Days 200 - 217 (June 20 - July 7, 2026) of our five year circumnavigation
We made four round trips between Tahiti and Moorea! Read on to see why.
114 nautical miles sailed around the islands - even though Moorea is only 15 nm away!
7,999 total nm sailed since our departure from Los Angeles on December 3, 2025
We woke up to a beautiful day, swinging on anchor less than 200 feet from the overwater bungalows of the Intercontinental Hotel. We expected the hotel to complain, but they never did and we exchanged friendly waves with the guests a few times. The anchorages in Tahiti were packed, and this was not an “approved” anchorage, but somehow nobody ever asked us to move. Only once or twice did we see a person or boat that seemed to be an authority of any kind. Which honestly is kind of nice!
Note: we generally are “rule followers” who respect local requirements, but in this case the anchorages were so full, we had little choice. We had motored around for over an hour looking for a legal space to anchor, and there just wasn’t one. So, we did what we had to do, and it worked out just fine!
My first order of business in Tahiti was maintenance and repair. I had two broken battens in the mainsail, requiring replacement and some minor sewing and patching. I wanted to get the engines serviced and we really wanted to get the boat professionally cleaned. If I found a good electrician, I had some work for him, too.
It was not to be. None of it. The culture here in the islands is different. People are not generally eager to work and the entrepreneurial spirt is largely absent. Scheduling and hiring vendors and tradesmen is a frustrating game of phone tag and WhatsApp messaging, where you hope they might message you back and maybe even be interested in the work. Couple this general culture with the fact that it was high season and all the marinas were full, and it was nearly impossible to find anyone to work on your boat.
Contrast that with Mexico, where eager vendors lined up on the dock to pitch us on their services, competing with each other to win business. They’re eager. But here in French Polynesia, it’s hard to even get their attention. The cultural difference is striking.
I exchanged messages and discussed possible dates with several companies, to no avail. My thoroughly American “type A” personality struggled! This is a place where shops close for lunch and restaurants are open only at mealtimes. I spoke with one marine mechanical firm, where the receptionist seemed to think she was doing me a favor by considering sending someone to work on our boat. It is such a common phenomenon, that when someone returns your call and actually seems interesting in your business, it feels like you’ve struck gold! Yes, the bar is that low.
I bought, cut and installed my own battens. And I bought a spare! I hand-sewed the spot on the mainsail where the broken batten had damaged it. I scrubbed the decks, although it’s never enough! And I changed my own oil. But that came with its own problems - more on that later.
Our first night in Tahiti, we showered and jumped in the dinghy to go ashore. After tying at the dinghy dock at Marina Taina, we were excited to find a busy restaurant scene!! We eagerly took a table for two at La Casa Bianca, and stared at each other like over-stimulated children. People! Chatter! Cold drinks on the menu! Music playing! Choices!
After nearly two months in the Marquesas Islands and the Tuamotus, both of which are naturally beautiful but unfailingly primitive, we had struck gold. We ordered cocktails. We ordered calamari. Calamari!!! It was the best calamari we had ever tasted. Meghan got a salad, her first in weeks and I had a steak. Not the best cut, but still delicious. It was our first taste of real civilization since El Salvador in March and we were basking in it.
After dinner, Meghan heard live music nearby and we followed it like rats to the pied piper, all the way to a restaurant/bar called Yellowfin. We had a great night and were befriended by the owner and his group of friends, all French, who invited us to move our boat and tie up behind his house the next day! That was one of those things that sounded amazing at the time, and much less of a good idea in the light of day!! Hahaha. But we enjoyed the live music and dancing!
The Carrefour supermarket was a 15 minute walk away, and they allowed you to take their carts back to the marina, so we made many trips for supplies and provisions. The wheels on the carts spin 360 degrees, which is great for maneuverability in the store, but not so much on tilted and uneven sidewalks on the way back to the marina!! Think of Carrefour like a French WalMart, that has a little bit of everything from groceries to auto supplies. It was great to have easy access to “things” again.
On Monday, we took a taxi into downtown Papeete, the capital city of Tahiti. Meghan was dying to visit the market, where they sold handicrafts, traditional pareos, and other clothing, jewelry and sundries. We walked around together for a while, and then I split off to go find a cold beer. This works well for us - I truly want Meghan to enjoy, take her time while browsing - which she loves to do - and I don’t want her to feel rushed. If I can find a comfortable place to sit and enjoy a cold beer, and maybe conversation with a friendly stranger, I’m a happy guy and I’ll while away the hours in contentment.
