The atoll of Ahe is just 10 miles west or so from Manihi, we are able to get our anchors up and start motoring over. Mary Frances stops off the corner of Ahe because of high oil pressure. We can't think of any reason that would cause that. The wind comes up and we sail along Ahe towards the pass. We've heard there is surf at the pass, which is why I'm so interested. Mary Frances peeks in along the shore and says they can see chest or head high surf. We enter the pass without trouble and turn right. The guidebook says its possible to anchor off the motus near the pass in 90 feet of water. I would rather not put a hook down that far in coral. Mary Frances peeks into a few shallower lagoons that are as little as little as 20 feet deep. Dan snorkels in front of the boat to look. They can't find one with swinging room they're comfortable with. I'm mostly waiting around, hoping they'll find something good. After a few minutes I start to move around and survey bottom depth. I find an area of several hundred yards where the depth abruptly comes up to 15 meters, then slowly reduces along a ledge down to 8 meters. The only problem is its exposed to the lagoon, so the tradewinds can whip up 3 or 4 foot waves across three miles of lagoon. 15 meters depth to me is retrievable, so I go as far forward as I can before it gets deeper, and Mary Frances sets behind me, in 10 meters. Dan and I go surfing out at the pass. We paddle through the lagoon, walk through the jungle to the outside of the pass, and find small but rideable waves. We're paddling a lot against an incoming tide. It's good to get out after so much sailing.
Day 2 in Ahe, we decide to surf in the morning, then leave around noon on the slack tide. Surf is very small so I just go for a walk in the jungle and along the outer reef. In the jungle are birds and coconuts, the outer reef has incredible tide pools with eels, crabs, fish in the shallows. Back at the boats we're thinking about how to get the anchors out. Noone but me is going to be able to dive 10 meters, so I'll wait for Mary Frances to get theirs up in case it's stuck. While they start raising it, I snorkel on my anchor. It is sitting in 15 meters, the last 10 feet of chain are suspended over a coral head and the anchor is lying on its side. I don't think it'll be a problem, as the weight of the boat is on the chain, the anchor shouldn't move as it comes up.
After an hour, Mary Frances is unable to free their anchor by motoring around and pulling from any direction. I have a look and it has found its worst possible hole. It's 2 meters under the coral heads at 12 meters now, wedged in a hole that is no bigger than the anchor. There's access from the side, but it's tight. The area is like a drip castle heaven, all coral, with heads rising up 3 meters or so everywhere. I have them set a second anchor to take the strain off this one. We place their stern anchor right on top of a coral head that doesn't have any nasty holes directly behind it. I dive to the main anchor and tie a line to the head of it so it can be lifted when freed. I dive again and am able to move it but I can't get it out of the hole before I have to go up, when I let it go it slides farther into the hole. Uh-oh. On the next dive I get my feet on the coral and both hands on the anchor and am able to slide it out the anchor shaped hole at the bottom of this coral head. I am amazed it came out. I carry the 35lb anchor to the top of the coral head and bolt for the surface. With another hour of work and several more deep dives we get both of their anchors back on their boat. We bend the shaft of the secondary anchor in the process, but it still holds as the boat maneuvers around to pull in the gear. I finally dive down and start swimming up carrying the second anchor, and they are free.
Once Mary Frances is back in order, Dan comes over to Nalu to stand by the helm while I take up the chain at the bow. I get all but fifty feet of chain up, and the anchor is stuck. I try motoring through it and pulling from every angle, nothing frees it. I snorkel and find that my anchor has also found its worst possible hole in the area, but this one is deep. I am able to dive to 15 meters in about 15 seconds, work for about 15, and ascend in 10. I manage to get a line tied around the head of the anchor on one dive. It is well into the afternoon now and I am exhausted from the diving. I call it off for today. Dan returns to Mary Frances and they go across the atoll to the normal anchorage of Ahe for the night. I let my chain back out and prepare to pass the night. At least I don't have to worry about dragging anchor tonight. I talk to Mary Frances and they have found a good shallow sand and coral anchorage, very calm. I ask them to raise the town tomorrow for a scuba tank. I talk to one passing local boat but they can't offer any help for a scuba tank.
