Wow, I cannot believe how badly I've neglected this blog as of late. We're actually anchored in the Tuamotus now, having already sailed our way to and through the Marquesas. Last I wrote, we were stranded in the Gambier Islands, waiting for a decent weather window to depart for Fatu Hiva. In typical fashion, we got impatient, and left in marginal weather. We ran the engines way too much, but had an otherwise pleasant passage, with light winds and calm seas.

We arrived to Fatu Hiva, the southernmost of the Marquesas Islands, at first light. The island is spectacularly beautiful, with precipitous cliffs, towering spires, and intensely lush vegetation. Our anchorage at Hanavave (Bay of Virgins) is legendary for its powerful beauty. Pillars of rock shoot vertically up from the ocean forming tall columns that line the harbor edge. Beyond, soaring cloud-shrouded peaks loom at over 3000 feet. The valleys are densely populated with skinny coconut palms, whereas the steeps of the mountainsides seem to be covered with some sort of lichen or mossy growth�...and goats. Banana, lemon, papaya, pamplemousse, orange and other fruits covered the land.

Our highlight at Fatu Hiva was certainly hiking inland. On our first outing to find the local waterfall, we ended up taking a wrong turn and followed the concrete road high up into the mountains surrounding the harbor. Our error ended up being just fine, as we had a spectacular view from high up. We estimate that our hike took us to around 2000 feet! The deep blue ocean never ceases to be an incredible, awe-inspiring sight, especially from such a high vantage. We couldn't quite make out Andiamo below, but we did see the two boats anchored just offshore of us - tiny specs.

The next day, quite sore from our previous explorations, we endeavored to actually find the "cascade". We managed to find the trail - the correct path is marked with small piles of stones called cairns - and plunged into the brush. The hike wasn't extremely long, probably about an hour each way, but it was pretty challenging. We maneuvered through such a variety of landscapes, terrains, and vegetation zones. From grassy lowlands shaded by towering palms, we proceeded into dense, jungle-like forest full of a tree that resembled cyprus (?). The hiking turned technical at a number of spots, and we had to climb over felled logs, navigate narrow ridges, and hop boulder to boulder. We eventually found the waterfall, which slides 200 feet down a nearly vertical rock wall into a pool at the base. Jumping into the pool might sound enticing, but we knew better, since there are freshwater eels that inhabit the water, and apparently they bite!

After Fatu Hiva, we made a fast and enjoyable day passage north to Atuona, Hiva Oa, the largest of the Marquesas. En route, as we were flying along at 8-10 knots, we caught a wahoo! Our first wahoo ever and he was a stud. The fish measured 45 inches to the fork and weighed in at around 25 pounds (best guess). The wahoo continues to provide some nice meals, as we got 12.5 pounds of cleaned meat off him! However, our enjoyment with Atuona stopped before we'd even arrived. I'm going to gloss over our stay at the island since it was simply a stop to buy provisions, get diesel, and buy cooking gas (butane in these parts). The weather at Hiva Oa was crap, the anchorage super busy and dirty, and the town was a one hour walk from the harbor. Needless to say, our stay at Hiva Oa was expedited and not much fun.

We left Hiva Oa for a short sail down to nearby Tahuata. This much smaller island is also considerably lower. As a result, our weather in Tahuata was decidedly better. The water was pretty clear - a first and only for our Marquesas anchorages - and the sand beach at the head of the harbor invited us to stay a while. I jumped in the water to do some snorkeling, and I was greeted by a manta ray swimming through the reef, filter feeding some unseen prey. Such a graceful animal, the manta ray was the first I'd ever seen. I've dove with spotted eagle rays before, but I'd never seen a manta. Also on the list of new species was a white tip reef shark. I saw a blacktip too, which certainly isn't a first, as they're everywhere! A turtle came up to say hi and then quickly goodbye. I also saw some octopi, or pulpa as they're called here.

I decided to take the dinghy in to the beach to explore the land a little, as this island is supposedly uninhabited. I landed the dingy through the surf, and had some difficulty pulling our heavy RIB up the steep sandbank. Unexpectedly, a tall, dark (and handsome?) Polynesian dude named Stephen came over to lend a hand. Stephen was delighted when I greeted him in French, and let him know that yes, I do speak the language. He told me that he lives here and operates a copra (dried coconut that is sold to make coconut oil) shed on his family's land. He gave me a tour. Within minutes, Stephen was climbing a short coconut palm and launching fresh green coconuts down at me. He descended, grabbed his machete, and hacked off the top of one. Thrusting it at me, he instructed me to drink. He asked if I was alone on the boat, and I told him that I am sailing with my parents. Upon hearing this, he sent me up the tree to fetch them a coconut, lest they be left out. Unsure of my climbing skills, I reluctantly handed him my coconut and began scaling the tree. I actually managed to climb high enough (which admittedly was only about 8 feet) and twisted off a coconut. Miraculously, before my grip gave out, I shimmied back down the trunk and landed amid the palm fronds scattered at the base of the tree. Stephen paraded me around his land some more, showing me the lemons, oranges, and pamplemousse that he has. I'd previously seen the natural bounty of the Marquesas, and even here at Tahuata, a place that receives much less rainfall than elsewhere, the land was covered with fruit trees. While walking with Stephen, I shifted the conversation to fishing, always keen to get some local intel. I asked him what fish are safe to eat, if any, and he told me parrotfish are the primary target. He offered to come diving with me and to point out the safe fish, but declined to go that day. Alas, it never happened.

