This all looked straightforward and interesting, so we set off.  There was a big sign where the dirt track split off of the main road indicating that it was indeed the way to the petroglyphs.  So far so good.

Before too long, the road became muddier and muddier until Lauren was stopping every 50 feet or so to repair her flip-flop.  She put on her scuba booties, which we’d brought for walking in the creek and we began to move much quicker.  We continued plodding in through muddier and muddier conditions for about an hour.  We nearly turned around a couple of times, but after an hour of walking through a weedy and muddy road, you really want it to be worthwhile, so we kept going.  Finally, we came to the part of the road that crosses the river and with a clearing of coconut and banana trees on the other side.  This was exactly what the map had shown, which was pretty exciting.  There had been no signs since the one at the main road, and it was becoming clear that this was a very seldom used track into the interior, as the weeds were high in the middle of the road and the agricultural area didn’t seem to be actively worked anymore.  After the farm, our recollection of the map was fuzzy, and we initially followed a couple of dead ends.  Eventually, we started up the opposite side of the valley on a “path” that was overgrown with weeds and brush about 2-3ft high (just couldn’t get enough, I guess). 

Nice stroll down a country lane.

After following this for a while we came to what used to be a clearing but was now a thicket of weeds and brush, much of it 5-6ft tall.  At the edge of this area, however, was a tourist-type sign for the Petroglyphs of Tehuete, with a description in French and English!  We had a actually found it, but there was nothing to see except the sign.  We weren’t ready to give up so easily, and after looking around we eventually noticed that through the thicket and a stand of trees on the other side, a bit of a man-made wall could be seen.  Eventually we made our way over and did get to see some old ruins.  They were under a canopy of very large trees not too far from the base of a large steep cliff that rises from the valley floor almost vertically to the peak of a mountain above.  The ruins were a sort of terrace with made of about 3 levels.  The walls and “paved” area of the terrace were made of volcanic rocks of greatly varying sizes.  Some were less than a foot in diameter and some were large boulders 5 feet or more across.  They were fitted together to form the structure, but without any mortar or cement.  We didn’t find the two stone carvings that the sign indicated were present (my guess is they’re in a museum somewhere and nobody visits this site anymore), but we did find several large rocks that looked like they had been used as workbenches for many years.  They had smooth shapes ground into them that seemed to come from repeatedly rubbing or grinding something against them.

Lauren on the terrace ruins

 

Workbench rock.

It was less than a couple of hours from sunset, so we reversed our path, stopping at the stream to cool our muddy and itchy legs and have a drink of water.  When we arrived back at our anchorage, three more boats had come in.  There are now six of us here — 1 US, 1 Swedish, 1 Swiss, 1 French, 1 Brazilian, and one boat with a stalk of bananas instead of a flag and only a portion of the name and hailing port left on the stern. 

This morning we’re off to try to check in and then we’ll try out the “shower” for cruisers on the dock here.  It has unlimited water, but not hot and not exactly the Ritz.  Maybe more of a step sideways than a step up, but we’re looking forward to it (shower pic later today…).

Ca va tres bien (it is going very well) in Hiva Oa thus far. After sleeping for a good eight hours straight (a first since we left the Galapagos), we awoke on Saturday to the sounds of the waves breaking on the rocks surrounding the bay. If that didn’t suffice, I was quickly reminded of my whereabouts upon stepping out into the cockpit and setting my sights on the face of the majestic volcanic cliff that dwarfs our cozy anchorage. 

We spent Saturday morning checking three weeks worth of emails. Fortunately we were able to do so on the boat using a reasonably priced wireless connection. Dallas had other business to take care of online, so Wes, Tiffany, and I trekked the two miles into town around 2 p.m. We had learned that there was a surf competition going on at the beach and thought that would be a good opportunity to meet some locals. Indeed it was. There were many young Marquesans hanging out in small groups on the rocks along the beach or sitting on the beds of small pick-up trucks that most people here drive. One guy approached where we were sitting and began to look for the key that he had lost. We tried  to help him find it among the leaves, brush, and broken glass that was strewn around a large plateau of volcanic rock. Afterward Wes pointed out that the pile of rock was a marae, an altar on which traditional ceremonies such as human sacrifices were once conducted!

We returned to watching the young surfers and overheard a group of young men nearby who seemed to be having a good time. One of them offered to share his Pastise, and we accepted in order to break the ice. While I found the anise (black licorice) liqueur to be palatable, Wes and Tiff could not hide their grimaces, and the Marquesans were amused.

I tried to build up my confidence in speaking French by making some small talk. However, the most talkative of the group was clearly drunk, to which I attributed the fact that I couldn’t understand him whatsoever. However, Alec, who had invited us over, spoke slowly and clearly, and I found myself starting to form sentences. Alec informed us that he gives 3-hour tours of the archaeological ruins nearby via water taxi for 1,000 colonial francs (about 120 US dollars for 4 people). We began to consider it, but thought it would be preferable to find an English speaking guide. 

