Mo'orea Island - UC Berkley Marine Lab

It rained for a week straight when we arrived on Mo'orea. Mo'orea in Tahitian means, "Yellow Lizard." I never saw one. Supposedly, a chief had a dream that his people should move to the land with the yellow lizards. Maybe there used to be many crawling across this beautiful place...

I didn't care about the rain. We were three feet from the water, staying in the UC Berkley Marine Lab. Garen had applied to process his samples here and send them home. Being a mad scientist has its perks. Coincidentally, his friend Peter from Cal State Northridge was here with his grad students. Garen had a great time looking at their experiments and "talking shop" with a bunch of coral biologists. Not a bad place to do "research."

The bay that the Marine Lab is on is called "Capt. Cook's Bay" although he never entered this one. He arrived around the corner. 

Looking out at the view of the water, it was hard to imagine that we'd spent roughly 5 weeks at sea. 

Ah, the power of the zoom lens. Across the bay, the cliffs rose through the mist coating the island like a soft blanket. 

This is a clear view of "town" where you can find all of life's modern amenities. And really good chocolate croissants. 

On a clear day, this water is aqua blue, sparkling like you wouldn't believe. But even on a day like this, it's pretty spectacular.

Probably the Bali Hi Hotel...

OK, so I like the shots of the mist. 

And another one. 

And wait, one more. 

Artistic shot of a single yellow leaf. Sorry, I did go to Art School. 

Meet the locals.

This bird is perched on the clothesline outside of our room. 

And this is Guinness...black and tan...and clearly named by a visitor to the center. But maybe not. He is a great guard dog who takes long siestas in the heat of the day, roaming the perimeter with intention at night. 

Iti - one of two kittens that were living there when we arrived. They had been dumped at the lab not long before that. There is one vet on the island and, as you can imagine, it's a hefty sum to spay or neuter your animals. The price of doing veterinarian medicine in the tropics? The bonus of a monopoly? 

This post is dedicated to Iti (little one) who died in the vet's office two nights before we left the island after ingesting mouse poisoning from eating a poisoned mouse. 

Nui (big one...referring to their "big" and "little" personalities) is spayed, and living happily with a local family. We were considering bringing her home ourselves. That would have been pretty nutty. And there are plenty of local cats and dogs who need homes in LA shelters. But these two really stole our hearts.

Berkley - the lab's cat. He took care of the kittens like they were his own. 

It was a gift to stay here, and rest up from our days and nights on the boat before plunging into life back home in Santa Monica. 

TAHITI!!

TAHITI! I can hardly believe it. Garen and I are about to sail into the port of Papeete after 5,000 plus miles across the South Pacific. As I write this, it doesn't seem real. A distant daydream that was not all that long ago.

We saw plastics strewn across remote islands, plucked buckets and other plastic flotsam out of the remotest waters in the South Pacific, saw a smattering of fish where there should have been hundreds, and corals that were in rough shape. 

We also saw blue-footed booby birds, swam in 13,000 feet of water, more stars than I'll likely ever see in my life, many sunsets and sunrises, strangers faces that became life-long friends, and clear, deep blue Pacific Ocean for as far as the eye could see for thousands of miles. 

There are many aspects of living on the boat that I will not miss. Many of which I have made an attempt to be candid, and hopefully humorous about in my previous posts. 

But the memories I'll carry from sharing my days with friends like Jason and Colleen,

and Jess and Kit will stay with me for the rest of my life. 

Tahiti is truly a sight for sore eyes. But as we get ready to scatter across various islands in this archipelago, I certainly feel like one of the luckiest people on earth. I did this with the help of so many kind hearted people. Most of all, with the love and support of my husband Garen. 

It saddens me to get to this post in our expedition. I do have one or two more land-based adventures to share with you once we get ashore. Thank goodness there's a little more time in our journey. I'm not ready for it to end just yet. 

A new sport - Atoll Spotting

Toby keeping an eye out. 

With about one day to go until we get to Tahiti, we decided to explore an atoll or two before arriving. 

An atoll was once an island. A volcanic island. As it sinks, the only remnant of the island is the ring of coral reef that used to surround the it pre-sinking. After the land sinks, the corals keep growing until you are left with a ring of living coral that has formed on the bones of ancient corals.

Here's a helpful image. 

A typical atoll has a lagoon in the ring of coral where the land used to be. 

Whenever the Sea Dragon sails within close proximity to shore, we have to be very careful that we look with our eyes at what's around as well as check the depth monitor for meters until the bottom. The instruments could fail. There could be something in the water in front of us, etc. 

Dale climbs the mast like the pro he is. 

Through the trees to the right of this photograph live the "others". I'm convinced of it. For all of you LOST fans, you don't have to be dead to find yourself close to the "island".

But seriously, there were small houses with open doors, boats pulled up out front, evidence of people having just been there, and not a person in sight. However, I can guarantee you that they saw us. 

All we got from them was radio silence, literally. 

Clive keeping a look out. 

OK, see this? That dock-like structure in the middle of this photo? Yup. Further evidence of...human activity. I think that this atoll was a French Special Forces training camp. Anyway, we guessed that larger supply ships could tie up to this structure so that smaller skiffs from the islands inside the lagoon could come out to get the goods. We looked for a long time for a way into the sea green lagoon where we all desperately wanted to swim, but found none. This was probably a good thing.

Jess turning the lens on me. Colleen and Jason in the background enjoying the view. 

With storms all around us, and no way into the lagoon, we decided cast off.

These small, gusty systems piled up on the horizon in the exact direction that we needed to go. I was less than pleased. I thought, really? WE ARE ALMOST F&*(^G THERE! DO I HAVE TO GET WET AND SICK ONE LAST TIME! 

