I cannot believe I have already been back on board for a month. We arrived in these magnificent Marquesas on May 10th after an "easy" 6 day (and night - yikes!) passage from the Gambiers. The seas were quite flat with light winds that required motoring for the first few days - MY kind of passage! How amazing is it that I can call ANY passage of this duration "easy". You've come a long way baby (and that is not to suggest anything but being very lucky with the passage gods - thank you, thank you).

Each of the Marquesan islands we have visited has brought its own odd sounding, vowel-laden name ......and its own unique rewards. (For now, I will share our experiences on the first three with more to come).

FATU HIVA, our first stop, the southernmost island of the Marquesas, is breathtakingly beautiful, a quintessential Polynesian treasure, a TEN. Especially welcomed after 6 days at seas, we could see the imposing outline of the island for miles as we approached. Once we dropped anchor in the Bay of Virgins, we stood on the foredeck in awe of this unparalleled view of the lush, green-cloaked peaks and jagged spires rising nearly vertically from the indigo water to a height over 3000 feet.

Ashore, the village of Hanavave is sparsely populated, which creates a kind of peaceful serenity as we explore on foot. On wobbly sea legs, passed by only one car on our hour and a half long trek, we work our way slowly up the steep paved road for a 2000 foot high view back on the anchorage. We cannot believe our poor luck and timing as our camera, apparently another victim of the harsh sea environment, has chosen now to fail; Regrettably we must rely on i-phone photos of these magnificent vistas. On our second day, we finally find the right cairns and trust the leashes holding off the nasty sounding dogs and work our way deep into the dense terrain to reach a 200 foot waterfall cascading over multi-colored, glistening volcanic rock. We savor the moment and enjoy the view but refrain from taking a plunge in the natural pool as we have heard the eels like this spot.

On our walk back we pluck a bunch of bananas off a tree deep in the brush (hence not belonging to anyone) and pick up handfuls of lemons on the side of the road dropped from the overflowing trees by the strong breezes that funnel down these narrow canyons. Frangipani, hibiscus, bougainvillea, fruit trees, and large swaths of spindly palm trees reaching for the sky, punctuate the dense dark green backdrop. Chickens scurry along the roads and hogs are tied up in yards while wild goats traverse the treacherous inclines off in the distance. When we encounter the villagers heading to Sunday church services, I can't take my eyes off this one lovely Polynesian woman in particular. She mesmerizes me with her golden brown skin dressed in a floor-length white cotton lace-trimmed gown, mother of pearl broach and necklace, circle of flowers in her hair, carrying her pray book and seemingly rehearsing her sermon under her breath as she strolled along towards church. This quiet island, devoid of an airstrip and off the beaten path, is the real deal and we "yatchies" are lucky to have this rare glimpse of simple, unspoiled Polynesian life.

HIVA OA, is our next destination and is the largest island of the chain. It again is characterized by its rich green dramatic mountains, so towering and lush that their highest points are typically shrouded in the clouds. But I could have easily skipped this disappointingly crowded and not particularly boat-friendly anchorage (the town and small markets are a 40 minute uphill walk away), EXCEPT for the key fact that Paul Gauguin is buried here. The artist, after leaving France and spending a decade in Tahiti, lived his final two years here in the town of Atuona and is buried in Calvary Cemetery on a hill overlooking the bay.

David and I made the one hour walk to the cemetery. Unassuming as the grave site is, it took us several minutes to locate it. To me, it appeared as if someone had hand-placed the small volcanic rocks that designate the area. Prior visitors had left a few fresh flowers, a string of beads, a silver-glossed paintbrush. The marker simply reads: "Paul Gauguin 1903", as if perhaps they did not know the year of his birth. Back in town I toured the Gauguin museum. While the collection consists of only copies, it is an extensive and comprehensive perspective of the artist's body of work and I had the unique experience of wandering through room after room as the lone visitor. Just behind the museum is the perched thatched hut that served as Gauguin's studio/home for the two brief years he spent in the Marquesas before his death. To be viewing Gauguin's vibrant, colorful, distinctive Polynesian portraits and landscapes while being physically here - in situ, as it were - living and breathing and seeing and smelling Polynesia, was especially moving and memorable.

TAHUATA: We depart Hiva Oa for a short, fast sail over to Tahuata, eager to leave a busy harbor behind us and hang out by a quiet, deserted palm-tree lined beach. Not only is this island not deserted (more on that below), but the anchorage is anything but empty. As we are trying to drop our hook in the late afternoon sun, we mill around and recognize roughly the same dozen or so boats making the circuit about these islands. We shouldn't be surprised, as not only is this the ideal time of the year to make the Pacific crossing, but the Marquesas serve as the gateway and clearing in point of entry to French Polynesia for virtually all of these boats. In particular, we seem to have converged here with the West Coasters - from Edmonton and Seattle and various California ports - who left Puerto Vallarta, Mexico about a month ago and traveled together with the Pacific Puddle rally. Added to this mix, we have also met a number of young families hailing from England and Rotterdam and South Africa. With English as a common language and ocean crossing as a common experience it is easy to connect. (In a likewise manner, the French speaking yachties tend to hang together).

....So more on our not-so-deserted island. Next morning, Eric beaches the dinghy and goes ashore alone to explore. Low and behold, even though he has no knife, he returns with coconuts expertly cracked open to share the delicious coconut water inside. Eric has met Steven, the exactly one resident in this bay, whose family owns this hunk of the planet. Steven is a tall, muscular man with shoulder length dark hair and a number of characteristic Marquesan tattoos (considered to be the most intricate in the world). He lives in an open air shack with no walls - the lone structure on this beach - and tends the property's fruit trees and makes copra (dried coconut that is sold to make coconut oil). Problem is, he is finding that when he leaves the island, fruits are being stolen. Not suspecting the cruisers, but to insure we know not to take fruit without permission, Stephanie, one of the boaters, organizes a potluck and bonfire ashore with Steven's help. I suspect in reality Steven just likes the company, as he could not be more generous and gracious inviting this ragtag menagerie to his surfside front yard. It was a special night: the grown-ups now putting faces with those boat names while the cross-section of kids ran around nearly naked, enthusiastically adding leaves and branches to the bonfire and looking on in wonder as Steven, a veritable Polynesian pied piper, cut open a spiny sea urchin and shared the slimy raw meat with fresh-squeezed lemon.

We all get a chance to mingle. Eric chats with jovial Bjorn, a peer-aged crew member donning a red-bandana and corn-rowed beard that jangles when he laughs, which he often does. David shares his road-less-traveled tales of Easter Island/Pitcairn/Gambier with the other intrigued Captains. I get a rare opportunity to talk to other sail wives who concur that, despite what equality we might have ashore, on the boat, especially on the boat, chores quickly devolve to pink jobs and blue jobs, and despite what brain power we (once) had ashore, on the boat, especially on the boat, life becomes an endless cycle of Home EC and Shop.

Before we shove off the next morning, Eric spears a Parrot Fish to give to Steven who is so thrilled he sends him back with a burlap bag brimming with lemons and oranges and pamplemousse. No scurvy for this crew, that's for sure. Delicious!

.....to be continued...... check back. Magnificent Marquesas II coming soon.