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marquesas

Flirting With the Islands

We are currently on Nuku Hiva, the last island we will explore in the Marquesas before we sail the 500ish miles to the Tuamotu atolls southwest of here and after that the Society Islands (Tahiti! Moorea! Bora Bora!).

Over the last four weeks we’ve flitted among these sweet little jems floating lazily in the warm South Pacific getting to know each one as much as one can in what feels like a rushed first date. But our short time on each has been long enough to get to know each beguiling girl just enough for her to steal our hearts.

Our first days on Hiva Oa left us feeling starstruck: we were bowled over with all the new sights, smells and tastes of this foreign land, especially made all the more luscious after nearly a month of sea and sky and salt. We fell in love with the people on Tahuata: so many smiles, so much generosity and kindness. And the singing!

Fatu Hiva, oh my, Fatu Hiva. She is the mystical queen lying in the southernmost corner of the islands. The breathtaking green pillars of her crown rise straight out of the sea. She can be a little difficult and doesn’t seem to welcome visitors; you have to anchor on a tiny ledge off one of her strikingly steep vales. But once you creep ashore and gaze upon her unbelievable beauty – towering peaks, deep dark green valleys, waterfalls, powerful rock sculptures – you know you are surrounded by magic. She is called the most beautiful island in the world. I believe that.

Hitching a ride is easy in the Marquesas, in fact the locals will practically demand you get in the back of their pickup when they see you walking with kids.

We pressed on to Ua Pou, sailing the 100 miles overnight directly from Fatu Hiva. In the little shallow harbor we dropped our bow anchor and then our stern, nice and snug for our planned two-day stop. Ua Pou taught us about island time: five days later our anchors were still happily buried in her mud. Each day there was spent doing just short of nothing, excepting just taking in the beauty around us (especially the outrigger paddlers that would practice around our boat every evening) and of course the lovely spires Ua Pou wears. We strolled to a magasin for ice-cream bars, splurged on a poisson cru lunch at the Snack Vehine, stumbled upon a traditional Marquesan dance show put on for the Aranui passengers. As the girls rolled around in delight in the quiet surf, we sat on the beach under the palms by the rowing club, chatting with Xavier, a most curious retired French ex-pat who now spends his days getting to know passing sailors. Despite the many excuses to keep spending easy days in this pleasant harbor we sailed on to Nuku Hiva.

After a week on this grand island, we’re coming to see that she is multi-personalitied and that alone is reason enough to love her. The town of Taiohae, where we are anchored now, is the metropolis of the Marquesas (though with fewer than 2,000 inhabitants still feels distinctly like a village). We are smack in the enormous crater of a volcano, so of course the bay is beautiful and greener than even the Northwest springtime. There are well-stocked stores here (about 1/8 the size of a typical Trader Joes), a hospital, a few exquisitely expensive restaurants (mainly serving pizza). Each time we walk along the waterfront boys gallop by on horses.

We counted 45 boats anchored along with us in the rolly bay; the fleet practically dwarfs the town. The sailors here – politely, but still – compete to connect to the few free wireless internet connections and grab heads of cabbage and bundles of carrots at the 0400 farmer’s market on Saturday mornings. But just when I think the village might do just fine without all us visitors we are stopped today by a man and his two small sons who insist Michael, myself, Holly, Leah and her friend Ruby get into the cab of his small Toyota pickup for a ride back to the village instead of hiking the 1.5 miles downhill in the rain with all the children, tired, wet, muddy from exploring an ancient sacred site up in the valley. They let us off at the quay and the two boys see us safely off in our dinghy.

Family tiki, Taiohae Bay, Nuku Hiva

Just when the busyness of Taiohae seems like too much, just head up and around to the opposite side of the island. Here you will find Anaho Bay which is opposite Taiohae in many ways: the anchorage is tucked inside a perfect notch of land, just the right amount to make the bay absolutely still. A few days ago we were anchored there, marveling at the fact that our boat was not rocking back and forth for the first time in over two months. But that’s nothing; just when we thought we’d seen the most beautiful harbors the Marquesas had to offer, here was one even more lovely. Once our anchor was set all we could see was land all around us, Anaho wrapped us like a hug. And what a view! Steep towering buttresses of rock, a perfect rim of brown sugar sand and palms trees, a handful of small tidy homes and beautiful gardens nestled amongst them. We would have loved to stay longer than the three nights we spent there but the cabbages at that 0400 Saturday market in Taiohae were calling….

We’re still getting to know Nuku Hiva. She might end up being our favorite of these island girls – she’s got a lot of uniqueness to love. Tomorrow we head around the corner to Taipivai (this is where Herman Melville’s Typee takes place) and then Daniel’s Bay (this is where the fourth season of Survivor takes place) and we’re anxious to experience our own stories at each one. After that, we’re going to leave these island lovelies astern and it won’t be easy, not at all.

Three kid boats, bathtub-warm water, beach sand like sugar - paradise, truly!

