I often wondered why some of the largest ancient Marquesan villages were located (at times) in valleys without great harbors or easy access to the interior of the island. 

  

For example, Taaoa is located in a bay with a windy, surf ridden beach, a ten minute drive from Atuona, the current capital of Hiva Oa. In contrast, Atuona is next to the most sheltered bay on the island (where we hauled out our sailboat). 

 

 

Directly behind Taaoa, however, is a gigantic steep 3000ft mountain peak. This was an amazing power spot! I speculate that villages were built in powerful locations more for the “mana”, or life-force, than for economic reasons or transportation access. What do you think? Maybe someone with internet can verify this hypothesis. If you have a comment to share, write in the Reply section below. 

  

  

 

 

  

   

Our friend Mu has the heartiest laugh ever. He made Hiva Oa home for us. For our last night in the island he prepared a feast: “chevre à la broche”, which is wild goat on the BBQ marinated with secret sauces. Dinner was also served with the usual feast of poisson cru and other Marquesan dishes.

Hunting for wild goat and pig is part of Marquesan daily life. There is a bountiful supply of both on every island. Since Mu loves both fishing and hunting, he has a special technique for catching goats: he finds goats that are perched precipitously on a cliff over the ocean, shoots them with a rifle from his rolling dinghy, in such a way that they fall into the water. Then he scoops them up like fish.

This is a very tough shot and not many people can make it. But if you can, it sure is easier than trekking up the steep mountainous valley of Marquesas. Mu tells us this story and then laughs even more heartily.

Photo: Sabrina and Celine (a fellow cruiser) with Mu. Our crew was also at the goat roast, their first evening with us (Matt, Judy, and Adam’s family).

“Where is Aldebaran ?” you may be wondering. The Hiva Oa boatyard put a halt on our blog, followed by fundraising for the Marquesan school children’s marine reserves (which was a big success, thanks to everyone for chipping in!)

Now we will be sharing the remainder of our journey in the Marquesas archipelago.

On the last day of our boatyard onslaught, our new crew members arrived. To recap the introduction of our crew: Adam is an old friend who was sailing with me back in the days of the 29ft Tabula Raza sloop cutting our teeth in the Channel Islands. He brought his wife Kendra and son Asher to join us in Costa Rica last year, and now they were sailing with us for two weeks in French Polynesia. Along with them were another couple, Matt & Judy from San Diego, parents of our long time coop member Robby Seid. It was their first time aboard. It was a crowded boat, but we took everyone because as school teachers this was the only time they could visit us: summer vacation.

Our route: sailing from Hiva Oa south (12 nautical miles) to Tahuata for a few relaxing days snorkeling; then heading north overnight (65 nautical miles) to the island of Ua Pou, and then finishing with another day sail (25 nautical miles) to the island of Nuku Hiva.

Here’s a group shot, from right to left: Kendra, Asher, Adam, Judy, Matt, Sabrina, and Kristian

The largest tikis in all of French Polynesia live in the lonely valley of Puamau, in the far eastern corner of Hiva Oa island.

Mu drove us expertly on the dirt track like a rally racer. “It’s much more fun in a rented car!” he hollered, downshifting around a sharp hairpin corner that led into yet another fantasy bay. The Toyota Hilux moaned happily as it accelerated into the next steep climb.

 

 
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6am, Hanaiapa Bay. In the monotone grey of dawn I saw something moving in the water. 

It was far away… could they be little black wingtips gently breaking the surface? 

  

“Sabrina, there might be Mantas out here!” I hushed.

She jumped out of bed and climbed the aft cabin ladder to peak out the hatch. “Oh God I stood up too fast. Woooo,” said Sabrina, dizzy and excited. I scampered on deck to drop two SUPs in the water, which we keep handy when at anchor. We reached into the dive locker and strapped our masks around our necks. Moments later we were paddling, searching the bay for the black wingtips. 

