13 July 2007, Friday, Day 7
RairoaMid morning, s/v Purrrfection hailed us and asked if anyone wanted to join them as a small reconnaissance party to go ashore to investigate the island. Swells, the easterly breezes and the proximity of our boats to the shore, made it prudent to leave someone on both boats and to go in two shifts to shore. Unfortunately, we were anchored on the western edge of the atoll, so there was 8 miles of fetch. Not the most comfortable of anchoring situations. Anya, Gaby and Judy joined Sam, Tori, and Alison.
On Rairoa the supply ship was unloading cargo and it appeared that the entire village had gathered to receive supplies: steel drums of diesel, food and construction materials (including clean fresh sand in large bags as beach sand is unusable for construction purposes). Small construction lifts and a pick up truck made the distribution easy. At the end of the waterfront, out of the way of the main activity, we beached the dinghy on the shore where three small children were racing their homemade toy sailboats. Boats cleverly made of coconut shells and sails of remnant plastic black garbage bags.
Sam befriended Benjamin and Andres who shared with him that there would be Bastille Day festivities tomorrow. We would be welcome to join in the celebration. Later, at the sole telephone booth, we would find a flyer that announced the day's activities including Bocce Ball, Volley Ball, and a barbeque.
A man approached Sam and mentioned that he was the local pearl vendor and that he was willing to open his shop for us to see his gems. We followed Sam and the man to an inconspicuous structure under a coconut tree; a wooden shed, about 5x10 feet with a single door and a large hinged side wall/window. We peered in, where we saw a shelf of 12 boxes of roasted peanuts ($10/box) and an assortment of snack foods. This was the village grocery store. It isn't necessary to have a big store on Rairoa, since most villagers order their supplies and receive them directly from the supply ship on a weekly or biweekly basis. It was obvious that this shopkeeper was awaiting delivery of his weekly stock to replenish his bare shelves. We bellied up to the counter and from a small tin can, he laid out about a dozen salt water, farm grown black, first quality pearls, wrapped in three sheets of toilet paper. The size ranged from 5 mm and smaller, with highlights of gray, green, black, and brown; some round, some oval; none perfectly shaped nor any two the same. The pearls gleamed, in full luster and iridescence. However, his going price of $100usd per pearl set us aback. As this was our first exposure to the "infamous" pearl market, we were reluctant to go further than the "Ah, Ohhhh" reactions. He knew this. Obviously, he had met many cruisers who pass through Rairoa each season. So, he rolled up his three tissues of toilet paper with the twelve pearls and set them aside. From the same tin, he tilted the can and out rolled onto the counter, forty more pearls; all second and third quality pearls. The difference was obvious.
We are told that these lesser quality pearls are nearly worthless on the open market. He cannot sell them in Tahiti where buyers bid for only the very best for the world market. And the French Government has strict restrictions and regulations on the sale of these second and third quality pearls, obviously to control and sustain a higher market value for the first quality pearls. In any case, our village shop owner started his bid at $80/pearl, as we stirred the pearls and chatted, looking at them all, he dropped the price lower to $50, then ultimately to two for $40. None of us bought any pearls. Anya, who speaks French, did a great job of keeping the shopkeeper engaged, chatting and being friendly as we looked at each and every pearl. Eventually, we bid him farewell, offering the option that we might be back tomorrow. (Some folks may not realize that the purchase of these pearls can be dangerous for a cruiser. If caught with a pearl bought from an unauthorized dealer, your boat and all your possessions can be seized by the French Government and you could be deported. Not something we want to risk.).
From there, we walked along the village Main Street, with its sole flanking line of streetlights, along a roadbed of pressed gravel, then deviating off road, over a thistle field, out to the ocean shoreline. In land, 100', to our surprise, was built, what appeared to be a new landing strip and terminal building. Outside the terminal building was an asphalt parking lot with 10 vacant spaces. The entire "airport" was vacant. What appeared odd was that this small village had little apparent infrastructure
to support the anticipated traffic warranting this facility. There was no tourist lodging, all homes had a black cistern for water collection and hot water source, the only electricity were off the poles on the Main Street, no eateries, no major school, hospital and only one administrative building. Crabs and laundry hung from porches, and the wooden homes look frail, but do the job. The place is rural and quaint, and perhaps that will be the draw to tourist who arrives by plane. Obviously, we do
not understand the future "Village plans" for Rairoa.
Upon returning to Sam's dinghy, we were invited by Benjamin to enjoy cooled coconut water. His brother went to their refrigerator, pulled out six coconuts hacking off the tops with his machete. All we missed were the tiny paper umbrellas and straws in our coconut. The coconut water was sweet and refreshing. After we drank them dry, Benjamin cut the coconut shells in half and we ate the sweet meat. Could it get any better? Anya and Sam chatted with them in French, and I knew then, the loss of having no language skills. But leave it to a friendly smile and my curiosity; soon, I was "chatting" about being Chinese and questioning them about the Bastille Day festivities. We would learn that there would be no Polynesian dancing as all the young women were performing on other islands.
Tempting, as it was to stay for the Bastille Day festivities, the conditions in the anchorage were becoming a serious concern. If the easterly winds rose and our anchor dragged, promptly we could be set on coral heads. Later, we would learn that a British boat the week before had experienced 25 knots winds and had set two anchors to stay secure. They would later lose an anchor in their attempts to leave.
Sam dropped us back off at Encanto. Obviously, John decided to stay on the boat, but Sam and Jennifer returned to the island for a quick tour.
We choose to leave Rairoa at 12:51 (UTC), 15:21 (local), for Makemo. Our engine growled when started, which had us all a bit concern for a moment. The Captain tightened the alternator belt and our "little Nissan that could", did. Raising the anchor went perfectly. Gaby was given more responsibilities to direct where to go and what to do, while Sami and Anya relayed information on upcoming coral reefs, called conning. Judy was at the helm. We all received "two thumbs up" from the Captain for his crew's coordinated efforts.