We sailed southwest from Fatu Hiva and headed to the Tuamotu Islands, a chain of French Polynesian atolls (tiny reef islands with a lagoon in the middle) where most islands are uninhabited and the tallest thing on the island is a coconut tree. The Tuamotus are known for being dangerous sailing because of their size and lack of altitude (we wouldn’t even see the island until we were practically on top of it), the strong currents and waves that govern the passes in and out of the lagoons, and for their exposure to the wind and waves. This was a navigational and sailing challenge for even the best of sailors! We’d timed our departure to arrive at Manihi during the daylight hours and catch the tide at the right time to enter the pass, but because of the unexpected strong winds we sailed too fast and arrived in the middle of the night. We couldn’t see a thing in the dark and big waves were cresting all around us and on the shore. There was no way we could land safely. Even Plan B – Ahe, the next island 15 miles along – was ruled out because the timing was still wrong and the wind and waves were still too big. We just had to keep on going. Bummer. The best laid plans always manage to go awry when it comes to sailing... somehow our quick overnight 90-mile hop to Manihi ended up being a long bumpy 600-mile sail to Rangiroa.

Four windy and wavy days of sailing transplanted us from the Marquesas to Rangiroa, the largest of the Tuamotus, and the most polar opposite place from where we’d been. In stark contrast to the lush towering mountains of the Marquesas, the Tuamotus are little more than bits of reef emerging from the ocean with a bunch of palm trees growing on them. Sailors look forward to arriving at an island because that means protection from the elements they face at sea, but here, I doubt a coconut tree provides much shelter from big wind and waves. Entering the lagoon was pretty exciting and a little bit dangerous and in fact, crazy. The pass was precarious at best – you don’t even see the narrow space between the trees until you’re right in front of it, and then you’re greeted head-on by the chaos of the ocean swell meeting the wind and the current. I looked at where we had to go and thought that there was no way that we could get past the waves cresting towards us IN the pass, not to mention the waves coming at us from BOTH SIDES. Throw in the seven knots of current we’d have to fight and it was no wonder that we were only inching forward at a half a knot at full throttle head into the waves. A tense half hour later, we all let out a big sigh of relief once we passed the marker that let us know we were safely in the lagoon. Who would have thought going 300 meters without crashing onto the reef would be such a big achievement? The owner of the abandoned beached sailboat that we passed on the way in!

The turquoise water, laid back atmosphere, idyllic anchorage, and amazing scuba diving kept us in Rangiroa for two weeks. We were parked in crystal clear blue water right in front of beautiful over-water bungalows of a five-star hotel. The hammock went right up on the boat, and our first plunge in the ocean in more than a month was heavenly. There was finally no big thing to achieve and no deadline to meet. “Town” was the space (the pieces of reef were called motus) between two breaks in the reef with ocean on one side of a road and lagoon on the other. It wasn’t a metropolis by any stretch, but we were inching our way back to civilization. Rangiroa actually had an airport, restaurants, and even one shop with internet access. We could eat out again (three scruffy sailors, the world’s honeymooners, and steaks from New Zealand), had things to buy at the market (fresh baguettes and Nutella), and even had time to go to church on a Sunday morning.

The Tuamotus are loudly touted for their black pearls and blue lagoons, and less loudly famous for being the site of France’s infamous nuclear tests. They say Mururoa is now safe and radioactivity-free, but when you see the size of some of the huge 18MM black pearls in the shops, you have to wonder... Thankfully Mururoa was still a good 1500 kilometers away! The black pearl industry is the main livelihood for the Tuamotus and the atolls were home to pearl farms of all sizes – from huge companies with their own private atolls to little mom-and-pop operations that would trade pearls for t-shirts. You can’t help but get sucked into the pearl shops (it’s like not trying to have apple tea with a carpet seller in Turkey) and learn about the creation of a Tahitian black pearl. I have to admit I was a little bit disappointed in the process. I want to believe that these beautiful pearls were a miracle of nature and one in a million, but in reality, the farms churn out millions of pearls a year, and the "miracle" is actually the insertion of a “pearl bead” from Mississippi into a South Pacific oyster (the bigger the bead, the bigger the pearl)!

The diving in Rangiroa is world-class and we had such exceptional diving experiences that we went down every day for a week! Our favorite dive was Tiputa Pass, with big current and big waves. It was the perfect dolphin playground. It was neat to watch the dolphins flipping somersaults from above, knowing that we’d probably get to see the gymnastics from below once the dive boat dropped us off outside the lagoon. We went from turbulence and being jostled around to absolute silence except for your own breathing and the feeling of floating on air – it was a whole new world in an instant. It was the first time I’ve ever dove in the “blues” where you are deep in the ocean without sight of any landmarks. Eerie, surreal and even a bit scary. The fish are big out there! Thank goodness for divemasters who knew the way to go. Once we got to the pass we were literally sucked into the current. It was so cool to fly in the water like Superman at up to two knots and watch the sealife go by – you barely move and the water simply carries you with it. We explored caves of moray eels with heads the size of soccer balls and huge schools of fish hiding from the sharks. We hovered in the water as huge manta rays glided and fluttered around us on the sea bottom. We watched dolphins playing in the waves above. We flew through canyons and gullies that were teeming with fish and sharks. I didn’t realize exactly how fast I was going until I tried to stop myself by holding onto a bit of reef and then had to let go because I couldn’t hold on against the rushing water! My most memorable dive involved literally hundreds of black-tip reef sharks 100 feet under the sea. We parked ourselves on the reef and just stared at amazement as hundreds of sharks just circled around, above and behind us. I’m afraid to go into the water off the boat if I see anything resembling a shark, but armed with a steel tank and some bubbles, I was unexpectedly brave and even at ease with countless sharks twice my size hanging out only five feet away. I think I saw everything I’d ever wanted to see and experience scuba diving in Rangiroa and most dive spots will now pale in comparison.

We decided to sail to the other side of the lagoon for a bit of adventure. Since the lagoon has never been surveyed, it took a few days of talking to local fishermen to find out how to dodge the many unmarked coral heads that could mean disaster. Six hours and 40 miles later we were in the middle of our own islands; we were practically castaways – completely alone with no other boat or person around for miles. We made like Survivor and dinghied through hidden lagoons full of fish and beche de mer, hunted crabs on the beach with a spear gun, collected coconuts, and shooed the rats. It was quite the feast once we figured out which parts of the crab were actually edible and how to get the coconut open with a blunt dive knife!

Martial left us in Rangiroa to go back to work. His nine-month sabbatical was suddenly over and though I’m sure it was a little depressing to be going back to Paris and office life in a suit and tie after a great adventure, it was quite a grand finale. Our three months together flew by quickly and even if our paths never cross again, it’s nice to remember all the things that we experienced together in so little time, and the unique friendship that you can develop on a sailboat with someone that you didn’t even know.