Rolling, Rowing and Rambling in Ua Huka

Not many sailboats visit the smallish island of Ua Huka in the Marquesas. The only anchorages are on the south coast and reputed to be uncomfortable, in turn making landings difficult as well. Marks’s first comment “These bays should not be called anchorages!” sums up our time onboard. Even though we planned to be there in pretty calm conditions (NE winds 10-15 knots, swell under 2m), the wind was very gusty and fluky, turning Irie around and around and having her sit on a lee shore regularly, when the wind followed the land and, accelerated, came into the bay from the south. The swell still managed to enter as well, so we rolled and jerked the whole stay. The constant flow of seawater onto our bottom steps turned them green, just like Irie’s water line and bottom! Our recommendation to visit Ua Huka by boat is to wait for a forecast with winds less than 10 knots from the northeast and a swell of less than 1.5m – it will be as calm and comfortable as it ever gets, but you have to get there first…

Rowing to shore and parking the dinghy in Hane Bay

 

Luckily, once onshore, it is comfortable and there is plenty to see and do. But first, with no dock or big sandy beach to land, there is some exercise to be had. Every morning, we dropped our engineless inflatable dinghy and clumsily rowed the half a mile to shore, which took about 20 minutes. Then, we had to haul the awkward thing over some rocks and above the high tide line to a level “parking spot”, where we left it, unlocked, and set out for half a day or a day. The islands of French Polynesia are very safe and the people – especially in the Marquesas – are extremely friendly. They all greet you; some of them shake your hand, introduce themselves or have a chat. Others invite you over to their house or give you a stack of bananas. The result of that is that we have about 100 bananas, all turning ripe as we speak!

Students carving tikis out of rosewood

 

On our first encounter in the small village of Hane, we met the principal of the local vocational school. He gave us a tour of the buildings and the garden, introduced us to teachers and pupils and encouraged us to chat, in English, with some of the students. After checking out the little store (no baguettes – they had been out of flour for three weeks) and church, and waiting for an hour long rainstorm to pass, we headed for Vaipaee, the biggest village on the island with about 200 people. This town lies only 2 miles away over the water, but, by winding road it is about 10 miles. We started the walk through the barren, but fascinating landscape, enjoying the views and the good, paved street. It was cloudy, so not too hot and the road was leveled against the rocky cliffs, so not too steep. This is my kind of walking!

South coast of Ua Huka towards Vaipaee

 

About halfway, near the airport and the nicely erected structures at the site of the upcoming December festival, we hitched a ride with one of the few cars, hoping to avoid the next rainsquall. A friendly lady picked us up and gave us a tour through the village, before we got out to inspect the narrow, canyon-like bay of Vaipaee. We both agreed that Hane is the better place to anchor. The small town boasts an interesting museum – called “the best of the Marquesas” in a few guidebooks, a nice church with all its statues and scenes depicting facets of the bible carved out of wood, and a few stores. We easily hitched a ride back to Hane in the afternoon.

Church entrance in Vaipaee

Vaipaee museum

 

The following day, we walked the coastal road to Hokatu, passing a viewpoint and some wild goats and horses. These animals outnumber the local people by 10:1. Once in the beautifully located town, we braved the heat and the humidity, to hike up a few hills to see what we could find. We were looking for artisans, willing to sell or trade for their wood carvings. These are known to be the best and most affordable ones in the Marquesas. It was very quiet all around (the Taporo cargo vessel was in Vaipaee, attracting everyone to pick up goods, especially flour) and in the end, we found someone with a key to the artisanal building near the water. After looking around and choosing and comparing some pieces for an hour or so, Mark and I went home – by car – with $100 worth of wooden treasures. It had been a while since we spent some money; believe it or not, but life in the Pacific can be cheap! :-)

Hokatu’s waterfront

 

A day of rest, while rolling, was in order, after barely sleeping at night, and on our last day in Hane (Sunday), we set out towards the hills. One of the church going villagers gave us good directions to reach the local archeological site. The walk was uphill the whole time, but doable, albeit the high level of humidity and the gallons of sweat we had to shed.  We took our time and easily found the ruins on a flat part up one of the hills. Three ancient, weathered tikis stood on the edge of it. Once back in town, we watched the quiet Sunday scene for a while before rowing home, into the wind once more, since it had changed directions… again.

Archeological site in the hills behind Hane

 

One last row and carrying the dinghy ashore on Monday, to pick up some anticipated baguettes, before we slowly sailed to Haavei on the SW corner of the island. We passed two interesting looking islands with hundreds of birds circling around them, before entering the idyllic looking bay. A sandy beach with heaps of palm trees lured ashore and the dry features of the rocks and cliffs around filled our view. It was quiet and attractive, but … rolly and with fluky, onshore winds. Again. Kind of ready for some sleep at night and some chores to be done in a non-moving boat, we decided to pass on this anchorage and – even though it was already 11am - sail on to Nuku Hiva. There, in Baie du Controleur, we found an incredibly flat and peaceful anchorage (no crashing waves!) after a fun and smooth five hour sail. Ah... the pleasures of not bumping our heads and toes anymore!

Haavei Bay

Tikis carved in stone in front of Hane’s hospital

Church in Hane

Stone carved statues in front of the Vaipaee museum

There are tikis everywhere on these islands; here in front of Vaipaee’s town hall

Hane Bay – with Irie – seen from the viewpoint towards Hokatu

Picturesque rock at the mouth of Hane Bay

Interesting looking “bird islands” off Haavei Bay

Dorado (mahi mahi) for dinner, once in Nuku Hiva

 

Trying to Leave Tahuata

A few days ago, Mark and I were finally ready to leave the island of Tahuata and the weather predictions looked favorable for a visit to the north shore of Hiva Oa. We prepared the boat for the 12 mile trip to Hanamenu Bay, lifted anchor and pulled the sails up. The main winch stopped working, so I hung my whole weight on the halyard to get the sail as high as possible. It ended up being a bit baggy, but it did the job.

From the moment we pulled out of Hanamoenoa Bay, we received a call on the VHF from our friends on SV Iona, who we were going to meet at our destination. They were on their way back to Tahuata, after having a scary experience in Hanamenu. In the afternoons, when the land heats up, a strong onshore breeze enters the anchorage, kicking up the waves and trying to push you towards the beach, on a lee shore. When they told us about the 3 foot white breakers rolling in, we decided to play it safe and abort the mission to get there. Instead, we went for a little sail along Tahuata’s west coast and fished.

Before long, we hooked a decent size mahi mahi (dorado), which was a pain – literally and figuratively – for Mark to pull in with the hand line. After we successfully landed the pretty creature, finished the hard task of killing it and cleaning up the bloody mess, we had some tasty dinner prospects. It had been a while since we enjoyed a freshly caught fish! The avocados Teii picked for us formed a nice and rare accompaniment to complete the treat later that evening.

We turned Irie around and put two reefs in for the tack back to Hanamoenoa. The wind had picked up and we had a fun and invigorating sail, doing 7.5 knots at times, back to our comfortable anchorage. The afternoon was filled with taking the winch apart, without breaking anything, and cleaning all the parts, without dropping anything overboard. At least we were in a pretty place with clear water, if something made the jump. Tomorrow, Sunday, we will try to reach and explore the north coats of Hiva Oa again!

Cruising is fixing your boat in beautiful places

Irie’s garden: basil, mint, spinach, sweet potato leaves and 2 little geckos to eat the bugs

Sea Life in Hanamoenoa Bay, Tahuata (Marquesas)

When Mark and I first arrived in Hanamoenoa Bay in the island of Tahuata, after escaping the murky waters of Atuona, it appeared to be paradise. The anchor set easily in the sandy bottom, which we could see from 30 feet above. The water had a turquoise color, while the sandy beach ashore harbored many palm trees. According to the cruising guides, this bay was a cruisers' favorite with great snorkeling and fresh fruit and coconuts for the picking a few steps inland from the beach. It would be a great place to clean the inches of growth, collected during our week in Hiva Oa, off Irie's bottom.

After being a week in this pretty spot, we still have not been able to take the dinghy ashore and have spent most of our time indoors, on our boat or others, since it has been raining for days. Again. A relatively big swell has been rolling into the bay, making dinghy landings impossible, because of the crashing waves. The monohulls are rockin' and rollin', day and night. It became too uncomfortable for Pitufa, so they left. We are very happy to be on our cat! We barely feel the motion, can do any boat projects we prefer during the day and sleep like babies at night, especially after a social gathering.

So, what have we been doing the last week? Other than some boring projects and chores onboard, we had some amazing experiences early on. Last Sunday, when other cruisers in the bay decided to take their dinghy to a small town, 2 miles away, to attend a Marquesan church service, Mark and I and our friends from SV Kril decided to stay home. I wanted to finally sleep in. We would be glad with our choice. Mark got up around 7:30am, took a look outside and appeared back downstairs next to the bed. He grabbed his swim trunks, gave me a kiss and said "I'm going for a swim. There are manta rays near the boats." Now, how am I supposed to sleep in after hearing those words? After a quick look outside and seeing the tips of wings break the surface next to Mark and Michael from Kril, I - and Ursula - soon joined the group for a most awesome experience. For an hour, the four of us just hovered near the water surface and watched, photographed and filmed three majestic manta rays while they were feeding. Their massive mouths open and their wing spans as wide as our bodies were long, they didn't mind us as they approached, circled around, dove down and reappeared. As Ursula remarked: "We were just an obstacle in their soup." None of us needed to move, while the morning show took place. Amazing, and better than church!

Every late afternoon, we notice frigate birds hovering over the water and realize the tunas are back! We see groups of little fish "run" on the water surface with their tail, being attacked from above by a frigate bird - which is very successful in scooping a fish up with every dive without ever touching water - and from beneath by a much bigger predator. Then, a massive tuna surfaces, splashes on top of the water or - very spectacular! - leaps out in a perfect arc, pretending to be a dolphin, with a fish in its mouth! If only they did that close to Irie and we had a fishing net ready! One time, Mark jumped in the dinghy and trailed a line behind in the hopes of catching one of the chasers, but it was not to be.

We also snorkeled along the rocks a couple of times to see big amounts of colorful fish, and we swam ashore to be greeted by the infamous nonos, accompanied by mosquitoes. Nonos are tiny biting flies, renowned for hanging out on Marquesan beaches and keeping the tourists away, discouraging beach
vacations and beach parties. Next time we go hunting for fresh fruit, we will have to wait for the swell to settle down, put on long clothes and spray ourselves with bug repellent. Or, we can borrow Kril's full wetsuits, booties and hoods, in which they successfully scoured the beach and the woods yesterday!

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.

Portobelo: Autumn Anchorage from Hell

Since coming back to Portobelo from our failed sailing trip to Bocas del Torro, Mark and I have been here three weeks. During that time, it rained constantly and we had to move several times because of “funny” wind and current situations and the fact that different boats move differently. While the bay was very uncomfortable certain times, the humidity was 100%, nothing dried and mildew grew everywhere, inside (and out!) Irie. Windows could not be opened, clothes turned moldy, and towels smelled awful. We were cooped up inside a 35’ area for weeks and each time we ran an errand, we got drenched and more wet clothes were added to the growing pile of disgust. One thing we did not have to worry about: fresh water! Enough to wash our whole wardrobe, if only we could hang the stuff out to dry…

Statistics of our Portobelo stay:

• Consecutive days in the bay: 22
• Maximum wave height from swells: 3 feet
• Water color: coffee brown
• Full nights of sleep: 1
• Days without rain: 0
• Near hits with other boats: 3
• Times we had to move: 7
• Days of uncomfortable pitching: 12
• Thunder and lightning storms: 2
• Staying dry during trips to shore: 5%
• Humidity: 100%
• Total amount of sun: 1 hour
• Smoke detector alarm: 5 times ¹
• Carbon monoxide alarm: 2 times ²
• Level of crew happiness: -1
• Days of nausea: 3
• Better anchorages in the area: 0
• Level of becoming insane: HIGH
• Ranking on Irie’s list of long term anchorages: last place
• Maximum amount of anchor chain out: 200 ft. (all)
• Boats without anchor lights at night: 75%
• General feeling: Being stuck indoors for too long
• Colors of mold: black inside; green outside
• General smell indoors: mildewy
• Smell of towels: gross
• Amount of towels used: all
• Heap of laundry: growing
• Shower water: cold as rain
• Shower time: 3x a week ³
• San Blas tan: gone
• Smiles on our faces: none
• Water tank and jerry jugs: overflowing
• Color Irie’s waterline: brown instead of white
• Color Irie’s bottom: green instead of blue
• Unfinished projects: 10
• Tools out for halted projects: floor and spare bunks covered

¹ Due to cooking in a closed-up boat

² Due to opening door a crack while generator (producing exhaust) was running in the cockpit and battery fumes traveling around while being charged in a closed- up boat

³ As to refrain wet and smelly towels

Choppy, muddy Portobelo Bay with boats doing different things

Three weeks of constant rain was too much for our cup and duct tape to keep water out of the hole underneath...

Normally not of the superstitious kind, Mark and I did blame the "little wooden man" for all our bad luck and "sent" him back to the San Blas.

One hour of sun!

 

Bye Bye St. Martin, Hello Martinique!

After 4.5 months in St. Martin, Mark and I were getting antsy to leave and join the big cruiser’s parade south, to safer waters and more pleasant environments. Mid June was approaching and Irie was about the only cruising boat left in the lagoon, where all the other sailboats were slowly turning into “temporary residents”. But, we couldn’t leave yet. Not as long as our rigging project wasn’t totally finished, not as long as we hadn’t received all the packages for The Wirie and personal use… Luckily, the weather hadn’t been cooperative to head south either, so we didn’t have to feel too bad about missing out on a departure yet.

The weather forecast had some northeasterly winds in the coming week or so and we started to prepare our departure, while frantically trying to locate a professional rigger to tune and check all the wires and fittings. So far, we had been unsuccessful, going from a rigger on the French side leaving us with a bent mast, to presumably straightening it all back out ourselves on a hot Saturday, to having another so called expert tweak it all out of shape again. A more detailed report about this massive rigging project will follow in the near future.

Mark and I rented a car to provision and pick up heaps of packages and we buzzed around collecting some diesel and necessary boat parts. We kept a close eye on the weather predictions and everything favorable had moved forward, quite a bit, all of a sudden! To make and take this one and only weather window, we would have to leave… the next afternoon. Our bodies and minds spun in an even higher gear and I started driving around the French and the Dutch side to locate a professional rigger, while Mark tried to wrap up some business stuff for the next few days.

When Thursday came around, we whole heartedly hoped that the booked riggers would show up in the morning, our only chance of leaving that day. I picked up a few items on shore and bought 24 gallons of water, Mark dealt with a Wirie^AP customer and to my biggest relief, two extra men were on Irie’s foredeck when I returned around 11am. Our standing rigging was adjusted, the mast straightened out and before noon, the biggest weight fell off our shoulders. I ran back to the French side to check out of the country, buy dinghy fuel and swing by Shrimpy. After a quick lunch we sold our mooring ball, ran to the grocery store for a week’s worth of food, made sure our friend Ed’s boat was OK and paid our rigging bill. Before we knew it, 4pm arrived, and we headed for Simpson Bay Bridge after a fast scrub of our underwater keel cooler and log. At 4:30pm, we said “goodbye” to St. Maarten/St. Martin. We were very happy to finally be “outside”, but felt a bit rushed and sad to not have been able to say goodbye to friends we might never see again.

The weather forecast called for 48 hours of east-northeast winds at a speed of around 20 knots, which is on the strong side for a trip heading southeast. We didn’t have much choice, since northeast and even east winds are rare this time of year and we had a deadline/family to meet in Martinique at the end of the month. This was the first time we consciously set out in relatively strong winds and this was also the first time we would cover a distance greater than 80 miles or longer than 20 hours. We were shooting to sail “straight” (without hitting any islands along the way) to Martinique, a distance of 250 miles and an expected 42 hours to windward. Our friend Angie on SV Kibe followed us through the Dutch bridge and hoped to reach St. Lucia a few days later.

And so our trip “south” started, initially with a big grin on our face, my face anyway; Mark was still a bit dazzled by the rate our life had been going and the accumulation of recent events. The first couple of hours passed by uneventfully. We started with one reef in the main sail, making it a double one when the sun set. An easy meal of soup and baguette was had, not much for me, since my stomach was already starting to feel funny in the motion of the ocean. Once we had cleared all land and the waves were in their full swing, it didn’t take long before I was hanging over the side with my life jacket and harness on. Three hours into the trip and I felt unbelievably sick. Mark took the first shift, while I retired downstairs, being thrown around by the violent swell and wind chop. When it was my turn to take care of Irie, I went back into the cockpit. But, the slightest moving around, had me puking again. Mark felt sorry for me and sent me back to bed, dealing with the elements himself. Around 2am, he was totally exhausted and soaking wet and I was on night watch for three hours, switching between being seated at the helm station to hanging over the stern of the boat, inspecting the waves up close. It was a bit terrible indeed, with confused seas, steep waves and heaps of seawater drenching the cockpit. The swell was only about 6-7 feet high, with a massive one every few minutes, but the period in between was a meager 6 seconds…

The following day went by pretty fast, with hours of rest for both of us, plenty of speed and progress between the islands and a struggle to keep moving in the lee of Guadeloupe. I was in charge of Irie during the calm periods, while Mark took care of her on the passages. For a moment we hoped to pull into Dominica for the night, but the >1 knot of current against us, made our progress over the ground much slower than over the water. With a reef in, we were still doing 6-7 knots, losing 1 knot to the current. By the time, we approached the lee of Dominica, it was 10pm and we decided to continue, dodging many container ships in the shipping lanes, 5 miles off shore. Thank you, AIS!

The passage between Dominica and Martinique was a rough one again. The sea was a bit more regular, but the wind was howling above 25 knots, constantly. Mark wanted to take a long night shift again and with two reefs in the main and a reefed jib, we were doing 8 knots… With 1 knot of current against us, still. Our new rigging was getting tested! Once in the lee of Martinique, gone was the wind and a bit of motoring had to be done.

Our initial goal was to drop anchor in the capital, Fort-de-France, but the memory of the more calm and pretty anchorage of Grand Anse d’Arlet enticed us to spend another hour under sail. We also hoped our friends from SV Imagine and SV Alianna would still be there, but as it turned out, they had just left three hours before our arrival! Friends or no friends, Mark and I were very happy to have arrived in a safe harbor after an exhausting sail of 44 hours and couldn’t wait to sleep and relax the next couple of days! We wished we would have been able to do a test sail with the new rigging before we left St. Martin, though…