---

Bad weather never
made it to Bora Bora

Bora Bora, Tahiti » I was going to write about how much fun I'm having living alone at anchor here, where the water is so clear and calm I can identify fish from the deck of my sailboat. But then this hurricane showed up, and I thought I should write about that.

Wednesday evening at 6 p.m., I sat in my cockpit, lost in a good book, when a nicely dressed man sped up to my sailboat in a skiff. His white golf shirt had a French word embroidered above the pocket, but I didn't get its meaning. Later I figured it said something equivalent to "Big Cheese."

"Bon soir," he said. "You have heard the weather report?"

"No. Why?"

"A hurricane is approaching the Austals (an island group south of here). It will not strike Bora Bora, but we will have wind of 100 kilometers (60 mph) tonight. You must move to a better place. Here is not safe."

My friends had gone home, but I was still anchored off their classy hotel. "Not safe?" I said.

"In a storm, a boat once dragged within a few meters of our rooms."

"Your rooms?"

"I am Philippe, manager of three hotels here." He paused. "If your boat goes the other way, it gets deep very quickly, and your anchor will find no bottom."

"It's not even close to hurricane season," I said.

He shrugged. "I know. Weather can be strange."

He was right about that, but still. I had several good reasons for not moving my boat. Foremost is the fracture in my right hand, giving "single-handing" a whole new meaning. Another was the time of day. You don't haul up your anchor and go search for a better spot among the coral heads with only 30 minutes of daylight left.

A third was that my windlass had been balky when we arrived, and I wasn't sure I could move if I tried.

Philippe said, "For your safety, you can stay tonight in one of my hotels."

What? Even if I move to a more protected spot, he still thinks it too dangerous for me to stay on the boat? I declined his kind offer of a room, but that clinched it. I would find Honu and myself better shelter.

"I'm not sure I can move the boat alone," I said, indicating my splint.

Philippe offered to help. We tied his skiff to Honu, and he stepped aboard.

It's amazing what a little adrenaline and a working windlass can do to speed things up. I retrieved my chain and anchor, used the GPS (global positioning system) and depth sounder to find a good spot and then anchored again, all within 30 minutes. Philippe wished me good luck and left.

Tired and a little scared, I called home for a precise weather report. But the information my friends found left us dumbfounded: There was no hurricane.

No tropical depression. Nothing. The forecast for the entire area was light trades.

I might never know why Philippe was convinced a hurricane was coming, or even if he was, but I don't care. I view the incident as a successful drill.

Today, I'm enjoying my excellent new anchorage where it's still calm and the water is clearer than ever. My main job now, I figure, is to finish that book.