After a bit of a wild night with katabatic winds blasting down off the peaks in Fatu Hiva we woke to what seems to be the normal "Morning Dance". No, not a hit 70's single by Spyro Gyra but wummin on the decks of boats all around the anchorage, doing their pilates and yoga. Having pricked my conscience I did a few wee ups and downs, just to look the part. Even Anne threw herself on the floor and did some moves and again we promised ourselves that yes, every day we'd get up early and do some fitness routines. Yeah RIGHT! . As previous blog we are in what is known as the Bay of Virgins. Apparently it's so named because when the missionaries got here they were a bit embarrassed by it's real name, Bay of Penises. The Polynesians had named it thus owning to the large, vertiginous natural rock formations reaching up into the sky around the anchorage. However, if ma willie looked like that I'd be off down the doctors!

Ashore, in complete contrast to the Caribbean, every house or dwelling, whether pre-fab or woven fern shack was neat and tidy, lawns freshly chomped by the house goat. We were invited into one of the houses to have a coffee and opportunity to buy the owner's hand carvings. Reeled in like a pair of beginner tourists, but we could see it coming and when they've not much to their names, it's hard to say no. We did however manage to decline the offer to barter a bottle of our whisky, local price around $70 for three grapefruit and some bananas. We're not that dumb.

After, our coffee stop and once it hard started really raining, like torrential, we set off for the waterfall. At last, after years of paying various locals on various islands exhorbitant amounts to see a "waterfall" smaller than those just outside our garden at home the one here is quite impressive. Perhaps 300 feet high, straight down into a clear pool where we had our first bath for quite some time. I hope our soapy bubbles didn't pollute the locals drinking water too much.