On the walk, she told me how much she loved the pareo market and all the fun colors and fashion. She said it gave her hope and happiness to see all the color and flowery prints. The fact that Tahitian women usually wear dresses was something that both of us enjoyed, since we ran a business selling women’s dresses. And c’mon ladies, everyone knows women look better in dresses! They’re feminine, colorful, breezy, pretty…. what’s not to love? American women really should ditch the yoga pants and unremarkable tops in favor of dresses again. The world would be a happier place
!
Our first stop was Marine Supplies, a local chandlery. The staffer at the desk was very knowledgeable and we had a long discussion about reefing and the best way to rig reefs for long passages. One of my reef lines had chafed through and I was looking for a solution. He drew pictures of his suggestions and was a great guy. He confirmed they had the battens I needed, in stock at their other store (at the marina near our anchorage - yay). I bought a bilge pump to replace the one that had died on the dinghy and we headed home. Being able to find the boat parts and supplies that you need is a constant challenge and when I find a well-stocked chandlery, I often find myself wandering around looking for things I need, but perhaps hadn’t thought of at the moment.
The next day, Meghan suggested we rent a scooter and tour the island’s sites, so we reserved one for Thursday. This turned out to be hilarious. Meghan is six feet tall. I’m 6’3” and somehow we packed both our tall frames onto the small seat of a banana-yellow Aprilia scooter. It was hilarious and had a “clown car” quality. Navigating around corners was a white-knuckle experience, but somehow this thing held together and all my years of riding real motorcycles kept the rubber down and the shiny side up.
Tahitians are generally very considerate drivers, which helped a lot. But it was still a little scary buzzing around on that tiny machine. Our first stop was a “roulotte” or food truck that had a great reputation that turned out to be well deserved. They also made great smoothies!
We worked our way south on the main road that circles the whole island, hitting various tourist spots like including a couple of “Maraes,” which are sacred sites in Polynesian culture, where years ago people built rock structures and tiki idols. They were peaceful and gorgeous, and we paused to enjoy the solitude and reflect on this eponymous journey.
On Friday, we made plans to go to dinner with our friends Mitch and Mami from Shingtai, a catamaran that had been anchored near us in a few places now. We first met in Daniel’s Bay on Nuku Hiva, just a couple weeks after crossing the Pacific, and we had seen them at several anchorages. That’s how friendships form out here!
We had agreed to meet at Yellowfin Restaurant, but as we were jumping in the dinghy to go ashore, my WhatsApp buzzed with a message from Mitch: “Join us at the party on the pier.” Well, OK! You don’t have to tell us twice.
As our dinghy approached the marina, we saw a large crowd out on the main pier where the super yachts were tied up. Music playing. Hundreds of people. Food tents. Wow! We found a spot to tie up close to the entrance and walked in like we owned the place. One of the security guards stopped us, and we thought the jig was up, but his supervisor just asked, “What’s your boat name?”
We answered honestly, “Some Tuesday” and they put wristbands on us! It turned out the party was hosted by a business that provides provisioning for the super yachts, but either they didn’t care if others slipped through, or we just looked like we belonged, since we’d arrived by dinghy and were hailed by Mitch, who was already inside. Either way, we spent the next few hours drinking free beer and eating free food! And we still don't even know the name of the business that hosted the party!!
We met a lot of great people there, most of whom were professional yacht crew. The world of crew working on these big yachts is fascinating - everyone is young and beautiful and loves to have a good time. If I’d known this was an option when I was in my 20’s, I suspect my life would have been quite different!!
We spent a lot of time talking with the crew of the classic, fully restored 1929 super yacht Haida. They were wonderful, friendly and fun and the boat they crewed has a long and storied history, including service in WWII. They were a total crew of 19, if memory serves, and from different countries all over the world. It still runs on the original diesel engines from 1929!! We took this great photo with a few of them, after much dancing and frivolity.
A couple nights later, we had our friends from Shingtai over for dinner aboard Some Tuesday. Mitch, Mami (his wife) and Lily (crew) came over and Meghan made her world famous burgers, grilled on the BBQ mounted on the aft rail, just above the scuba tank racks! Mami doesn’t live aboard full time, so Mitch often uses “crew finder” websites to link up with people that are looking for a spot on a boat. The arrangement is easy: help around the boat, take a watch while on passage, and share expenses. Mitch gets another pair of hands and some gas money, and the crew members get a spot going to their next destination. I’m told some people go all the way around the world this way!
Mitch is American, Mami is Japanese, and Lily is French. A perfect microcosm of the international milieu of cruising life, all on the same boat!
