A Paradise Called Amanu
17°32.3’S 141°33.9’W // course 235° // speed 5.6 kn
On the morning of Monday the 29th, we found our way to the entrance of the first Tuamotu with an opening large enough for Tecla to enter. We waited, drifting just off the island, for low tide. Low water was at 09:00—then, about half an hour to an hour later, the tide would stop running out and start running in. So around 09:30, we began making our way into the entrance.
One thing was certain: it was low water, as we could clearly see the bottom and the shallows just beside the entrance. But it was also still running out at 4 to 5 knots. Once you commit to entering, you really have to follow through—there is little opportunity to turn around or make a mistake. The waves thrown up by the outgoing current could be heard even over the noise of the engine. It looked like white-water rafting, and the outflow could even create a slight difference in water level.
Adrenaline was rushing through my veins. I held on to my coffee as if it would give me something to hold on to. I squeezed the cup so hard that my knuckles turned white. All the while, the engine did all the work and we crept forward at 1.5 knots against the current. On shore, we could see people watching us. We waved at each other and kept going. The entrance ends with a sharp turn to starboard, and once we had cleared it, everyone felt relieved. A lot of giggles could be heard—mine included.
We anchored just off Ikitake, the village, and went ashore straight away. With a small community of 155 people living there, we were warmly welcomed. A friendly reception from the mayor was followed by a stroll through the village, a visit to a small shop, and a conversation with the man who had once made the piece of wood on a necklace I wear, shaped like the Pito—a coral reef in the middle of the atoll.
Although a community like this may not be able to offer the ice cream some were looking for, it quickly gives insight into life on a small island like this. Their dependence on the cargo vessel and their reluctance to receive too many visitors are clear. Restricting the number of cruise ship visits is important to maintain their integrity as a community. They live off fishing and copra collection, which is not much, but they want to preserve their way of life—which is a beautiful story in itself.
With everyone back on board, we weighed anchor and headed to Pito straight away. This coral formation in the middle of the atoll is a spectacular snorkelling spot. And as the mayor said, if you didn’t go there, then you hadn’t truly been to Amanu. We stayed at Pito for over two hours, then returned to Ikitake. We had a sundowner on deck, watched the moon rise and the sun set, and enjoyed a BBQ outside in tropical temperatures. What a day.
The next morning, we went to a different part of the atoll to walk around a bit and snorkel some more, before setting off again, ready for the next Tuamotu.
The departure was less dramatic than the entrance. With 2 knots of current against us and the tide flowing in, it was a controlled and comfortable exit—much better than having 5 knots of current pushing from behind.
And now we are back under sail. It is a downwind course to Tahanea, our next objective. We have already gybed once to avoid getting too close to a smaller atoll and are making around 6 knots most of the time. With many more gybes to come, we have about 180 miles to go in a straight line. I can hear the buzzing of the propeller, and sometimes a light breeze finds its way down the stairs into the aft. It’s an amazing night, with a bright, almost full moon.
All is well on board,
Jet
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