Takaroa Treasures (Atoll #6)

This blog post is dedicated to Stuart Schill. Stuart is our son Julian’s best friend, and he served part of his church mission on Takaroa in 2018. When he got word that we were en route to this atoll, he started alerting all the people he knows there. Our welcome was warm and immediate, with a layer of trust and openness that we think was largely due to his introduction. Maururu, Stuart - you unlocked what we are sure will be a highlight of our Tuamotus cruising.

*Stuart (right) and Julian at Julian’s wedding last year. Photo courtesy Mike Schill.*

We sailed into Takaroa after a largely motoring overnight passage from Katiu. Dolphins, the first we’ve seen in the Tuamotus, escorted us to the edges of the pass, leaping straight up in the air just ahead of the bowsprit.

It was an auspicious beginning to a magical couple of weeks.

Takaroa is the farthest north inhabited atoll in the Tuamotus. The pass is a tricky one, with a 90 degree turn at the end of an almost mile-long narrow straightaway. If you don’t like the look of the turn when you get to it, turning around would not be an easy task. One boat, a large catamaran, earlier this season hovered around the outside of the pass for 3 hours before turning away. It’s a 60 mile sail to the closest atoll, not exactly like just taking the next exit on the freeway. We knew we wanted to time it pretty carefully, and we managed to do just that. We entered the turn with a bit of current with us, then picked our way through the maze of coral heads and pearl floats to find a less-than ideal anchorage behind a reef.

It was pretty surreal to be texting with Stuart in California and his father, Mike, in Virginia, both firing off excited questions and general joy in our arrival, as we entered the pass. We sent them photos as we approached, just to keep them in the loop. Maybe next time we can manage to have them on a video call - what fun would that be!

*Approaching the pass from offshore. This is one of the photos I sent to Stuart and Mike.*

Takaroa has some unique challenges in terms of navigation, starting with that elbow turn of a pass. Largely, though, it’s the pearl floats that can catch you unawares. Takaroa at one point was the atoll with the largest number of active pearl farms; for a while, cruisers were forbidden to come here, so the story goes, simply because the pearl floats were too thick to permit navigation or anchoring. A toxic microparasite of some kind completely wiped out all the oysters and their spat (babies) in 2011-2014, decimating the pearl industry. A lot of the gear is still there, barely awash or even hovering a couple of feet below the surface. You can’t see them until you’re on top of them. Navigating slowly with good light is one step, but keeping a very sharp lookout and being ready to divert if needed is key. Anchoring too is less straightforward than in the other atolls we’ve been; the shelf is narrow with a steep drop off, and the bommies are numerous.

*A pair of pearl floats, one underwater and the other just breaking the surface*

We anchored in 5 different spots, but honestly? The joy in this atoll wasn’t the anchorages. It was the people.

*Map image from* *noforeignland;* *the Nasa image was skewed in the wrong direction!*

Anchorage number 1 was the closest spot we could get to town. Right off of an active pearl farm, tucked behind a reef. We loaded up the dinghy and made our way through the shallows to the dock. It was a Sunday, so we knew it would be sleepy, but we wanted to get the lay of the land anyway.

We were having coffee in the cockpit on Monday morning when a boat came up to us. They’d been checking the pearl lines right nearby. It took a couple of minutes before the reason for the visit became clear: “Are you friends with Elder Schill?? He told us you were coming and to come say hello!” Many smiles and laughter ensued. They headed into the farm, and we decided to tie up there and walk into town instead of trying to take the dinghy over.

The welcomes continued as we checked out the stores. Stopped by the Mairie (the town hall) to pay our visitors’ tax. Said hello at the police station. Everyone (and I mean everyone) knew Stuart, and wanted to make sure we were welcome. It took far longer than we expected to get through the village; everywhere we went we had a warm conversation. What a lovely way to start our visit!