Apparently so. A rite of passage before we got to our final destination. 

We'd had pretty good weather, it's true. And I guess some of us had a bloody good time in the rain. 

I however, burst into tears while trying to help Jeff make dinner. I just couldn't take it. 

I was out of juice. Maybe it is because I was so close to being done. 

That old adage about falling apart during the last mile of the race proved true for me. 

Looking back at this picture today, I could feel poorly about not partaking in the fun. And I loved the people I met, but honestly, I still feel like I am glad I'm done without a shred of regret for not having "lived it up" more. 

We all dealt with life on the boat differently. Clive was made for it. Some of us liked the constant movement from place to place. I now know thought that while I am proud that I went, I would never sign up for part 2. 

While my friends are smiling for this shot, I'm thinking, "Could we just f**&g get there already!"

This is for the birds...

We pointed the Sea Dragon toward the shores of Tahiti once more, and waved goodbye to Pitcairn.

When over the back of the boat, a blue footed booby (as best as I could tell) came out to send us off. 

The following photographs are more pictures than you may have ever seen of these tropical birds. 

And more than you are likely to ever see again. 

Excuse my inability to edit down the selection. When I was on the boat, even close to an island, I felt the presence of any animal that showed themselves to us was special. 

It's a big, big ocean and an even bigger sky. Any bird, or mammal that ventures close to us clunky humans may do so by choice. 

This post is dedicated to all of the land, sea and sky animals making a home somewhere out in the deep blue pacific. 

By the way, we only saw a pod of dolphins when we finally sailed into the port of Papeete, Tahiti. Perhaps this is just unlucky timing. We did cross 5,000 plus miles of ocean though.

We had a pole out behind the Sea Dragon from Easter Island to Tahiti. 

We didn't catch one fish. 

How sad is it that I have to add that we got several strikes on the line? Again, we could have had a faulty rig (but don't tell Toby that), or we could have....I'm just not sure. 

Even sailing through nutrient poor waters shortly after Easter Island, we should have caught plenty of fish once we crossed into French Polynesia. Throw a stone, hit an atoll around there. Reefs around atolls and islands allow for life to congregate and thrive. 

The fact remains, we did not catch a fish after crossing 3,000 miles +/- across the Southern Pacific Ocean. I can't think of any fact that disturbs me more from our expedition. 

We never saw a whale once we left the coast of Chile. 

To answer my friend Harry's question:

There was plenty to smile about, but many experiences that left me with a heavy heart and new inspiration for directing my energies to help the ocean. I will be processing, and remembering this trip for a lifetime. 

Pitcairn Island

Pitcairn Island came into view early the following morning after we left Henderson. By the time the sun was high in the sky, Jess, Kit and I were happy to be sailing towards another island to explore. Two islands in two days! What luxury!

The story of the HMS Bounty goes something like this. The Bounty crew mutinied, sending Captain Blythe, his first mate and one more lad into a skiff with a sextant, water and a shred of hope. Next, they turned the Bounty back towards Tahiti where they took women, children and Tahitian men on board against their will and headed back to paradise. Once on shore, they burned the Bounty in the bay so that they would be safe from the Royal Navy that would inevitably come looking for them.

 They found paradise here. Here? Here. 

This rag-tag crew lasted two years until most of them were dead from feuding, a few still clung to their hiding places in perilous caves, and the last handful of them struggled on to become the descendants that were on their way out to us as we waited on anchor in Bounty Bay. 

The boat plowed through the water with a few horse powered engine propelling it forward from the stern. The work horses of the island. 

Colleen asked me, "Is the dock swaying?"

"No, it's poured concrete. We're the one's that are swaying."

"Come on. The dock has to be attached."

I shook my head. "Nope," I said as I rocked back and forth on solid ground. "It's us."

Welcome to Pitcairn Island. Population approximately 40. One jacked up gulf chart to ferry islanders up and down the steep terrain for every 3 citizens. 

Really? 

The Sea Dragon sat placidly in their bay while we struggled up the hill to explore "town".

Their golf carts had burly off-roading tires, but how fast could they go?

There weren't any cars for thousands of nautical miles. 

Once we were in their town square, they had HMS Bounty artifacts proudly on display. Right next to their Seventh Day Adventist Church service that was going on next door. 

Don't know what the A is for....but the Bounty's cannon none the less. 

Most of us followed the trail heading up to one of the famous Bounty mutineer's cave. So what if it's twelve noon? We were up for a challenge. 

Kit strode ahead through the tropical tree grove. 

Local fishing grounds. 

One word comes to mind: paranoid. I know that as mutineers, they would be hung if any of them were ever found. I guess you had a pretty good look at the wrong side of the island from the only safe bay if you made it up to the cave alive. But weren't there other places to hide?

I headed down to the mayor's house instead of joining my crew now scaling the shale rock hillside to chat with Christian's ghost still on lookout. His wife was baking chocolate chip cookies. Clearly, an American. She was originally from Southern California. The Long Beach area. 

"Did you bring any Blue Cheese?" she asked some of our crew when we'd first stepped ashore. 

Hard place to live if you're a foodie. I guess you have to ask. Their next cruise ship wasn't due in until November, 2011. 

We stayed anchored in their bay for two days. Day two, some of us stayed on board the Sea Dragon to snorkel on the wreck of the Bounty. We found fragmented ship planks, an old iron gate, and other miscellaneous evidence of a sunken yacht, but who's to know if it was the Bounty. 

We also swam around this tiny Motu, or island, and saw a small population of reef fish scattered around the rocks. But not one shark. Not when a local sets lines to catch the ones living in the bay. He uses their teeth in Pitcairn Souvenirs for the cruise ships.