Don't tell anyone about Huahine.

Huahine

Time slows down when you're being eaten by water. I can get some real thinking done in just less than the time it takes to utilize all of the oxygen I can hold in my lungs at once. A wave picks up over the reef quite quickly and on my last glance back I can see the coral refracted in the rising transparent face; when I look forward again, I might make the take-off, even make a turn at the bottom and watch the coral heads fly by underneath me. More typically, though, in as fast a flash, I'll be eaten, sent into the guts and fumbled over the reef as though in a washing machine. It's then that I might muse about how remarkable it is that I don't actually touch the reef, despite being so entangled in churning salt water. It's really rather a peaceful time, at the mercy of the wave, patiently waiting for the water to lose its foamy state of agitation, when I can see the coral again and the little fish darting about the cavernous expanse and take a breath.

My introduction to reef breaks in Huahine brought a certain stout learning curve. The first difficulty was convincing myself to paddle into a wave even as the already shallow water beneath me surged out toward the coming swell, bringing me even closer to coral. Then there was the steepness and the quickness of the take-off. Basically all aspects of the shoulder-high left we were surfing pushed my mediocre-to-poor skills. I was not without commitment though, driven in part by the indefatigable enthusiasm of Michael. On Ardea's first morning anchored in the shallows of the crystal clear lagoon near the town of Fare, we made the long paddle out from Barfly at 0730 and were treated to beautiful conditions and only a few people at the break. I didn't make it back to the boat until a little after noon. Mike stayed even longer. The next day, we returned. The swell was a little bit smaller and not quite as consistent, so we surfed even longer, wary of diminishing opportunity. I had Mike and our new friend Juan giving me pointers and by the end, not without much folly, I was riding waves better than I ever had. The thrill of that gorgeous break, the warm water and the beautiful scenery around made it one of my most memorable experiences in the Society Islands.

Fare, Huahine.

Fare was a fantastic place to anchor. We had more than the swell. The town has a really nice grocery store and a couple of rolottos that sell steak frites until nine or ten and by far the best happy hour we've had in French Polynesia, but it maintains a certain mellow atmosphere that is really appealing. It is a gem in the Society Islands, which otherwise lack the slow old island vibe that brings the Marquesas happily to mind. When the swell departed, we split our time between spearfishing and terrestrial exploits. The two united merrily in the end.

A view from Fare.

Happy hour. Left to right: Mike, Matt, Taylor, Anna

First day's haul. A big-scale
soldierfish, threeTahitian soldierfish,
and a convict seargent.

Our first day with the spears in Huahine was a learning experience. Specifically, I learned that I am an inadequate free-diver. Matt, from Gypsy Blues, and Chittick discovered similar things regarding the quickness of fish and the abundance of coral caves. We had enough for at least a portion of our dinner, though.

Later that day, Chittick, Matt, Anna and I set out on foot for the town of Maeva, where there are some well-intact ma'rae sites- ma'rae are the now-antiquated alters and ceremonial sites made of coral and volcanic rock. We set out walking, but hung our thumbs out, sure to turn and face the cars as they came to pass, since one gets more rides that way. Matt and Taylor got picked up first. Anna and I shortly thereafter. Our ride dropped us right there at the ma'rae, which couldn't be missed from the road, but Chittick and Matt were nowhere to be found. Anna and I perused about, reading placards and snapping photos and considering but then deciding against participating in the tour slash museum portion, which costs 200 francs.

Marae at Maeva.

 

Traditional fish trap- the fish are hearded into the
wedge where they can be collected easily. Some of
these traps are still used.

The lagoon winds between Huahine iti and Huahini nui.

Hilltop marae.

Still no sign of the others, so we began wandering down the road away from where we'd begun. We came upon a bridge, at the base of which lay an upright stone with the words painted, “Galerie d'art & ice cream.” We had no allegiance to continuing on the main road and it was hot. So ice cream, in the end, led us across the bridge and eventually to Cesar's house. We first came upon Mel painting and she directed us towards the house, where Cesar, who goes by many names, would help us out with the ice cream. Asked what flavors, he said “Coco, Pistachio.” Asked which was better, he said, “Coco... Pistachio.” We both got a scoop of each and before too long found ourselves touring the house and making plans for a barbeque with Cesar the following day. We asked if we could bring our friends and promised to bring some food.

We decided to bring cookies and a salad but Matt, Chittick. Falcon and I wanted to see if we could spear some fish to barbeque as well. It took us about six man-hours to collect (read: barbarously impale) nine soldierfish. We were proud of our take. We scaled them near the beach on the quay with bottle caps. A Polynesian girl couldn't bare to watch and came over to show us how to properly clean them, cutting so that the gills and intestinal tract can be pulled out in one fell swoop. We soon set off, I carrying a mesh bag of fish and each with his own supply of beer.

Taylor wields spear.

Matt, Falcon and Anna cleaning soldierfish.

We arrived at Cesar's again in groups determined by hitch-hiking. Hours of joyful banter followed, including periodic subtle jokes about the size of our fish; everyone knows that to get bigger fish, including of the species we had targeted that day, one has to go to deeper water. So, it was slightly emasculating as it was so clear to all that we were only able to get the 10-to-15-feet fish. We were made to feel proud of what we accomplished, though, and were encouraged to mange our fish (“so that we could say that we ate it.”). It was a riotous affair, and we were lucky to have a ride back to the quay, for all of Huahine was asleep by the time we went home.

Some pictures from beneath the surface: