The Central Pacific - Pacific Crossing Notes: A Sailor's Guide to the Coconut Milk Run - page 292

Connecting the Dots in the South Pacific
Cruising can be a game of connect the dots, and for most of the Coconut Milk Run, a sail-
or's choices are fairly straightforward. The Marquesas can be cruised from windward to
leeward in a more or less logical series of hops and from there, the trade winds usher you
straight toward the northern end of the Tuamotus. The atolls, in turn, practically spill over
into Tahiti, gateway to the Society Islands. And once you've cruised on to Bora Bora (and
its little sister, Maupiti), the next logical destination is Tonga, 1,400 miles west.
But between the two lie the Cook Islands, and that's where the choices multiply - sort of.
We quickly discovered that the stepping-stone route that seemed so logical on a chart -
from Aitutaki to Palmerston, Beveridge Reef, and Niue - was full of disclaimers. Aitutaki's
shallow pass means only boats that draw five feet or less can call there - and even some of
those scrape their way in. Palmerston gets mixed reviews due to the open roadstead anchor-
age as well as the possessive manner in which island families claim and coddle visiting
sailors. Meanwhile, Rarotonga's harbor was undergoing dredging, or so rumor said.
Beveridge Reef sounds like paradise afloat, but we realized there'd be nowhere for our
eight-year-old to stretch his legs. Suwarrow lies closest to the rhumb line to Samoa, but that
lonely paradise was threatening to draw a crowd.
So which would it be? The cruising fleet that had formed a agreeable little community
throughout French Polynesia suddenly splintered into several cliques. A few hardly crews
decided to zig and zag, determined to try and see it all. Most, however, were of the pick-
and-choose mindset, not quite willing to wander a hundred miles off the rhumb line or sail
too hard on the wind. As for us, well, we succumbed to peer pressure and followed the kid-
die contingent to Suwarrow. Five blustery days out of the Society Islands, we eyed the ho-
rizon in anticipation. Was our decision the right one?
Let's just say that even when we finally pried ourselves away seventeen days later, it was
only under the cracking whip of an all-too-short cruising season. Because time moves dif-
ferently in Suwarrow - even more so than in the most bucolic of South Pacific islands. Sea
and sky, day and night melt into each other so seamlessly that before we knew it, our first
week had zipped by. Mornings were perfect for a dip in crystal-clear water or snorkeling
with manta rays. Afternoon was the time to relax in one of the fishnet hammocks strung up
among the palms. Those who felt ambitious could join the accommodating rangers of this
otherwise uninhabited National Park on an excursion to the far side of the atoll, and the
sailors left behind could amble on foot over one of the most vivid reefs to be found along