  

After a few minutes we came across the Mantas. The  underwater visibility was very poor. Yet, standing up on the SUPs offered a great vantage point to see the beautiful white markings that flow along their black bodies. Each Manta has a unique identifying pattern, which seem to flow out of their flared mouths like the designs on aerodynamic jet planes. 

  

Laying down on the board made it difficult to see. The higher up we were, the better we could look down upon them. This gave us an idea: “Let’s fly the Honey Bee!” 

 

 

Back on Aldebaran, Pierre and Chris rallied and took over our SUPs. “Which direction to the Mantas?” Pierre asked, scanning the horizon. “About 100 yards towards the big rock,” I said. 

As they paddled away, Sabrina and I launched the Honey Bee from the foredeck. The drone zoomed over our mast as the sun crested over the valley. 

The glare of the sun now made it difficult to see the underwater creatures. The fellas were paddling around, searching. We flew Honey Bee high up in the air and turned the camera to point straight down. Immediately the distinctive shape of the Mantas clearly popped up on our screen. “Right there!” Sabrina said. 

  

Chris and Pierre followed the Honey Bee, which we parked high above the Mantas. Given the poor visibility of the water, we were amazed at how well we could see; even fish swimming along the surface showed up clearly. 

Flying forwards while filming downwards is very confusing, but we got lucky with a few moments when everything lined up: the fellas paddling with the Mantas swimming past. 

I’m glad we woke up early and saw them; encounters with marine life are so uplifting! We feel fortunate to see these graceful beings from up close, and share the experience with you (using the cool aerial perspective, thanks to the Honey Bee, and all our Patrons who helped us purchase it!)

See our Patron site and get cool Green Coco goodies as thanks for your support: 

http://www.Patreon.com/GreenCoconutRun

Uploaded with wifi in Hiva Oa

I was under the impression that Polynesians are supposed to be, well… relaxed about work. Even lazy. “The tropical sun and family culture makes them unproductive,” is the assumption. 

In Central America, the joke is that locals will get things done “mañana”… I’ll do that tomorrow!  Here in Polynesia there’s a similar expression: “Fui”. As in, “I’ve worked enough for the day… fui!” It’s like a sigh of tired relief, converted into a word.  

  In Central America, the joke is that locals will get things done “mañana”… I’ll do that tomorrow!  Here in Polynesia there’s a similar expression: “Fui”. As in, “I’ve worked enough for the day… fui!” It’s like a sigh of tired relief, converted into a word.  

Just like “mañana”, however, the idea of “fui” has become a frustrated joke that foreigners like to tell. Yet I’ve seen Polynesians work as hard as anyone else. How to reconcile this misunderstanding?

Case in point: we hiked almost 2.5 hours to the lovely cove of Hanatekua, which has no road access, and found three Marquesans there working copra. As usual, they weren’t dilly-dallying.

Even as we talked, they were opening dry coconuts, removing meat, and taking a moment to go fetch us a few huge green coconuts to drink. This isn’t unusual, and frankly I’m always impressed by their keen productivity. If I were shelling coconuts every single day for a year, the hammock would surely be my constant companion, and I’d find every reason possible to procrastinate.

  

Our sailor legs were incredibly tired from the walk, and we meandered in dazed exhaustion between the wooden hut, the ocean, and the river that flows through the valley. The cove of Hanatekua, like the rest of the island of Hiva Oa, has brownish water, and the beach has occasional swarms of no-nos. It is not a beach destination. Yet the land here is gorgeous. A pleasant river winds its way through wild orchards of fruit trees where the copra guys have temporary homes (they work here all week long, and return home for the weekend) to the coconut trees by the seashore. 

The hike itself was spectacular, criss-crossing ravines that revealed views from rocky outcrops one moment, to druid-like nooks of old trees the next moment. Goats scampered on the hillside and the easterly breeze kept us fresh in the shade. 