Anchorage #2 was a lucky, lucky choice. We tucked in next to a reef that mostly dries at low tide. And promptly met Robert and Maina Palmer.

*Tucked in next to the reef. Robert and Maina’s house is the barely visible roof on the right, next to the beach.*

*Jeremy in the dinghy, talking with Robert, who is in the water.*

Robert (who turned 93 last week) and Maina Palmer have lived in their lovely home for the past 18 years. Robert, the grandson of an Irish copra boat captain, was born on the atoll and led an adventurous life living in Australia, New Zealand, Miami, and Tahiti before settling back down in Takaroa with Maina. We had dinner with them 3 times (one time we carted all the dinner ingredients ashore and cooked for them in their kitchen), and shared a couple of lovely sunsets sitting and chatting in their strategically-placed table under the palms.

They, too, know Stuart, though their generosity wasn’t related to that connection.

Through the Palmers, we met others who similarly shared pieces of themselves with us. There was Tukey, who picked us all up for the ride across the lagoon to meet the supply ship. Piero, who lives right next to the dock and used to be a tour guide in Tahiti; he loves driving his battered Land Rover all over, taking people and their stuff wherever they need to go. There was Manea, who appreciated our gift of some 2-stroke outboard oil in ways we’re still trying to fathom. (More on that later)

On one of his walks around the motus, dinghy left anchored off of Robert and Maina’s house, Jeremy found that glass float he’s been searching for since 2009. A visible reminder of this special spot.

It won’t be the only one.

*Picnic/sundowner table, perfectly placed under the palms. See Calypso . . .*

Anchorage #3, #4, #5 were all one night stands, as it were. We headed to the far northeast corner, to a spot we found later is called the Blue Lagoon by locals. There’s a lovely commune-run picnic area, and a rough-but-well-traveled road that leads to the village. Anchorages #4 and #5 were randomly chosen spots along the southeast side of the lagoon.

We tried to anchor in the far southwestern corner, but it was just too littered with coral heads to safely anchor even for a short amount of time. Jeremy had hoped to do some exploration on the lagoon side of these motus, but it was not to be.

After another evening anchored off of the Palmer’s house (they were in Tahiti to celebrate Robert’s 93rd birthday!), we headed back across the lagoon for a couple of last adventures (and a reprovision too).

*Anchored by the reef off of the Palmers’ house*

Remember Manea? After we gave him some 2-stroke outboard oil, he had offered to loan us a pair of e-bikes to use to explore the atoll a bit. Using those, we made it to the wreck of a 4-masted schooner that apparently went on the reef in 1906. It’s unlikely we’d have made it there without the bikes, as anchoring nearby is challenging in normal onshore conditions, plus there are multiple pearl farms in various stages of operation or decay.

*With the wreck in the background . . .*

When we returned the bikes, we got into a fun discussion with Manea about glass floats. He was amazed that we prize them, as they’re not useful for anything other than decoration. There were other topics of conversation, among them serious admonitions for us to be careful in that open ocean on our small boat. (This from a man who routinely takes an open panga across 20 miles of open ocean to anchor off of a pass-less island called Tikei, where he wades across the reef to the land to hunt for coconut crabs and lobsters. What qualifies as “dangerous” truly changes with perspective!)

*Manea, the bikes, and us, right next to his house*

And then, after we’d walked back to where we had the dinghy, he tracked us down. Bringing a glass float. He wouldn’t take no for an answer.

*A second glass float! With another story to accompany it!*

In the morning, just before we picked up the anchor to leave, he came out to Calypso. His wife had made us some shell leis, and he had a snack for us: 2 baguette sandwiches and a couple of cans of soda. Legendary Polynesian gift giving indeed.

*On board Calypso, new leis around our necks*

We sailed out of the pass on a flood current, hearts full. We have photos and other unbelievable physical mementoes, but it’s truly the interactions with the people that have made our time in Takaroa so incredibly special.

Thanks, Stuart!