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?

Explorations around Hapatoni, Tahuata

Teii is a Marquesan man from Tahuata, who lives in Hanatefau Bay, the place where sailboats anchor to visit Hapatoni and surroundings. He lives in a little hut onshore. It is a beautifully located wooden structure with two walls and a roof. The only things inside are his mattress with a mosquito net draped around it, some neatly folded clothes on a shelf and some utensils. He has an outdoor kitchen area, a fire pit and a fresh water spring with an unlimited supply of lovely tasting water. Apart from the hordes of mosquitoes it is a cool place indeed, facing the onshore breeze. “Do you get wet when it rains?” was one of the questions we had for him. He does, but then he just moves further away from the part that gets wet.

One afternoon Teii invited us and some other cruisers over for lunch/dinner. Since he is located on a lee shore with massive boulders bordering the bay, landing the dinghy and ourselves was a wet and slippery affair. But, we made it and he had plenty of fresh water to rinse off. The afternoon was social and pleasant, with tasty local food – fatty pork boiled in salt water and coconut milk, bananas boiled in water and rice. We brought some homemade alcohol and a precious box of wine, which he and his cousin were very happy about. By the time we clambered the rocks back to our dinghy, the sun reached the horizon and the tide had dropped. Waves had been crashing into our little inflatable, which had been pushed back and forth onto the boulders. Not a great scene. The dinghy was half full of seawater, the fuel tank floated upside down and the stern anchor was stuck in the rocks. Luckily, the engine did start and we made it home safely, with our rusty stern anchor. We vowed never to visit Teii this way again.

The following day, the family of SV Iona, and Mark and I put the dinghies at the protected dock of Hapatoni, about ¾ mile south of the anchorage, and walked to Teii’s place through the cute village and over the hill. He was awaiting us and led us to well-hidden petroglyphs in the humid forest.  A big stack of bananas became ours, when he hacked the tree down above the ancient rock. An easy way to get to the fruit! Afterwards, he whacked the tree in pieces with his machete and shoved it into the forest to clean up the mess. Since every banana tree only carries one stack of bananas, this is the way it is done. He joined us into the village, where we met one of his cousins, a traditional dancer and artist. Together we gathered some avocadoes, coconuts, limes, a breadfruit and soursop. The day proved to be another good example of the hospitality and friendliness of the Marquesans, and I got to practice my French.

After a day of rest and boat chores, it was time again for more exercise. Mark, Chris, Katie, Leili and I (Chris’ son Dylan stayed home, tired after all the hiking from the previous days) followed a different rocky road out of town and kept climbing until we reached the crest of a big hill. The views were nice and, despite the heat and the humidity, we all felt good after the effort. Another stack of bananas was retrieved the local way to guarantee our vitamin intake and to replace the pamplemousses and oranges from Hanamoenoa. Once our fruit is finished, we’ll have to head back there!

Irie in the Hanatefau anchorage

Irie facing sunset and the ocean – on a lee shore

Cemetery of Hapatoni village

Church of Hapatoni

A neat path out of Hapatoni village

This landslide recently took place and – unfortunately – colors the bay brown

After a snorkel along the edge of the Hanatefau bay

Tricky landing and dinghy parking to visit Teii

Lunch at Teii´s place: Teii, cousin Mark, Pierre, Liesbet and dog “Mon Chien”

Pierre starts Teii’s grill

Chris, Katie, Leili (on Katie’s back) and Teii before our walk to the petroglyphs

Marquesan petroglyphs in the forest

Ancient spot to mix natural paints and sharpen tools

Katie and Leili visiting Irie for some fresh pretzels

View of Hanatefau Bay and the sailboats from the hike up a hill

One of the roads out of Hapatoni village

 

Butane Bound - Keeping the Cooking Going

Mark and I have one propane bottle on Irie. It is an American-style bottle, the horizontal version (which adds to the filling difficulties), because a vertical tank didn’t fit anywhere on the boat. We also have a couple of small, green camping gas bottles as a spare, in case we run out of propane in a remote area. For years in the Caribbean, it was never a problem to only have one cooking gas bottle or to have it filled onshore. With our special adapter, everywhere we turned the bottle in, it came back full, for a reasonable price. Our 20 pound tank would last between four and five months of normal use, meaning one cooked meal a day (dinner), some bread baking and once a week or so a cheap meal ashore. Not drinking tea or coffee conserves gas, but being in nice anchorages with not much going on, led to lots of baking and producing special meals. Now that we have to be even more self-sufficient and eating ashore is unaffordable, it is safe to say that we can live at least three months off a full propane tank, or better, butane tank, since that is what is used in these areas.

