We woke up with a nice forecast for a quick overnight passage from Tahanea to our next stop, Fakarava. Fakarava Atoll is about thirty miles long, and we could have made the south pass in just a few hours, but by this point we were out of food, fuel, and beer. We needed a restock, and that would be in the small town at the north end of Fakarava. Cruisers everywhere were already eagerly anticipating the Wednesday supply ship there, despite it being days away.

We had a lovely sail to Fakarava, broken only by one short-lived squall that had us dropping the main in pouring rain and thirty-five knots of wind smack dab in the middle of the night. Half an hour later the wind had settled back to fifteen and it was as if nothing had happened. The main went back up and I went back to bed. We arrived right on time for slack tide and cruised right through another pass without issue.

Anchored off of Rotoava, the town on Fakarava Atoll.

Over the next couple of days the boats kept filing in, everyone vying for their share of the fruits and vegetables that were on the way.

A truck in need of a paint job.

We rented bikes and took off to explore the one road, running a couple of miles north and south of town.

The old lighthouse, complete with a platform on top where villagers could build a large fire to alert neighboring atolls of an emergency.

The rusty ladder was barely hanging on, so no climbing to the top.

We had lunch at this pretty spot south of town. We’ve eaten out a couple of times. What I’ve determined is it is usually passable, never exceptional, and always expensive.

Lowe and Ali built a net so he could snag some fish off the back deck. The fish proved too smart, though.

Supply ship!

The island only has about 800 residents, and is only a few miles long, but that didn’t keep the line for fuel from stretching for an hour or two after the supply ship unloaded a batch of diesel and gas. Fortunately, one side was for the long line of cars, and the other was for cruising boats and jerry jugs.

The boulangerie is in the back of this small market. Every morning, early, they fill up these boxes with fresh baked baguettes. Best ones we’ve had yet. At a buck apiece, they are the best deal in French Polynesia, too. They make sandwiches too (in that contraption to the right). Those are generally of the ham and cheese variety. They are pretty decent so long as you don’t look at the mystery meat ham. Mexico uses the same stuff. Some sort of very pink, smooth, thin piece of laboratory prepared mush. Come for the fake ham, stay for the cheese, vegetables, and fresh bread.

The winds piped up and the anchorage in front of town became less idyllic, especially once the fridge was full again. We motored south to the anchorage called Harifa. A local family lives on the point where they whip up dinners for cruisers with one day notice and a twenty-five bucks a plate tab. There’s also a nice area in the trees where cruisers have set up slacklines, chairs, and hammocks to hang out at. Right off the end of the beach is kiteboarding central.

Fish is the day-to-day serving, but every once in a while, when these little guys grow up, a pig roast is on the menu.

We enjoyed a nice evening, while the kids took their first kitesurfing lessons.

They came back tired and a little stoked.

Ouest sat down and the beach cat immediately crawled into her lap and spent the rest of the night there.