Sailing Silverfern: The Second Week Through the French Polynesian Islands
July 25 – Bora Bora
Our journey began with a short ride in the dinghy from Silverfern to the Bora Bora Yacht Club, a weathered but charming outpost under towering rocky outcrops that seemed to belong equally to sailors and time. Some of us lunched under the palms, others wandered into town, viewing the local tranquil culture and exploring the beauty the island had to offer.
A few found their way to the Bobcat Café, named after Bora Bora’s wartime nickname. There, Zach ordered a crème brûlée he’d talk about for days. Others chose dips, fresh tuna, and the kind of slow-paced conversation that only happens in the tropics.
That evening, we dined aboard Silverfern, the first of many home-cooked meals that somehow rivalled the best restaurants. The soft glow of deck lights, the hum of the anchorage, and stars overhead reminded us: we had arrived.
July 26 – Bora Bora to Raiatea
The morning was bright and clear as we released our mooring lines and motored gently through a narrow break in the reef. On either side, towering waves crashed dramatically and yet we slipped through calmly, our floating home safe and steady beneath us.
As Bora Bora faded behind us, Raiatea welcomed us with a different kind of charm, quieter, more local. A few went ashore to wander the sleepy seaside town, where Polynesian rhythms moved slower than ours.
That night, we gathered at Fish and Blue, a secluded restaurant with sunset views of Bora Bora in the distance. There was laughter, fresh seafood, and stories shared over wine and dessert. Back on the boat, Amanda and Tania reigned as evening card sharks. The batteries charged; we all unplugged.
July 27 – Raiatea and Fa’aroa Bay
There was no rush in the morning, breakfast appeared on deck in the form of muesli, berries, and yoghurt. We sailed to Uturoa to restock, only to discover that Sundays are not ideal for grocery missions. The locals had already cleared out most of the fresh produce. Still, we gathered what we could.
By afternoon, we dropped anchor in Fa’aroa Bay and set off up the river, some in kayaks, others in the dinghy. The jungle rose thick and green around us, and the water gurgled quietly beneath our hulls. Behind the trees, peaks loomed silently, watching.
Later, back aboard, we swam in the warm bay, paddle boarded and kayaked lazily and lay in the sun like lizards. Dinner was a hearty chicken curry followed by a golden apple crumble made on board, a meal that brought an odd, comforting sense of home in the middle of nowhere.
July 28 – Raiatea to Huahine
We departed early, the sun already rising and the wind fair. The sail to Huahine was smooth and sunlit. On arrival, we anchored near a renowned snorkelling site. The current was stronger than expected, and the snorkelling was best suited for the brave.
Rob, ever the steady hand, took care of a rebellious mainsail halyard. Later, a few of us made it ashore to Hotel Le Mahana, cocktails in hand, waves in the back, toes in sand, the sunset performing its usual magic.
July 29 – Sailing to Moorea
The ocean reminded us who was in charge today. We set out on a two-day, one-night passage to Moorea with 25-knot winds and 3–4 metre swells. The boat pitched and rolled, but Silverfern held strong, it was a taste of real sailing. The kind that demands focus, balance, and respect.
We rotated through watch shifts: three hours on, six off during the day; two on, four off through the night. We tacked every few hours, zigzagging toward our goal. What could have been 90 nautical miles if the wind was not on our nose, became 172, but no one was counting (not).
We lay back, sometimes trimming sails, safely steering through swells in the ever safe Silverfern, eating occasionally in shifts, and sharing the silence with the sea.
July 30 – Still at Sea
The wind didn’t change. Neither did the sea state, we did our best to settle into it. Night sailing has a rhythm all its own, the rare phosphorescence, the creak of the rigging, the occasional struggle by watch partners to stay awake next to you.
A tsunami warning came through from Russia, but we were far offshore in deep waters and unaffected. Still, it reminded us how far we were from the ordinary world.
We reached Moorea late in the afternoon and dropped anchor in calm waters. Everyone exhaled.
July 31 – Moorea
Moorea was soft, calm, still, rewarding after the prior 36 hours. We took the dinghy ashore, climbed to the Tropical Garden Café for panoramic views, and wandered to a local waterfall through damp jungle paths.
Some returned to relax on Silverfern. Others found a spot on the white sand or walked to the Hilton for (yet more) crème brûlée and cold Hinano beer. The day moved like warm honey.
Our final dinner of the day was a barbecue, sausages, chicken, fish, and another apple crumble to seal it all. As the sun set in the western horizon over the sea, it was hard not to feel full, not just from the meal, but from the week itself.
Looking Back
This wasn’t just a sailing trip. It was a rhythm we joined, sometimes fast and gusty, sometimes still as glass, To swim with the fish, the sharks and the sting rays amongst the colourful coral was surreal. We were part crew, part explorers, part sun-seekers, all expedition adventurers. Each island gave us something different. Each day offered its own kind of beauty.
On Silverfern, we learned to sail, to listen, to enjoy mother nature, to slow down and for one, to savour crème brûlée whenever the chance arose. We always smiled and what a brilliant fun team we made!
