20 May 2012 | 8N 140W
12 May 2012 | 225 Miles Off the West Coast of Mexico
11 May 2012 | Fatu Hiva, Marquesas, Fr. Polynesia
17 April 2012 | 6N 126W
10 April 2012 | 200 Miles Off the West Coast of Mexico
09 April 2012 | 18N 119W ish
06 April 2012 | Punta de Mita, Nayarit, Mexico
19 March 2012
19 March 2012
19 March 2012

On Our Own at Last, in Fatu Hiva

11 May 2012 | Fatu Hiva, Marquesas, Fr. Polynesia
Bev
On Our Own at Last, in Fatu Hiva May 10, 2012

It may sound oxymoronic to say we're finally on our own. There's an excellent argument to be made for our being 'on our own' as we sailed across the Pacific Ocean from Mexico to Hiva Oa. During the three week passage we never laid eyes on another sailboat and saw no more than half a dozen other vessels of any kind. Certainly we were alone then.

But on the crossing we had daily contact with our friends, others making the crossing at the same time and we did not feel very alone at all. On the daily radio net self-organized by a small group of sailboats leaving Mexico in April, we checked in daily sharing our position, weather, and excitement of the day with friends we had met before departing the Mexican coast.

Upon making landfall in Hiva Oa, Marquesas, French Polynesia, we immediately became wrapped up in the business of recovering from a long passage; cleaning the boat, finding some fresh foods in the local stores, exploring the island. And we have only dropped in on the radio net once since our landfall, that to offer information to our friends still crossing, to answer any questions they may have about making landfall themselves.

Our arrival in Hiva Oa coincided with the arrival of our friends, Craig and Bruce of Gato Go, the same friends with whom we spent the evening before sailing away. Bob and Jody arrived on C'estLa Vie at about the same time, and while we were still in Hiva Oa, JP and his crew arrived on Morning Star. We were among friends in Hiva Oa and enjoyed seeing them again, sharing the details of our passages and sipping wine on the decks of one boat or another in the evening.

Ah, but now we are really alone! We sailed from Hiva Oa after about five days, only as far as the island Tahuata, six miles away, where we anchored in idyllic Baie Hanamoenua. Where Hiva Oa's anchorage had been bumpy and rolly with surge from the swells rolling along in the trade winds, Hanamoenua was flat as a pancake, still and calm, and we found it restful and delightfully quiet. This little bay is quiet open to the sea, but on the west, the leeward side of the island, and unless the winds make a dramatic change in direction, this lovely little anchorage never experiences waves or wind above a gently breeze.

We joke about these incredibly beautiful places in terms of whether or not they measure up to the 'pictures in the brochures.' There's no brochure, at least none I have seen, but it's easy to conjure up the images of the waving palms, the little hump of sand rising in a gentle mound out of the ocean, the sparkling water in impossibly blue colors.

Well! The waters of Atuona Bay, the cruiser anchorage at Hiva Oa, were brown with silt stirred up by the constant surge. It was warm enough. But when we dove on the prop to free a line that had wrapped around it (admission here: Robbie dove and several helpful friends - I did not) visibility was only a foot or so in the muddy water. In fact, I can attest to that fine silt. It is my job, generally, to bring up the anchor, and when we departed Hiva Oa our primary anchor brought with it to the surfact an enormous load of pure fine black mud, smooth as potter's slip. Having been too lazy to prepare the deck wash down hose before bringing up the anchor, I had the privilege of scraping the mud off with my fingers and today, four or five days later, I STILL have filthy little black lines under my fingernails! This is the first time in my entire life that I have been unable to get my fingernails clean. Even after several attempts with files and brushes, my nails are dirty with this silt so fine it just won't come out!

Oh, the waters of Baie Hanamoenua, though! Straight from the brochure! These waters are the brightest purest aquamarine you can image!

Insert photo: Bluest Waters We've Ever Seen!

We knew no one at Hanamoenua except Terry and Margeaux from Switzerland and their dog Yuma. (We met someone a few months ago with a dog named Taos. I think we should get a dog an name it Brussels.) There were seven or eight other boats, but we did not know them and were so ready to rest and relax after turbulent and social Atuona, that we did not do the polite thing, which is to visit other boats in our dinghy to say hello.

Our two days at Hanmoenua were delightful and calm. We relaxed and caught up on our rest, then sailed south and east, beating into the trade winds to see the not-to-be-missed destination that is known as the most beautiful place in the world, Fatu Hiva.

Gato Go had come to Fatu Hiva a few days ahead of us and we spent a pleasant evening in our cockpit with Bruce and Craig before they sailed away to new destinations.

Now we are alone or, more correctly, surrounded by boats we have only just met in the past 24 hours. Patrick and Brian have sailed here from New Zealand. They've been at sea for 30 days and this is their first landfall. They'll go directly to Hawaii next on their way back to the United States after four years.

