Our first week in Maupihaa felt like a true vacation from it all. Since all of our boat projects were done and there was absolutely no cell service, my days became filled with all of my favorite things. I took long walks on the beach, snorkeled or paddle boarded, set up a hammock between two palm trees to nap and read, and we had a regular bonfire on the beach followed by stargazing. During the day, I explored onshore, walking as far as I could in one direction, seeing what kind of creatures I could find. Our primary form of entertainment became hermit crabs. Eitan and I sat on the beach for hours just eating coconuts and collecting crabs, making up funny backstories and personalities. We had truly succumbed to the simple life and I loved every minute of it.
One evening, we decided to stay at the beach a little later than normal and see if we could find some coconut crabs. After watching the crabs be impaled on the beach, we decided against hunting them and, instead, just wanted to see them in their natural habitat. We didn’t walk for more than a few minutes before our flashlights illuminated a bright red shell. There were several, meandering about, just as big and colorful as the ones at Peter’s house. Eitan held out a stick to see what the giant pinchers could do and I was surprised to see that their primary defense mechanism was a swift kick with a front leg and scurry backward. It’s no wonder why they are an easy food source for those on the island.
The next day, we received a knock on the hull. Peter was outside, bearing gifts, and handed us a few fresh coconuts and a couple of coconut crabs that were already steamed. Although we had collectively agreed to not kill any coconut crabs, we graciously accepted his offering. This man didn’t have much and he was always eager to give us anything he could spare, even shells he collected on the beach.
Being so isolated from the rest of the world, I asked him what he typically eats since the supply ship only comes twice per year. He said with a joking smile: “Coconuts and crabs, and sometimes crabs and coconuts!”. I asked why he didn’t catch more fish and he explained the water had gotten too cold for him to spearfish and he was sick of the fish he could catch with a line. In exchange for his generosity, I gifted him my thermal wetsuit top. It was a men’s size anyway and didn’t fit me well. By now, I’m sure he’s figured out that the more he gives to cruisers, the more he gets in return.
That night we made a coconut crab curry. It took Evan and me the better part of an hour to extract the meat from the exoskeleton which was about a millimeter or more thick. We used knives, forks, vice grips, and pliers, but managed to get the job done. The meat was delicious with a slight hint of coconut since that is the crab’s only source of food.
We socialized with some of the other cruisers and Eitan discussed destinations and weather forecasts. It seemed like everyone was heading to either American Samoa or Fiji, while we were planning on breaking the trip up by stopping in Rarotonga first. The extended forecast still didn’t look good and we had already been in Maupihaa for over a week. Eitan continued to check the weather for a potential window to leave. Eventually, the anchorage became quieter and quieter as the kid catamarans headed to the northern anchorage, then set sail for their next port. It seemed they were far less concerned about the sea conditions than Eitan was, but we later heard horror stories of what they encountered: winds sustaining above 40 knots, squalls even higher, and steep swell requiring the crews to hand steer, surfing down waves without any sails.
As the days went by, Eitan seemed to grow more and more stressed as this wonderful paradise became our prison. The forecast showed system after system spinning up from the southern latitudes with wave heights greater than the period, something Eitan had never seen before in the models. All we needed was a three-day window to get to Rarotonga but the swell was likely to stick around. It looked like conditions might lighten up for a short period, but it would be nothing like the calm window we had already passed up a week earlier. Either the passage was really going to suck or we would have to wait another two weeks and see what the forecast brings. Instead of our normal joyful evenings on the beach, playing with hermit crabs and drinking coconuts, we sat in silence.
Although we weren’t planning on potentially leaving for another day or two, we woke up to an empty anchorage with the last two boats gone. With a deep sigh, Eitan says “Screw it, let’s just go.” and we prepare the boat for what will be our roughest and wettest passage yet!
