June 25, Taiohae, Nuku Hiva, Marquesas

From Tahuata I sailed to the next island to the northwest, Ua Pou, and anchored in Hakahau Bay in front of the main settlement on the island, a town of about 1000. The setting borders on the fantastic. Above the palm trees that line the shore, above the steep forested hills, are several bare rock obelisks rising hundreds of feet above the surrounding slopes. These formations are volcanic plugs, very hard basalt that plugged the volcano hole. Over eons, the mountain eroded away from around these plugs leaving them to project over the landscape in majestic silence, often catching a passing tradewind cloud and for several minutes wearing it like a cloak before releasing it to catch another.
As I rested at anchor for a couple days I contemplated my course to Tahiti. The safe course, especially for a single-hander would be to sail around the Tuamoto island group, not risking the narrow entrances through the reefs in this low lying island group made up of many atolls. This was sad to contemplate, since the group offers scenery and experiences in great contrast to the rugged, lush islands of the Marquesas.
Just as I was resigning myself to missing the Tuamotos, a couple that had crewed on another boat asked to crew with me. things weren't working out for them or their skipper on the boat they came in on from the Galapagos and they needed a change. After interviewing them closely I took them on, which will enable me to pass through the Tuamotos, stopping at a few of the atolls.
Friday the 23rd was the last day of school for the village children and the start of celebrations leading up to Bastille Day on July 14. That night we attended a music and dance exhibition at the community hall that also was a banquet for folks from all over the island. We stood outside taking it all in: the relaxed excitement, the foolery, the foods, the flower garlands worn by the women. Babies were tended on mattresses in the back of pickup trucks parked nearby. A barbecue was set up on the beach for those of us who were not seated inside. Our meal was a bed of French fries with some meat and a sauce on top. Very greasy and one eats with one's fingers. Fortunately, an outdoor faucet was available for washing up.
After provisioning by the crew and some boat work by me we set sail on the 24th the short distance to the island of Nuku Hiva, directly north, and the main town of Taiohae. This town is the largest of the island group with a population of about 2000. Many cruising boats lie at anchor here, including a three masted, very new but salty-looking vessel that must be at least 300 feet purportedly belonging to the founder of Netscape. By day the white hull blazes in the sun and the stainless flashes in blinding brilliance. By night the masts are floodlit at both sets of spreaders with FAA approved red anchor lights at the heads.
We no sooner anchored before being called on the radio with an invitation to a birthday party at a local hotel. About 30 cruisers were shuttled around the bay to a tropically elegant dining room with patio and pool overlooking the bay. The food was a buffet of local dishes prepared and presented meticulously by a chef who appeared to be a mix of French and Polynesian. To mention just a few of the dishes: a white fish, perhaps wahoo, lightly smoked with a very fine red roe topping, sushi tuna sliced very thin with wasabe and soy on a bed of cabbage, typical salad greens (a luxury here), shrimp in a salad, piglet smoked lightly and cooked so even pieces of fat were tender, not greasy, and tasty beyond words, rice steamed in coconut milk, goat in a coconut sauce, manioc which provided a special sweetness that integrated nicely with the other tastes, taro presented in several ways, and very thinly sliced breadfruit fried like potato or banana chips. There were others and of course desserts but I can't go on without getting hungry all over again.
Before and during dinner we were entertained by three men playing two guitars and the Marquesian version of a ukulele which has eight strings and a solid piece of wood as a body. they all sang in sonorous, sweet harmony. After dinner eight or ten women danced several dances. In the first, each dancer held a candle in a dish in each hand, somewhat like candle dancing I saw in Indonesia. Other dances included the very fast hip swiveling that characterizes Marquesian dance movement from that of other Polynesian traditions. One young girl, maybe fifteen, in Ua Pou moved her hips side to side four times a second. Don't try this at home.The most exquisite dancer in this group was clearly the dance instructor and leader of the others. Her grace and tranquility gave her movements an ethereal quality in which her expressive hand and arm gestures could be understood as a story or as an expression of the traditional ideals of this island culture. As she danced her eyes seemed to see beyond this space, beyond this time: not quite trancelike but in that vein. The other dancers smiled and went through the motions but were hardly dancers.
It will be difficult to leave the Marquesas. Each island has had its particular fascination and joy. The people are more than generous and friendly, making us a bit ashamed of our reticence, born of a culture of reserve, strong individualism, and with an overlay of puritanical strictures.