Later that evening, all the cruisers had a potluck and bonfire on Stephen's beach, with him as the guest of honor. Little niños ran around buck naked, parents socialized and drank (I brought a mason jar full of rum for myself) and the older kids stoked the never-ending fire. Stephen cracked open several sea urchins, and served the raw meat from the palm of his hand with a squeeze of lemon. I declined the fishy treat, but delighted in seeing others partake and watching their unsure expressions.

The next day I decided to get Stephen a present for his hospitality. I grabbed my speargun, donned my camo top, and dropped in the reef in about 35 feet of water. I was looking for a nice parrotfish and had to do some searching to find a suitable target. Thankfully my patience paid off. I spied a nice 18-20 inch parrotfish - green with some flecks of red and yellow - and placed a great shot through his gills. I promptly got back in the dinghy, weighed anchor, and sped in to the beach. I held up my catch to show Stephen. Once he realized that the fish was a gift for him and I wasn't just showing off, Stephen was so incredibly grateful. His expression made my day, and I surely hope he enjoyed the fish. In a seemingly never ending gesture of hospitality, he plopped the fish down and led me back to gather more fruit. I politely declined to scale another palm tree, and instead said I'd love some oranges. He had plenty. We grabbed a burlap copra sack and started to fill it with lemons, oranges, and pamplemousse. I thanked him profusely, once again, and took the goods back to Andiamo. I had to return the copra sack, so I dinghied back in to the beach, yet again. As I was motoring back home, Stephen flagged me down - he was aboard another yacht in the harbor, 'Lil Explorers - and asked me to have a beer with him. How do you turn that down? He handed me a warm Atlus, a beer that I grew fond of in Panama. No doubt, the Atlas came from a cruising boat, probably the one I was now on. We drank the beer and said a friendly goodbye. I was sad to leave Tahuata, but ready to move on.

Our next landfall, Ua Pou, is home to the tallest point in the Marquesas, at 4040 feet. The peaks were hidden in the clouds for our first two days in the harbor, but on our third day the skies parted and the magnificent spires jutted skyward unobstructed. I have a picture of the "skyline" on Facebook, so give that a look. Despite several shortcomings and obstacles, Ua Pou was really fun. The harbor was crap - on the northeast side of the island with a concrete breakwater - and was crowded. We had to stern anchor in addition to our usual bow anchor to stay lined up in the crowed anchorage. However, crowds equal companionship. I met a nice kid named Tyler who is working aboard Argo, a large motor trawler - the first such vessel we've seen in these parts. We hung out, discussed our cruise plans, and had a few beers together. Tyler is from Alabama and had attended Auburn. Coincidentally, my sister, Katie, was at her friend Hailey's wedding in Alabama that very weekend. And yes, Hailed had gone to Auburn too. Small world!

The town is very nice at Ua Pou and we were able to provision in the best stores we'd seen since the Galapagos. We bought a good bit of chicken, beef, and a rare treat - pork chops! Touring the town some more, we came upon the magnificent Catholic church. The Marquesas is an area known for its fine wood carvers, and the church certainly expressed that talent. Every inch of the door and entryway was covered in gorgeous carvings of biblical scenes and traditional Polynesian imagery. The pulpit inside is carved in the shape of a ship's bow, with a large net full of fish serving as the supporting structure. An amazingly lifelike and powerfully moving Christ hung on the cross above the altar. The walls of the church form a solid rectangle from the floor up, leaving an open triangle below the pitch of the roof. To cap it all off, the open upper half of the walls revealed the magnificent mountain skyline beyond. I was certainly moved, and a bit bummed that our stay didn't fall on a Sunday so that I could attend mass.

Our final night at the island the Aranui 3 arrived. This vessel, a combination cargo ship and passenger liner, travels around the Marquesas from Papeete delivering supplies and tourists. The town put on a crafts fair and a barbeque that evening. Live music, sketchy grilled meats, and ample French tourists made the place pretty buzzing with life. The local band played some really cool music in the native Marquesan language, and we were all definitely jamming.

