Māuruuru (Thank you)

Ships log – January 08, 2025 – : Jill’s watch. S 20°04.1 W138°25.1, Spinnaker and Main with preventer on. TWS 10.7 AWS 6.6 SOG 6.7 AWA -97° TWA 142° Mast angle -30.5°

Leaving a place, any place, where there’s a good chance you’ll never return gives one pause. We left Hao, the easternmost navigable Tuomotu atoll, and we’re headed for the Gambier archipelago without a firm plan to ever come back.

“Tell me what was special to you,” I said to Michael as we sat next to each other at the helm station. My legs, too short to rest on Gerty’s deck from such a height, swung in the apparent wind while I listened to his response. I wasn’t surprised kiteboarding was at the top of his list.

He also said he loved that end-of-the-earth feeling when we anchored Gerty up against a reef. I think it was the trickster in him. Seeing the ocean crashing against the shore but feeling nothing but smooth water under his board was like pulling one over on Mother Nature.

“I liked the sailing, too,” he continued. The conditions differed from those elsewhere, and we embraced the challenges over time. For example, sailing windward and leeward of the islands meant something different than it did in the Caribbean. The atolls were so flat that sailing on the leeward side offered big wind in small seas. Again, this gave us the sense that we had outwitted the rules of the universe. With no mountains to block our breeze, we were often able to sail supah-fast over smooth water. The challenge was entering and exiting the passes had to be timed with the strong currents. Yet, those currents were affected by the winds and rising waters, thereby throwing off timetables by hours. We also used satellite images for navigation and pearl floats on our anchor chain—both tools that never left the toolbox before arriving here. And the weather was different, too. Between the trade wind-tropics and the hi lo-temperate zones, we got a constant mixing of the elements.

“There was something else… each atoll village had its own…” he trailed off. I think the words he was missing were Je ne sais quoi (I don’t know what) because the townspeople had certain qualities that distinguished them. In Hao, they were festive, swimming and playing music late into the night. In Aratika, they were exceptionally warm and friendly. In Tikehau, they were shy, but the children bonded with us ever so quickly. In Tahanea and Toau there were almost no people at all. “I liked the remoteness,” he said. 

I liked the people most of all, so few and far between. Those cutie pies in the Primary School Christmas Spectac in Fakarava,

our funny dive master in Tikehau, the third graders in Rotoava singing their school song to me in Tahitian, the miniature-sized huggers in Tikehau, Mayor Sylvia in Aratika, and of course, all the sailors. “Yeah, I liked them, too. Remember Karmen and Tom’s pool party in Makemo?” he asked, smiling. I sure do.

I guess I just want to say Māuruuru (Thank you) to the Tuomotus. Thank you for the pool party, hamburger buns, game nights, and sundowners that turned into dinners. Thank you for the campfires, coral gardens, exquisite passes, crystal clear water, coconuts, rainbows, sunsets, and the soft-serve ice cream machine. Thank you for the Maramus, which allowed us to kite for weeks on end. Thank you for the stars and the crescent moons. Thank you for the friends we made and the family that came to visit. Thank you for the whales, hermit crabs, rhinoceros fish, eels, retractable Christmas trees, manta rays, colorful clams, and even the polite-enough-not-to-eat-us-sharks.