Snorkeling, Tropical Homestead, & Night Passage

Moving to our new anchorage, a gust of 47 knots hit us; one of the top gusts we have ever experienced!  Tucked happily into Hanatefau anchorage on Tahuata island, anchor buried in sand, steep green-covered cliff walls blocking much of the wind. 

              Into the water we went, clearly seeing our anchor dug and hidden in the sand – perfect!  Anchored in 30 feet of water, but can see the ripples of sand at the bottom, the water so clear.  The kids and I are learning to snorkel and feel more comfortable in the water, as it is a foreign environment for us, and we were delighted at being in a small school of sparkling fish and butterfly fish.  Chris has done more underwater activity and is SCUBA-certified, using his Mantus small SCUBA set today to scrub the hull.

Calder squeezed all the small limes we had picked and Cora and I made a batch of lime bars, which we shared with SY Flora for afternoon coffee time (their tradition), followed by 5pm happy hour (our tradition).  So thankful to have this calm anchorage tonight. The air here is hot and humid and we open all our windows when we go to sleep; then squalls come in during the middle of the night and we shut all the windows and sweat.  Back to sleep, honk-shoo.  No anchor watch for us!

              School morning today and ate the last of the soft bananas in pancakes.  This afternoon, dinked over to the town of Hapatoni where there is a well-kept dock to tie up to and welcoming signs. 

The “Royal Road” is the village’s main attraction, built by the orders of Queen Vaekehu II in the 19^th century, extending along the water with stone walls on both sides.  We walked this pleasant road, lined by palms and over 100-year-old tamanu trees, through town, past beekeeping boxes.  The honey here must be delicious, as we watched bees lapping up mangos.  In the middle of the village there is a church built of stones next to several ancient paepae (stone platforms).  The entire feel is very peaceful and lush. 

              We are enjoying this calm anchorage, daily swimming, and jungle setting. Tucked in, we can smell the fermented mangos and warm earth, hear the roosters and birds.  We are hoping to move further south to Fatu Hiva once the weather calms.

             Chris opened up the port hull to see if there was any water in there similar to the starboard hull project.  Thankfully, very little water and he removed this and repaired the area of concern.  Enjoyed time swimming and snorkeling together this afternoon, saw a large ray.  Chris continues to clean our hull and is almost back to our baseline, battling barnacles.  Watched the sunset on the bow as a family, light breeze keeping the bugs away, feeling very content and blessed to be where we are.

              Woke up to palms outside my window after a great night of sleep, compliments of a slight breeze cooling us off, a calm anchorage, and no rain squalls that woke us up to close the hatches.  Ahhh… we’ve really loved this anchorage, stunning with its steep walls and snorkeling off our stern. 

We set out for the famous Fatu Hiva, which we knew would be a bash against the wind, waves, and swell.  The prediction for max 20 knot gusts was surpassed at 37 knots, our speed slowed to 3.5 knots against the waves (making it impossible to get to this new unknown anchorage by dark), and Cora was feeling a bit green.  It all added up to the decision that this was a bad decision for our family at this time. 

But before turning around to head north, we trolled through a massive feeding frenzy of leaping tuna and wild brown boobies…the line whirred…Calder fought…and fought…and caught a large shark.  It took a long time to get the shark close to the boat and he finally broke the line, losing Calder’s new Australian Runner and cable leader.  Back through the chaos we motored and Calder tried a new tactic, sight casting using his White Millie bucktail jig into the throes of jumping tuna…success!  A beautiful yellowfin tuna.  Then his reel started whirring and he had another.  We stopped fishing, feeling so lucky to have these two yellowfin tuna on board to feed our family the next few days.

Turning around felt much better, putting the waves and swell behind us, and we set our headsail and went north.  It got a bit wily as the weather funneled through Bordelais Channel, around the west side of Hiva Oa up to the first bay on the north, Hanamenu Bay.  With it’s terraced cliffs and buttes, it feels like the desert bays of Sea of Cortez, Mexico with the Marquesan palm-lined beach at its head.  Dinner of delicious tuna steaks on the grill.

              This bay is an absolute gem thanks to Ozanne and his family.  Ozanne met us at the beach and helped us haul up our dinghy, his black pet pig trailing nearby. 

He showed us the waterfall pool for drinking and cooling off, invited us into his outdoor kitchen, and showed us the hiking path.  There are houses standing along a rock-lined path, though no more village here.  Ozanne grew up here as a boy and now does his carving here.  The area is groomed around his home and there is a path that leads into the valley beyond, all the way across the island to Atuona (a 6-8 hour reportedly rugged hike).  We set out on the mango-lined trail into the lush valley, surrounded by bird call and gurgling water, back to ruins from times past, stones lined up in walls and platforms scattered amongst the jungle growth.  There was one site that clearly felt like the center of the ruins, permeated with mana.  We all loved the pig who followed us initially. 

After turning around, we took a dip in the pure, icy-cold pool at the bottom of the falls, an oasis surrounded by banana trees, breadfruit, ferns and other tropical foliage.  It is indeed a magical, remote homestead tucked into the lush valley.

              Afternoon pamplemousse, boat-cleaning, boat projects, schoolwork, and a quick dip in the water (made a bit quicker due to some small sharks hanging out) to cool off again before another delicious tuna dinner. 

I feel frustrated by my difficulty in learning French and find the language barrier very challenging and limiting to some of our experiences here.  With Spanish, I felt I could start speaking it much quicker, but with French I’m finding it challenging to understand and put together simple phrases.  Every night I dive back into it for 30-60 minutes with renewed vigor, but seem to make minimal progress.  I’m going to try to commit to a morning and evening session this week.  We’ll be in French Polynesia for another 2 ½ months and I want to expand our communication.

Calder and I have been attacked by No-No’s, more and more bites showing up today, covering us with over 100 itchy bumps that turn into blisters.  The cold ocean water bath was the only time they stopped itching. 

Up at 11:45pm to get underway for Ua Pou, an island about 60nm north, in order to ensure daylight arrival.  It was our first overnight passage with just the four of us since crossing the Sea of Cortez and the first overnight passage where we had the kids take watch together (without us).  This is a big step. 

Also, to make matters complicated, there were warnings about the magnitude of the solar flare and its possible effects on GPS and Starlink.  Not a huge issue on land, but a huge issue for our navigation.  We recorded our position and course hourly in case we had to resort to paper charts and compass in the night (oh the horror for the modern day sailor!).  Thankfully, this was a total non-issue. 

We set out, Chris taking the first passage watch, then passing it on to the kids for their watch.  Thankfully, it was a mellow passage with the seas and light winds behind us from one direction…ahhh, perfect.  Cora and I felt a bit green at first, but this was quickly fixed with some goldfish crackers in the tummy.  I don’t know what we’d do without goldfish crackers, digestives, and saltines! 

I took over for the early morning passage and found it utterly delightful, listening to my tunes, watching the sunrise, my friends the flying fish and boobie birds back.  After just one hour of my watch, I spotted majestic Ua Pou rising up from the horizon.  

The rest of the crew emerged from bed, we did a few sail changes, and started fishing.  In the distance we saw a writhing ball of “some fish” with birds frantically flying overhead; we drove through it, Calder cast his last white millie bucktail jig…fish on…ugh, shark…and there goes another jig and steel leader.  Feeling a bit dejected, and in need of more fishing gear with our next visiting guests, he succumbed to putting another line behind the boat, but the boobie birds were going for it and we didn’t wish to catch a bird; we have enough chicken in the freezer.  Lines reeled in. Anchor down on Ua Pou at 11:30am.