Day 3 - I wake up to increased wind and two to three foot chop making Nalu's motion uncomfortable, the bow pitching up and down and occasionally dipping under a wave. The nylon line rigged into the anchor chain to quiet it chafes through in the pitching, there is a loud noise as the boat comes onto the chain. I flag down a passing local in a skiff and pantomime about scuba. He nods and smiles, and is back in ten minutes. He ties off my stern. His bow gets too close, under my stern solar panel as my stern drops when his bow lifts. His bow crashes into the solar panel, bending it up a few inches. Fortunately, he didn't get caught in there trying to get on my boat. I call Mary Frances on the radio. Matt, the captain is at church. Dan is relaxing on the boat. "The wind and chop have come up. I'm taking damage. I've already chafed through two snubbers, and my solar panel just got nailed. I've got a scuba tank. It is time to go. I need you to go get Matt out of church and get over here."
About half an hour later Matt calls, they are on the way. We discuss the plan. Dan has a commercial dive license, but has trouble clearing his ears free diving. I ask if he is sure he can work effectively at this depth because of his ears. He is sure he can and wants to do the dive. I also want to stay at my helm, as there is a reef 100 yards behind me. The scuba tank doesn't appear to be full, but has 180 bars of pressure and it should be plenty. The plan is that Dan swim along the last half of the chain, get some slack at the anchor, and free the line tied to the head of the anchor from the coral, then go get the anchor out, bring it to the top of the coral head. From there we'll raise the anchor first, either from the boat or possibly the Zodiac because it's now so rough, I can't keep the boat over the gear to take it straight up.
Dan resurfaces after about 10 minutes and says it's really wedged in there. He takes down a sledge hammer to try to knock away at coral holding it in. He resurfaces in about five minutes. He says pressure dropped in the tank at about 70 bars, and he had to come up faster than he wanted to. The regulator was out of his mouth when he surfaced.
We take the scuba gear back to the pearl farm and the same guy is there. We try to ask if he has a compressor, and perhaps he can fill it now and we take it again. To that he says no, but seems to know the word tomorrow, so it seems we can come use it again tomorrow. It is now time to cut the gear free and get Nalu to the safe anchorage at the village. I tie a buoy at the boat end of the chain, and the fleece cover that I sewed on is quickly ripped off by the bow dunking the buoy underwater. I cut the line tying the chain to the boat, and am free of the gear. The buoy at the chain end sinks under the weight of the chain, but the buoy at the anchor is visible for a try tomorrow. We motor to Ahe and I set all the gear I have left, which is an identical 35lb CQR anchor, about forty feet of chain, and 3/4 inch three strand nylon line. The anchorage is nice but there are scattered coral heads which are trouble. Mary Frances has three feet under their keel to a coral head. My problem with this gear is if the wind shifts and the rope wraps around coral, it will chafe through quickly. It is about 75 yards to a reef behind me. I put down my last anchor on the other end of the nylon line directly below me, which hopefully will stop the boat before it hits the reef if the primary chafes through. If I am working out at the anchor, Matt can move my boat and tie it to his stern if he sees it on the emergency anchor.
Day 4 - We go ashore first thing in the morning and meet Arie, the shopkeeper, who is very nice and speaks good English. He tells us to go see Taina, who has dive gear and a compressor. Taina is into Ham radio, so we wait for him to finish his conversation and tell him of our problem. After much pantomime we get his scuba gear, which also has about 180 bars, not a full tank. His compressor is broken. I take the gear, figuring I can probably borrow the gear at the pearl farm if this one isn't enough. Back at the boat, I snorkel my anchor gear before leaving, the nylon line is touching coral, and has begun to chafe. I pick up the anchor and I motor slowly behind Dan snorkeling, who helps place the anchor directly on a coral head, so only the chain touches coral. The boat is now able to swing 45 degrees either way, so she should be pretty safe for the day.
