Party on a motu

We slowly feel our way into the channel between the two motus Avi and Tutae. The water is crystal clear, but the depth is difficult to estimate. The sandy bottom is a maximum of 1.5 meters deep. Small coral blocks almost reach the surface. Small sticks attached to these blocks indicate the fairway. Gottfried sits at the front of the dinghy and watches the bottom. I stand to get a better angle. Our destination is a white sandy beach on Tutae. We want to explore the small island and look for a suitable barbecue spot. The luck of the brave is with us. When we land on the beautiful white beach, we practically stumble into the barbecue area. An old truck rim serves as a fire pit and there are a few palm trunks around it that serve as seating.

The perfect barbecue spot Taha'a, Society Islands

We agree: the perfect place for our project. We immediately set off to collect firewood. We find an old reinforcing bar nearby, which we bend into shape to place the grill pan over the rim. The preparations are complete, and we return to the boat.

Fire burns Taha'a, Society Islands

The other details are quickly discussed. We decide who has to bring what, and in the afternoon we are curious to see who has forgotten what. The crew of the Tuvalu takes care of the food, while we take care of the drinks. We also take care of the dishes. We are back on the Tuvalu at two o'clock and then head back into the canal. Roswitha and Gaby also really like the spot, and while Gottfried and I light the fire, the ladies take a dip. A few coconut crabs peek out of their holes and are slightly irritated to see what's happening on the beach. Obviously the camp has not been used for a long time. The crabs are joined by roosters wandering around freely, wanting to know what's going on on their island.

Swimming in crystal-clear water Taha'a, Society Islands

In the meantime, we have ensured that the fire is sufficiently ventilated so that it continues to burn. The aim is to ensure there are enough embers to make the meat we have brought edible. Meanwhile, the potatoes, wrapped in aluminum foil, land on the edge of the embers and are pre-cooked. The dry wood burns like cardboard, but we finally manage to get enough embers. The grill pan is quickly hot and the meat sizzles in the pan. My mouth is watering. To distract myself, I have a cold beer, which has actually stayed cold in our cool bag.

Truck rim as barbecue Taha'a Society Islands

We make ourselves comfortable around the campfire and the atmosphere under the palm trees couldn't be more splendid. I have brought an excellent rum with me in a skull. The skull couldn't be more fitting for this little pirate's nest. A little brown sugar, the juice of a lime, topped up with rum and then stirred, not shaken, makes a tremendous rum punch. The party mood is reached after the first glass at the latest. We enjoy the food and treat ourselves to another glass to help us digest.

Traditional rum punch from the skull

We gaze contentedly into the setting sun. Before the sun disappears over the horizon, we have packed everything up again and left this beautiful spot on earth just as we found it. Incidentally, we only forgot a few essential items. Paper handkerchiefs would have been helpful, so we had to make do with the non-existent sleeve. Everything is stowed back in the dinghy, which is tied to a palm tree and held in the pass with a stern anchor. The last challenge of the day is to get out of the pass without hitting a coral stick. Although the sun is very low, the poles are still clearly visible and we manage to reach open water again unscathed. These are the days for which we have sailed so far. A touch of adventure and campfire romance that has remained for the inner child of an adult. I can only say: preserve this romance, a person can no longer live more freely today. We are grateful that we can experience this and hope for more such moments that create inner peace in our souls.

With the dinghy to the Motu Taha'a Society Islands

But it wasn't just this romance that we were able to experience this week. Of course, we have to work hard for it. One morning, Gaby called out: “There's no more water coming out of the toilet when we flush.” When I hear the toilet, my red lights always go on, as this usually doesn't mean anything good. Then I jump into the water and swim a lap around the boat. Well, in the end that doesn't help. So I take a look at the pump, which is protected by a pre-filter. The filter was completely covered with small pieces of wood, the size of a match. The inlet hose, which I removed, was also completely blocked. The reason for this is that a carpet full of coconuts, branches and palm leaves has been floating past our boat for days. In the morning the current moves south, in the evening it moves north, and so the carpet keeps sloshing past us twice a day (or at night).

Anchorage with wooden carpet, Taha'a Society Islands

Apparently the toilet was being used at the very moment we were in the middle of the carpet. After laborious cleaning and endless rows of swearing (I'm very imaginative when it comes to such things), the toilet worked again. Let's just say it could have been worse. But what the heck? So we're already looking forward to the next highlight, which I'll tell you about next week. Until then, fair winds, and keep a stiff upper lip.