Ocean Watch

I'm finally reaping the rewards of the repairs I recently had to do on my 37-foot ketch, Honu. This week, I'm alone on my sailboat and anchored in Cook's Bay, an inlet so beautiful that when I wake up each morning, I think I'm dreaming.

And in a way, I am. When I climb the companionway ladder to the cockpit and see the mountains of Moorea towering over three sides of the boat, I'm overwhelmed with gratitude. People have dreamed for centuries of sailing to Tahiti. Now I'm there.

Cook's Bay is famous as one of two adjacent inlets that Capt. Cook visited during his 1777 visit to Moorea. The other is Opunohu Bay. These northern inlets cut deeply into the roundish island, making Moorea's outline look like a big fat W.

Historians don't know in which bay Cook anchored his ship, the Resolution, and which he explored by longboat, but I don't care. I'm seeing the same scenery James Cook saw.

My first day here, I nosed the boat as close to the shore as I dared, and Gerard dropped the anchor. "It's safe back in here," he said, referring to my week alone. "If you get wind, you'll be protected."

For Gerard's last night aboard, we watched the DVD "The Bounty" on my computer. Captain Bligh and the future mutineers have their troubles at sea and then reach Tahiti. "Look!" I said. "They're here!"

The real Bounty didn't land in Cook's Bay (they dropped anchor in Tahiti's Matavai Bay), but who cares? I'm anchored in a place that Hollywood films as paradise.

That night, I had a sailing nightmare. A hurricane was pounding the boat, Craig was going overboard and I couldn't pull him back. I woke with a start to hear wind screaming through the rigging.

After checking the anchor, I watched the lights on shore to see if we were dragging. We were not. Back in my cabin, I lay awake listening to the howling wind. Several times that night, I rose to confirm our position.

The next day, Gerard and I watched in astonishment as the ever-increasing wind turned our peaceful anchorage into a white-water swirl. My high-sided boat swung on her anchor like a yo-yo on a string.

The anemometer broke, but neither of us was about to climb the mast in gusts we guessed to be at least 35 knots. I canceled my plans to accompany Gerard to the Papeete ferry. "I don't want to leave the boat," I said. He agreed this was wise.

That evening, the wind blew so hard it knocked the tops off waves generated only 100 yards from shore. Gerard was correct about my safety deep in the bay, but still. This was not relaxing.

Then, as if someone flipped a switch, the wind stopped and the bay turned glassy. The next day, I found this passage in one of my cruising guides: "WARNING," it said about Cook's Bay. "Strong winds from the south (mara'amu) sometimes create a Venturi effect in the bay, and gusts of wind can be very violent."

Ah, so there's a price to pay for anchoring in this spectacular spot. Well, I don't care. It's part of the dream.