Ships of Plenty

Most of us take for granted that everything and anything is readily available. Shops abound, their shelves filled with a mindboggling range of products. And with a few simple clicks, online shopping, like magic, brings a boundless cornucopia of stuff right to our doorsteps.

Most of us didn’t give much thought to where it all came from or how it arrived. As long as we got our stuff, we were happy.

Then COVID hit. Suddenly, there were hiccups, and everyone from Prime Ministers to hairdressers was talking about supply chains and shipping bottlenecks.  The ‘hiding in plain sight’ fact that most of what we buy is transported thousands of miles via elaborate networks of trucks, trains, ships and planes, became glaringly obvious.

In the remote areas of the Pacific where we’re currently traveling, there are far fewer items in the little general stores. Absolutely everything on the shelves delivered by small supply ships. The arrival of which, is an event for the whole community.

Small pick-up trucks line the dock, everyone eagerly awaiting the many treasures concealed in the ship’s hold. Aside from the limited selection of items in the general store, people order everything else – building supplies, appliances, tools, toys, specialty food items – from Tahiti or further afield.

There is no such thing as same day shipping in this part of the world. Fulfilment is measured in months.  The normal sleepy vibe is replaced by a festive atmosphere when the ship arrives. Happy islanders hauling away a pallet of cement and rebar, a new bicycle, or refrigerator.  While others munch on street food and wait for their goodies to be unloaded.

A few of the long-term yachties also get in on the action; picking up that badly-needed boat part, ordered months previous.  

Some products like fruit and vegetables are only available immediately after the supply ship has unloaded its cargo. Not surprisingly, locals and yachties alike line up in anticipation. Forget any ambling around admiring the tidy displays. It’s more of a feeding frenzy. People start loading-up shopping carts as soon as the various boxes of produce hit the floor. Get to the store an hour or two late, you miss out. It will be at least a week before you’ll see another fresh tomato, onion or carrot. Tins or frozen are your only options.

Same thing with fuel – gasoline, diesel, and cooking gas.  All of it arrives by ship. The lone gas station here has been out of diesel for over a week, with no firm date for replenishment.  Turtlebones is down to a quarter tank, so we too are watching the horizon longingly for the next supply ship, and hoping diesel is aboard. 

Having been here for a couple of weeks, we arrived at the wharf and its nearby store early, primed for the semi-friendly competition about to ensue for fresh vegetables. It would be rude to appear too eager, and foolhardy to arrive late or be caught flatfooted.

We weren’t expecting any great surprises. But then we saw something amazing and serendipitous – at least for us. At the edge of the wharf our boat neighbours – Erica and Warren, who we’d meet a few days earlier – were unpacking a brand-new dinghy. It seemed like some kind of mirage. 

As those of you who have been following along will know, three weeks ago, before leaving Nuku Hiva, we, very reluctantly, retired our old dinghy. It simply wouldn’t hold air any longer, our patching attempts notwithstanding. Its replacement, the only thing available, was much smaller, and truth be told, grossly inadequate for our needs. Sharon dismissively refers to it as a ‘pool-toy’. But we’d been warned that ‘supply chains’ being what they are, it was that or nothing until New Zealand. 

Now, the sight of Erica and Warren and their new dinghy, incited a strange mix of envy and excitement – they got one, so can we. Turned out they had ordered it six months earlier. And, the warnings were correct – there are no dinghies to be had anywhere in the region – not for love or money. 

Our hopes of procuring a new dinghy dashed, we congratulated Erica and Warren. Then barely skipping a beat, our attention quickly turned to their old dinghy.  “What are your plans for that” we asked, gesturing to their comparatively shabby looking, but still serviceable, old tender tied to the wharf.

Having seen our somewhat pathetic excuse for a dinghy being rowed to and from the beach, the question hardly surprised them. Erica confided that Warren, upon seeing what we were using, had said something like “that can’t possibly be their dinghy”.

They suggested a price, and we said we’d think it over while getting our veggies. Both parties knowing full well a deal would ultimately be made – we desperately needed a better dinghy and they now had one to spare.

Later the same day, after making sure it fit on our davits – the device on the stern of Turtlebones that lifts the dinghy out of the water – and driving it around with our outboard, the deed was done.  

It’s a huge relief to be mobile again with a proper dinghy. While we love our kayaks, a dinghy with an outboard is the daily workhorse we use for lugging groceries, fuel and people, or traveling to more distant spots.