I believe we are the only Americans here at this time, Partick and Brian and Robbie and I. There are a few boats from Switzerland, including Didier and Marie Lucia who arrived yesterday from the Galapagos. And at least three German boats, Henri and his crew from Munchen, another boat from Munchen with Svetlana and her husband, Hans their crew member, and two or three young blond children. I think there is at least one French boat here, and one bearing an Australian ensign sailed away yesterday afternoon before we made our rounds so we did not meet them.

This is the 'being alone' that we have been seeking! Here we sit, snug and comfy aboard the most wonderful sailing vessel in the world among people from many lands and many cultures in a place that is completely new to all of us! What could be more fun? This is where the rubber meets the road in terms of human relationships and we welcome the challenge. It's exactly the reason we came! With nothing more than a friendly smile and a few words of our broken languages, we will see how well we can harmonize with others and make the world a happier place!

Cruisers have so much in common, and it would be easy to socialize only among ourselves. So much to discuss and to share about places we've been, places we're going and how best to tackle the process. We have a reputation for being an insular community, sticking to ourselves and sometimes failing to engage the locals in the places we visit. Yes, there is a temptation to do that. I did not foresee it, but those things that draw us together, the sailing, the weather, the sea, the repairing one's boat in exotic places do sorely tempt one to spend time with our neighbors on the boats around us at any anchorage.

It's the people of these remote and unique cultures who have drawn us here to begin with, though, and what a shame it would be to miss this opportunity to become a person of Fatu Hiva instead of just another yachtie. We have made it a priority to divide our time, meeting other yachties whom we know we'll see in other ports in the future and treasuring the unique charm of the people and the places we visit. If we place any emphasis, we hope for it to weigh more heavily upon the peoples and cultures of our landfalls.

Today, Mersoleil is anchored in Baie de Verges (Bay of the Virgins, so named by Christian missionaries who disapproved of the previous name which referred to the multiple erect spires of stone that rise from the steep slopes reminding one of Â... wellÂ... not virgins). This spot on the island of Fatu Hiva is widely reputed to be the most beautiful and the most photographed place in the world and we would not disagree. It is simply stunning.

Blessed with daily rainfall, 80-90F degree weather day and night, and an inspiring volcanic mountainous terrain, the tiny island of Fatu Hiva springs up out of the sea and delivers the intoxicating fragrance of tropical flowers for miles to northwestward tantalizing anyone arriving, as we did, from that direction. Even having been forewarned of the beauty of this place, Robbie and I motored into the bay at midmorning the day before yesterday with our jaws agape, overwhelmed by the beauty of the place.

Insert photo: Beauty is Fatu Hiva

We were exhausted when we arrived due to a little complication with ground tackle that had kept us offshore overnight. (Arkane note for other sailors: several feet of chain somehow hopped up onto deck in the beat to windward and got jammed in chain wheel - took six hours to free it, finally resorting to servicing the windlass, which was due anyway.) So shortly after getting settled we collapsed into a four hour nap spent the evening with Gato Go, and went to bed for the night.

It rained bullets once or twice during the night, Mersoleil was happy to have the bath, and we arose to find ourselves in paradise once again. The clouds and mist wafted through the valleys and occasionally dropped showers of fresh water upon us. In between, they parted for sunshine and bright rainbows, made the lush mountainsides sparkle and freshened the air. We spent the early part of the day bustling about putting away tools and preparing a meal of fettuccini with tomatoes, onions, black olives and bacon and a salad with the wonderful bitter greens I had purchased at Hiva Oa.

By mid afternoon we were concerned that interesting things might be going on on shore and we were not yet involved, so we raised the dinghy off the deck, lowered her into the water and motored into the village at around four o'clock. We smiled our friendliest smiles, spoke our three or four words of French to the people we met, and wandered the little village until dark. The Catholic church, no priest, but a dedicated congregation, were preparing for the children's service at 5:30PM and we stopped to chat with the greeters outside, one of whom was Kati, a charming woman about my age (OK, we're probably both grandmothers) who invited us to her home for a feast of local foods. She loves to prepare meals for visiting cruisers, asking only a small sum in reimbursement for the food and that we round up at least six people to participate in the feast along with her family.

After spending some time chatting with Kati, we wandered further up the road and found Florida who offered to show us her tapa cloth paintings, a woman who was carrying her new three week old grandson to the children's service, and Blondine who was carrying her eight week old puppy Sam in a cardboard box. We walked home with Blondine, met her friendly husband, Mark, and spent a pleasant hour chatting and looking at Mark's jewelry. He carves bone and mother of pearl and makes jewelry with these items and black pearls. His work is lovely. It was hard to resist buying something and we told him we would return later.

We'd said the same to Florida and to Katie, but it rained hard this morning and we were loathe to venture out. At noon my conscience got the better of me and I hopped in the dink while Robbie did other things and I went to town, first calling on the neighboring boats to see who might like to join us for a Polynesian feast. Brian and Patrick we game, but all the others had only just made landfall from the Galapagos and were not ready to make social plans. They were sleeping or getting their boats back in order, just as we had done last week.