By Thursday, July 2 we had had our fill of Tahiti and set sail for Moorea. It’s a short trip of only three hours, and soon enough we were anchored just inside a reef at the outer edge of Cook’s Bay. As all French Polynesia, it’s gorgeous. In the morning, we woke to find a tourist charter boat anchored less than 300 feet away, having disgorged about 20 snorkelers onto the reef. What luck! We were anchored right next to a beautiful spot to go snorkeling or diving.
That night, Meghan and I went to dinner after taking a dinghy tour of beautiful Cook’s Bay. The lush mountains on three sides really adds to the tropical feel. We could see Le Cook’s Bar & Restaurant from the water, but they didn’t have a dinghy dock, so we tied up at the public/town dock next door and walked over. Dinner was good and the atmosphere was tropical and breezy. We had a nice time, but when we walked back to the dinghy, we found the public park compound closed and locked!!
Our dinghy was at the dock on the other side of that locked gate!! Naturally, we transformed into mischievous teenagers, and started searching for a way to get in, hopefully without getting arrested! We found a spot where the fence ended at a creek, and bars extended out over the water to prevent people from climbing around. Well, we’ve got pretty long arms and legs, so soon enough out spidey skills had us back on the inside. We hopped in the dinghy and off we went back to the boat, but karma would strike soon enough.
It was dark. I didn’t know the water. I could see the anchor lights on the boats in the anchorage off in the distance. I was confident that I was well offshore, out in the channel beyond the navigation markers. I wasn’t.
BAM!
The outboard slammed into a coral reef. Hard. The engine stalled. After starting it back up, there was no “go” in that motor. I had “spun the prop.” Shit.
Propellers have a rubber hub between the drive shaft and the blades that is designed to do exactly what it did. If you strike a hard object with the propeller blades, the rubber shears away, causing the prop to spin uselessly, but saving the drive shaft and lower unit from much more catastrophic damage. We wouldn’t be going anywhere else under power that night. I grabbed the emergency paddle, which luckily I had purchased at a swap meet in Tahiti only a few days before. If this had happened last week, there would have been no paddle on board!
As I hand paddled, we passed an important navigation marker, ON OUR WRONG SIDE indicating that I had driven directly over the reef rather than out in the channel where I thought I was. It was a day-marker, and had no light - rendering it invisible in the dark. Still - oof. That’s embarrassing.
After 20 minutes of paddling, luckily in calm water, we were back on board Some Tuesday. But now we had no dinghy, which means we had no ability to go ashore, since the dinghy is our “car.” We had no choice but to return to Tahiti in the morning and hope somebody had a new propeller in stock!
Meghan woke me the next morning saying, “Just wait until you see where we hit the reef!” In the light of day, it was SO obvious that we were in dangerous, shallow waters. All we could do is laugh as we weighed anchor and headed back to Tahiti, where we luckily found not one, but two propellers in stock. I bought them both so we would have a spare.
The silver lining was that returning to Tahiti gave us the opportunity to join up with the Sail Tahiti rally - a flotilla of yachts that was crossing to Moorea together, for two days of fun activities. We had already planned to join them, so it worked out just fine. We were back in Cook’s Bay by early afternoon, and had the anchor down by 4pm or so. It was pouring rain, but we hopped in the dinghy anyway (I had already installed the new prop in Tahiti, to make sure it was correct) and headed ashore for a reception with the Sail Tahiti group.
There we met quite a few friendly yachties and enjoyed great conversation and sea stories. Dinner and a Polynesian dance show followed, with more friendly conversation. The table next to us were Germans, and very friendly. Nearly everyone here is sailing around the world, or at least part of it. The Polynesian dance was excellent, and they didn’t seem to mind that it was still raining!
The next day, I got to work changing the oil and filter on the generator. Remember how I couldn’t hire anyone to do the job? I don’t mind doing it myself, but it’s work that I’m quite pleased to pay for if I can get a professional! And as it turns out, they are less likely to make stupid mistakes! I topped up the coolant with a bottle I’d bought before we left the USA, and it specifically said it was for Cummins diesel engines. I’ll spare you my rant on the ridiculous state of the coolant/anti-freeze industry where there are very specific chemistries that cannot be mixed together, and yet are not labeled with the chemistry type. Just understand that it’s very confusing and difficult to pick the right coolant, especially if you don’t know exactly what was used by the last mechanic to fill it.
