When I look up and from my side of the berth, I see the solar panels over the cockpit, a corner of sky and sometimes the dark cliffs next to us. At night I can tell whether we are swinging towards the cliffs. In the morning I can tell whether we are going to have sunrise or not. THIs morning when the sky turned from black the grey I got up and climbed the ladder to look around. What was Hakauhau Village going to look like.

The cliff walls were dry, covered the low desiccated leafless trees. Clouds of goats skittered down talking the entire time. The iconic central edifice named for warrior gods by the early settled, and as a basalt arrows by Robert Stephenson loomed over the valley. No children or dogs. Instead, a group of 5 outrigger canoes were floating at the base of the cliff right on the spot the charts had labels with scary wave symbols and called tide streams. They headed east disappearing behind the breakwater. My first vaka encounter in day filled with vaka (outrigger canoes). After Sunday waffle breakfast as Karl and I prepared our sturdy little kayaks the vaka re-entered the harbor. A vaka with a fishing pole sticking out powered by two men leaning into their canoe paddles in tightly harmony shifting slides every two stroke passes quickly. A more modern fiberglass blue green boat with a man wearing a headlamp and lapful of orange floats comes close. We admire his boat. He bemoans his catch, only babies he complains then moves toward shore.

This harbor protected by the tall breakwater with the red flashing light that guided us in last night was full of swimming, petanque (bocce ball), and vaka activates. In between our errands (shopping for food), chores (boat equivalent to mowing the lawn. Cleaning the waterline) and talking with family and friends we watched Sunday in the harbor.

People swam laps along the white sand beach. Families body surfed in the small waves. Children played a version of water soccer. A small group of boys began leaping into the harbor from the pier where the supply ship ties up. Frist 2 or 3 boys jumping. Then 5-8 boys jumping. Then close to 20 boys gathered at the end. Then I heard the splashes and whistles. The Gendarme had come to stop the fun.

Petanque had been played on every harbor we have visited whether at formal clubs like the one we biked into in Atuono on Hiva Oa or the sandy corner next to the boat launch on Fatu Hiva. The bulletin boards in each town announced the schedule for the interisland tournaments. The uniform teams played at courts outlined with string at the town end of the beach. In the center of the beach a group of laughing younger people formed their own informal court in the sand.

A modern Vaka barely resembles the boat in the Captain Cook engraving. The modern boats are fiberglass with very slender shapes but a broad hole to sit in that makes it easy to get out quickly. The outrigger is either wood or fiberglass connected to the main hull with two cross pieces. Today young boys in lessons circled the boat watching the oldest mimicking his body movement that propels these very light boats forwards. Young boys played in the surf in front of the Vaka school, yelling at the waves and sometimes falling in with a scream of delight. Another continues to pop wheelies pulling the outrigger out of the water until he capsizes. In a game of follow the leaders three vaka disappeared under the pier emerging on the other side of the harbor. At the end of the day a group of 8 off the stern of the boat surfer the larger waves. The boats are quick enough to surf even swells that are not breaking and to avoid the rock wall ahead of them. Many of the trucks in town have narrow roof racks just for vaka. As dusk as the vaka returned to the beach the sand was marked with lines of dribble marks as the vaka were carried over one shoulder back to the racks. My only question is Melville notes how women were tabu on boat are they still?