The Real Pearl of the Tuamotus

In the town of Vaitahu on the Marquesian island of Tahuata, we met a very friendly shop owner named Jose. He told us a very impressive story about the black pearls of the Tuamotus.

On these tiny islands live pearl farmers who produce impressive black pearls in such great quantities that you can acquire them for next to nothing. What they don't have a lot of on the islands, is wine.

Jose told us that a one-liter box of wine (which he sold for 750 PF) could fetch 5 or 6 pearls. He instructed us only to look for perfectly round pearls ... the bigger the better. If we were lucky, perhaps we'd be able to trade for an R-20 (a perfectly round pearl 20 mm in diameter). Such a pearl would sell for perhaps 1,500 PF in the Tuamotus, but a jeweler in Tahiti would buy it for 2,000,000 PF!

We had heard similar stories before. In fact, many other cruisers stock up on wine and rum in Panama specifically for the purposes of acquiring black pearls.

We were suspicious. If it was possible to make that much money shipping pearls between the Tuamotus and Tahiti, why did Jose run a shop on Tahuatu? Why didn't he just buy a boat and start ferrying pearls himself? In fact, many of the Tuamotun atolls have airports - why didn't anybody just fly back and forth with loads of pearls?

Also, were the pearl farmers that oblivious to what they had? If one of them pulled an R-20 out of an oyster, why didn't he buy a plane ticket to Tahiti, sell the pearl and fly back (with enough money left over to buy a car?).

Nevertheless, we didn't want to miss a good opportunity, so we bought four boxes of wine from Jose and stowed them onboard.

About a week later we arrived at Takaroa and entered the pass just after sunrise during slack high tide. We anchoring, dinghied to shore, and began our ritual hunt for ice cream - but this time I had two boxes of wine in my backpack in case we crossed paths with some pearls.

We had no luck on the ice cream - there was no electricity in town and the person in charge of fixing it had a hangover from the night before. We were told he gets drunk every weekend (nevermind the fact that it was Tuesday). However, we did get directions to a house that sells pearls. We stopped in and were shown an unimpressive batch of oblong and discolored pearls that weren't legal for export. These pearls were priced for 1,000-1,500 PF each (certainly not the cheap R-20 we were looking for).

We soon realized our earlier instincts had been correct - round pearls are rare. When found, they're shipped right out of the country to the highest bidder. Also, the population of Takaroa is 90% Mormon and since they don't drink alcohol, our wine certainly wasn't going to do us any good.

We figured we wouldn't be leaving the Tuamotus with any pearls, so we decided to do some exploring instead. Five kilometers up the road, we were told, was a 200 ft steel shipwreck on the beach. We decided to check it out.

We began hiking up the road and the first car that passed stopped to give us a ride. Inside were four people in their twenties. Ruo, Jeanlou, (both males), Vehia, and Hinanui (both girls) are from Tahiti, but spend some of their time living at Vehia's family's house on Takaroa.

What followed was an adventure that we won't soon forget. After taking us to the shipwreck, they invited us to their home on the opposite shore. We moved the WTP in front of their home, but didn't spend any time on it during the next three days.

We slept in an empty house next door to theirs, ate every meal with them, and enjoyed their terrific company. They took us lobster hunting at midnight (no luck) and spear fishing during the day (lots of luck). We showered twice daily in fresh rainwater from a cistern. Every meal was a delicious feast on a porch over the water. We played with their dog, cat, two puppies, and one kitten, met their intriguing neighbor Robert (whom we feasted with on our last night - and even had ice cream for dessert); got a tour of the village, met a family of artisans who weave palm fronds, and learned a lot about Pumotuan culture, history, and language.

We left on the fourth morning for Tahiti. Before departing, Jeanlou gave us all necklaces that Vehia had made the night before. Mine is black with a single dark pearl in the middle. The pearl is about 8 mm in diameter and shaped like a football. It has two ridges, some divots, and a few scratches. It's the kind of pearl that isn't worth much in a jewelry store.

However, this pearl represents all the kindness and hospitality that Ruo, Jeanlou, Vehia, and Hinanui showed us during our short stay.

This black pearl that I'm leaving the Tuamotus with isn't an R-20. I can't trade it for a car, and it isn't going to make me rich. However, because of my visit to Takaroa, it's worth all the more.

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The Value of Time

I'm the kind of person that views much of the world in terms of investments and returns. I would consider myself a goal-oriented hard worker, and I enjoy being productive. I also value my time very highly.

To be completely honest, there are parts of our twenty day crossing that were difficult for me. There were times that I felt stagnant, unproductive, and full of useless energy. Twenty days was quite a price to pay.

However, the crossing was more than anything, an investment... with an uncertain return. Twenty days of anybody's time is worth quite a lot - and it is this cost that keeps many people from sailing across the Pacific. I wondered what our payoff would be. I had heard stories about the Marquesas ... but would it all be worth it? How many islands would I have to visit, how many sights would I have to see, how many days-weeks-months would it take... for it all to be worth it?

On May 1st, 2010, one minute after our anchor was set... it was all worth it. The payoff was immediate. We arrived at sunset. It was soon too dark to appreciate it clearly, but you could see that we were anchored in a tiny cove surrounded by towering cliffs. I could barely sleep that night.

