Marquesan style

“A tourist remains an outsider throughout his visit, but a sailor is part of the local scene from the moment he arrives.”

- Ann Davison

Baie d'Anaho

So much for two weeks in the Marquesas. We expected beauty; we expected friendly cruisers and hoped for hospitable locals. I can tell you that what we have experienced has been way beyond anything you could imagine. We travel now in the company of two other boats and greet other cruisers as old friends when we arrive or they arrive in some ridiculously beautiful anchorage. As we sputter the French that I scantily remember from grade 9, the Marquesans giggle at us and welcome us into their restaurants, onto their beaches and even into their homes. 

In Baie d’Anaho, we pleasantly bobbed around on our anchor and breezes sifted through the open hatches. I had taken down the laundry I scrubbed at the tap near the beach yesterday while Bradley was off sniffing out mangos with which we made brew like the locals. Often we were going to leave “tomorrow” but why rush? We’ve been in these islands for almost two months, there’s no sense rushing through paradise.

Ichiban with Justin and Anna

Patrick on Ik'a

Visiting this bay had been a part of our plan for a while, since Tahautau. It was there we met an older French couple who are on their 4^th pass through these islands. Brad charmed them with his extensive French – “Bonjour!” and they have been sharing their experiences and advice ever since. This was a bay they told us not to miss. Again, we had planned a short stay, maybe three or four days, and then we would sail on to the Tumatos. We were so sure that this was our plan; Bradley had even started to write something for that blog entry. We’ve been here two weeks. But why rush away? With our new friends, Justin and Anna from Ichiban and

Patrick from Ik’a, we have been poking around and enjoying ourselves immensely. We hiked over the ridge east of this bay to visit the beach in Baie d’Haatuatua which we had passed on our sail here. The blue ocean laps up this gorgeous golden beach, that I’ve tried to capture in a photo, but the water is full of jellyfish that get pushed in by the winds and current and the beach is teeming with nonos. Tiny bloodsuckers. They are relentless and the nasty red bite they leave itches like crazy for almost two weeks. I have learned that both coconut milk and lime juice are natural insect repellents. Grate a coconut, squeeze the milk from the gratings and rub all over. You smell good and your skin becomes baby-bottom soft and the nonos will avoid you! Lime works though after scratching existing bites there are a few moments of teeth-clenching stinging while you rub the half a lime on your scratched up skin.

Tra, Patrick, Justin and Anna

This hike was not just to soak up the view; we had also learned there is a farm just over the ridge. The friendly farming family gave us buckets to collect fresh tomatoes, eggplants, parsley, cantaloupe, watermelon, mangos, papayas and pamplemous. We just finished the tomatoes a couple nights ago. Maybe we should go back for more and stay just one more night. We’ve also hiked over the ridge to the west. Patrick, our tireless interpreter, had become friendly with the guide who took him pig hunting and we would go there to visit him. When we had first learned of Patrick’s adventure, Bradley’s eyes lit up and I knew that we couldn’t leave these islands until he had gone pig hunting in the hills of Nuka Hiva. We hiked the switchbacks straight up the ridge and we’re rewarded with a fantastic view of Baie d'Anaho and only our three boats anchored below. The hike down was full of pauses as we picked mangos, sliced and devoured them. We arrived at Nui’s place in Baie d’Haithau after a brief beer break and some deep fried shrimps at the only restaurant.

Baie d'Anaho

Horses, puppies and a most welcoming host determined our tentative plans to stay the night. There was, after all, a party at the community hall for Bastille Day to attend. Music, dancing, bbq and the drinks particularly, ensured our place in local history proven by the waves and shouts of “Brad Pitt warrior!” (You can ask Bradley about the particulars later) we heard the next day as we began our walk back home to the boats.

Bradley and I returned to Baie d’Haithau two days later for a horseback riding, pig hunting adventure with Nui, leaving our sweet Suuhaa in the care of our friends. I had no plans to pig hunt but we figured a three day horseback ride through the gorgeous Nuka Hiva environment could not be missed. At Nui’s place we were served lunch, offered a shower and introduced to our horses. Gringo for me and BonBon for

The view from Nui's kitchen window.

Bradley. Nui would ride his horse and his new young
unbroken horse would be our packhorse. It was about 5:00pm when we left and would ride for 3-4 hours to the beach where we would sleep. It got dark quickly and it began to pour down thick tropical drops of rain. It’s very warm here, we weren’t cold and our jackets kept us dry. The problem with the rain was it determined where we could sleep which was not on the beach but on the concrete floor of a wall-less shed. Nui carefully spread out the damp burlap sacks which had been between our WOODEN saddles and the horses’ backs, with me getting a couple extra for “comfort.” I didn’t sleep that night, Bradley, who is made of tougher stuff, snored happily away to the sounds of the waves breaking on the beach in front of us.

In the morning Nui made us coffee and we snacked a small breakfast before saddling up and beginning a 5 hour ride. We rode up through a peaceful village of about 100 people to a single file trail into the jungle. About 100 feet up this trail, Nui stopped and told us that we would need to go fast up this part, gestured that it was uphill and we should hold on to the mane of our horses as we went. Holy crap, this trail was straight up and the horses needed to gallop to make it. I’m pretty sure I had my eyes closed, trusting that Gringo knew her way and would keep up with BonBon and Bradley. At the top, we slid off our sweating horses to give them a break, collected our shaken wits and looked around. We were on top of a high ridge, high enough to see bay after bay and miles of ocean. This island is stunning. 