The next morning, we left Ua Pou for Nuku Hiva, our final stop in the Marquesas. This large island is the administrative center for the archipelago. The main town of Taiohae is situated in the central cove of the south coast. We provisioned and refueled, stayed one night and then left Taiohae. The harbor was dirty, crowded, and swelly. During a squall the only night we were in the harbor, another vessel dragged it's anchor and bumped into us. We all had to scramble on deck to fend off the other boat. In the swell with each boat bobbing up and down, we managed to hook our stanchions/lifelines up under the other boat's. Finally, we successfully pushed the boat off and eventually got back to bed. In the morning, after provisioning some more and getting fuel, we were ready to leave.

We'd read of a beautiful cove just west of there, so we headed out. The entrance is formed by two overlapping juts of rock, so it's a bit hard to find from seaward. Once inside, the tidal rip and the wind/swell combine to form pretty thick standing waves. However, we maneuvered through and rounded the corner to the right, entering a pretty sheltered little bay with a sand beach at its head. Only one small shack sits inland from the beach - presumably Daniel's house (as the cove is named Daniel's Bay). Our main mission here was to find the 2000 foot waterfall that cascades down the mountains inland from the harbor. Mom and I dinghied in to shore and anchored the dinghy on the shallow sloping beach. We waded across the river mouth that separates the east and west half of the beach, and proceeded inland. A quaint little village sits just inshore from the beach. Extremely lush as usual, the town gave off a garden-like feeling. Bananas, lemons, mango, and pamplemousse grew simply everywhere we looked. Tall coconut palms lined the path, with ample coconuts strewn about the ground as well. It was getting late, so Mom and I headed back to Andiamo having gained some valuable intel for the next day's waterfall push.

Next morning, Camelbaks full, bug spray liberally applied, we headed back in to the bush. We landed the dinghy as we had the previous afternoon, but decided with the incoming tide we needed a better place. Dad and I pulled the dinghy a ways up the river and anchored it in a quiet little cove. We followed the path towards the village. I'm pretty sure that the whole village houses about 4 families. The rugged mountains and impossibly dense vegetation of the interior cut this small village off from Taiohae, with the only connection being the ocean. We'd traveled 3 or 4 miles from the "big city" but we'd entered a whole different world. As we were meandering through the town, a man stopped us to say hello. We'd read about an older couple who can prepare lunch for the cruisers who hike up to the waterfall. I don't remember his name, but his wife's name was Monet (sp?). The two arranged for us to meet them back at the house in a few hours after our return to have lunch. So, lunch date organized, we walked farther inland.

Just like at Fatu Hiva, the terrain quickly became less forgiving. We had to ford two rivers, one a small mucky stream and the second a legitimate river with proper boulders and small rapids. Thankfully the water was only about knee deep, and we traversed without incident. Aside from watery obstacles, the path narrowed at some parts to less than body width. We squeezed through incredibly dense flora and fended off spider webs with sticks. As we wound our way up an ever rising narrow walkway, with the riverbed increasingly far below us, we came to a clearing in the trees. At last, we could see the waterfall across the valley! Much like at the harbor entrance, two huge rock walls mostly overlap in front of the waterfall. The cascade descends from the mountain top down through this narrow shoot vertically, falling 2000 feet down to the valley floor. This is the third highest waterfall in the world, and it was certainly an incredible sight. Green mountains, raging river, palm trees everywhere�...definitely not in Kansas anymore.

We "down climbed" back to Monet's house and had a delicious lunch of poisson cru (Polynesian style ceviche done in coconut milk), stewed chicken, fresh salad with green papaya, and homemade lemonade. We were a bit wary of the poisson cru due to the prevalence of ciguatera here, but we figured they must know which fish are safe. Thankfully we didn't get sick! Same goes for the lemonade - the water on Nuku Hiva is supposedly not potable but we had no problems. We paid for our meal and bought some oranges, pamplemousse, and bananas from Monet to have as fresh produce for our Tuamotus passage.

Our final day in the harbor, we simply did numerous boat jobs and mom cooked plenty of food for our trip down to the Tuamotus. Exhausted from working all day, we eventually weighed anchor at 4 pm and got underway for our four-night, three-day sail to Kauehi, Tuamotus. A windy affair and a beam reach helped us go very fast out of the gate. However, we'd timed our departure to allow for a very slow passage if need be, so we ended up having to slow the boat down intentionally nearly the whole duration of the passage! Either way, we arrived to Kauehi without incident and we're now in Fakarava. I'll write (hopefully soon!) about our Tuamotus experiences thus far.