters.