Movie Time: Spinner Dolphins in Tahuata, Marquesas, French Polynesia

A long time ago, I promised to post some (wildlife) videos on my blog whenever we had good enough internet. That time has come and I hope to keep that promise now, starting with this movie of some happy dolphins in Tahuata. This acrobatic pod cheered us up every morning and we cheered them on from the dinghy or Irie's deck!

Trip Marquesas - Tuamotus: Pictures

Pod of dolphins showing us the way to the Tuamotus

Bye, bye Ua Pou and Marquesas

A winged hitchhiker

And in the morning, the boobie is still there!

One of many squalls

Not such a great way to start the night shift: surrounded by squalls

Pretty bad rainstorm

Day 4: becalmed!

With less than 5 knots of wind, we have to fly the spinnaker at night to keep moving (at 2-3 knots)

Passing our first atoll ever

Last sunrise before arriving at Apataki

 

Marquesas - Tuamotus: Day 4 - No Wind

:lat=-14.957350:lon=-145.346767:
Time: 1740UTC, COG 230T, SOG 3.0kts, Distance Remaining: 89nm

When we left Ua Pou on Sunday, we knew the wind would become lighter towards the end of the trip. That's why we needed to make some decent progress the first couple of days, and why we were disappointed we didn't. But, it can always get worse... the wind could die. Totally. Not something we expected.

After a pretty crappy night, we took the mainsail down and put the spinnaker up at first light (5:30am). The wind was light, but - by then - we were happy to do 3 knots. Most of the squalls went around us, until the one at noon. It was a big and nasty one, messing with the wind direction, creating
contrary winds, and dumping a lot of rain. Down came the spinnaker and on the engines. The massive cloud refused to move and we became trapped in it, until we decided to slow the boat down, so it could get ahead and leave us alone. That done, the bright sun came back.

The sky turned blue - not another cloud to be seen - and the ocean had an ever deeper hue of blue. It was hot. And... there was no wind. The squalls had taken it all with them. The prediction was still for 10 knots of wind, but instead there was zero. Nothing. Not a hint of breeze. The spinnaker hung limp on the foredeck and had to be taken down. Irie was floating on the calm water and it was quiet. No rushing of the waves, no spinning of the wind generator, no creaking of the lines, no whooshing of the sails. We were done!

Since the forecast called for ever lighter winds, this was not a good sign. We still had 130 miles to go and had come to terms with not getting there in four days. What we couldn't come to terms with was not getting there at all! We drifted for a few hours. Then, we turned the engines on. It was loud, super-hot and smelly. A sense of despair came over us. Motoring for 25 hours would empty the fuel tank, wear the engines down tremendously - and us even more - and would get us to the Apataki lagoon about 17 hours too soon. Off went the engines, and peace returned.

The slightest wisp of air was felt. A smile returned to our faces. The spinnaker showed her colors and - at 3 knots - we moved forward again. How happy one can be with such a small commodity as 5 knots of wind! And that is what it has been blowing ("fluttering" might be a more appropriate word
here) since last night: 2 - 5 knots. Irie is sailing towards Apataki at barely 2 knots an hour. We still have about 100 miles to go and need to do an average of 3 knots to make it there by tomorrow morning!

Marquesas - Tuamotus: Day 2 - All about Wind

:lat=-12.562500:lon=-143.258133:
Time: 1735UTC, COG 220T, SOG 6.0kts, Distance Remaining: 276nm

We had to ask our fellow traveler to leave. He spent the night on one of our solar panels and was still cleaning his feathers there, when the sun rose higher and higher. Any shadow on the panel - even the one of a bird - restricts its input greatly and we need all the electricity we can get. The wind generator is hardly doing anything in this kind of breeze. Yes, we should have charged those boat batteries before we left...

Today, the wind was lighter than predicted, but its angle being 30° off - in the "wrong direction" (more behind us) - had bigger consequences for our speed. We did manage to keep both sails up, but moved slowly towards our destination. We have always said "It's better to have a comfortable trip that takes a bit longer, than a fast and bumpy one!" On this journey, however, if we don't make it in four days and six hours, we will have to "stay out" another 16 hours. I will explain why in another blog. It might be time to fly that spinnaker when the sun comes up!

When you sail, it is all about the wind. Forget the rain in squalls. Sure, it is wet and inconvenient, but it is the wind in them that messes things up. The same goes for waves and swell. The sea would be dead calm if it isn't for the wind. The harder it blows, the more uncomfortable the ocean becomes and the choppier the anchorages get. The wind decides how fast you sail and where you can go. And, how comfortable the ride is.

I realize the weather is not always perfect in the Caribbean, but at least the predictions are pretty accurate and the wind consistent. Often, we arrived at our destination quicker than planned and the trips were straightforward. That might have had something to do with the fact that we never had the wind behind us going up and down the island chain, but, nevertheless, unobstructed by land, the wind was reliable. Downwind sailing is easier, but slower, and we have been looking forward to it on this ocean.