After the competition we went up to the grocery store to pick up some produce and cheese for dinner on the boat. There wasn’t too much produce to speak of–some apples, a couple of cucumbers, potatos, and onions, but we were told by the Swedish couple that they were given some pampelmouse (similar to grapefruit) upon walking by a local on his lawn. We are hoping for similar luck.

Speaking of luck, we saw Alec coming into the store as we were leaving, and he offered to give us a ride back to the boat. Once there, we invited him to come aboard and offered him a drink. He declined our wine but brought out a bottle of Cuervo tequila from his backpack. I teased him that he was a “fete marchant” (walking party). My French became more fluent after a bit of wine, and we began to bombard him with questions. We learned that Alex’s day job is tending to a large garden on the hillside. He agreed to give us a tour of the garden while we are here.

In terms of the political scene on the islands, Alec indicated that while most people in the Marquesas do not mind being under the colonial rule of France, Alec and a number of other young people want independence. Alec stated that France does nothing for them except for taxing their income, purchases, etc. and providing an unnecessary police force. He informed us that while the Marquesas officially flies the French flag, he flies a “drapeau d’independence” (flag of independence) that has two stripes of blue to represent the color of the sky and the sea with a stripe of white in the middle, on top of which are depicted the five island groups of French Polynesia (Marquesas, Society Islands, Tuamotus, Australs, and Gambier). Alec stated that France gets more in income from places like Tahiti than they provide but acknowledged that the reverse is true for the smaller island groups. We wished him “bonne chance” (good luck) in his endeavors for independence.

I offered Alec something to eat repeatedly during his visit, but he declined, so we just passed around a baguette and cheese to tide us over until we could have dinner. Around 10 p.m., Alec suggested that we return to town to eat at the restaurant by the beach. We thought it implausible that they would still be serving food, but Alec insisted that they were. Indeed, when we arrived, the restaurant was fairly full. The salad was the highlight–a whole plate full of fresh produce! The restaurant was adjacent to a dance club playing modern, international dance music. I thought the music and the atmosphere to be very alluring, but I didn’t feel like paying the 1,000 franc ($12) entry fee. Apparently the Marquesans are willing to pay to party!

We have been trying to decide whether or not to stay here or move on to Nuku Hiva for Bastille Day (Tuesday, July 14), France’s independence day. After talking to Alec, we’ve decided to stick around, as there will be traditional dancing, drum-playing, etc. If it is anything like today, it promises to be very memorable!

I had the good fortune yesterday of being on the last night watch that ended at dawn.  We had flown the spinnaker for the last day to make sure we would make it to Hiva Oa in time to check-in with the authorities (more on that later) and get into town for the evening, so we were only about 15-20 miles from the island when the sunlight started to seep over the horizon and I could make out a large, high island ahead on the last minute of my shift.  Land Ho!

What a landfall it was.  You can imagine that it was special for us due to the long time at sea, even though with GPS and modern charts there were no doubts for us about where we were or where land would be. The colors were amazing.  Hiva Oa is a massive, rugged, volcanic island that rises over 3000 feet from the sea.  The cape that we were approaching from the east-northeast had relatively little vegetation, and was connected to the mainland by a narrow but high ridge or isthmus.  The island behind it was majestic.  At first, we could see primarily the outline of Hiva Oa itself, dark on the horizon.  The sun coming up in the east gave the western sky a pink glow, while the sky above the island was filled with white, puffy cumulus clouds that started at the highest peak and spread over the island and high up into the sky.  Higher yet in the sky, a bright Gibbous moon hung over the island as we approached. Because we were from coming in from the east-northeast and were headed for the southwest corner of the island, we had a chance to see the north side of the island on our way in, including a large rock islet off of the northeast tip of the island called Motu Taboo.

As the sun rose higher in the eastern sky, the western sky turned a pale blue and the clouds above the island took on brilliant pastel shades of pink and orange, while the rugged, brown volcanic folds of the eastern cape of Hiva Oa started to come into view.  With the full onset of daybreak, we could see Hiva Oa ahead, with its smaller sister island Tahuata just to the south.  Farther to port was Mohotani and off to starboard was the small island of Fatu Huku.  As we sailed along the south coast of the island, towards the village of Atuona and about a mile and a half from the rocky shore, we could see a light rain shower envelope the cliffs and peaks of the island beside us as the moist tradewinds had their journey across the Pacific interrupted by Hiva Oa’s steep rise from the sea.  The rising air cooled and dropped a light shower over the increasingly verdant mountainsides.  We snapped some photos, but I don’t think there is any way they can capture the sight.

