Tahuata & Hiva Oa, Marquesas/Iles Marquises/Fenua Enata

 

Wednesday 7^th June, Hanamoenoa Bay, Tahuata, Marquesas.

Karl is on deck setting up the new hanging chair he got in the Galápagos to hang off the end of the boom so he can dangle out over the water and keep an eye out for Manta Rays. We've been promised loads of Manta Rays swimming about boats in this bay but so far all we've seen is one ray (not even convinced it was a Manta) swimming unspectacularly along the bottom while we were snorkeling. So given that that's the highest priority task for the day it must mean we're having a mini-holiday? Yes it does. Tomorrow's weather window has vanished so we're here 'til Sunday afternoon with nothing to do but enjoy the view, swim, snorkel, float on our Grenada inflatables, barbeque and wait for the Mantas to appear.

Karl declares his new chair a success

Thoroughly investigating all possible lounging positions aboard.

After a hard day's snorkeling it's time to deploy the inflatables and put our feet up.

Sláinte.

Tahuata (population about 700) is a little island just south of Hiva Oa (The Big Smoke). We stopped here briefly, in a bay further south, on our way up from Fatu Hiva to Hiva Oa the other week. Now we've come back to use it as a jumping off point for the overnight sail up to the island of Nuku Hiva (The Really Big Smoke). The Spanish (out of Peru) first came across these islands at the end of the 16^th century and Tahuata was the site of the first meeting between Europeans and Polynesians. Apparently 70 people were killed so I guess it didn't get off to a great start. Captain Cook also stopped here briefly on the Resolution on his second voyage but wasn't too impressed by the facilities ashore so quickly departed for the joys of Tahiti. There's a village in each of the two bays to the south of us but nothing in this bay except the palm trees, sailors and the occasional tourist dropped off by boat for a few hours respite from Hiva Oa. Oh, and lots of blond Danish sailors who seem to love lounging around naked in the midday sun, I don't know how they get away with it. We initially toyed with the idea of moving down to the next bay where there are rumours of SIM cards being available at the main village but, frankly, that just seems like alot of effort.

We found a manta! Amazing creatures, they just look like some alien being flying through the water.

Back at the end of May, after a week on the island of Fatu Hiva recovering from our trip across the Pacific and soaking up the delights of the island, we set off for a lovely gentle sail to Hiva Oa via Tahuata. The southern cliffs of Tahuata were very spectacular as we rounded them – tall and steep like at Fatu Hiva but just black, volcanic rock without any vegetation having taken hold. As we headed north in the lee of the island all hell broke loose – sudden 40kn bullets of wind, a nasty squall and wind coming from the absolute opposite direction from where it should (a westerly! The cheek.). The very peaceful and picturesque anchorage at Hapatoni village, with only two other boats, we took as The Universe apologising for maltreating us. 

The very striking southern end of Tahuata.

And a reward sunset in a peaceful anchorage.

The next day (Karl's birthday) we tempted fate by continuing to Hiva Oa the wrong way (against prevailing wind and current) across the Bordelais Channel where we found a Miracle Current in our favour. Yay! The Universe obviously still feeling bad about the previous day. Then we arrived into the harbour of the capital Atuona and things went downhill. Swirly winds and even swirlier currents meant that boats were swinging in completely unpredictable ways in a tight and crowded anchorage. "This is the worst anchorage in the world!" was heard frequently during our initial three attempts at finding a spot. It was confirmed later that evening when we were asked to move for a cruise ship arrival (it took two attempts that time 'round) and a couple of days after that again when we suddenly started swinging too close to a neighbour and had to re-anchor again. Worst anchorage in the world! Officially worse than Deshaies (Guadeloupe), the previous title-holder.

Officially the Worst Anchorage in the World.

Great entertainment over the bbq watching the ship get awfully close to some of the other boats.

