Don’t Trust the Coconuts!

Contrary to the inclinations of most cruisers, Jerry’s crew recently enjoyed staying put for a while. Hand-steering through beam seas for days on end will do that.  Over the last couple of weeks, they have explored Mangareva’s beautiful land and people.  They are getting used to life at anchor again.

Mel will provide for you here a glimpse of some recent thoughts in an attempt to convey what it is like to finally be in French Polynesia after their extended sea saga:

Arriving in a place as remote as the Gambiers archipelago after 28.5 days offshore poses some challenges.  The biggest challenge is not falling into the trap of “Provisioning Regret” as the Panamanian groceries dwindle. Mel must occasionally make an effort to abolish these thoughts from her mind: “I regret not buying more cheese. And yogurt. And relish. And Gochujang. And jalapeños. And canned black beans. And crunchy peanut butter. And root beer. And refrigerators. And spare autopilots.” “I regret not buying more recognizable cuts of meat.” “I regret not buying even more Fritos…”

One who visits French Polynesia should not be fooled into thinking they are visiting France. As beautiful as this place is, it is shockingly bereft of cheese and bread. Sipac.pf, where you can order food from Tahiti for delivery via the supply ships, gives you an “No products found” when you click, “French wine”. Sacre bleu!

Wow, there are pretty flowers here. They grow wild, and yet the locals in the houses along the main road also cultivate beautiful gardens. Mel has considered starting a hydroponic flower garden in bilge #4.

The older Mangarevan women we have seen around town are quite classy. They put flowers in their hair and walk with a slow, upright, regal cadence, even when gardening.

“Thank you” is different in Mangarevan, the local language, than Tahitian. “Maururee” instead of “Maururu”. It’s a full language, not a dialect, that is sadly being eclipsed by French and Tahitian.

We tried to do an AllTrails-rated “easy” hike up the peaks of Mangareva. Mel’s fear of heights kicked in and they had to abort the ridge-walking part. (To be more specific, Mel has a fear of falling off a height but also a fear of impulsively hurtling herself off a height just to see what it felt like – which is a thing.) Just in case you are thinking less of Mel for this weakness, she will now list some things she is not scared of: offshore sailing, drowning, learning new things as she ages, hotdogs in a can, diagnosing rare neurological diseases, and sharks.

Our fellow cruisers here in the Gambiers are absolute…pearls. Like Hatty on Drishti, a fellow cruiser and retired British military trainer, who runs sailors of ages through well-attended yoga and circuit-training sessions during the week. Meeting other cruisers is the best part of cruising, and in French Polynesia boats tend to twine their paths together so there are many intersections.  We are hopeful to cross paths again with the many kindred souls we have met here.

In addition to kindred souls, we also have encountered characters, like Ted and Mia on Serengeti. Never seen a guy so happy to be both hanging out by a concrete mixer AND wearing those shorts!

There are a lot of Australians here.  In retrospect, Mel should have realized this would happen, given the ocean they were exploring and all. For a while, Jerry was nestled in between SV Lorikeet and SV Kookaburra. It was shockingly quiet.

The locals of the Gambiers are famous for their warm hospitality. So far, despite not being able to make Herve and Valerie’s pig roasts or BBQs on Taravai, we have met a delightful family that runs what appears to be the takeout restaurant for the entire island. However, as Americans, our complete lack of French can be a barrier. Not helpful is our lapse into Spanish, which rises to the surface of our brains after so many weeks in Panama. One can appreciate the impact the ocean crossers originating from Latin America have had on the local culture and economy by observing that some of the younger Mangarevans seem to understand Spanglish almost better than English.

A conversation sadly generated by us at one of the local “Magasins”, or shops, where you order things over-the-counter, which is cool, like in an Old West pharmacy:

Mel: “We would like whole milk. Leche.  That one. Si!”

Older Mangarevan: Blank look.

Younger Mangaraven: “Okay, How many you want?”

Mel, trying in French: “Twaaah?”

Younger Mangaraven: “Hmmmm…I will get you tres.”

Like all beautiful things, there are minor flaws in the anchorages here that make the gorgeous parts more precious. Jerry is occasionally deluged with swarms of wasps, jellyfish, and the worst thing of all: coconuts. The wasps try to pollinate our bright yellow EPIRB, the jellyfish get sucked into our raw water intakes, and the coconuts?

Don’t trust the coconuts! Eye them with suspicion!

The beautiful lagoon of the Gambiers is the worksite of what a local estimated was at least 100 black pearl farms. Sailboats transiting the lagoon have the most success if they understand that they basically have a guest pass to tour an industrial sea farm. Hard hats on, folks!  The dangers here come in the form of pearl floats that mark submerged lines, nets, and other structures, scattered in between shallow patches and coral heads, all of which threatens our hull integrity and saildrives. Sneaky, liberated coconuts stealthily look like pearl floats, causing Mel’s heart to race as she stands at the bow, directing Jerry through all these obstructions. She can hear the coconuts snickering at her as they slide harmlessly under Jerry’s keels, the bastards!

Speaking of plants with nefarious plots against humans, Mel is pretty sure the Pitcairnian passionfruit she has yet to figure out what to do with also has it out for her. They stare at Mel with their crinkly skin and crunchy seeds, giving her guilt about her low Fruit IQ that is only partially compensated for by AI and YouTube videos in which she watches people identify the edible parts of the things she used to walk right by in Trader Joes and Whole Foods as she beelined for the dark chocolate peanut butter cups.

In her recent efforts to improve her Fruit IQ, she learned a new word: Pamplemousse. You can eat it. The Pitcairnian Pamplemousse was amazing. Easy to eat without an instruction manual, not too sweet, and not too tart. A fruit you can trust. Pay attention, coconuts!

Perhaps Mel should make a picturebook as one of her assignments for her self-taught Tropical Fruit University.

Enjoy these pics of beautiful Mangareva!