In the San Blas islands, we learned firsthand about the gravity fill method for our tank. It was extremely slow and we had to come up with a way to make it work for our difficult tank, to keep the pin pushed in while the gas ran from a local tank into ours, without having enough pressure from the usual filling station. But, it worked. Every time. We made it to the Galapagos islands with our last fill from there and then in Santa Cruz, the main town of that marvelous island group in the Pacific, we had our propane tank filled up again. Before arriving in French Polynesia, we ordered our own equipment (hose, fitting for the American tank) to gravity fill the tank ourselves in the future. All we still needed was a small fitting to attach to the local French Polynesian tanks…

Once we arrived in the Gambier islands and two months into our available cooking gas, we immediately inquired about the fitting we needed, only to find out that nobody sold – or even had – anything like that in Rikitea, the only real town. They had regulators, but that would not do the trick. Hmmm…  Not yet desperate, we cooked along for another month and when an opportunity arose to split some expensive butane gas with two other cruisers, we returned to Rikitea to join the gravity fill party. With the help of our American fitting and hose and a borrowed “French” fitting, three sailboats had gas again. The whole ordeal took about three hours and our tank was only about ¾ full after we finished.

The chase for our own local fitting continued – unsuccessfully – in Fatu Hiva, the Marquesas. Luckily, we had enough butane to make it to Atuona, the “capital” of the southern Marquesas, where we expected to find what we needed. Nope! The hardware store was “out of” them, but they “could be” on the next cargo ship into town, the Aranui III, three days later - make it four to get everything stocked in the stores… That was the reason Mark and I stayed over a week in the murky waters of the inconveniently located bay around a peninsula from Atuona, struggling with two anchors and rainy weather. The Aranui arrived… without gas bottle fittings. Over two months into this ¾ (we thought) filled bottle, a solution needed to come up soon.

The (temporary) solution arrived in the form of cruising friends who were in Tahiti and asked us whether we needed anything from the big city. After seven months of leaving Panama City, provisioning and marine store “headquarters”, we could use a whole lot of things by now, but what we really needed – you guessed it - was one of those French fittings.  Surely, they would have them in Pape’ete, the country’s bustling capital! Instead, our friends sent us their self-assembled gas bottle hose, which we could borrow until they joined us in the Marquesas. Luckily for us, the package showed up after only ten days, and we managed to pick it up in Atuona shortly after. Exactly five days later, back in an uninhabited bay in Tahuata, we ran out of cooking gas. Our tank was totally empty.

One night, Ursula cooked for us and we had a wonderful dinner on SV Kril; the following night, we used one of our spare gas bottles and then it was time to move anchorages. We sailed to Hanatefau, a quiet bay close to the village of Hapatoni, where we expected to find a butane tank to fill ours. A quick chat with our neighbors revealed that there was no butane and not much of anything in Hapatoni. Darn! In the past, we had visited Vaitahu by dinghy, where we had seen racks of butane bottles in front of the two grocery stores.  This town was located between our recent and our previous anchorage, a distance doable by dinghy. We decided to go for it, rechecking a few times whether we packed all the tools and materials necessary for a gravity fill on shore and braving the ocean for 1,5 miles.

It was Friday afternoon, almost weekend, a little bit of a risky time to do what we had set out for. The biggest supermarket was open. I asked about the butane tanks, and how much the gas cost. Mark started to set up our tank and the fittings. Then, the woman – who was smoking – yelled over… they did not have any butane anymore. All the tanks in the rack were empty. Our only other chance was the second little store in town. It was closed. It was 2pm already. It would open soon… Half an hour later, the proprietor decided to return after an elongated lunch break.  But, she was out of butane as well. As a matter of fact, there was no butane to be found in the whole village, or the whole island. That’s when we learned that the locals reserve their tanks for whenever the cargo ship – the Taporo - arrived.

We really did not want to motor back to Atuona. We had a problem… We returned to the first store (maybe the woman wasn’t sure she was out of butane bottles?) and I pleaded with her, explaining our predicament and hoping for a solution. That’s when she went into the bakery section of the store and unhooked her own butane bottle from a stove. She didn’t know how much gas was left in it, but we were welcome to transport the contents into our own bottle. Worried about any danger so close to her store, she urged a customer to drop us off at the jetty with all our tanks and equipment. On some steps in the shade, we installed the two tanks and ourselves and started the excruciatingly slow and tedious process of filling our stubborn tank. After a few tries we had the gas flowing at a gracious speed of a few drops per minute. While being eaten alive by mosquitoes and nonos, we waited and waited, hoping that the store would not close before we were done. Two and a half hours later, the local tank was empty and our tank felt about half full….

Upon returning her bottle to the store and wanting to give her money for the gas, the friendly owner refused any payment. I made sure to buy some over-priced items before joining Mark back at our dinghy. With a little sense of accomplishment – trying not to think about having to go through this whole ordeal again in less than two months – we slowly motored back to Irie, while the sun was setting at the horizon. How enjoyable it was to cook, and especially eat, a super tasty meal – using all three burners – that evening!

Tahuata's south coast at sunset

On the way back home with half a butane tank

Sunset from Hanatefau - Home before dark!

 

Quick Stop at Akamaru, Gambier Islands

After sitting stationary in Rikitea for three weeks, Mark and I decided to move to a different anchorage again, here in the Gambier islands. Heavy winds were predicted for almost a week to come, but we braved the windy and choppy lagoon to motor over to Akamaru, the only “big” island we had not visited yet. The last stretch, we followed Bertrand, a friendly local Frenchman, who guided us through the clusters of coral until we reached the anchorage. Irie settled in 6.5 feet of clear, relatively shallow water, a depth we like!

After lunch it was off to the island of Akamaru by dinghy. We explored a small beach and jumped ashore near “the village”, where about eight houses are spread out and three or four families live full-time. The church was charming and pretty and the grounds around it, once again, very well-kept. We hung out with a couple of friendly and healthy dogs and met a local family. My French is getting better! After a stroll through the neighborhood, we stopped at Bertrand’s houseboat on the way back to Irie and had a chat with his family. His daughters are in school in Rikitea where they learn to carve pearls and shells. The designs and the work are amazing, but unfortunately, only one of the shells was finished and it was not for sale.

Unbeknownst to us, it was already 5:30pm and extreme low tide. While the sun set, we saw 4.2 feet on our depth meter. Irie has a draft of 3.5 feet. We had never been anchored in water as shallow as this and normally would not be too worried, being anchored in good holding sand, but around us were a few small coral heads. Usually those are not a problem either, unless you have less than a foot under the keels and some of these corals are over a foot high… It was too late to move, so we hoped the wind wouldn’t shift too much at night, which it was not supposed to do, but you really never know around here. We didn’t sleep too well and heard grinding sounds during the night. Luckily, it was only our anchor chain rubbing over some coral pieces on the bottom.

As is always the case, the tide rose and around midnight it was very high. The reefs that usually protect this anchorage were overflown by higher than normal waves and the big swell made its way into our anchorage. For about four hours, Irie bounced back and forth, left and right (here we were, in a washing machine again, at anchor!), preventing any sleep. The following morning, we climbed the small island neighboring Akamaru and reached the cross on the top for a beautiful view. We had to hurry back, because the tide was rising again and our dinghy did not have a lot of room, where we pulled it up. I already got swamped on the way in, trying to keep the dinghy, and Mark, from flipping over or running into the rocks. On hands and feet, we slid back down the steep hill, using clumps of grass and mostly trustworthy rocks to slow us down. Back at the water’s edge, we timed it right, launched the dinghy into the swirling water, jumped in, grabbed the oars (peddles) and propelled ourselves into deeper and safer water, before starting the outboard engine. A dry escape, this time!

Back on Irie, she was rockin’ and rollin’ again. The protection from the heavy winds was OK, but the boat movements were very annoying, for almost half of the day. During low tide, it was dead calm, but then we had other worries. After some hemming and hawing, certain about another night of little sleep, Mark and I decided to use the relatively clear skies to move again. The two options based on the predicted weather forecast were: back to the protected, but gusty west coast of Taravai (12 miles away, mostly downwind) or back to the spot where we worked on our rudder in Aukena (5.5 miles away, half downwind and half upwind). We chose the second option, sailing towards Rikitea under the jib (experiencing a little hick-up when one of the winches broke) and then motoring into 22 knots of wind and choppy seas along hard-to-see pearl farm floats to Aukena. There, we were happily welcomed by a quiet, flat and peaceful anchorage. That comfy situation  lasted  all of 15 hours… This is the Gambier after all!

Approaching Akamaru, motoring along the breaking reef. The waves were pretty big, but no white caps (yet). The wind was building.

The well-kept grounds around the church

Eglise Nôtre-Dame-de-la Paix (built in 1841) on Akamaru

  

Stroller for the 5 and 1-year old kids of a friendly local couple

In only 4.5 feet of water, this small rock might cause a problem. Luckily, we cleared it.

Climbing the hill to the cross on the little island NW of Akamaru

Two baby goats along the way to the hill top

View of Akamaru and the many coral heads from the hill

View of Mangareva (and Mount Duff) and the reef we followed in with Irie

On the steep way down, we leaned backwards and used our hands and feet to descend. Notice Irie in shallow water at the top of the photo.