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Fileting fish in Toau's 'Polynesian Sweat Shop'
Picking up where we had left off the next morning, everyone contributed what they could:
one cruiser, an electrician, wired overhead outdoor lights, while the SCUBA divers of the
group installed an additional mooring to accommodate the incoming fleet in the bommie-
strewn bay. This came as a great relief to Gaston, who would otherwise have to free-dive
repeatedly to fifty feet. Valentine sent us off to pluck flowers for the table and leaves to
wrap barbecue-bound treats in. Sixty new plates and cutlery sets had been brought in to
the isolated atoll for the occasion, and were now carefully arranged on the long dinner
table under the palms - just the job for my eager son. Napkins were folded, torches fash-
ioned from bamboo stalks, chairs counted and re-counted.
Our excitement peaked that afternoon as one after another yellow-canvassed catamaran
glided into the sanctuary of the bay. We had been led to believe that the charter group con-
sisted of the heads of a major marine insurance company, and we prepared to share our -
ahem - customer feedback when the opportunity arose. In fact, the group that came ashore
was none other than Cruising World magazine's Adventure Charter group on their inaug-
ural Tuamotus cruise, organized by the tireless Peter and Carol King! They were equally
surprised to discover an international troop of sailors scurrying about under the direction
of their Polynesian hosts.
As evening fell, the barbecue overflowed with juicy meat and the colorful dinner table
beckoned. Some cruisers served the guests while others manned the kitchen, relaying
loaves of sweet bread in and out of the single oven, then delivering them to the tables,
steaming hot. As things settled down, we had the opportunity to chat with the newcomers.
They were just like the sailors we once had been, dreaming about sailing into the sunset
and wistfully eying the rugged yachts of full-time cruisers. I was also delighted to meet
the authors of Cruising World's “Log of the Ithaka” column, the gracious Bernadette and
Douglas Bernon. It's a small world after all, even in the remote atolls of the Tuamotus!
The next morning, the catamarans headed off to other destinations, other adventures. We
cruisers with vaguer, slow-motion schedules drifted back ashore to clean up, starting with
a stack of dishes that seemed to form the highest point of the low-lying motu. But many
hands make light work, and things were soon back to normal along the azure waters of the
bay. All agreed to hold a potluck that night to give Valentine and Gaston a night off and to
socialize. The shared experience had brought us together as more than just anonymous
neighbors. The high note of a magical South Seas evening was the heartfelt musical merci
that our hosts sang, Valentine strumming her ukulele to Gaston's accompaniment on the
spoons. One song listed the wonders of various Polynesian islands before concluding
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