I’ve nearly finished Guns, Germs, and Steel, and learned about the settlement of virtually every Pacific island, as far apart as Easter Island and Hawaii, by Polynesians that ultimately began their journey many centuries before from what is today Taiwan. They were here in large numbers awaiting the Europeans that “discovered” the Pacific and its islands.  Theirs are the voyages and discoveries that are truly amazing.  It’s hard to imagine the feeling they would have had when sighting land or to think of how many must have died on their voyages of discovery spread over many centuries.

After anchoring in the breakwater-protected Taa Huku Bay, Lauren and I headed ashore.  While I was preparing, a dinghy with a French family stopped by to let me know that I shouldn’t bother myself too much.  They’d been here a week and hadn’t seen authorities.  As the husband put it, “Don’t be too busy, the gendarme, they are not so busy you know.”  We would learn later what he meant.  The walk into the village from the bay is about 2 miles, about half of it uphill, and takes about half an hour.  We arrived during the lunch-time break, which here can begin as early as 11:00 am and take till as late as 2:30 pm, so we found most places closed. (On a side note, the Marquesas are 9:30 hours slow on GMT instead of a full hour like most time zones, which is a bit odd, but is apparently done on many islands at the edge of a time zone as well as in Iran and India).  We decided to wait out the lunch break with a baguette and a couple of beers from a small food store where numerous locals seemed to be coming and going.  After returning the two bottles for our $1.25 deposit, we didn’t come out too badly.  The large baguette was $0.80 (by far the cheapest thing on the island) and the half-liter bottles of Hinano made in neighboring Tahiti (700 miles away) were less than $3.50 each.

While we were occupied with our lunch on the front porch of the store, a Swedish couple stopped by to chat with us.  Paul and his wife (with a long name I can’t pronounce) are about our age and are anchored in a ketch right behind us. Paul took a year and a half off of his job to buy a cheap monohull in Ventura, California, fix it up himself, and try to sail it to New Zealand.  The passage from the Channel Islands to Hiva Oa took them 31 days and included a couple of typical adventures — lightning storms in the ITCZ, a sheet wrapped around the prop, and lots of leaks. They’ve “missed” check-in 3 times and gave us the scoop.  The gendarmerie is closed at lunch, but we could pick up the paperwork in the afternoon.  Boats are checked in only from 7am to 11am, and only on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.  Before clearing in, we have to pay a bond of $1500 for each person on the boat to the bank, but the bank doesn’t do bonds from Friday afternoon to Monday at 8am we learned, only after a half-hour wait at the bank.  Evidently the bond (99% is returned when we leave) has two origins.  One is our long-haired American and European ancestors of the 60’s and 70’s, who crewed on sailboats coming to French Polynesia and liked it so much that some of them took up living on the beach, helping themselves to coconuts & local fruits, etc.  The other seems to be the socialized health-care system that will care for anyone here who is ill.  Hence, there is an alternative to the bond that is essentially the same price — a pre-paid, one-way ticket back to your country of citizenship. 

Among the interesting locals that visited the store while we were outside was a French military man who stopped and ran in while his wife waited in the truck. The priceless thing about him was the uniform. It was typical light camouflage cloth and boots, with a notable exception — shorts that were so short the made you think that the camouflage material had been stolen before the pants were finished.  They were significantly shorter than the basketball shorts of the 70’s.  We’re going to try to sneak a pic if we get a chance, but if we don’t, you’ll have to trust me that it’s not a trivial thing for today’s American to avoid staring and laughing at a French soldier running into a store in what are essentially loose-fitting Daisy Dukes plus 10% or so.

For a three week passage, our boat list isn’t too bad. The port navigation light went out again (we have power-efficient and durable LED lights, but we’ve had some challenges with salt water and old wiring), the spinnaker had a trim piece tear at the very top of the sail on our last day (probably due to chafe with the hoop at the end of the sock), and the sock itself is unstitched in a couple of places.  The starboard engine had been hard to start, although it seems like it may just be an electrical problem.  I need to go back up the stick while we’re in a reasonably calm anchorage and put the main halyard back up on the block.  We may not be able to reef it without chafing, but at least we can fly the full main without having to worry about chafe now that we have a wire rope with an eye spliced into the halyard.  There are a few other items that are small or not anything we’re going to try to fix immediately, but overall not too bad.  The other casualty is the bottom of the boat.  It’s pretty nasty and sooner or later I’ve got to jump in to clean it.  We already got one tip from cruisers on a very quiet bay that would otherwise make a good place to clean it, but apparently the water clouded up and coral died after Survivor was filmed there and the sharks are numerous.

The islands here are absolutely beautiful, but the Internet is very slow an expensive.  The Internet cafe is the post office, where you can bring your own computer for $10/hr.  Wes found Wi-Fi here on the boat for closer to $5/hr, but it’s pretty slow, so we won’t be able to do much in the way of uploading pictures until we get to Tahiti.  If you’d like to see what we’re seeing, you could try Googling “Hiva Oa” or even using Google’s image search instead of a general Internet search.