Paddling About Fakarava

Living aboard Turtlebones in a marina, as we did in Puerto Vallarta, really doesn’t involve much in the way of compromises. In fact, it’s a lot like living on land. There’s an endless supply of water and electricity, and simply stepping off the boat provides ready access to all of the available land-based conveniences.  

Now that we’re ‘living on the hook’ (sailor talk for being at anchor), everything is different, and a little less convenient. Electricity and water have appreciated greatly in value, because we need to make every drop of water we consume, and generate every watt of power we use.

Similarly, going ashore requires either a boat ride or a swim. So, we’ve become much more deliberate and strategic. One rarely goes ashore on a whim or for one reason. Instead, each trip tends involve multiple purposes and a string of destinations. However, here in French Polynesia, procuring our morning baguette is always reason-enough for a shore-side excursion.  

The ever-present swells in the Marquesas often created challenges for getting ashore and safely tying up the dinghy. Here in the calm waters of the Fakarava lagoon, going ashore is a piece of cake.  Since both of us enjoy rowing, and it’s only 200 metres to the beach, we haven’t bothered to put the outboard motor on the dinghy.

While the new dinghy has very nice oars, the seating position is a little too high – for anyone with legs. Each stroke involves an awkward, sometimes painful, negotiation with one’s lower extremities.  

The other thing about the new dinghy is it’s considerably smaller.  Good for pulling it up on the beach, but barely adequate for three people. As I discovered rowing Shawn ashore to catch his flight, two is the limit with luggage. 

Speaking of watercraft, and Shawn’s departure – we recently exhumed our new folding kayaks which had been stowed under his bunk. Like origami, these ingenious 3.7 metre-long kayaks fold neatly into something about the size of a large suitcase.  

Getting them is quite the yarn. We initially ordered two from Amazon. Both were shipped but only one was delivered. UPS deemed the other to have ‘gone missing’.  So, we ordered another. It too disappeared in transit. Apparently, quite a few items vanish this way just prior to Christmas. Frustrated with our online shopping experience, we located the kayak we wanted at The Paddler just down the street in Toronto – and, it was on sale. Lesson learned: shop local!

We did have a practice run at assembling these kayaks – the first time was a bit of head-scratcher. I suppose we could have watched the instructional video. But why ruin all the fun?  Did I mention that we were in a motel room somewhere in Indiana at the time? Of all the strange goings on which may have previously occurred in that room, I don’t imagine anyone had assembled a kayak.

Here on Turtlebones, the trampoline proved to be an ideal spot for kayak assembly.

They are light, low, and somewhat tippy, so entry or exit from the stern steps on Turtlebones requires some unusual manoeuvres. It’s akin to getting in, or out, of a small, low, sports car. One must climb down and in, or up and out – folding yourself, knees particularly, at seemingly impossible angles each time.  

Once safely in, the fit is snug but comfortable. You’re immediately struck by the responsiveness. Like a bicycle, proper weight distribution and good balance are critical for remaining upright. Having kayaked previously, we were delighted with the nimbleness of these new Oru Bay ST models. They track and turn nicely, and at 12 kilos are easy to lift out of the water.

The coral-filled lagoons of atolls like Fakarava are perfect for exploring by kayak. The water is crystal clear. Skimming along the surface is almost like flying over the coral outcroppings and sandy bottom below. The details of the colourful coral and fishes are fascinating and easy to make out.  

Most of the fish are small, but every once in a while a 2-3 metre nurse shark cruises by, slowly and gracefully, usually in less than 1 metre of water, and within a few metres of the shore.  Ramoras, those strange fish with suction disks on their heads that resemble a rectangular cheese grater, are also are plentiful.

We’ve settled into a very nice leisurely routine over the past few days. Around 6:30 am, while Sharon snoozes, I paddle in to pick up fresh, still warm, baguette for breakfast. In the afternoon, we snorkel and kayak among the coral, before mixing up a couple of sunset G&Ts and making dinner.