I continued into the village with only a count of four for dinner, asked at the little store (you wouldn't call it a store and we would not dare buy here knowing that everything we bought would be unavailable for those who live here and are not sailing on to bigger retail markets) where might I find Kati, and was guided directly to her house by a person who was presumably a man, but who had a very effeminate manner, carried a basket on his wrist and wore a flower behind his right ear symbolizing that he was available. I don't understand this, but I think there is a huge cultural variation here and this person was not a homosexual, but something more complex and culturally defined. In any event, he was nice enough to lead me to Kati's home and I hope it was not a faux paux when I said Â"Merci beaux coup. Messeur.Â"

Kati agreed to prepare dinner for us tomorrow at two in the afternoon even if we were only four people, and I promised to come by at eight in the morning with a final count. I memorized and the white rock and the plant with the long yellow leaves at the point where you leave the road (I use the term loosely) to go to Kati's house (I use that term loosely, too.) When I asked Kati about tapa cloth, she showed me to the home of Florida and they brought out some of her work, black pictographs and stylized designs on beige and brown paper make by pounding out the pulp of breadfruit trees and the banyon tree.

Kati introduced me to a wood carver, too, who was working over large pieces, baskets and bowls and vases, doing all his work by hand.

It would be wonderful for the people of these islands if Robbie and I felt like buying an artisanal item from each of them. I wish I could do that. But we have not room aboard for such souveniers and we both know the feeling one has after having brought home a turquoise wooden coyote baying at the moon and realizing it looks ridiculous in a townhouse in downtown Chicago, that makes one question, 'what was I THINKing when I bought that!?' I resisted any temptation to buy.

I stopped atMark and Blondine's on my way back down the road and enjoyed a nice visit with them, scratched little Sam behind the ears and told them I would return tomorrow. Mark asked me my age, which seemed odd until he explained his reason. Mark is 51 years old and is beginning to struggle with that far sightedness that afflicts us all as we mature. He wanted to see my glasses to see if they would help him see his work better and said that he needs stronger glasses. Amazingly, I had reorganized a locker only this morning where I keep my eyeglasses and some other things, and had found a couple of pair of readers that no longer suit me. They were already set aside to give as gifts to anyone who might need them (it's SO hard to buy things on these tiny islands!) and I will take them to Mark tomorrow in hopes that they'll help him. If he needs something stronger, I hope Robbie will part with one of his many pairs of reading glasses. And I believe I will give Blondine one of my monogrammed hankies as a gift. The letter B works for her, too, and it's common for women here to carry a handkerchief or a scarf to blot away the perspiration from face and neck. She will appreciate it and I have about a dozen. I carry a hankie all the time, but surely I can part with one.

Leaving Mark and Blondine, I continued down the road and was greeted with a friendly 'bon jour' by an old woman in her garden. Madeline she was, and with no language in common, Madeline determined that I would love to have some pompelmoussse, that I had plenty of bananas, and that, sure, I would use those aromatic green leaves (I think they're some kind of basil or oregano, but really I don't know and if we're dead by the time you read this, you'll know I misunderstood what she said). She loaded me down with three enormous pompelmousse and a nosegay of the herbs and then realized a bag was in order. She disappeared into her house and returned with a mylar grocery bag which I gratefully accepted, knowing it would be hard enough to hop into the dinghy at low tide even without an armload of loose produce.

At the dinghy dock I found many of the newly arrived Europeans and the Swiss, who do not have the indulgence granted to EU citizens, had apparently begun worrying about the fact that they had not yet checked in to the country of French Polynesia and were probably all going to have to pay a security bond equal to the cost of a plane ticket home. French Polynesia does not take kindly to freeloaders and they want make sure everyone who visits has the wherewithal to go away at his own expense after a suitable time.

Finally back at home, Robbie and I shared our afternoon experiences, he working aboard on downloading weather from Honolulu and redesigning our preventer system yet again, and I on land. We enjoyed huge bowls of tropical fruit (there are stalks of bananas hanging in our cockpit!) and leftover risotto with shrimp and scallops. Between eating, reading, writing and our conversations, we ran to close hatches and windows with each sudden downpour and opened them again when the rain passed.

It has been a beautiful day. We love Fatu Hiva!
Comments
Vessel Name: Mersoleil
Vessel Make/Model: Hylas 46
Hailing Port: Seattle, WA
Crew: Bev & Robbie Collins
About: Capt. Bev Collins -- USCG 50 Ton Master, gardener extraordinaire, sensational chef, always always cheerful, has committed the entire Oxford English Dictionary to memory.

Mate Robbie Collins -- baseball, sailing, baseball, sailing, baseball, sailing.....

Extra: Mersoleil is a cutter rig, center-cockpit 46' Hylas. She is sea-kindly, but a tough competitor in heavy weather. She is our home and refuge and our chariot to the people and cultures we long to meet.

Who Are We?

Who: Bev & Robbie Collins
Port: Seattle, WA
Sailing Mersoleil Around the World 2011 - 2012