South Seas Cruise for Eight

Roosters crowed, pigs grunted, gentle waves lapped on the sand and breakers crashed on a reef as I lay on our bunk and peered through the boat’s overhead hatch awaiting sunrise.

We were anchored in a secluded cove of Avea Bay, where children and animals frolicked daily along the beach. Days later, home from this spring sailing excursion through French Polynesia’s Society Islands, I looked at a photo of that cove, and I swear I could hear that wondrous, unusual combination of sounds once more.

Such were the pleasures seven travelers and I experienced aboard our 48-foot catamaran, Motu One. Motu is the word for the tiny, palm-covered islands that dot the region. And as each day drifted into night and millions of stars splashed the inky black sky, Motu One indeed seemed like an island of serenity in the beautiful sea.

Eight of us had embarked on a “bareboat” sailing adventure, which means we chartered just the boat--no captain, no crew, no provisions. We were part of an eight-boat flotilla organized by Marina del Rey-based Marina Sailing, one of a few Southern California sailing clubs that organize bareboat trips for members and their friends. No need to own a boat or to be a seasoned sailor; most teach and certify anyone willing to learn, and experienced members help novices once at sea.

Our itinerary called for seven nights at sea, with one hotel night at both ends. We had flown eight hours from Los Angeles to Papeete, the capital of French Polynesia on the island of Tahiti, on a Saturday. (Tahiti is the largest of the Society Islands, the westernmost group of islands that constitute French Polynesia.) From Tahiti, we flew 45 minutes west to Raiatea, where Motu One awaited.

Our group, three married couples and two solo travelers, was a well-seasoned bunch, most from Southern California and ranging in age from 44 to 76. Everyone knew at least one other person on the boat before the trip--an important detail because carefully selected shipmates are crucial to successful bareboat sailing.

First, you need an experienced sailor at the helm. We were lucky to have our friend Tom Blake, a.k.a. Cap’n Tom, from Lake Elsinore, Calif. Second, you need travelers who can forgo room service--or any service, for that matter. Only a few of us were experienced sailors, but we all eagerly performed tasks: dropping anchor, hoisting the sails, signaling channel and reef markers from the foredeck and the like. Third, you must be flexible. A domineering person would have faced mutiny when confronted by our democratic spirit and laissez-faire attitude.

With that in mind, we arrived in Raiatea, the most popular yachting base in French Polynesia. After spending Saturday night at the beautiful, 32-room Raiatea Pearl Resort, we picked up Motu One. We were supplied with nautical charts and briefed about navigating and operating the boat. Fortunately, we had the biggest vessel in the flotilla, not to mention four heads (bathrooms) that made us the envy of the fleet.

This was Cap’n Tom’s sixth journey with Marina Sailing; it was my first. None of us had sailed French Polynesia before. We had been given a loose itinerary, with a recommended order of sailing and suggested land activities. But we set our own course from the get-go, and most days we found ourselves blissfully alone by the time we dropped anchor.

From Raiatea we headed east, sailing and motoring about four hours to the picturesque island of Huahine, with its deep bays, mountains and white-sand beaches. We used the motor because the winds were not strong enough to get us there before sunset, and traveling at night is not recommended because of the shallow coral reefs.

We anchored near Huahine’s main village of Fare (pronounced FAR-ay) to get more provisions for the boat. That’s when sticker shock set in. A tiny jar of salsa: $6.95. A can of dry-roasted peanuts: $16. A six-pack of local Hinano beer: $10. A 6-ounce fruit yogurt: $3.60.

On the bright side, the crusty baguettes were delicious, plentiful and only 30 cents. We thought we had scored another bargain, too, picking what seemed like a modestly good French wine for $7. Unfortunately, it tasted like cooking wine, and we ended up donating most of the three bottles to the ship’s galley--our fault for sending our teetotaler, non-French-speaking cook to choose the vintage.

Ching Shen Chausse, the shipmate who volunteered to run the galley, may not be a wine connoisseur, but she does have a reputation as a wonderful chef. Though a vegetarian, she gladly cooked meat and fish but mixed it liberally with locally grown fresh fruit and vegetables, as well as tofu she had brought from home “just in case.”

We groaned about the high cost of groceries, but when we compared notes with the rest of the fleet, we learned that we had escaped with a tiny tab by cooking breakfasts, lunches and all but two dinners on board. The grocery bill came to $760; when split eight ways, it was a fraction of what others spent ashore. Meals at restaurants were excellent, but dinner often ran $50 per person and up.

Aboard Motu One, we ate like kings. Breakfasts were eclectic, alfresco buffets. Most mornings we could choose from scrambled eggs, cold cereal, hot noodle soup, French toast, yogurt, fresh fruit and coffee. Lunches were creative: stir-fried dinner leftovers or tuna sandwiches on crusty French bread. For dinner, we sauteed fresh tuna steaks with grilled onions or seared thick lamb chops on the rear-deck barbecue.

One evening, Ching served a delicious stir-fry of frozen potatoes, peas and mushrooms. She graciously accepted our compliments, then confessed, “I thought I was buying carrots, not potatoes. I guess my French isn’t very good.”