Tahuata and Fatu Hiva in Photos

If a photo is worth a thousand words here are 39,000 of them for you. We are currently in the metropolis of Taiohae on Nuku Hiva and enjoying the WIFI available here as well as precious fresh veggies (as long as you get up at 3:30 am for the early morning — late night? — market). Tomorrow we’re off to explore the more remote anchorages on this lovely island and will be back to HAM radio postings for a bit… stories from Ua Pou and Nuku Hiva coming soon I promise.

A Marquesan Memento

Even before we set off on this South Pacific sojourn, I knew that I wanted to get a tattoo to mark the journey. Somehow, it just seems right to celebrate the passage of a lifetime with a beautiful, permanent piece of artwork stamped into the skin like thousands of other sailors have done before me. Like millions of native South Pacific residents have done before to celebrate families, events, stories in their lives.

I thought, and thought and thought and thought about what tattoo I wanted to get to celebrate my own passage through Polynesia for months beforehand. It wasn’t until days before we were set to sail to Vaitahu on the island of Tahuata where we’d heard the best tattooist in the Marquesas lives that the image came to me one night as I was drifting off to sleep. I woke up the next morning and sketched it out on paper and tucked it away.

A few days later, along with the crew of Convivia, we were walking up the road to Fati’s tattoo shack in Vaitahu. It doesn’t have a sign and he no longer lives in the house next to it – you have to find someone in the village to phone him and he’ll drive down from his new house up on the hill to meet you. Everyone seems to know his number. Felix Fii — or Fati as he’s usually called – speaks only a handful of English but we suspect he understands a whole lot more than he lets on. But maybe not; like most people with the gift of an artist’s hand he looks at you and sees you, and there is no language barrier there.

Fati tattoos, I stare at the bugs on the ceiling

Tucker and Victoria sat with Fati in his shack first, each in turn discussing their tattoos. They both were not sure what they wanted when they each walked into the small, plain, paint-peeled building but by the time they walked out some time later Fati knew. As our four kids ran around in the yard chasing chickens and running through the banana trees I walked up the couple of steps, sat down in front of Fati and showed him my drawing. “No problem,” he said as he looked at me. “Very simple.” He pointed at the drawing, then his head then at me and smiled hugely. “Your spirit is here. Very unique. Beautiful tattoo!” Then in French he told me to come back in two days, on Monday at 7 am sharp.

Two days later I am laying on his tattoo table, watching flies and bees travel in and out of the open door to the shack. I listen to the modern Polynesian reggae music playing on the stereo with the accompanying buzz of the tattoo gun. I listen to the rain pound on the metal roof. I watch a mother hen and two chicks stroll past the door, tiptoeing in the mud. I study the breadfruit tree outside in the small yard.  For hours. And hours and hours as Fati fills in the design he’d drawn around my arm early that morning. It stings, it burns, it tickles, sometimes it hurts like he’s searing my arm with a hot iron. Fati is in the zone and works without stopping the entire day. Michael sits nearby, so patient. He’s chosen to get his tattoo later, if at all, and is happy watching me for now and handing me my water bottle to sip from.

Finally it is done: my story spiraling down permanently on my right arm. The spirit dolphin leads the way as they often do at the bow of our little ship. Michael’s tiki, our boat(s), our two daughters also in tiki form (the feeling one and the thinking one), the turtle representing not only our travels south but living a slow, meaningful life, the flower of Polynesia, and the sun setting over the western sea.

It’s not exactly the same as I had originally sketched out but I’ve come to love it even more. Fati knew.

Fati and Me. I'm beaming mostly because the pain is over. But I love my new tattoo too.

First days in the Marquesas

Our last few days at sea the girls would tell us how they couldn't wait to run free on a beach again. Wish granted.

We have been in a sort of dream state here on Hiva Oa for the past five days. Most of the time we still can’t believe we are really here and have to pinch ourselves to make sure we are truly awake. It’s so beautiful here, so exotic. It’s everything you think of when you picture “French Polynesia” and even more. All new sights, smells, tastes, sounds. All delightful. The best part is we are home, floating in an amazing whole new world.

Our check-in process in Atuona took 10 minutes total, thanks to our wonderful agent Sandra, the friendly Gendarmerie and the amazing efficiency of the French Polynesian government.

Celebrating our arrival with the local brew.

Leah is enjoying her thoroughly Marquesan breakfast: pamplemousse (the most heavenly grapefruit ever) and a fresh baguette.

It doesn't take much to arrange a playdate on an island in the middle of the ocean; all you need are a couple of coordinates. Here, the young crews of Wondertime and Convivia are delighted to be reunited after we last saw them in La Cruz - 3,000 miles ago.

This one is for you Stephie.

Neither of us speaks a lick of French, which makes it even more interesting in this French-speaking country. We are slowing learning though, and the fresh baguettes, French cheeses, French chocolates and the sing-songy way every says “bonjour!” makes our language struggles wholly worthwhile.

The best produce deal is right from the grower....meeting up with the Monday produce truck in Atuona.

What $50 will buy in the Marquesas. We will savor those cabbages!

Sweet.