Anchorage aside, Atuona (population about 1500) was lovely. It's set beneath a mountain that's like a small, green Everest and in a large, curved, volcano crater-shaped bay. It's a bit of a walk to town along a road where cars go at speeds up to 60km/hr (!!!) which was quite overwhelming after the past couple of months. It's also hard to manage to walk all the way to town without someone stopping to give you a lift. In town there's a supermarket with baguettes and Leffe! We've completely lost the ability to walk past a basket of baguettes without buying one even when we still have the remains of the previous two day's worth of baguettes at home. And the fresh tuna! Oh, don't get me started on the tuna, we still haven't found the limit of how much poisson cru two people can eat but we're trying hard. There are also three churches, a very impressive football pitch complete with covered stand, a very impressive traditional polynesian meeting place (which really reminded me of Maori places in New Zealand), a post office (which had run out of SIM cards), airconditioned ATMs (money + aircon = happy sailors) and a bar that doesn't open on weekends (we arrived the Saturday morning of a long weekend, great timing for a birthday boy).

Gráinne beneath the mini-Everest.

Endless tuna + limitless limes = infinite poisson cru.

The town of Atuona nestled between the mountains and the bay.

One of the churches.

Tikis at the entrance of the meeting place.

We (slightly nervously) checked in at the Gendarmerie and the very lovely Gendarme couldn't have cared less about our suspiciously long trip from the Galápagos "direct" to Hiva Oa. Then it was time for some tourism. We visited the cemetery where Paul Gauguin and Jacques Brel are buried. We went to the Gauguin museum. We went to the Espace Jacques Brel to see his old plane. We indulged in a long Sunday lunch at a restaurant overlooking the bay. We went to the bar on a weekday and used their WiFi. We hired a car and drove along some pretty spectacular roads, marvelling at this infrastructure on an island where 1500 out of the 2000 population live in the main town anyway. We visited an archeological site that made us ponder the relative ease historically of life where breadfruit, mangoes, paw paw, coconuts and pamplemousse grow wild, where there's plenty of fish in the sea and the climate is balmy compared to life in the higher latitudes where you had to plough, sow, harvest, preserve, kill furry things for warm clothes and maintain warm homes. I guess it left plenty of time to make decorative clothing, flower garlands and indulge in the arts. And war with the neighbours of course, lots of waring and warriors and (alleged) eating of enemies.

Paul Gauguin's final resting place.

The birthday boy gets a slightly late birthday lunch and a first Polynesian beer.

Karl's current look: a Panama hat, a Galway t-shirt,  Galapagos shark boardies and neon yellow runners. All set off just beautifully by the three brightly coloured cable ties holding his watch strap together.

Someone was very determined that this coast could be conquered by road (or they may just have been drunk).

The largest historic tiki in Polynesia (there are some very big modern ones). Now, obviously the Easter Island Moai are bigger but I guess they don't count as tiki. This claim may be like Australia's tendency to have the the biggest things "in the southern hemisphere outside of South Africa".

After the tourism it was time to get serious again. There is a boatyard at the harbour so were were able to get some tasks done - laundry, fuel refills and a spinnaker repair. I think we both now agree that the best place for the newly repaired spinnaker is safely in its bag below deck. It may never see the light of day again, poor thing.

The sailmaker did some Friday evening overtime to get the spinnaker ready before our departure.

Boatyard cats. In my next life I'm going to be a boatyard cat.

And when there seemed to be nothing else left to do we got tattoos. Everyone here is tattooed. Apparently the Marquesas maintained a particularly strong tradition compared to other polynesian islands during the period when missionaries were discouraging the practice. After a while admiring the very attractive Marquesan tattoo style on the very attractive Marquesans we were ready to take the plunge and each get our own little patutiki. The lovely Kaha Autuche created one for each of us using traditional symbols based around travel, navigation and the sea as souvenirs of our trip.

Kaha maintaining a very firm grip on my leg as he attacks my ankle.

Kaha focusing intently on Karl while Karl focuses intently on his book.

Then we bade farewell to Hiva Oa, braved the Bordelais Channel again (correct direction this time) and had a beautiful little sail back down here to Tahuata. And now we're just sucking the marrow while awaiting our weather window north.