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Home Port of Seward, Alaska



We made a somewhat emergency stop in Manihi. We had wanted to see the place, but our energy problems (failure of the engine alternator regulator) had severely restricted our ability to make energy and we needed to get to Rangiroa for fuel.

We tried to motor into the inner lagoon when we arrived and made to within a few hundred feet, but the current of the out-going tide was just too strong and we had to carefully turn the boat around and get her out. We didn't want to run the engine with so little fuel aboard, so we just drifted. A generous local motored out and offered to haul us in to the dock. We accepted.

What a riot of a place! A TERRIBLE squall popped as we were taking on fuel and put a halt to the process. The process, by the way, was buying diesel fuel from individuals who were willing to sell to us from their personal stocks. We paid $12/gallon for the diesel, quite a mark-up. It arrived in a 20 or 32 L jugs that we had to empty and return. We siphoned into the tanks with an old fuel hose. The 20 L jug was delivered on a bicycle! We made friends by offering candy and school supplies and that helped smooth the way. During the downpour, the boat was being slammed against a large rubber fender that prevented damage but not scuff marks. We sacrificed two of our inflatable fenders to stop the marking, but it worked.

Town on Manihi. The white building at left is a store on the lower floor.

The concrete dock and large cylindrical fender on which we hung during the squall.

The view across the pass. If you live on that side, you hire or take a boat across.

Our red Honda generator makes power for the batteries. Shoot, we couldn't even start the engine without charging the batteries!

The water was SO clear! If you look carefully, you can see our rudder and keel, both painted blue. Absolutely amazing that it's possible. The wind made hash of our furled main sail and it's strewn out of its cover, although not harmed.

Looking down the main street, on can see by the dog in the street that this is the classic "laid back" South Pacific village, although the French have made their mark.

Two young rogues attached themselves to us and we could hardly shoo them away. They spoke only French and Tuamotuan. The pools of water on the square remain after the hour-long squall.



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