July 11, 2007 - Escape from Nuka Hiva

After the long leg across the Pacific, boats tend to get a bit stuck in the Marquesas. Nobody is in a real rush to tackle the 500 mile leg to the Tuamotus. But it is late in the season, and we're wasting time here that could be spent exploring the atolls.

Since Monday we have been trying to leave the Marquesas. First there were no eggs, so we had to wait a day for fresh eggs. I'm so glad we did. It is such a pleasure to cook with fresh eggs and firm yokes instead of the runny yoke, watery white, five week old eggs we had been using. On Tuesday, loaded down with 6 dozen eggs, 6 baguettes and six cartons of UHT milk, we set out for the Tuamotus. We only made it about 4 miles, motoring in light air, before we both looked at each other and the line of squalls marching across our radar, and decided to duck into Daniel's Bay for the night. Rather than waste diesel just for the privilege of flopping around in sloppy seas, we went snorkeling (we both saw a lion fish for the first time - spectacular), made popcorn and enjoyed a good night's sleep in a comfortable anchorage. After breakfast we made our break for it, and within a few hours we had finally managed to show the Marquesas our swim platform.

Just about 40 miles out, the autopilot started acting up. It seemed to be having trouble holding our course, and couldn't turn the rudder to starboard. Sten put in a quick call to Simrad to troubleshoot the problem (Suzy, thanks again for the satphone). Together they determined that there were likely air bubbles in the hydraulic lines. Sten set about bleeding the lines while I steered for about an hour. We so rarely have to hand steer. Sten steers while we send email, and we hand steer around harbors, but 99% of the time, Robby steers for us. He's like a third member of the crew, but better: he doesn't eat, sleep, or produce dirty laundry. With a four day passage ahead of us, we were both relieved when the bleeding seemed to solve the problem. Just a quick note about Simrad support - every time we have reached out to them they have been absolutely terrific.

July 7 - 8, 2007 - Baie de Taioa (AKA Daniel's Bay), Nuka Hiva

We're anchored in a lovely calm anchorage just 5 miles from the main town. Fans of the Survivor Series may recognize it from the season filmed in the Marquesas. To cruisers it is known as Daniel's Bay for the resident who made his water spigot available to them for over 60 years. We came over here on Saturday morning to fill our water tanks - not from Daniel's spigot, rather with our watermaker, which we weren't willing to run in the silty, murky water of the main anchorage.

We're so glad we made the move! This bay is so protected, you can't even see the ocean from where we are anchored. There is no swell in here, and we are sleeping like babies. Even better, there has been some terrific marine life. Saturday afternoon Sten went snorkeling and saw an eel, two turtles and a small black tipped shark. While exploring the bay Sten caught a snapper on a silver metal lure, which turned out to be some of the tastiest grilled fish we've had in some time. Later that afternoon we both saw a shark burst out of the water as it fed on something in the middle of the anchorage. It was brownish, which suggests that it was a bronze whaler, one of the most dangerous breeds. There go my plans to swim in this bay! Then on Sunday afternoon, while hanging laundry to dry on the lifelines, I spotted a manta ray. I was so excited that I couldn't get out any words other than "Sten, Sten, come here, come here." It gracefully floated by the side of the boat, turned up the tips of its wings, which broke the surface of the water approximately 4 feet apart, pirouetted, and came back for another look. It was beautiful.

On Sunday we hiked to the third tallest waterfall in the world. The trail starts out as a road winding past people's homes and their well tended gardens filled with fruit trees and whimsical decorations - like goat skulls. Further on, we passed a few tikis and stone walls suggesting the larger population that once inhabited these islands. Then we came to a river. I was a total sissy about not wanting to get my shoes wet, but after ranging up and down the bank for a bit, eventually I realized there was no getting to the other side without going in up to my knees. If only I had known then that there were a dozen more river crossings ahead . . .

The trail continued into the primordial forest. It was never very steep, but it was often very slick and muddy. Eventually we emerged in a river canyon with completely vertical cliffs at least a 1,000 feet high surrounding us on three sides. At the head of the canyon was the waterfall, the roar of which we could hear from some distance. Ironically, you can't see the waterfall at the end of the trail. To get to the base, you have to swim through a cloudy pool (hoping not to meet the resident eel) and scramble over some boulders. Then you find yourself in a cloud of mist generated from the impact of the water falling 1148 feet from the top of the cliff. We only stayed for a few minutes, because the bugs were swarming, before heading back down the trail.

If any pictures of me ever illustrate this post, you'll notice that I'm wearing long pants and long sleeves - not exactly the outfit you'd expect for a hike in the tropics. These islands are infested with little biting bugs called no no's. Even using antibiotic ointment on the bites, they don't seem to heal. I have a few scars from our last waterfall hike in Fatu Hiva, so I overdressed for this one. Even so, every half hour or so we would stop and hose ourselves down with more bug spray. At the end of the day, I only had 4 new bites. They don't seem to like Sten as much, he hasn't been bitten yet.

July 4 - 6, 2007 - Taiohae, Nuka Hiva

This is a bit of a work stop for us. After two weeks in the Marquesas, we finally cleared in here, with the assistance of an agent - Polynesia Yacht Services. Non European Union citizens that arrive in French Polynesia without return airfare have to pay a bond of approximately $1,400 to guarantee that they will eventually fly home. Tahiti and her islands have apparently had their fill of beach bums humming Rogers and Hammerstein tunes deciding to stay on indefinitely in paradise (however this policy doesn't do anything to prohibit French freeloaders; we met a particularly pickled and nicotine stained specimen at the magasin the other day who was more than anxious to introduce us to the young girl he'd picked up in Wallis and Futuna to provide him comfort in his final years in exchange for the opportunity to live off his pension with him). PYS offers a bond exemption service for approximately $70 per crew member. We figured that it was worth it to avoid having to track down our bond at the other end of the chain, and that we might even come out ahead factoring in the administrative fees charged by the local bank and the cash advance fees charged by our credit cards.

When we picked up our visas for FP from the embassy in Panama City, we assumed that it would take us longer, between spending time in the Pearl Islands and the Galapagos Islands and taking longer to cross the Pacific than it did, to get to FP. So we set the start date of our visas at July 5th. But as we left Panama City, we felt like we were so late in the season that we should get moving, otherwise we would end up feeling really rushed over the next few months. So we had to dawdle about the Marquesas for a bit before clearing in on the 5th. Once we'd taken care of the official business, I was free to go find a haircut. A really nice lady named Louise took me up to her house, cut my hair and gave me a pile of pamplemouse (like a sweet grapefruit) to bring back to the boat. Sten has spent the past few days tending to the generator and engines - giving them each an oil change and new filters.

Sten got a bit carried away with the silicone, and put it on anything that stood still long enough. The Siliconator fights a lonely battle against the plague of sliding bowls, plates and stainless steel martini glasses.

We managed to track down a used French keyboard, so I happily typed up the logs that I've been keeping in longhand. I know you guys would much prefer pictures, but they take a bit more bandwidth than the local wifi (or wee-fee, as the French pronounce it) can handle. We've loaded up on baguettes, had a meal out at the local pizzeria (the first meal we've had in a restaurant in over a month), and enjoyed some $13 cocktails up at the Pearl Beach Resort (lovely view, nice olives, outrageous prices - Sten claims that I used to pay as much for a cocktail on a regular basis back in Boston, but unless he can find some witnesses, I'm not copping to it) and some ice cream (yum). Now we're feeling really ready to get a move on to the Tuamotus. But we need to wait until Monday to get some bond exemption paperwork from PYS. We're also waiting for some wind so that we don't have to motor the whole way to the atolls. So we're going to slip over to another bay for the weekend.

Our first baguette never stood a chance of making it back to the boat in one piece.

This is the supply ship that brings literally everything to these islands from Tahiti. Before it arrived, the shelves in the local stores were pretty empty. Afterwards, there were boxes of goods in the aisles. The cool thing is, you can join it for a 21 day cruise through the islands - one of the only ways to see most of the Marquesas unless you have your own boat. www.aranui.com.

July 3, 2007 - Ua Huka to Taiohae, Nuka Hiva

Today we set out to go to one of the other harbors on Ua Huka, but the swell was slamming into both of them, so we decided to continue onto Nuka Hiva. Along the south coast of Ua Huka, we saw people gathering sooty tern eggs, a local delicacy. We could also see the devastation caused by the huge herds of horses and goats - they outnumber people 10-1 on Ua Huka and have denuded the landscape. We also enjoyed having some very chatty birds swoop by to check us out. However, they were too interested in our fishing lures, so Sten had to haul them in before we caught a bird.

You would think that after crossing the Pacific these day trips would be a breeze. But we're both completely exhausted by the time we get into the next harbor. Today was particularly interminable. It is exhausting to listen to the mainsail slat and the rigging shudder as the boat rolls in light air and confused seas. Each time the boat rolls, we brace ourselves for the impending bang and snap. We both hate listening to the sails and rigging slowly wear themselves out. It stresses us out. We were so relieved today to have the anchor firmly set and to settle down in the cockpit for sundowners as we scanned the harbor, trying to figure out how many of the 3 dozen boats here we've crossed paths with before.

July 2 - 3, 2007 - Tahuata to Hane Bay, Ua Huka

We set out this morning for a 20 mile trip to a bay on the North coast of Hiva Oa with extensive ruins, including the largest tiki left in the islands; but, when we came around the North-west corner of the island, we ran into wind directly on our nose, and a steep sea. So we decided that we didn't need to see the big tiki, and veered off for Ua Huka. Intending to take the prudent course, and slow our boat speed down so that we would arrive the following morning, we didn't put up the main. But who were we kidding, by 11pm it was clear that as long as the nearly-full moon wasn't obscured by a cloud, and we could see our way into the harbor, we were going to drop anchor that night. We should have just put up the main and gotten in earlier. As it was, we had plenty of moonlight to see our way in at 0230, but the buoy at the mouth of the bay that was supposed to have a light on it was dark. "Turn to port!" I shouted as we skimmed past it. We seem to be fatally attracted to buoys, whether it is daylight or midnight. Our anchor wouldn't take a good bite into the bottom, so Sten set the chart plotter's anchor alarm function before bedding down in the cockpit to keep anchor watch. This morning, still not comfortable with our anchor set, with a heavy swell rolling into the bay, we left right after breakfast to see if any of the other bays appealed to us.

June 30 - July 2, 2007 - Hanemoenoe, Tahuata

This place smells awesome! The hills surrounding this pretty little bay are covered with blooms. Ashore there is a coconut plantation, with lime trees, mango trees, and banana plants. We gathered up at least a hundred limes, a few coconuts and 4 mangoes during our few days here. There is too much swell for the snorkeling to be very good - the visibility is greatly reduced by the churned up sand. And there are schools of nasty little jelly fish. So, in the finest of cruising traditions, we did a bit more boatwork in a beautiful place. I washed all our cockpit cushions while Sten addressed a starting issue on our outboard - after troubleshooting the electrical system he determined that the issue was bad fuel. And, in the latest attempt to address our perennial shower pump issues, Sten replumbed and rewired one of our bilge pumps so that it replaces our shower pump.

June 29, 2007 - Fatu Hiva

We were going to leave today, but Stephan and Martina invited us over for dinner aboard Muline, and we never turn down an opportunity not to do dishes. Continuing the limey trend, Sten and I whipped up a key lime pie this morning. For the crust, we used stale ginger snaps (made into crumbs by beating with a rolling pin - very satisfying, that), which we've had on board since Newport, mixed with butter, then prebaked before filling with a custard made of egg yokes, lime juice and zest, and condensed milk. After baking for a few more minutes, it went into the fridge for the day. So little work for so much reward - we'll be making this one again. While it cooled, Sten worked on our water catchment system. Our Spectra watermaker is doing a great job, but it takes energy, which takes diesel, so if we can supplement with rain water, all the better.

We're so glad we stayed! Martina made fresh pasta for dinner, and Stephan made a wonderful pasta sauce. Over cocktails, Lars (who, in his life back in Oslo is an anthropology professor) gave us all a tutorial on the constellations above our heads. As he pointed out the Southern Cross, I was reminded of a poem in one of the mountaineering books that Ingrid, Sten's sister has given us - Below Another Sky, by Rick Ridgeway, a wonderful memoir of his life as a mountaineer and adventure travel writer and film director.

I should like to rise and go
Where the golden apples grow;
Where below another sky
Parrot islands anchored lie,
And, watched by cockatoos and goats,
Lonely Crusoes building boats;

This trip is about looking for an island below another sky, literally and figuratively. In Fatu Hiva, we've, quite literally, found such an island.

June 28, 2007 - Fatu Hiva

After a morning snorkeling trip to the next bay,
Sten set his sights on trekking the north ridge of the bay. While he scrambled up it, I (still recovering from yesterday's waterfall hike) went into town to buy a few staples at the local magasin. The village seems to live on the citrus fruit that they grow in their yards, coconuts gathered from and goats hunted on the surrounding hills, and expensive imported canned goods. Bypassing the $4 can of Pringles and the $8 carton of eggs, I went for the $1.75 can of condensed milk (for an upcoming key lime pie) and the $1.25 box of flour. I'm glad that there isn't more to tempt me to spend money here - other than a few subsidized goods, the prices are so steep.

The ridge Sten trekked:
and his view down into the valley from the ridgeline:
Sten's trek down the knife edge ridgeline was a bit more difficult than the trip up. Stephan and Martina on Muline and I were watching his progress down the ridge as the sun got lower and lower. He would disappear behind the scrub for 15 or 20 minutes at a time as he worked his way down nearly vertical sections of rock. At any moment I expected to see his body falling to the rocky shore below. Later he told us that the soil was so loose that he would be holding onto a rock for support, only to have it come away in his grip. We were about to launch the search party when Martina noticed him reappearing 100 meters above the shore. We were all relieved that he made it back down before dark. In my vows I promised to give him the time and space to do these kinds of things, but this was a bit more nerve wracking than I had intended to sign up for.

The incongruously fantastic sunset that occurred while he was still getting down the ridge:

June 27, 2007 - Fatu Hiva

Today we managed to motivate ourselves off the boat for a hike up to a waterfall. It was about 1.5 hours up and an hour back down. After three weeks of barely moving on the Pacific Crossing, I was completely done in by the end. The trail passed the ruins of a marae, or ceremonial site, way up in the hills. When there are only 150 people left in the village here, it is hard to imagine that once 80,000 people populated the half-dozen islands of the Marquesas.

The population in this village is very young. We see dozens of children and teenagers, but very few people over the age of 30. Diabetes is a major problem here. I'm chagrined that cruisers seem to be continuing the destructive legacy of the early explorers who brought the diseases to these islands that were the major cause of their depopulation. The other night I watched as cruisers passed out candy to the children of the village under a sign offering education about the causes of diabetes. "Bon bon?" seems to have replaced "bon jour" in the vocabulary of the local children. Everywhere I go, I'm asked for candy, and failing that, they run through the litany: nail polish, lip gloss, pen, paper, crayon. But my personal favorite is being asked for rum by an 11 year old. When I asked if she wasn't a bit young, she claimed that it was for her papa. Rigghhht. They've been told by their teachers not to beg, and their parents wish that they wouldn't, but they won't stop until we stop reinforcing the behavior. Okay, rant over.

On our way back to the waterfront after our hike, we passed by one of the copra drying shed. A group was working together to rinse out the coconut, and set it out to be dried in the shed. The dried nuts will eventually be processed into coconut oil.

Sten and Lars from s/v Luna caught a passel of fish today, so we invited Lars and Stephan and Martina from s/v Muline over for dinner. I've been trying to figure out what to do with the windfall of limes that have come our way (other than the obvious - margarita, caipirinha, gin and tonic, rum and tonic, etc), and baking seems to be the crowd pleasing thing to do. Lars loaned me a cup of flour so that I could try my hand at making the crust for a lemon (err, lime) meringue pie. It is wonderful having such willing guinea pigs. The filling didn't have quite enough time to firm up, but that didn't stop any of us for going back for seconds, or Lars from claiming the last slice.

June 23 - 26, 2007 - Fatu Hiva

We've spent the past few days getting our house back in order after the Pacific Crossing. We've done copious amounts of laundry (I dance on it in the bathtub - like a Korean grandmother or Lucille Ball in the grape crushing episode of I Love Lucy). Drying the sheets has been a challenge in the kadiabatic winds that come gusting off the slopes around us. We culled our clothes pin population - the weak ones popping off the lines and sinking to the bottom of the bay, the stragglers getting chased down by Sten in the dinghy.

Sten has rebuilt the laptop twice. The highlight of the process was the retermination of the processor connections, one of which had broken in the initial reassembly attempt. After confirming that the keyboard was the only thing that was permanently damaged, he went back in and disconnected it. Then he found an on screen keyboard deep in the utility files, so now we're up and crawling again.
My dreams of fresh baguettes were not to be fulfilled here. The only baguettes come from Tahiti on the cargo ship that comes once every 3 weeks. So I went to bake some bread, only to discover that my supply of white flour was dangerously low. But the multigrain bread I produced was pretty good, once it was slathered in mounds of butter and drizzled with honey - we wouldn't want to be too healthy. Sten has spent a few evenings fishing from the dinghy. We're not sure what it is that we are eating, but it is really good. He and Lars, a singlehander who arrived on a boat half the size of ours ("Now that's doing something," as Sten put it when he pulled in), confirmed with the local fishermen that these fish don't have fish poisoning (some in this bay do). We've been gathering windfall limes and coconuts from the trees in the village. Mata'irea's new motto is "Fighting Scurvy, One Margarita at a Time."

