Hatiheu, Nuku Hiva 23 May 2010 8.8240S 140.0824W

Well multiple markers did not work, so I need to be more diligent about posting whenever we’re in a new spot. Nuku Hiva is an amazing island. Each bay we’ve visited has a unique character, each land excursion competes with the previous one vying for first place, in beauty, athleticism, views, amazing archaeology or unexpected finds.

In the valley of the kings adjacent to our anchorage in Hakatea (known by cruisers as Daniel’s Bay), a long but relatively slowly rising hike lured us into the most incredibly narrow canyon with vertical rock wall cliffs rising hundreds of meters above us, the sixth largest waterfall in the world by one guidebook’s account. It flowed at a trickle when we arrived, but our approach through the jungle into into a treeless landscape 100s of yards before the actual falls, was testament to a more violent flow in some previous season. We swam in deep pools and caves that must not be accessible during a rainy period. It’s a drought year, so we were able to swim back to the deepest darkest recesses below the falls – the sky a small postage stamp against the massive dark gray basalt cliffs. There was just enough light to illuminate the white tropic birds and terns circling their nests high above. We recklessly enjoyed the sound of our own cold water whoops echoing up the cliffs, until on coming out of the pools some local kids informed us that we should keep it down so as to avoid disturbing those same birds – apparently when they fly off their perches they’ve been known to cause falling rocks. SHHHH. We are foreigners unfamiliar with the local taboos – they must wonder how we lived to the ripe old ages of 12, 14, 46 and 46. Luckily we escaped this time without any concussions and without any bites from the screaming eels.

We anchored for a couple days in Controller Bay where French Frigates finally “controlled” the rebellious cannibals of Melville’s infamous Typee. After moonset and a meal with friends on Totem and Capaz, we saw a spectacular display of bioluminescence. Every movement of every fish was clearly if shortly etched in blue-green phosphorescence. You could see the slow methodical movements of the sharks big and small, the darting movement of their prey, at one point a large manta ray was clearly visible, from far across the bay it approached, it’s whole body aglow, every sweep of it’s wings sparkled blue, even it’s thin tail following was clearly visible. The kids were a little hesitant about getting in the kayak to paddle back to our boat that night. We tried to reason that at least now they could see exactly where the sharks were. We’ll see if we can ever get them back in the water for snorkeling. It was eerie and amazing.

We’re now anchored in Hatiheu. Yesterday we visited a huge complex of 3 archaeological sites. Actually the whole valley is one big site as far as we can tell, but they’ve cleared out three areas. One of the sites had a huge old banyan, which according to guidebooks has human skulls embedded in it’s roots -they were still visible back in the 50s, but the abundant growth of the roots has long since hidden any visible remains. Some of the rocks had petroglyphs with humans, turtles and clearly a Mahi Mahi carved in the stone. There was a huge outdoor arena-like space with stone platforms for religious rites from the benign to the macabre. We brought our baguette and pate, and lunched unceremoniously on the edge of the tallest platform, peering into a deep pit in the stones behind our picnic spot, we wondered if it was one of the breadfruit “poi poi” storage holes, or one of the holes where they tossed the remains of sacrifices (they only consumed organs of power – which meant there were some remains). That place too was eerie and amazing.

Early this morning Frank and I left the kids aboard to bushwhack our way into the forest in search of limes. I think I’d mentioned previously that most of the fruits abundant on the trees aren’t actually available for sale in the stores, so we had a mission. Limes are a key part of our diet, not just for mixing a “’ti punch,” fighting off scurvy, and improving the flavor of our drinking water; but they’re a necessary ingredient for “poisson cru,” a Polynesian ceviche-like dish with lime and coconut milk. It’s delicious with fresh bonito, which seems to be one of the fish we catch most. We broke the taboo of no work on Sunday, and snuck past the church filled with the resonant Polynesian religious songs, then past the spooky stone ruins of yesterday to the trail fragments that lead deeper into the woods; there lie the trees long abandoned by locals. Frank climbed the lanky spiky untended lime trees and shook the branches while, I crawled around below trying to spot the limes as they fell. He was somewhat successful in avoiding the vicious spines, I was totally successful in avoiding encounters with any centipedes in the mulch and underbrush below. We’re getting better at these outings, he remembered his “coup coup” (machete), and was able to break open a fresh coconut for me to quench my thirst after that hard labor. Pretty damn romantic. And we made it back without bringing any tupapu (Polynesian ancestral ghosts).

Cheers! Mo

P.S. We’ve been reading Melville’s “Typee.” I can highly recommend it to give you an amazing sense of this place. Try Google books, or Gutenberg project, and read just chapter two where he describes the “South Sea Scenery” and Land Ho”