March 03: Raiatea, Society Islands, French Polynesia - First Day of Two-Day Port Call

After four days with no land in sight, at sunrise, through low clouds and some heavy rain showers, we could see the island of Taha'a.

Our destination was Uturoa on the island of Raiatea, in the Society Islands of French Polynesia, for a two-day port call.

Nieuw Amsterdam approached Uturoa from the west, working her way through an opening in the barrier reef, then along the channel with Taha'a on the port (left) side. After a couple of tight turns in the channel between Taha'a and Raiatea, the ship anchored at the northern tip of Raiatea.

Pam and I were up to watch the ship come through the barrier reef and work her way to Raiatea. Having not yet applied sunscreen, we kept reminding ourselves to stay in the shade because, even when low in the sky, at this latitude, the sun can singe you.

The chart on my phone showed a deep channel, but with no allowance for even a single deviation from it.

The itinerary said the ship would dock, but a few days ago the captain announced that, due to a "scheduling conflict," we would be tendered ashore. You may recall from my last post how much I like tendering. I forgot to mention the delay, as well as the hassle and discomfort. Little did I know, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

Pam and I were not on a tour this morning, so we had a leisurely breakfast while watching tenders ferry people ashore.

Once ashore, we visited the open-air market. It was a complete yawn with most of the stalls empty. I would not have been surprised to find that the occupied stalls were subsidized by the Department of Tourism, and the vendors would have been surprised if anyone actually bought anything.

The main street of Uturoa and the Town itself could be described as functional. It had a variety of stores that catered to locals and tourists. It was clean but unattractive. 

These two guys were just hanging out, people watching.

After exploring and doing an errand, we returned to the marine terminal, where Blue arranged for us to take a water taxi to a motu (island) to snorkel. At the appointed time, we and others boarded an open boat that took us to Motu Fetaro. It was about a 10-minute trip.

We had been warned that the island had no amenities such as food, water, or toilets, but did have some shelter. Yes, the latter was another ominous reference about what was to come.

The snorkeling was marginal due to turbidity. The turbulence in the water caused by waves hitting the barrier reef and a slight current lifted a lot of sand off the bottom, reducing visibility. The water was at a nice temperature, and we did see some things, so we had fun.

While swimming, we kept a weather eye on the building clouds, a darkening to the east that extended down to the water. As the sky got grayer and the darkness got nearer, we returned to shore, got dressed, and headed to the large shelter. 

Our timing was impeccable. Within seconds, large raindrops were falling. Within thirty seconds, it was a downpour.

Twenty minutes later, the sun was popping through the clouds and swimmers splashing in the water.

Grateful that the rain had not caught us transiting back from the island in the open-air water taxi, we returned to Uturoa.

We boarded a tender going back to the ship, glad that we would be enclosed since another squall line was approaching. 

Packed with probably about 100 people, the floating sardine can cast off its stern line and its bow line, leaving only the spring line cleated. It then reattached the bow and stern lines because it was decided that the squall line posed a threat to the safe operation of the tender.

For twenty minutes, we sat in the sealed, stuffy tender with rain beating down on the outside and the temperature and humidity rising on the inside. I saw at least two people close to panic.

Finally, we were underway, getting back aboard Nieuw Amsterdam without further incident. We had stayed dry, and it had been a modest adventure.

Squalls continued to periodically sweep through the remainder of the afternoon and into the evening. At dinner in the main dining room, seated by a stern window, we watched the heat lightning.  Afterward, during a pause in the rain, we took a quick walk on an outdoor deck before heading to our cabin.