DEBUNKING THE MYTHS AND RUMORS ALL PHOTOS JAMES FREDERICK
I
f you've ever dreamt of sailing away to the South Seas and exploring all of the magical islands of French Polynesia, but put your plans on pause because of horror stories on the internet of boats being vandalized or robbed, or tales of dinghies being stolen and locals being hostile to cruisers, I want to set the record straight. Here's my firsthand experience with explanations of how some of those situations can be easily avoided. I was giving serious consideration to not visiting French Polynesia while I was preparing my sail through the South Pacific. I had overwintered on Oahu and cruised the Hawaiian Islands aboard my 30-ft sloop, Triteia, and it was time to push south with the plan of seeing as much of Polynesia as possible on my way toward New Zealand for cyclone season. I had read many stories online about how hostile the environment was toward cruisers nowadays in the Society Islands and was trying to decide if visiting French Polynesia was worth the hard beat I would endure sailing from Hawaii to the Tuamotus to reach this classic cruising ground. Long gone are the days of the Roths' and the Pardeys' cruising experiences that so many of us have read and dreamt about. My biggest concerns were stories about cruisers' ground tackle being cut and physical threats toward sailors visiting the Society Islands. I posted my concerns online and received several responses with the same message: "GO! Don't believe the stories." Someone also suggested I reach out to Holly Martin of "Wind Hippie Sailing," a young female solo sailor who is currently cruising onboard a Grindle 27-ft double-ender named S/V Gecko. She responded right away and said she had been in French Polynesia for a year and a half and had
never had a problem. "If you are friendly and respectful, you probably won't have a problem." Holly was absolutely right on all accounts. I made landfall in Avatoru, Rangiroa, in the Tuamotus after a 26-day passage from the Big Island of Hawaii. Once safely inside, I anchored off Avatoru Village and enjoyed a peaceful night on the hook. The next morning, I went ashore to clear into the country and found that the listed location for the gendarmerie on Google Maps was actually a school and not a military police station. I stood on the only major road that ran up and down the motu from Avatoru Village, the largest settlement in the Tuamotus. Seeing a local man coming out of a market across the street, I walked up and said hello and fumbled in French to explain I did not speak French and showed him the word "gendarmerie" on my phone. He smiled and pointed up the road, said, "Two km," and then showed me the international sign for hitchhiking. I started walking up the road, confident that I would be able to find the station on this very small piece of land that is Tepaetia Motu. I had not been walking five minutes before a man pulled over in a small car and rattled off something in French. I replied, "No parle Français," and not being sure I knew how to pronounce "gendarmerie" I showed my phone just as I had done earlier. He waved me over and cleared out the front seat, and I climbed in and off we went, riding in silence as the palms passed by and he waved at friends he saw on the road. My experience clearing in at the very remote village of Avatoru was a pleasant
Why would anyone stay away? James anchoring in the Tuamotus.
one. The young Tahitian officer had never cleared in a yacht before, so it took a little time, but he was very kind and spoke much better English than I speak French. Once we got all the paperwork sorted out, I made my way a mile up the road farther to visit the only ATM in Rangiroa, located at a bank next to the airport. After leaving the airport, the same officer who'd cleared me in pulled up in his police truck and motioned for me to get into the front seat. This is a good time to mention that I have long hair and am covered in tattoos — and growing up as a young punk rocker when police picked me up in the past for hitchhiking, I never got a ride in the front seat, and I certainly didn't get a ride to where I was intending to go! The gendarmerie officer taught me a few very important phrases: "La Orana" (Good morning), "Maururu" (thank you), "NaNa" (See you later). As I traveled through French Polynesia, I made a point to always use these Tahitian expressions instead of their French counterparts, and time and time again I would see people's faces soften and a slight smile would confirm their appreciation. I never ran into any situation where the language barrier was an issue other than when I arrived at 2 a.m. in Papeete Harbor and found an empty slip to tie up for the night. As soon as I had the boat secured to the dock, I turned to see a security guard walking up to me. He was very nice but spoke no English, and through sign language and miming, I confirmed that I was OK to stay there for the night and would go to the office in the morning to clear in. This communication ended with a fist bump and a smile. I had been very stressed about the fact that I needed to call the harbormaster at Papeete and request clearance into the harbor through the very