The wind can be your friend, your enemy or your acquaintance. When we plan our trips, it is based on the wind promising to be our best friend, if not a good friend. That's why we leave when we leave! Once at sea, reality kicks in and the wind becomes more of an acquaintance. It pushes us along and is
friendly enough to help us out, but it doesn't go out of its way or really cares about us getting there fast or direct. At some intervals it becomes our enemy, working against us with annoying shifts, becoming fluky or dropping out altogether. Or by going crazy, blowing hard and kicking up the seas. Luckily that doesn't happen too often and - knock on wood - real storms have stayed away.

As for tonight, the wind seems to have freshened a bit. It appears to do so after the sun is down and we hope to make up some speed during these twelve hours. After a few squalls, I am settling into my nightly routine. In the Caribbean, a squall meant shortening sail and picking up speed. Here in the Pacific, a squall causes wind shifts and then sucks up everything, leaving the boat bobbing aimlessly, sails flogging, boom banging, until the previous conditions resume. Usually.

All our fruit has turned yellow. Maybe I should have specified our preference of unripe fruit when asking for it? No scurvy for us, and if someone would like to share our 70 ripe bananas, 4 full-size papayas, 8 sweet and juicy grapefruits or 10 massive mangoes, you know where to find them: about halfway between Ua Pou and Apataki!

A Time of Gifts and Goodbyes

(By email)

Knowing that a weather window to sail to the Tuamotus was available, Mark and I moved on from Ua Pou’s capital Hakahau to another anchorage along the island’s west coast. We would stage from there for the four day trip to the atoll of Apataki, 530 miles SW of Ua Pou.  Irie tucked her nose into the bay of Hakahetau, from where the famous “cathedral” peaks offer a spectacular sight during cloudless days, but, we decided to skip the town and sail onwards. The anchorage of Vaieho looked very peaceful and comfortable. Nobody lives on the shores of this tranquil bay, but the presence of five other sailboats (a lot of the cruising families came from Taiohae, Nuku Hiva to Ua Pou this week, because their kids had off from school) encouraged us further south.

Hakahetau Bay

Our destination was the remote village of Hakamaii, beckoning from a tiny valley. We dropped anchor in the clearest water we have seen in the Marquesas (I saw the bottom in 33 feet of water) and were satisfied with the picturesque surroundings of this small bay. Only then, did we read in a few cruising guides about Ua Pou’s anchorages. We learned that most boats prefer Vaieho and that barely anyone stops here, because it is usually too rolly. Mark and I were in luck, however, since the weather has been very benign with little wind and hardly any swell. Taking the dinghy to shore was another adventure… There is no breakwater, no beach and no dock. We took the engine off – required for the passage to the Tuamotus anyway – and rowed ashore. There, some nice person usually greeted us and helped us pull our little boat out of the foamy water and onto the rocks. An action that was one time wetter than another…

The village of Hakamaii

Other than the peaceful and pretty location, the draw of this village is the friendliness of the people. Yesterday, we were invited into one house for some coffee and a whole bunch of food was put on the table. We had just eaten breakfast, however. The friendly lady of the house gave us a baguette she had picked up in another village earlier and wasn’t happy until we left with a bag full of ripe mangoes. At another place, we traded a water toy we had no use for on Irie, for a wheelbarrow and bags full of fruit: two stacks of bananas, pamplemousses, limes, and papayas. We hope it doesn’t all ripen at once, because we would like to provide some of the islanders in the Tuamotus with these goodies, which are unavailable there. While I write this, the local kids are laughing and playing in the water with the toy. On the way back to the dinghy, another family offered us the use of their internet so we could check the weather and emails for a last time.

The necessary vitamins for the sail trip and upon arrival in the Tuamotus

Today, during a little walk on shore to take pictures (I forgot my camera yesterday), we were offered some breadfruit and more mangoes. When we learned that Eric, this friendly Marquesan offering the fruit, was a stone sculpture, we followed him to his main house to see his art. He uses the local “flower stones” (which can be found on one certain beach in Ua Pou) to create animals and objects of different sizes. The big ones were amazingly made and unaffordable. Out of nowhere, he decided to give us a small turtle as a gift, and later – when we temporarily split up – he handed me a small pestle made of the same kind of stone as well. To top it up, he wanted us to come back and pick up some freshly caught goat and peppers as well, after our walk. Such hospitality and generosity is very humbling and rare in our western world! We invited him over to Irie to repay our respects and offer him a few gifts, before we finished up preparing the boat for another big journey tomorrow. There couldn’t have been a better place to end our stay in the Marquesas and say goodbye to its unique inhabitants and scenery.

View of Ua Pou along the north shore

Obelisk in the water at Vaieho Bay. From afar it looks like a tiki!

Our first sunset in a long time! The joy of being anchored on the west side of an island.

Yes, the pamplemousses (grapefruit) are big here!

Cleaning Irie’s bottom once more. Every week!

Fishermen from Hakamaii in an outrigger canoe

The river in Hakamaii, dividing the village in two

Temple in Hakamaii

Irie in Hakamaii Bay

Ready to launch the dinghy again?