June 16, Tahuatu, Marquesas

The strong winds that have prevailed were predicted to subside. With this information I weighed anchor on 14 June bound for Tahuatu, an island about 45 miles northwest of Hiva Oa. I was happy to be sailing again. By 1300 hrs. I pulled into the lee of Tahuatu and the real fun began. In the lee there are a few minutes of gentle breeze followed by very strong gusts lasting a minute or two. I severely shortened sail just in time to avoid the worst of it, though at one point I was on deck adjusting the running back stay when a gust hit. The auto pilot could not hold the boat from turning up which laid her over into a broach. I thought we might go over like we did so often in the race boat but Rasa just spilled her wind and came back on her feet. Yes, I was harnessed and tethered.
The only habitation in this cove is a little shack above the surf line among the coconut palms. There were two or three people out, each waving in greeting. One was burning coconut husks and the others were attending. The gusts hardly enter this cove and my night's sleep was exceptionally restful. After two rather crowded anchorages I find myself alone here. The ridge of the island rises abruptly several hundred feet above the shore. There are some rock cliffs shining through the vegetation and when it rains the water spouts over them. The trees are a dense mass or variegated greens and textures. All the rock is black, young, volcanic.
It rained heavily overnight and all day, 15 June. It rains in bursts of several minutes. During a dry moment I put the dink in the water, thinking that I would go over to the next cove where there is a landing and stretch my legs. But it kept on raining until later afternoon. The dink had four inches of water in it!
On the 16th I finally rowed to the landing. The village is small and exceptionally beautiful. There are ancient stone ruins in the center of things: quite extensive low walls of lava rock facings filled with coral pieces, and stone paved terraces. Beside it was a small Christian cemetery and a small stone church, quite handsome.
I stopped and talked to some young men who spoke some English. They asked what I wanted in the village. I told them I was looking for fruit. They laughed and told me to pick the papaya along the road. One man is a carver. I asked to see his work. We walked to his house along a raised, narrow roadway buttressed with lava rock just above the beach. He hauled out his machete, a stout knife about 20 inches long and pulled down a bunch of bananas, far more than I could ever eat, and whacked them off. Then he showed me his lemon tree and we picked some lemons. Then he offered me some coconuts. I was all set.
He showed me some of his work which demonstrated a strong sense of design and considerable skill in carving traditional designs in shell, boar tusk, bone, marlin backbone, mother of pearl. How I wanted to buy some of his work! But until I reach Nuku Hiva I don't have the cash. I had some trade goods in my backpack and left him with a bar of soap. He hardly needed it. It was clear that he was making a good living. The prices of his work ranged from $140 to $6000. His house is big and nicely painted. It turns out that a boat load of tourists from all over the world, about a hundred at a time, stop in this village once a month. They are fed and entertained then walk around and visit his workshop. He also sells in Papeete twice a year. He does pretty well. He's 25 years old.

June 11, Fatu Hiva, Marquesas

After a slow start this morning my back – which went out a few days ago - is feeling much better. I am stretching a lot and the boat beside me brought me to shore today for a hike. I was with two German boats. They spoke English well and some spoke French well. All are very pleasant people. We hiked to a 200 foot waterfall along a trail that was reminiscent of wet Western Washington. The path was rocky and mossy with limbs hanging across. We hiked along a stream that babbled among boulders. The waterfall was similar to the one on Isla Coco, cascading down a volcanic rock face into a small pool. After four days at anchor at this new island, it was great to get off the boat.

The people in this little hamlet are used to visitors. Some wharf rat kids greet the dinks. Other youths play soccer wherever they can, in the lane, on a soccer field across the stream. Money is of little use here. Trading is the language spoken. They want perfume, rum, cigarettes. I don't have two of those and won't trade the third. But I heard from another boat that soap, colored pencils, and Chap Stick were tradeable too. They have fruit to trade: bananas, coconuts, papaya, breadfruit, and pomplemousse, a large grapefruit. The kids want candy.

The wind that has been gusting down the valley has eased somewhat, though the boat continues to swing wildly, dancing a jig at anchor. None of the boats have had trouble with holding so that gives peace of mind. There is only one boat upwind of me. Last night was particularly windy, so windy that I tied off the wind generator because it was pinning the ammeter and applying the brake. I have managed to locate some radio nets and listened in today. The wind is strong all over French Polynesia, though it is supposed to be decreasing. I think I will just wait for it to settle down before heading somewhere. I do want to be in Papeete for about a week before Bastille Day. I understand it is a hoot.

My days have been spent doing a deep cleaning of various parts of the boat. I take everything out of lockers, rediscover what I have, and sponge out with vinegar to kill the mildew that is starting to creep around.

June 8, Atuona, Hiva Oa, Marquesas

Atuona is one of three places in the Marquesas where boats entering French Polynesia can check into the country. I chose Atuona, the furthest windward of the three, so most of my sailing will be down wind. When we arrived May 30, about 10 boats occupied the anchorage, most with their yellow "Q" (quarantine) flags flying, signifying that they had yet to complete the formalities of entering the country.