One of the older copra workers returned by horse along the trail to Hanaipa. He nodded to a younger guy who was slamming down repetitively on coconuts with a huge axe, chopping them in half, sending fermented coconut water flying into the air. The axe-wielder showed no signs that he would be stopping anytime soon, evident from the giant mound of coconuts he was tackling. 

Instead of sitting idle the other young guy was cleaning the vegetation around their garden. It’s worth noting that the gardens in people’s homes are impressively manicured, especially when one considers how fast things grow in the tropics, and how much fruit is falling on the ground. 

Talk about hard working! There is no doubt the people we’ve met so far – in eastern Polynesia at least – have a solid work ethic. 

 

 

Yet if you ask them to work on the weekend, or after hours, forget it. They are going pig hunting, or relaxing with their family. Personal time is sacred, keeping a smile and good attitude is paramount. So when it comes to getting things done, their priority is not punctuality. People are relaxed about the concept of time. Like the passengers on Air Tahiti flights that get turned around by bad weather, it’s how it goes. 

That relaxed approach is at the heart of “fui” and  “mañana”. People are stress-free, and aren’t about to be rushed by anyone’s demands. This takes some getting adjusted to, and can be very frustrating when you’re on a time crunch. But it’s something we can all learn from, if we want to be as happy and stress-free as many Polynesians are.

There is a scene in the movie “Big Fish” where the hero traverses a spider-infested path to arrive at an idyllic town where everyone is happy. 

In our case, we battled the no-nos in Hanamenu then struggled upwind for three hours. We wondered if this would be worth it. 

 

Then the rough waters eased into a broad bay. A magnificent waterfall streamed down onto the rocky shoreline. Blowholes spat powerful jets into the air, and a dry breeze rolled down the valley. The wingtips of a Manta Ray cruised close by. 

We had arrived in Hanaiapa – and it was as idyllic as that make believe town in “Big Fish”. 

The anchorage was sunny and peaceful, which we shared with three sailboats. We landed on the small concrete wharf, using a stern anchor to keep the dinghy off the rocks. 

  

Picturesque narrow roads were lined with flowers and remarkable landscaping. Fruit trees everywhere were heavy with ripe breadfruit, bananas, pomplemouse, limes and starfruit.

The locals from Hanaipa were frolicking on picnic tables and kids were swimming in the river mouth. We soon discovered it was Sunday afternoon, and a volleyball game and pig roast was underway in the main park. 

 

 The typical Marquesan barbecue is very casual and tasty. There is always wild pig or goat which an intrepid hunter caught the night before; plus an array of fish; all cooked on a huge grill which people slowly serve themselves from. A big bowl contains sauce to garnish the meats; there are no plates or silverware, usually only over-sized tree leaves which are used to hold the food. The atmosphere is ultra relaxed. 

  
  To the locals’ delight we unveiled a bottle of whisky. Soon they all wanted pictures with us. 

We stayed several days in Hanaipa to go hiking, explore archeological sites, and relax in the great atmosphere of this town. 

 

The devilish mini-mosquitos that you can’t hear, feel, or barely see: these are the infamous No-Nos (also know as no-see-ums). They plague some of the beaches in the Marquesas.

Only the following day, you’ll feel hundreds of bites on your back. It feels like a book written in Braille, and itches like heck. Such was our fate after visiting Hanamenu in the evening, a picturesque cove with a river and fresh water spring.

The spring was directed into a pool of cold water, which was positively delightful. We met the caretaker of the property, Leon, who was walking out with a shotgun.

“I’m going hunting for pig,” Leon told us, and promptly excused himself. The pigs were coming down from the hills where they sleep by day, and he had to be ready in his tree stakeout.

  
We retreated back to the boat and woke up the next day with hundreds of tiny itchy bumps on our back. We decided it was time to move on…

“One of the best anchorages in Marquesas” say some cruisers about Hanamoenoa Bay, a series of largely uninhabited coves just north of the village of Vaitahu. Only one or two houses are found in this bay, which are used primarily as a temporary base for copra harvesting.