Hakahau in Ua Pou

The road and the trail to the cross on the hill slowly sloped up. It was an easy, albeit sweaty, hike to the top; a perfect one to try out our new sandals. A massive blister aside, it felt great to do something interesting and active again. The view of the bay, the village and the surrounding hills was nice, but the famous “spires” of Ua Pou, the peaks of some mountains, stayed hidden in the clouds. After being in Hakahau for six days, they barely "peaked" out once.

A Marquesan village is not complete without a breezy church and its skilfully engraved woodwork. The cemetery in the back was cute as well. Mark and I walked a bit more throughout the town, but didn’t find any other sights. Having come to a stopping point workwise and after a very frustrating day of toilet repairs, it is time to move on. Practicing my new hobby, which is called “resting”, the perfect thing to do when the boat wobbles up and down and when the heat and humidity is getting a bit too much, will therefore be put on hold until further notice as well. Let’s go sailing and exploring!

Anaho Bay in Ua Pou

The bay and anchorage of Hakahau

Hidden peaks of Ua Pou, seen from the cross

Church of Hakahau

Interior of the church, where openings under the roof provide fresh air

Hakahau cemetery

Irie, about the be alone in the bay

Tiki spigot with potable water, near the primary school in the village

Proud to introduce: our new - bright white - toilet pump!

The spires, almost totally visible on day six in the bay

Bye Bye Taiohae and Nuku Hiva

At last, we managed to pull ourselves loose – quite literally since the anchor was buried well after the last 1.5 months – from Taiohae, Nuku Hiva’s capital. It’s not that we didn’t want to leave earlier (believe me, we did!), it’s that we still needed to do things to allow our departure. Like scraping and cleaning Irie’s bottom for three days and getting nauseous while doing so. What a dirty mess that was; the green beards flowing and sticking with the boat bouncing up and down, the barnacles being stubborn to let go of their hold. We also had to buy some more vegetables, probably the last ones for a while, and continue some online duties.

When we were ready to leave, it rained. All day and night. Just like the weeks prior. The following day, Nuku Hiva entrapped in clouds, a sight we were used to; the sky looked bluer off shore. The wind predictions were on the high side, but we would put two reefs in and let the east winds push us to our destination. The reduced sails did their job, but the wind came from the southeast instead, so there we had to go again… upwind! It was a wet and quite boisterous ride, Irie flying and jumping along at 6-7 knots. We reached Ua Pou, 27 miles south of Nuku Hiva, fast and in time for lunch, and hoped for some rain to clean the decks. This is our sixth and last Marquesan island before we continue on.

As seems to be customary in this archipelago, Hakahau is another choppy harbor with inconvenient shore access. Once again, we are living on a hobby horse, attached to two anchors to limit swinging room (with the gusty winds we are always worried to hit our neighbors) and to be faced into the swell. We are bouncing up and down, being pushed back and forth between the two rodes. Once again, it takes us a while to try some different configurations to leave the dinghy safely for our excursions onshore. The people are friendly, the church yard has pamplemousse and breadfruit, the locals practice rowing in their outriggers every day and we have discovered the biggest, most modern store of all of the Marquesas. Now the reports of stocking up in Ua Pou before heading to the Tuamotus make sense! It is exactly what we plan to do, after obtaining butane (a half a day’s event), focusing on more work stuff and checking out the view from the top of a hill.

Arriving in Ua Pou

Hakahau anchorage

Daily rowing practice

Massive breadfruit tree and lime trees (in the back) near the village cemetery

Marquesan Tattoos

Tattoos have been popular all over Polynesia for ages, but in the Marquesas it was at its most refined. Men were, unlike on other islands, often tattooed entirely, including the skull, which was kept shaved, or on more sensitive parts such as the eyelids or tongue. Even now, we frequently meet a local guy ashore in Taiohae (Nuku Hiva), who has his head covered with tattoos. The most frequently chosen body parts were the earlobes and the space behind the ears, the lower back, legs and arms. Something we still notice around us. There are more than 400 diverse and ancient designs and the main source of inspiration is the tiki, representing both divinity and the original human. In the Marquesan language tattooing is patu’I te tiki, literally “hitting the tiki”.

The mythological meaning of tattoo is one of astatic value and sexual attractiveness, but it is not the only one. Beyond the decorative aspect, tattooing spoke of the passage from childhood to adulthood. In the Marquesas Islands it was also a mark of identification, of belonging to a group and a protective barrier against evil influences. Now, Marquesans – after being banned of living according to their culture for a long time thanks to the missionaries (until 1975!) – get a tattoo to be handsome, to help the rebirth of an old custom and to prove their courage.

Marquesan tattoos are intricate, beautiful and unique. Not two are the same and each one has a personal preference and story. It is safe to say that almost every adult in the islands has at least one tattoo and the craft is performed well. Many tattooists are often off island, working in Tahiti, on other islands or in Europe, and are well-regarded internationally. Because of its Marquesan roots, their originality and their appeal, many cruisers also get a tattoo while visiting the islands.