We take the Zodiac across the atoll. There is an 82 foot charter catamaran anchored close to where I had been anchored. They have a compressor and reluctantly agree to fill our tank that afternoon. The French captain doesn't seem interested in speaking English with us. We get to where I had been anchored, and the buoy is gone. I'm sure of the spot, there is dry reef to the side, there are a few houses, there is a channel marker not too far. The rope must have chafed through on the coral in the night. We anchor the dinghy with the chisel we brought to knock out the coral tied to some line. We start snorkeling and within a few minutes I see a rope on top of the coral heads. I dive down 10 meters and get it. It's the red and white line we had anchored the dinghy with. I surface and luckily Dan saw the dinghy float away when his knot failed, and got it before it hit the reef. I'm not pleased. The waves are increasing past three feet, the Zodiac occasionally takes on water, dark clouds are moving in. I tell Dan that all the rest of his knots today must be good. We start snorkeling, searching. I'm sure we'll be able to see the chain as a straight, dark line on the lighter coral. We are doing search lines diagonally across the area, I'm certain I cover the area, as there are shallow areas on three sides, and it drops off abruptly deeper on the fourth side. I find the fleece buoy cover atop a coral head. We test its drift as it sinks, and there is almost none, so this marks the position where the boat had been. The anchor chain must start fifty feet forward. Afer an hour snorkeling and diving, we have nothing. I put on the scuba gear to continue searching. I get about 35 minutes along the coral heads. It's very difficult to keep your bearings, but I finally figure out the compass on the dive gear and swim by that. Again, nothing. I'm starting to think the ocean swallowed it. The weather is pretty rough by now, it's time to call it today and go make sure Nalu is still safe. On the way back, I'm thinking, there are three possibilities, none of which seem very probable. Either the ocean, the French catamaran, or the locals got it. As we putt along trying to avoid the worst of the water coming into the boat, I'm more and more confident that we were on the right spot, that our search was thorough, and that someone took the gear. I'm becoming resigned to the loss. Perhaps it can be replaced in Tahiti.
Later that evening the catamaran comes into the village anchorage. I dinghy over and talk to their dive instructor. I ask him, did anyone else dive on my gear before I got there? He says there were two locals, about 25, in an unpainted aluminum skiff that got it at 8am, two hours before we got there. I am astonished, I can't believe someone stold my gear out here. But perhaps the police or townspeople can help me get it back. I go back into town to talk to Arie to see what to do. I tell him the whole story and he says the guys that work on the pearl farms are not from Ahe. They are Tahitians. But he can't believe this happened. He starts to tell me who lives out there, and it dawns on me - the guy that I borrowed the scuba gear from must have gone out and got it for me because we had failed the day before. We had said we'd come over and borrow his gear and he would have given me my anchor gear then. I feel terrible for thinking someone had stolen it, what an American response, to assume the worst, and overlook the possibility of the local kindness out here. I dropped the scuba gear off at Teina's house with a six pack of beer, and by now was pretty sure my gear was sitting on the dock at that pearl farm.
It's about 4pm by now. I roar out of the anchorage in the Zodiac at full speed to cross the three miles back to the pearl farm. I get to the pearl farm and meet a different guy this time. I make the international sign for stuck anchor and by now know the French word for anchor, so he soon understands me, and is pointing to a house half a mile down. Well, since it's not at this pearl farm, I've been robbed. Daylight is starting to wane, but he will go with me in my dinghy to find the gear. We're picking our way through the reefs and pearl farms and get to the house as its getting dark. I tie the dinghy to the unpainted aluminum skiff, as everywhere else around is shallow reef. Michaelle, who has come with me, bounds up on the dock and starts talking to the six large Tahitians, all bigger than me. I climb up on the dock and try the gregarious California surfer dude approach, smiling, doing a lot of gladhanding and saying a lot of "What's up, dude!". I get into the middle of the group, and one speaks English, but he appears to me to be the most devious of the group. Then I see my gear, all arranged and hanging on a wooden rack behind the dock, like a butchered cow. So I approach the one who according to the devious translator is the main perpetrator. He speaks almost no English, so I do a lot of smiling and nodding, and make charades of asking, was it stuck in