Tearing Ourselves Away From Hiva Oa

Only afterward did I realize that we'd had the rare opportunity as sailors to gauge our sort-of recovery time, that is, the period of time after being at sea before one can genuinely say he is ready to sail once more. We let a week float by without much afterthought, though it had to be at least in part because we had found so much activity and energy in and around Atuona. As quickly as we began to make friends with the local youth, we started to get to know our fellow cruisers. Having all completed long passages on small boats, there is often an immediate camaraderie among cruisers, as there usually is among groups of people with any sort of connection. Soon there were three or four other boats with whom we felt we readily mixed. We began to spend the Hiva Oa evenings on someone's boat drinking wine and sharing stories.

It was one of these crepuscular cockpit cocktail hours during which I first experienced real language confusion. We sat in the garish aft outdoor settee of a fifty-or-so foot catamaran with a crew of hysterical latinos. The boat was on delivery from Panama City to Raratonga in the Cook Islands and Juan, the Venezuelan captain, had along with him two Panamenos, Eric and Orlando. The latter didn't hang out much, but Juan and Eric were exuberant, jolly and hilarious. There was also the crew of s/v La Luz, Doug and Suleka, an American and a Panamena who had arrived from the Galapagos on their 26 foot sloop just after us. The conversations with this crowd could get downright rambunctious. There we had sailors thrown together after long, lonesome passages with food and drink, just enough gregarious and loquacious personalities present to create a tornado of languages and conversations. After working constantly on speaking French, I would find myself mixing languages terribly and unintentionally as I sat translating to Spanish for Eric a joke and the subsequent banter originating elsewhere in English. This amid an unstoppable train of joking and discussion. These were incredibly entertaining times and, though it was surprising how much I could confuse myself in mixing my limited Spanish and French vocabularies, I enjoyed the resulting potpourri. I am not one who resents the active co-mingling of languages; in fact, I think it a delightful metaphor and embellish accordingly.

When the sun rose on those splendid nights we managed to fill our days well. We met still more locals who fit us out with copious fruit: papaya, breadfruit and pomplemousse one day followed by a huge stock of bananas the next. Two of our local friends came down to the beach at the anchorage one evening to show us the proper way to scorch a breadfruit and to enjoy some of the fine piahana- local liquor brewed from fruit, coconut being the favorite on Ardea. These guys, Mauiki and Teiki, were endlessly generous; we regretted not having brought the prime trading artifacts- guns and ammunition for hunting goats and pigs. One could easily make an order of magnitude markup on 12 gauge pump-action shotguns or .22 caliber rifles. The ammunition is highly valued, too; we heard of one cruiser trading ten .22 rounds, which would run you less than a dollar at a Walmart in any state other than California, for a whole pig ready for the spit. Despite our lacking, these guys and many others treated us with genuine kindness and generosity; this has been an ongoing experience in the Marquesas, which, we've noticed, seem to fit the rare bill of improving with each deeper excursion.

One morning, friends on s/v Black Dog and s/v Off Tempo invited us to share in a day's car rental to visit ruins on the other side of the island. Dana and I took them up on the offer and enjoyed amazing views traveling over the bumpy dirt road to the north side of Hiva Oa. We explored the me'ae at I'Ipona, which consists of the variably intact remains of ceremonial structures and associated tikis. We ate a picnic lunch at the beach. Our friends insisted on sharing their bread, cheese and chocolate after watching Dana and I consume numerous bananas and some pomplemousse, which had also been our breakfast, for the second meal of the day. Later we headed to Ta'a Oa, a town a few miles west of Atuona, which contained another site of archeological significance. The latter site was more interesting, in my opinion. It was set among amazing, huge breadfruit trees extending up a valley. There were also numerous other trees as well as hibiscus and tiare shrubs. The ruins themselves were more tangible, too. Our favorite spot was the raised stone platform with a recessed vertical dropout in the middle into which a bound human offering was allegedly let before being bludgeoned in the skull repeatedly, this being made easier with the shoulders flush with the floor of the platform. It seemed to make sense, though we haven't corroborated this story and it was told by Doug, who was also touring about and who's interest seems to be drawn toward the darker cultural revelations. In any case, we were excited to get to see some of the island. We also noticed a good break at Ta'a Oa and resolved to find some surf with Doug in the coming days.

The ol' fertility tiki.

We had originally planned to spend just a few days on Hiva Oa, but one simply gave way to another and we still felt no compulsion to leave. The next day, we hiked to the top of Mt. Temetiu, the tallest peak on the island. It was a grueling, precarious, magnificent hike. The peak was cloudy but it was incredible to be above the cloud line. It was a fantasy world. The vegetation was different- green, red and yellow ferns created a lake of plants out of which sprung tree-ferns, surely an inspiration to Dr. Seuss, and ti, with long lanceolate leaves branching left and right in a single plane along a waist-high stalk. The path wound through incredible, sheer rock formations with fascinating bits of lichen and moss decorating any crevice or ledge that held water. It took the better part of the day, but it was well-worth the trip.

We had a couple more days in us yet; we partied with the locals as the whole island joined for a two day talent show/cookout/dance in Atuona. At the wharf, we cleaned our laundry and, more importantly, all of the cushion covers for the cabin; Ardea looks, feels and smells much better down below. We even got some surfing in with Doug. The break at the beach in Atuona is finicky and irregular, but the water is so warm and the views so breathtaking, that it's easy to wait patiently for waves. In the end, we got some good rides and had a blast.

On our last night in Hiva Oa, we hung out with the guys from s/v Saltbreaker. They left from San Francisco and, shockingly, are around our age. We went over to their boat and enjoyed some of the five gallons of rum they brought across the ocean in a jerry can. Aside from the obvious fault of their also being a boat of three males, we had a riotous time; it's quite easy for the sailor to fall into hours of energetic story-telling. It was tough, but the next day, our tenth since making landfall, we had to force ourselves to leave Hiva Oa for Tahuata. We were sad to leave La Luz and Saltbreaker, though there's no doubt we'll catch up again; even so, we had only a 5 mile passage ahead of us and were meeting other friends in one of the most fantastic anchorages around, Baie Hanamoenoa. In an hour and a half we were at the new place. There were about a dozen other boats, but we gracefully snaked our way into a sweet spot, closer to the beach than even the catamarans (Ardea draws only 3'9”; this is proving to be very advantageous). It feels like ages since we were on passage. We've settled in and joined an excellent community. With each day comes adventure and our only real problem seems to be dragging ourselves from one to the next.

I'll add photos to this post soon- the connection is too slow for now!