Hanatefau, Day 2
24 April 2010 | Tahuata, Isles Marquises
Alison
I don't know why sometimes things come your way that seem so unbelievable, so undeserved that you just sort of stare at them in disbelief. But once in a while it happens that way, and such was the thing that happened to us yesterday on a calm, beautiful morning here in Hanatefau.
I had just wandered into the galley, and was looking out the window, pondering whether to have some coconut banana bread or something else for breakfast (as if there were really any question) when I saw movement in the water. Fins -- lots of them. With the recent story of hammerheads echoing in my mind, my first thought was sharks. But then I realized they were dipping in and out of the water, like dolphins. I called Allan and we went out, standing in the cockpit, taking in the scene: indeed, a huge pod of dolphins was swimming and leaping in the bay, only a few hundred feet from the boat. We just stood there, watching, scanning the horizon, silently counting the numbers in our heads, when we suddenly came to our senses and realized this was one of those moments. What better time would there ever be to swim with a pod of dolphins? We called to Tiffany, who called to Greg, and within 10 minutes we were in the warm water.
Our friend Gloria from Paikea Mist told us later that she and Michael had been watching them for over an hour before we got up, and that when we jumped into the water, they changed direction and began to swim towards us. It was all she needed for inspiration and within minutes she had jumped in, Michael followed shortly. A little while later we noticed the crew from Albatross also swimming toward one of the many clumps of dipping fins.
We were filled with excitement and anticipation, not really knowing what to expect from our first encounter with these beautiful, intelligent creatures. Now, maybe being from the "Flipper" generation, we expect too much. Or maybe we've heard too many "Swimming with the Dolphin" stories, in which a dolphin laughs and plays with the human, twirling around them, developing a close personal relationship, sometimes even healing them from terminal diseases. We wanted, at the very least, a good dolphin diagnosis, but what actually happened as we first encountered them was that they just swam by, not even seeming to notice us, and then quietly submerged. Still and all, the excitement of being that close, even for a moment, and of hearing their fantastic calls to each other -- the perpetual high-pitched sound of squeals and squeaks, was enough to render us weak in the knees. Thankfully we didn't really need our knees at the moment.
We were in the water for about an hour, and it seemed the longer we swam quietly and waited, the more they became accustomed to us. We came quite close to a number of them, including small groups of young. No spontaneous healings occurred that we know of, other than that overall sense of incredible well-being and pure joy that accompanies such rare moments. It set the tone for the rest of the day, relaxed and open to the things around us.
And how does one segue to the rest of the day after such a beginning? Well, home made coconut banana bread helps, so we started with that. A little while later Michael and Gloria came by to deliver a few books for us to peruse on the Marquesas (the Spanish spelling, just to confuse you) and I joined them on a short trip to Hapatoni. Charlie's Charts calls the village of Hapatoni "one of the friendliest and most attractive in the island group." I haven't seen the entire island group, but I did find it delightful -- a charming, well cared-for village built along the rocky shore. We stopped at the little magasin (store) and scoped out potential supplies: lots of giant cans of butter from New Zealand, liter-sized bottles of warm Coca Cola, piles of mosquito coils, a big freezer box full of ice creams, and all the usual canned foods, including the ever-present corned beef.
A little farther down the road we found the community area -- a large, open-air platform with a tin roof and decorative palm fronds, with carved wooden benches nearby set beneath shady trees. Within 10 minutes of our arrival, a private showing of local handicrafts had been deftly set up on tables with colorful tablecloths. 4 or 5 women laid out their wares, from intricate hand carved wooden canoe paddles, exquisite in detail and finish, to bone earrings, hand carved wooden bowls, head bonker things (the Marquesians were cannibals like many South Pacific islanders until the Missionaries had become dinner one too many times and told them to quit it) and stone tikis. Although I was intrigued, the prices were high, higher than I was comfortable with.
Meanwhile, Greg and Tiff had gone ashore in our dingy, and returned with 5 coconuts. Although Tiffany grew up in Florida, and I've had my share of exposure to the rural tropics and lots of fresh coconuts, we were all essentially clueless on the exact method of gaining access to their meaty interiors. I'll spare you the sordid and rather embarrassing details -- if you're really curious, I think Greg plans to post a You Tube expose of the first onshore attempts with a dull machete and a sharp fear of losing precious digits. Suffice it to say that the acquisition of these coconuts was the start of a complex process that entailed hammers, hacksaws, screw drivers, the machete, an ax, and even a dremmel tool. It took all afternoon, accompanied by a raucous mix of musical selections from Allan's Ipod, and left the cockpit a fuzzy, chaotic mess. But by early evening, we had over a quart of coconut juice, a huge bowl of fresh coconut meat, and the makings of 2 custom coconut bras. (Fashion Show to be scheduled at a later date.)
While the coconut factory was in full swing in the cockpit, I was in the galley making more banana coconut bread, as well as beer bread (3 ingredients! Flour, sugar, beer) and fruit smoothies with mango, kiwi, orange, and yes ... fresh coconut.
So needless to say, we've had a delightful time here in Hanatefau, and are glad we decided to stay another day. But like kids in a candy store, we still face the question of where to go next, with so may delicious choices. After much discussion and hand-wringing, we've decided to head up the island to Hanamoenoa, which, again quoting Charlie's Charts, is "one of three most beautiful anchorages in all of Polynesia," according to some guy named Eric Hiscock.
Of course, this means we're bypassing nearby Baie Vaitahu, also known as Resolution Bay, where, in addition to the Vatican-built Catholic church, one of the most famous tattoo artists in the Marquesas resides. This is a hard decision -- these Marquesian tattoos are very cool. Allan wants one, I want one, but as I mentioned before -- we both fear pain. No doubt, when we get to Tahiti and reunite with all our cruising friends, and everyone is showing off their tats, we'll suffer the consequences of not caving into local peer pressure. (Gordon got one!) And no doubt, when we return to our "normal" lives back home, to our airline uniforms and tidy existences, I suppose we'll be glad we remain tattoo virgins. But what a great keepsake of our trip to take home, and a tattoo doesn't take up space! Doesn't need dusting! Won't mold! Oh, the temptation ...