The next morning I awoke before sunrise. I sat alone on the deck in total awe of the sight before me. Rocks shot out of the ocean, palm trees, grass, and forest barely clinging to their slopes.

And the smell.

Just as we had travelled over 3,000 nm, so does every bit of air and moisture in the Marquesas. Foreign particles fall out many miles earlier, and all that is left is the same unadulterated, moist wind that carried us from San Cristobal. This air suddenly crashes into a mountain half a mile high and gives birth to one of the purest rain forests in the works.

We were anchored on the lee side of the island, so we experienced the brunt of the most magnificent, lush, and pure forest air I have ever breathed.

Still in my pajamas, I caught a ride to shore with a French man on his way to fill up water.

Maybe it was only the foreign sensation of land, but stepping ashore at Fatu Hiva made the prior twenty days absolutely, and unequivocally... worth it.

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Counting Down the Miles

I'm no stranger to tests of endurance. I actually rather enjoy them. With marathons, an Ironman, and a terminal graduate degree under my belt, I've often tested my mettle over time. Given that I'm not an exceptionally swift runner, I feel my relatively slow marathon and triathlon times grant me greater experience on the endurance front.

So what is a 3,000 nm crossing like? Well, in our case it wasn't very demanding at any one moment. A beam/broad reach in 10-15 kts of wind across 5-7 ft seas is something any sailor can enjoy (especially with Beauregard, our self-steering windvane in control). Put that on top of a swift westward current and you regularly notch off 180 nm days that make you feel rather accomplished (regardless of the fact that you might have adjusted the sheets or wheel only three or four times all day).

So what is a 3,000 nm crossing like? In my mind, it's most similar to another endurance event I've participated in: The Krispy Kreme Challenge.

Let me explain...

I really only eat about 12 donuts a year, and for the past four years, that quota has been ceremoniously met at a running event held in downtown Raleigh, North Carolina. The goal is to run 2.5 miles from NC State's campus to a Krispy Kreme downtown, eat a dozen donuts, and then run the 2.5 miles back - all in under an hour. Over 5,000 runners participated in this last year.

The hardest part isn't the running, nor is it the 12th and final donut. The toughest part is donut number nine. The run out to the Krispy Kreme is mostly downhill, and the collective excitement makes the miles pass quickly. After receiving your box of donuts and settling into your personal space in the Krispy Kreme parking lot, the adrenaline in your body makes the first five donuts disappear remarkably quickly. You start to feel full as you force down numbers six and seven. By donut number eight, your body has figured out what you're doing and begins its protest in earnest.

Donut nine is by far the worst. At this point you've remembered that you don't even like donuts. You're wondering what prompted you to sign up for this very boorish display of Americana at its best. You've also probably heard the sounds of someone regurgitating their batch of donuts as other competitors scurry to an unsoiled corner of the parking lot. Worst of all is how wholey unappetizing the remaining three untouched donuts look.

But you press on, and you notice a dramatic change with donut number ten. With only two donuts left, the end is in sight and the task at hand is no longer as daunting. 'You can eat two donuts' you tell yourself. 'After all, you've just eaten ten' (the massive influx of sugar obviously clouding your logic). Donuts 11 and 12 disappear as quickly as the first five, and soon enough you're on the road again with an X on your race number signifying your recent accomplishment. The run back is tempered, but easier than you had expected, and you soon cross the finish line, oddly proud of your accomplishment (with all the earlier thoughts of despair now forgotten).

That's what sailing a beam/broad reach across 3,000 nm is like. Just like eating a single donut, a single day spent sailing in the tropics is a true delight - putting many of those delights end to end is what makes it a more difficult prospect.

And just like counting down donuts, so we counted down the miles. The first few days went by quickly. Days eight and nine dragged on a bit. By this point I had read all the books I had that were worth reading and began shuffling through trashy beach novels picked up at past book swaps. My ipod playlist was similarily well worn. We were out of fresh fruit. Worst of all, I had run out of dry underwear, and constantly sitting on wet cushions created a discomfort that I will not discuss in detail.

But once we had 1,300 miles left, the majority of the days were behind us and the end was now in sight. Will had baked a 'halfway cake,' we had gained significant ground against all the other boats on our radio net, and I soon began the mental math to figure out whose watch would make landfall.

In the end, the crossing was rather pleasant and featured many high points, including:

- All other boats on the radio getting out name right (no more 'Tippycat' or 'William The Cat').

- The Papaya on day three.

- Reading 'One Watch At A Time' By Skip Novak.

- Watermelon Day on day five.

- Halfway cake.

- Working through Will's collection of movies, specifically:

a) South Pacific - a recent BBC documentary series about its namesake. Shot in high definition, often in high-speed, this series got us excited about what is to come. For those of you following along at home, I would strongly suggest watching it. It presents the world we're sailing through in impressive detail. Apparently Oprah narrates the US version.

b) Breaking Away - a terrific movie featuring collegiate cycling in the 70's, it stars one of the bad guys from 'Home Alone' alongside a very young Dennis Quaid.

c) Out Cold - This irreverent and comedic snowboarding remake of Casablanca is directed by the Malloys and features Zach Galifianakis. What's not to like about that?

But most of all:

- Holding weekly sat-phone calls with several of our classrooms in Virginia! It was really fun to check in with you guys!

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