Turns out, what happens if you mix two incompatible coolants is they turn into a brown sludge in your radiator. This of course, causes the generator to overheat and shut down to protect itself. So, that happened in the middle of the night and I soon enough found myself up on deck, in the generator compartment with a flashlight staring at a coolant overflow bottle of brown goo. Shit. Shit. Shit. I guess the coolant in there was IAT instead of OAT. Good Lord, how can people keep track of this stuff???
I went back to bed, but spend the entire next day draining the cooling system and flushing it with fresh water. Running it until warm, then draining again until the water was clean. That took about six full cycles, which took me all day. But I still couldn’t run the generator until I replaced the coolant with something reliable. There isn’t any in Moorea, so…. back to Tahiti we go.
We arrived on Sunday, and I went to Carrefour hoping to find the right kind. Negative. I would have to wait until Monday to go to the chandlery. When I did, I found what I needed, which was HOAT chemistry, for those keeping track at home. The price was outrageous at $25 per liter, but I didn’t have a choice. I bought the three liters I needed, and two extra for top-offs. The key with coolant is to never mix it with a different type, so I wanted the spares on board.
Aargh!!! These self-inflicted wounds were really beginning to bother me. But we weren’t done yet….
On July 4, I tied a large American flag to the topping lift, which is the line (rope) that runs from the aft end of the boom to the top of the mast. It supports the weight of the boom and the mainsail when it’s down. It’s a great place to display my 10 foot flag to celebrate America’s 250th anniversary!
Happy birthday, America!!
On July 6, the flag was still there, but my prussic hitches had failed and the wind had blown it up to the top of the mast. Since we were setting sail today to sail overnight to Huahine, Meghan expressed concern that the flag might get tangled in the rigging. Not a problem, I assured her. It’ll be fine.
Idiot. (Me, not her.)
We sailed out of Tahiti for the fourth time that morning, and turned north, planning to sail around the northern side of Moorea and then on to Huahine, around 100 nautical miles distant. It would be a quick overnight, arriving in daylight the next day.
We had excellent, sporty conditions from Tahiti sailing northwest toward Moorea. Seas were on the beam, with wind from the south, making it a bit uncomfortable. Winds were 20-25 knots, which is not dangerous but enough wind that pleasurable, easy sailing changes to work requiring more trimming and adjustment. But I love this and was having a ball. Meghan was tired, and was napping in our cabin below.
As we rounded the northeast tip of Moorea and turned west, we sailed into the lee of the island, which brought calm seas and lighter wind - a perfect time to bring down the American flag that I had assured Meghan was no problem.
I had a strategy, and had not taken it down when she suggested it because that would have required extra work to support the boom so I could slacken the topping lift. But, with the mainsail up, the sail supports the boom and the topping lift can be lowered with no issues. Aren’t I clever! Except…. when I opened the clutch and pulled, the line wouldn’t move. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. This cannot be happening!
I tried to work it back and forth. Nothing. Then I tried to lower the mainsail itself so I could untangle whatever was going on up at the top of the mast. But… the sail would not come down. I left the clutch open and yanked on the halyard. I pulled the topping lift. I went up on the cabin and tried to pull the sail down by hand. It wouldn’t budge.
Now, let me paint you a picture. We’re sailing in heavy wind and heavy seas. As soon as we clear Moorea, we’ll be back in sporty conditions. We are under full sail and the mainsail WILL NOT COME DOWN. This is a big problem. That’s when Meghan came up on deck.
I didn’t mince words. “You just got the biggest ‘I told you so’ in the history of the world, babe.”
We debated what to do. I wanted to just sail to Huahine and deal with it there. Meghan rightly pointed out that if anything went wrong between here and there, we’d be in open seas, unable to take the sail down. She suggested we turn into Cooks Bay, where we had anchored three days ago, and already knew the water. We could see the opening to the bay, just off port side.
We squabbled a bit, but she was right. Her plan was lower-risk and would solve the problem sooner. She then had another good suggestion: get on the VHF and tell everyone in the anchorage we’re coming in under full sail and could use some help. Good idea.
I keyed the mic: “To all vessels anchored in Cook’s Bay, this is Some Tuesday. Be aware we are in distress and have a stuck mainsail halyard that will not come down. I’ll be coming in under sail and plan to anchor as far away from other vessels as possible to work on this. If anyone is available to help, we would welcome assistance.”
Three different people replied and offered to help. I love this community!! We were able to get the anchor down in 70 feet of water, with good distance between any other boats and the shore. Plenty of room to work and swing around on anchor without hitting anything.