I soon learned why there were so many. I rowed the dinghy ashore with boat papers to present to the gendarmerie, a couple kilometers from the anchorage. I started walking down the road and when a vehicle passed I turned and waved. Sure enough, they stopped and took me to town! Turns out that everybody who does have a vehicle, mostly small pickups, gives rides. It's cheap and easy, maybe the only thing that is cheap in French Polynesia. The gendarme required a bond to be posted at a bank in the amount of a first class plane ticket to the United States before I could check in. So to the bank I went. They didn't accept the types of credit card I had.

All women wear a flower behind an ear. Most men are heavily tattooed. They pay no particular attention to foreigners though they are certainly courteous and helpful. Getting back to the boat without completing formalities did not put a damper on our celebration of arrival. An American from the boat next to us dropped by and joined the party.

On the 31st I started to get culture shock. I looked around and everything was different. I wasn't happy about it. We talked of boat chores to do but had little motivation.

On the 1st of June I tried to check in again with a different strategy, using an agent to circumvent the bond requirement. For a fee the agent would essentially guarantee that I would get out of the country before my three months were up and in a medical emergency would fly away instead of using the local health care facilities. But it all takes time so we had to stay in Atuona instead of heading for a more exotic anchorage on the other side of the island. We did manage to get some boat chores done, including an ascent to the top of the mast, always at the top of my "fun things to do" list.

On the 2nd of June we started to meet other cruisers in the anchorage. This helped my feelings of culture shock immensely. A couple of guys came over with some fish called wahu that they had caught the day before arriving. They gave us a couple steaks which we BBQ'ed that evening. Meaty and delicious! And we finally managed to check into the country.

The next day I saw Alec off to the air strip on the island. We walked with his bags through the rain (it rains a lot) to the cross road where he thumbed a ride to the air strip, twenty minutes away. Feeling a little lonely and lost I walked back to the landing where a cruiser was talking to a local. I stopped and found out the cruiser is from Quebec so speaks both French and English. The local spoke French so we had a translator. Turned out the local guy is a musician and told us about a get together with food, music and dance. He wasn't clear about the time.

I went back to the boat and collected a pile of laundry to do by hand at the facility at the landing. It is no more than a water faucet and a tile bench but it's free and clean. I must confess I have never attempted laundry by hand before. There was nothing comic about it; I got all wet and the clothes got clean, I guess. A note on being wet. My first day here I was very particular about not getting wet. I stayed in when it rained. I stood under a tree if I was caught out. I used a towel to dry off after bathing. It didn't take but a few days to get over all of that. At this point I don't really notice how wet I am. I'm always wet to one degree or another. It's warm and that makes all the difference.

I finished hanging out the laundry, festooning the boat with a month's worth. It was mid-afternoon and I thought maybe the festival I had heard about was starting. I got a ride into town and started looking around for some action. A teenage boy found me. He wanted to try out his English so we sat on a stone wall for an hour talking about this and that. He had a very expressive face, putting his features in patterns that one would not see in the US. Some of his expressions reminded me distinctly of carved facial features on poles or jewelry I have seen here in the Marquesas. Not so surprising, I suppose, though it was striking to me. I asked him about the festival and he told me it was called a "quelmes."

Armed with that information I wandered around town, stopping and hanging out with whoever happened to extend a greeting. Finally after dark I found the location. It turned out to be a benefit fund raiser for the building of a church in town. It was all strictly local talent. The dance was hula in a Marquisian style, fast hip shaking, less studied movements than one might see in Hawaii. There was one dance by young men. The five of them were total hunks and danced a very aggressive, warrior style. They were accompanied by a couple of drummers. The women and girls danced to recorded music.

That's Atuona, a town of 1500. Seems as though everybody knows everybody, or are related to everyone in sight. Not much happens as far as production. It appears as though the French government supports the people. The bank is packed on Tuesdays with people cashing checks. Everything is very expensive, about twice or three times US prices. The baguettes are baked fresh daily. The vegetation is lush, very lush. A rainbow appeared one morning that was so bright the second bow was as bright as any rainbow I've seen in Seattle. At the landing are a passel of outrigger canoes. These are sleek fiberglass numbers that look like brightly colored racing shells. They are rowed by the town's males, from 8 years old and up. It's serious exercise and I imagine they feel a sense of tradition in the activity.

May 31, Hiva Oa, Marquesas

We dropped the hook yesterday morning at 0830 local time. Passage from Galapagos was 18 days, 2 hours. Or something like that. I slept for 15 hours, maybe more. I'm still a zombie. Checking in has become a drawn out affair. With some luck we can get it completed on Friday. Alec flies out Saturday so I sure hope we can get it done on Friday. Unbelievably expensive here. I bought a six of beer and a small roll of cookies and dropped almost twenty bucks. Lunch for the two of us today was over fifty.