Up and down mountain ridges we rode. Under low hanging branches, over coconuts and were rewarded each time with a break in yet another beautiful bay. The final ride down was into the valley Nui’s family owns, 800 hectares of paradise. The valley falls steeply into lush greenness and then opens to a beautiful beach on the ocean. Nui’s father opened his home to us even giving us his bed to sleep. I’m pretty sure that I was the reason for such generosity. Our friend Patrick had slept in a much more rustic place and I feel confident assuming that if Bradley had been alone he would have shared that experience – not the soft big bed experience. Oh and I had a shower. A long fantastic shower which was worth more to me than hunting down a pig. Alas, the pig hunt did not happen. But while we were sitting in the shade drinking fresh lime-ade and devouring pamplemousses, Nui and Bradley discussed having a true Marquesan experience. As can be expected, some things were probably lost in the translation and it was on our way back from our little walk to beach later that Nui’s dad pulled up to us in his pick up. Through gestures and a few key words Bradley realized what was being asked. Would he like to go with him to shoot a bull? We jumped in the truck, Bradley in the front and me in the back next to the Winchester, yup – loaded. With uncles, brothers and cousins in the back, we bumped back towards the beach to where the all the bovine hang. Everyone disembarked but I stayed in the truck listening to the radio. This was going to be a little beyond my capacities. I did hear the two shots and shortly thereafter a brother came to get me and the truck. Back we drove across the field to the gang of paradise ranchers standing around a dead bull with Bradley smacked dab in the group – grinning. The truck was backed up and everyone (but me, again, I stayed in the truck facing forward) heaved and hoed and hoisted that massive beast into the back of the truck. We drove 50 feet to a tree with a strong low branch. This is when Brad opened my door and said that I probably would want to go back to the house. I bounced out of the truck and never looked back. I went and had that glorious shower and a nap. 

Now, I wasn’t there to see the slaying or the butchering of the animal but Brad told me that it was pretty awesome to see.  First, when they all left to shoot the bull, it definitely wasn’t a hunt; more of a wandering around picking out bulls and then discussing if that bull was a good choice - sort of like shopping. After a consensus was reached, the uncle leveled the gun and POW POW, Mr. Bull went down. They bled him then and there and that’s when I showed up in the truck. After I had walked away, they noosed that poor beast and hung him from the tree. It was a family affair as the bull was butchered, solely with machetes (no sawzalls!), and quartered and divided up between the families. They didn’t give Bradley a machete but one older uncle hacked him off a piece of rib eye, squeezed a lime on it (which he cut of a tree that was right there) and Bradley snacked on raw beef. Brad came back dirty and a little bloody and pretty pleased with this true Marquesan experience. Needless to say later that night we dined on fresh fillet mignon for dinner. 

We rose early the next morning, helped Nui saddle the horses and began our 5 hour ride back to his place. It was a long hot ride, Brad got stung in the neck by a wasp (this was actually the second sting in the neck – I guess he’s not allergic) and also had technically difficulties with his riding equipment a couple times. During the second incident the pack horse he was leading decide to stop and have a snack while we were galloping up hill and Gringo’s reins came apart and a stirrup broke and our man was tossed to the ground. Not to worry, he stood up mostly ok. Poor Nui was mortified and the horses were shouted at but Bradley dusted   When we finally arrived back at Nui’s, we were feed more fresh beef, offered a shower and a nap before a hot hike back to Baie d’Anaho and our floating home. We were fortunate once more since during a brief stop at the store before the hike we saw a young guy we had met at the party and he offered us a ride in his speedboat back to Baie d'Anaho. This is no sweet trip around the corner; we came out of Baie d’Hatiheu and around Point Temoe into seas Brad says are like those around the Charlottes. Jacob expertly navigated the swells, the waves and currents and saved us a sweaty and buggy hike. 

himself off and was reaffirmed in his decision to be a sailor – not a cowboy.

We stayed in Baie d’Anaho a few more days. New local friends Brad had made when he worked on their outboard had us over for dinner, gave us copious amounts of fruit and half a goat. We were also given a bottle of Raiku. Raiku is the local brew. The alcohol is very expensive here and the locals make and drink this “coconut beer.” It’s not really legal; I would liken it to moon shining. It can be made with anything growing on the island. Coconuts, breadfruit or even mangoes which are what we have been using. We have had gifts of many different varieties and some have been terrible (very vinegar-ie) and others have been delicious. Justin on Ichiban is also working on mango version and he and Brad have many discussions about their mash and when it will be ready. Actually, the first batch was ready a few days ago and the five of us had a great time drinking MangoHooch that Brad brewed. We are looking forward to Justin’s vintage as it should be ready next.

 

Currently we are back in Baie de Taiohae after circumnavigating the island with Ichiban and Ik’a with a

couple of stops along the way. We will re-provision here, use the internet and phones and then continue to the Tuamotus soon. Our plans, as they stand at this moment, are to only stop for a couple nights in those atolls before moving on to Tahiti. Then again, we were only going to stay in the Marquesas for two weeks…