Mike and Dave came over from Obsession, and volunteered an hour or so, since they had dinner plans. Their help was so appreciated, and Dave’s experience and competence was clear - giving me confidence to let him hoist me. I climbed into the bosun’s chair and tied myself to the spinnaker halyard. He wrapped the working end around one of the main winches and Mike helped me double check my rig and knots. We used our headsets so Dave and I could talk as he winched me up the mast, 75 feet in the air to investigate.
Hanging from a rope, 75 feet in the air, in the dark, swinging around as the wind pushes the sail was hair raising, but fun in my own weird way. The world looks different that far off the ground, as you gaze past your dangling feet to the waters and boats below. About 60 feet up, I had to stop and disassemble a swivel block in order to ascend all the way to the top. That took a few minutes, but soon enough I gave Dave the OK to hoist again and arrived at the top of the mast. The spider web of rigging and the trapped American flag was something to behold - and would have been impossible to fix from the deck.
The flag had gotten pulled into the block (pulley) at the head of the sail, and the force of the power winch had wedged it HARD between the wheel and the halyard line. It was so tight it was not possible to pull it loose. I had to cut the flag, but it still wouldn’t come loose and the sail still wouldn’t drop.
My only choice left was to cut the halyard itself. That’s the line that is used to pull the mainsail to the top of the mast. Cutting it was the last thing I wanted to do, but it was the only choice. So I got out my knife and went to work. When done, Mike was able to lower the main slowly. Because I have a 2:1 halyard, it was still supported by the halyard after I cut the side that was attached to the mast.
Twenty minutes later, I was back on the deck. Meghan was relieved that I was alive. I was annoyed that I had to cut the halyard and now somehow had to get that block fixed. It took me an hour or so, but I got the flag out in pieces with a combination of power drill and pliers. Then I reassembled everything, cut a cleaner cut in the halyard with my hot knife and got everything set up for tomorrow, when I would have to go up the mast again to re-rig everything.
The next morning, we got in touch with Dave and Danielle from Sailing Solis, who had offered to help the night before. I asked if they could help that morning by winching me up the mast. Meghan really doesn’t like to do that job. She’s gaining confidence, but until she’s 100% comfortable doing that job, we don’t push it. When I’m hanging from the halyard in a small bosun’s chair, my life is quite literally in the hands of whoever is working that winch. Make a mistake, and I get to meet Jesus earlier than planned.
Dave winched me up, it took maybe 15 minutes and I had everything put together and back in working order. We planned to leave for the sail to Huahine around 4 or 5pm, to make sure we didn’t arrive too early, before daybreak. So we spent the day relaxing and doing some small boat projects.
I did a lot of thinking that day about how to avoid any further stupid mistakes. Meghan and I talked about ideas. She volunteered to double check my work, but that’s tough when you’re talking about technical stuff like engine coolant. Still, it bothered me. Wrecked prop. Wrong coolant. Stuck flag. All preventable mistakes. But also all a side effect of the massive complexity of operating a sailing vessel, with all the attendant systems, parts and procedures. There is SO much stuff that can go wrong. Still, I resolved to redouble my efforts at caution and accuracy. It really does kill the vibe when we’re spending time dealing with problems rather than floating around in turquoise water….
The sail to Huahine was great. Good wind, and I spent the whole time trying to catch Solis, who had departed about an hour before us. I figured with my larger sail area and longer waterline, I should sail faster. But I couldn’t catch them! I spent much of the night trimming and trying to pick up a half knot here and there, but no matter how hard I tried, their speed and mine were nearly identical. There was a 5 mile gap between us nearly all night, and I couldn’t close it! Damn.
When two sailboats are going in the same direction, it’s a race. We all know it!
I got very excited just after daybreak when the gap seemed to have closed quickly! I double checked AIS and sure enough - they were only three miles away and I was closing fast! Yes!!!
It took me about 15 seconds before I figured out the reason…. They had already gone through the pass at Huahine and turned south, inside the reef, and were working their way back toward me - but with a coral reef between us! I laughed at myself for a good long time about that, and shamelessly told them the story over drinks after we arrived!
We anchored in Avea Bay, a stunningly gorgeous bay of crystal clear water on the southwest corner of Huahine. I dropped the anchor to a sandy bottom in only about 16 feet of water, just as the deep water transitioned to the sandy shallows. In fact, it was so close, that a couple days later when the wind shifted, I would have to weigh anchor and move 100 feet or so, since the keels had lightly grounded on the sandy bottom! There was at least a full mile of clear water and white sand with depths of only 4-5 feet, extending all the way to the coral reef. Heaven!
Welcome to the Leeward Islands!