Talking to the other cruisers around here, it seems that our 19 day passage was a bit of a record for the fleet coming across this month. Phoenix, which is a race boat, did it in 16 days, and we know of one other cruising boat that did it in 19. We're pretty pleased with ourselves and with Mata'irea.

June 22, 2007 - Bay of Virgins, Fatu Hiva, Marquesas, French Polynesia

"Welcome to Paradise," called Jack from Barbara Ann as he pulled along side in his dinghy, just as we were finishing our breakfast. He was not exaggerating. Fatu Hiva is the southernmost of the Marquesas. Approximately 700 people live on the island. It isn't an official port of entry, but the local gendarme looks the other way. The island doesn't get many tourists, so cruising boats are most welcome. We bring rum, wine, tobacco and bullets to trade for crafts, such as tikis or tapa cloth, which is produced by pounding the bark of mulberry, breadfruit and banyan trees. Tapa used to be made throughout Polynesia, but Fatu Hiva is the only place in French Polynesia where it is still being made.

Bay of Virgins is stunningly, spectacularly beautiful. Black lava rock at the shore gives way to palm trees, above which rocky spires thrust towards the clouds that eternally shroud this verdant isle. It is the most incredibly rugged place we've ever seen. Legend has it that the original French name for the bay was Bay des Verges, which translates as Bay of the Phalli, a reference to the spires surround the bay. But the missionaries were offended by calling it the bay of dicks, so an "i" was slipped in, making it Bay des Vierges, or virgins. This isn't the only castration performed by the missionaries in the name of spreading Christianity. They were also offended by the phalluses on the stone tikis throughout the islands, and so broke them all off. The ancient Marquesan name for the bay is Hanavave, which means "strong surf bay." We hope it doesn't live up to this name while we are here.

We spent the day cleaning the growth off of the bottom and the waterline. When the boat is underway for so long, the wetted surface changes, and bottom growth works its way up the side of the hull. We spent most of the passage heeled over to starboard, so we had a lot of growth on the white part of the hull on that side.

We even had a colony of clams living under our swim platform.

Tonight we went over to Barbara Ann for an our-freezer-is-dying-invite-everyone-in-the-anchorage-over-to-eat-our-meat potluck. Sten was asked repeatedly for his cornbread recipe. Afterwards we went ashore to watch the villagers practice their traditional dances for an upcoming festival. Although the older Marquesans are rather androgynous, there was a teenage girl in the front line who could have stepped out of a Gauguin painting.

June 21, 2007 - Pacific Crossing, Day 19

We have had incredible sailing today - at one point we surfed up to 12.9 knots, which is a new record for us. From 20 miles out we can see Fatu Hiva, shrouded in clouds. But neither of us feels any sense of anticipation. We just crossed the biggest ocean, completing the longest passage that either of us is likely to make, and somehow landfall seems anticlimactic. At this point the passage making seems more important than the destination, which is a complete 180 from the way we felt after our run to the Caribbean last Fall - then the passages were to be endured for the sake of reaching a destination. For a brief moment this afternoon I wanted to keep going, to continue this self-contained bubble that we've been living in for the past few weeks. But thoughts of ice cream and fresh baguettes quickly chased any such sentimental nonsense away.

Later . . . We arrived at the harbor after dark. We were a bit skittish about entering after our scary experience at Isabella. But this bay is wide open, no reefs on which to worry about running aground. As we came into the bay, another cruiser came out in his dinghy to tell us about the holding and point out at good spot. Even with his guidance, the sound of waves crashing against the rocky shore around the bay made the shore seem very close after three weeks of not having anything near the boat (other than that buoy we tried to run down in the middle of the ocean). In the background, mingling with the sound of the shore pound, we could also hear the rhythmic beat of drums coming from the village at the head of the bay - had we stepped back 200 years into the pages of Melville?

We dropped anchor in 100 feet of water, with 250 of our 275 feet of chain out. After getting settled, we shared a bottle of wine and looked forward to sleeping (on fresh sheets!) in the same bed, at the same time for the first time in weeks. It feels a bit like Christmas Eve. We can see the outline of the rugged coast around us, but have to wait until morning to see what awaits us here. It is a bit like knowing the presents are under the tree, just waiting for us to unwrap them at dawn.