I’ve often been described as a Type A personality at work, but by the end of Day One, I had cruised into Type B. It wasn’t long before I was Type R--for Relaxed. With no meetings to attend, phones to answer or deadlines to meet, my biggest decisions were: Should I nibble papaya or pineapple? Should I go snorkeling or read John Grisham?

Our mornings were wondrous. Some people headed for the foredeck, the perfect spot for stretching, yoga or meditating at sunrise. Others began with a quick snorkel. The waters around Huahine include Sea Anemone Reef, with its namesake creatures and coral in blues and violets and greens. Avapeihi Pass, on the west side, is a renowned dive site with sharks and barracuda.

We spent the first three nights anchored off Huahine just because none of us wanted to leave. On our second day, we left Fare and found a cove on the southwest side of the island where snorkeling was tremendous. We faced a quaint cottage on the beach, where the aforementioned kids, dogs and pigs played at the water’s edge.

On the fourth day, we hoisted the sails after breakfast and headed northwest. That night, as we anchored off the islet Motu Tautau, part of Tahaa island, we saw an incredible sunset. The jagged peaks of Bora-Bora were in the foreground, and a fisherman and his son in a small boat pushed by us with poles, as if on cue. We called this “the 360-degree sunset” because it glowed pink, orange and red in every direction for nearly 45 minutes. Layers of clouds scattered in all directions, reflecting the ever-changing light show. My shipmates, who have witnessed magnificent sunsets from Antarctica to Nepal, declared this one the best. We watched for an encore each night.

On Thursday we awoke early and continued on to Bora-Bora, about a four-hour trip. Although some people consider it inundated with tourists, we hardly noticed. Normally I might have been eager, even insistent, to see and do everything. But on this trip, in this incredible environment, to be was better than to do. I wanted to savor every moment.

Our group was determined, however, to ride horses and to scuba dive. Here we faced one drawback of bareboat sailing: Most such excursions are organized by hotels. Our second anchoring stop at Bora-Bora turned out to be near the Reva Reva Ranch on Motu Pili A’au. We took a dinghy to shore and arranged an early-morning, 1 1/2-hour ride the next day for $45.

We rode along the beach and then into a palm tree jungle to the other side of the island. Ranch owner Olivier Ringeard, a friendly French expatriate, was an accommodating guide. A quick snorkel back at the boat cooled us off and got rid of the dust.

The four scuba divers in our group finally dove off Bora-Bora. We had been content to snorkel because the clear, warm water and shallow reefs created an aquarium teeming with colorful tropical fish. But when we anchored near the spectacular Hotel Bora-Bora on Thursday, we quickly found the adjacent Bora-Bora Diving Center and set up a Friday morning dive.

At $70, the single-tank dive was expensive. Our group of experienced--even jaded--divers rated it relatively tame. But it was made more memorable when a moray eel, well over 5 feet long, swam out of its cave and wriggled among my shipmates and me, its giant mouth opening and shutting.

An ocean dive would have brought us larger game fish and sharks, too, but the strong current kept us in the lagoon. With 82-degree water at a depth of 85 feet and with visibility up to 70 feet, we weren’t complaining.

On our last night at sea we moored off Tahaa, a tranquil, off-the-beaten-path island of 4,000. The rest of our flotilla was there, and about 45 people gathered on our boat to hear everyone’s tales.

Most surprising was the range of experiences. Some groups had explored islands by moped, horseback or on foot. Others joined tours and fed sharks at the Lagoonarium, an aquarium on Bora-Bora. Others were entertained simply by sunsets and sunrises.

Upon our arrival back in L.A., friends and family asked whether we eight sailors were still friends after a week on a boat. The answer: We were better friends than ever.

I can still remember our final gathering on the boat, when suntanned and relaxed sailors downed rum punch and swapped tales. Three phrases kept popping up: “Ah, life is good in paradise!” and “Do we really have to go home?” quickly followed by, “So where are we going next year?”

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GUIDEBOOK

Bareboat Basics

How it works: The Tahiti trip was organized by Marina Sailing, a 1,500-member club with boats at Marina del Rey, Channel Islands, Redondo Beach, Long Beach, Newport Beach and San Diego. Members pay an initiation fee of $295 and quarterly dues of $81, then take sailing lessons in conjunction with the American Sailing Assn. to get certified. Lessons cost extra. Once certified, members are cleared to join club trips.

Prices: The Tahiti trip averaged just under $2,000 per person. That price included round-trip air fare, boat rental and land lodging.

Upcoming trips: Marina Sailing is organizing a seven-day cruise of Tonga starting May 8. The cost is $2,250, including round-trip air fare from L.A. to Vava’u, Tonga, with one stop in Nuku’alofa. Transfers, boat rental and provisions are included. A nine-day cruise of Greece departs in mid-September. The cost is $2,299, including round-trip air from L.A. to Athens, transfers, boat and two nights’ lodging in Athens.

For more information: Call Marina Sailing at (800) 262- 7245 or see its Web site at www.marinasailing.com. California Sailing Academy in Marina del Rey, (310) 821- 3433, and Harbor Sailboats in San Diego, (619) 291-9568, also organize bareboat excursions. Groups offering charters in French Polynesia include Tahiti Yacht Charters, (800) 404-1010; the Moorings, (800) 535-7289; and Sunsail, (800) 327-2276.