White sandy beaches are uncommon in Marquesas, which is one of the appealing qualities of this area… along with the lack of nearby rivers, which makes the water more clear than other places around this sediment-rich archipelago.

We snorkeled along the rock walls, hung out at the beach, relaxing for a moment from the tough cruising life.

Photo shows the crew aboard Aldebaran for this leg of the voyage around Hiva Oa and Tahuata islands, in southern Marquesas: Chris, Pierre and Lianna, Sabrina and Kristian.

The anchorage may be chaotic, but the scenery is awesome! Clouds constantly pile up against the tall mountain peak that overlooks Atuona. After a heavy rain, five waterfalls plunge down its vertical sides. We spent the weekend cleaning the boat, inspecting the food stocks, drying the bilges. During our 7 passage from Gambier, one of the benches got wet due to a leaky hatch gasket (which we are now trying to fix, again) so several cans of food were damaged. A disheartening job! Every so often we’d stop and stare at the mountain’s atmospheric display.

Talk about a cluster of boats! Check out the aerial view of the Atuona “harbor”, in Hiva Oa, the largest island in the southern Marquesas. Note the boatyard on the top left of the picture.

Most of the sailboats crowd inside the breakwater, while a few sturdy souls choose to anchor outside for more space (and a lot more swell).

Half of the boats, nearest the bottom of the screen, have bow & stern anchors, which basically fixes them in place. The other half (like Aldebaran, near the breakwater) are “spinning” on one hook.

The wind swirls all day and boats can get uncomfortably close to each other. Anchors are dropped on top of other boat anchors, which suddenly “fouls” them. We had to ‘push’ a monohull out of the way with our dinghy, just to pull up our anchor and leave!

We began to affectionately call it the ‘Toilet Bowl’ anchorage, for its swirly, and occasionally smelly nature. The stagnant muddy river water mixing with the ocean water adds to the visual effect.

The discomfort extends to other senses. At 7am every day the construction begins on the wharf with jackhammers. The diesel smell from all the trucks and boats gets stuck in the narrow cove.

Luckily, once every two weeks, the large cargo/passenger ship Aranui pays a visit and the upper half of boats must clear out– this purges the toilet bowl!

The mass exodus of sailboats go to the nearby island of Tahuata, which has the closest smooth anchorage, or they carry on with their voyages.

Despite these problems, Atuona is one of the primary landing destinations for all the boats crossing the Pacific. The northern islands of Marquesas are downwind, so it is easier for sailors to come here first.

Unfortunately for the new arrivals, the gendarme (police/port captain) are fairly stressed with all their busy work. This just compounds to the lack of appeal of this harbor.

For our trip across the Pacific, we chose to avoid landing in the Marquesas. Instead, we took the route across the Pacific via the south, to Pitcairn and Gambier. Those islands get more stormy weather, but boy are we glad we landed there first!

Hiva Oa is stunningly beautiful; but it is not the most relaxing place to land after a long ocean passage.

Now we appreciate even more, after three weeks at sea, how wonderful it was to arrive to the warm welcome in Bounty Bay; and check into French Polynesia via the quiet, hibiscus-lined gendarme in Rikitea.

All those criticisms aside, Atuona is still the Marquesas. And that means two things: remarkably friendly people, and extraordinary landscapes. We would grow to enjoy this place for these two redeeming qualities!

After loading the boat with piles of fruit, we set sail at 8:30pm from Fatu Hiva. With the ESE trade wind, it is a nice broad reach to Hiva Oa, the hub of the southern islands in Marquesas.

We sailed all night with just the 110 genoa, purposefully going slow at 3-4.5 knots, to take it gentle on the damage to our port wing fiberglass. The moonlight and bright stars made a perfect night of sailing, with dark clouds in the distance.

We arrived at first light with the sun shining over the impressive mountains of Hiva Oa. Is anywhere in the Marquesas not impressive??

Our plan: visit the boatyard in the town of Atuona (which has the only haul out facility in Marquesas) to determine if they can help us repair our boat.