there pretty good, and saying, oh this is great, you did the hard part for me. The translator says we two must work out the payment for the robber's services, so I say alright, what can I give you? He can say "bottle of rum" pretty well. I want very much to take the gear in the zodiac, but it's pretty rough and quite dark by now, so I say I'll give you two bottles to bring it to me at the village tomorrow, and we have a deal. Michaelle and I get back in the dinghy to take him home, and I'm wondering if they'll get the gear off the island tonight and noone will know anything about it tomorrow. The dinghy motor hits the reef a few times taking minor damage, but we get to Michaelle's home ok. He points the way for me to get back to the channel as he jumps off the boat. I start putting out and about a quarter of a mile out realize I'm in very shallow water, all around. I can't see which way to go for deeper water. Suddenly a wave picks me up and drops the dinghy on the reef. The starboard pontoon deflates instantly, sliced on the reef. Suddenly I'm in the water, getting pushed over reef, holding onto the side of the dinghy, feeling rather screwed. The dinghy seems able to float itself and the motor, for now, because of the rigid floor and the air tube in the keel. But water is filling in the starboard pontoon. I swim the boat back to Michaelle's pearl farm, and show them the dinghy, and make the international sign for sleep here. They are very nice, I gather that it's Michaelle's farm, and I figured it was his wife. There are good surfboards on the ceiling, big wave boards, so we make motions for wave size and shape. They let me shower and give me some of his surf trunks and a t-shirt to wear. They were eating dinner when I got there, and they feed me a very nice piece of fish, Caron, which he speared. I learn that before I say something, I had better be able to pantomime it pretty well, or the conversation will die abruptly. I do a good one of swimming, then putting my hand to my mouth and breathing, then reaching back and turning a valve and making air noises. That's scuba. If I can't do a good pantomime, all I can do is say "C'est bon" which the French say all the time, and forget about it. Then Michaelle says "OK, come" and takes me out to the house on stilts over the water to sleep. I'm pretty happy about this, as it's beautiful. I had noticed it before when we came and thought it was great, it's 100 feet out over the water, all sliding glass. I complement Michaelle especially on the deck railing posts, which were rough branches nicely fit in and smoothed and varnished. We watch tv and talk a little more about surfing before sleeping.
Day 5 - The sunrise from the porch is amazing. In the morning I disassemble the dinghy and we put it in Michaelle's skiff. He takes me back to my boat early before going to get his sister at the airport. I am told by a Frenchman who lives here that Tahitians are terrible when they've been drinking, that they love to fight. I'm glad I didn't know that last night on the dock. By noon I am concerned that the thieves won't show up. I go ashore on my surfboard to ask Arie what I should do, go to the police, or wait. Arie's not there, but Teina seems to be telling me to wait, although with the language barrier he may just be repeating whatever I'm saying. At the dock, Arie comes back, and I'm now trying to arrange for someone to take me to Leon's house, where my gear is, in a skiff. Arie is brokering a deal for me, when, lo and behold, here comes Leon and two accomplices. I hop on the surfboard and meet them, smiling and gladhanding as I climb in their boat. We go to the back of my boat and I throw the anchor in the water. The first accomplices fingers get pinched pretty good as the chain runs out and I'm pretty pleased. I want it out of their posession to remove the possibility of further negotiations. I have it out of their boat and tied to mine before they can say anything.
I start to warm up a little as I notice that every piece of gear is returned, all the expensive stainless shackles and hooks, all the rope, both buoys. I'm not able to easily stop them from coming aboard, as they're very interested in the sailboat, but I sit down with a leg across the companionway, nobody is going below. We end up having a perfectly nice visit for about an hour, and eventually they leave, the best of friends. The zodiac patch later cost $100 in Papeete.
Once I had the gear back I took my time cranking it back into the chain hold, it felt good. Throughout, I was trying to make my decisions with these priorities: don't get anyone hurt, protect Nalu from going on a reef, then get the gear back. I was very aggressive in pursuing the gear. I took some risks, and damaged the dinghy in the process. I didn't have much of an island attitude. Maybe I could have been less aggressive and still got it back, or maybe if I hadn't gotten there that night the gear would have disappeared. I'll never know, I can only say that this time I got it back.
