Moko

On Tuesday morning, our last in Kauehi, our little gecko snuck along the edge of the wall above our kitchen windows and watched two small flies that were trying to get out through the glass. After a few minutes, he scurried to the edge of the glass and waited. Soon we saw his head dart out toward a fly. Missed! Another jab with the head. Missed again. On the third try, the fly was gone. The second fly was dispatched in the same manner. This is the first daytime hunting expedition we've ever seen. Maybe he's feeling more comfortable. We have decided to rename the gecko. Olga was too Germanic for a tropical creature. Moko is the Puomotu word for gecko, and it rhymes, beside. Moko doesn't seem to mind his new name.

We have the mountains of Tahiti filling up our horizon and should be anchored by late afternoon. It was a short (only two nights) sail from Kauehi to here and the wind and temperatures were pleasant. Once anchored, we hope to clean the boat, check into the country, buy fuel, and get water. I'll pack, take a few hours to see the city, and Brian might check out the nearby surf spot. I fly out on Sunday night and Brian's first installment of surf buddies arrives on Monday.

Our fridge is filled with husked green coconuts, gifts from our friends Marie (not Madi) and Leon on Kauehi. When we left, they put a shell lei around Brian's neck and a necklace with seashell flowers around mine. I feel honored to have been welcomed by such genuinely nice people. The night before we left, they came aboard Nomad with the dozen coconuts they'd picked and husked for us. Marie had gone out swimming that afternoon and collected clams to bring us. They were raw and cleaned in a tupperware. She squeezed lime juice over them all and soon we were snacking.

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Highlights of our time in Tuomotus

1. Meeting 21-year old Tekakioteragi (aka Madi) and her husband, Leon. We greeted her on Saturday while she was driving a truck around for guys to collect their bags of copra. Her beautiful naked 9-month-old son was sitting on her lap. Her friendly smile and high school grasp of English got us into a conversation. Later we walked by to ask if she knew if our friend's fish he had caught was one of the carriers of the dreaded bacteria, ciguatera. We asked questions about Leon's nightly fishing and other questions and soon she asked us if we wanted some fish they had frozen (guaranteed to have no ciguatera). Later, she offered to get us some green coconuts for drinking and told us to meet her at the pier the next afternoon. I baked cookies the next morning and brought them when we went in to collect our 5 husked, chilled coconuts from the little family. She offered more for Monday, the day before we leave and asked if there was anything else we needed. We already got what we were hoping for, friendship and a warm welcome.

2. Seeing the ramoras (not sure of the spelling). These are about 2 foot long grey scavenger fish that look like mini sharks. The only thing different is that on the top of their heads are patches that look like the foreheads of Klingons. They use these patches to suction onto host animals (Brian saw a little on attached to a big one). This free transportation allows them to eat the crumbs that the host drops while it is eating. We seem to have a small family of ramoras under our boat. When we toss our fruit skins overboard, they dart out, sample, and return to the shadows.

3. A calm flat anchorage!

4. The friendly company of the other boats here: Balu, Mainly, and Ketchup II. Last night we all gathered on the foredeck of Ketchup II. James and Marian from Balu brought their guitar, penny whistle and concertina (a small hand accordion) and played Irish aires and folk tunes for us all.

5. The countdown to my flight home for three weeks. Daphne's having a baby boy!

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Tuamotu

An atoll is the result of centuries of coral reefs that began around the bases of volcano cones. Over time the hollow volcano cones have disappeared leaving nothing but a circle of reef circling a lagoon where the volcano once stood. Often the reef is covered with soil which allows coconut palms and other vegetation to grow. Rather than being one perfect encircling line, there are small islets and large islets connected by sand or reefs awash. The word "motu" means islet. So the Tuomotus are many motus. Seventy eight atolls comprise this group of islands, also a part of French Polynesia.

Approaching the Tuomotus is a different experience than approaching the Marquesas. There was no question we would see the sheer fortresses of Marquesan islands. But as we arrived in the Tuomotus we passed a few without even seeing them. As we approached our destination, we didn't see it until less than 8 miles away. In the past, the Tuomotus were known as "the Low and Dangerous Islands". Without radar, GPS, depth sounders, motors, and accurate maps, it was easy to run aground. Even so, Robert Louis Stevenson (and many other traders and naval ships) came and went successfully in the 1800s.

So now we're anchored in a calm lagoon inside of the atoll, Kaeuhi, 260 miles northeast of Tahiti. The water is flat and still, undisturbed by ocean swells or wind waves. The water is a light aqua green and there are coral heads between us and land. We have to be careful when we motor in that our outboard doesn't bang into the top of one. The people on this atoll don't get many visitors and seem much more open and friendly (and speak less English) as a result. Despite that barrier, our first afternoon in town, we were invited to join two men practicing their javelin throws. In the open field in front of the tidy white crosses and white fence of the town cemetery, we saw many kids playing soccer and baseball. Also, there was a 20 ft. pole with a coconut impaled at the top. 4 or 5 spears were sticking out of it. We watched as the two men aimed and fired their weapons, over and over. They saw us watching and invited us over. The spears were made out of whittled coconut wood, slim and straight with sharpened points of rebar at the tips. When the tip sank into the coconut, it made a very satisfying thunk! They're practicing for a local competition on July 14, Bastille Day.

As far as we can tell, the industry here is fishing, pearl farming, and copra production (copra is the dried coconut meat that is exported and made into coconut oil). The pearl stations are wooden platforms out in the lagoon with small houses on them. Quite picturesque.

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Tropical Bird

One species of large multi-colored tropical birds is incredibly common on each of the islands we've visited. They mostly walk around and are so tame as to be able to observe them easily, not so as to catch them but to get quite close. The are wild and we can hear them from the anchorages up in the thickest of jungle greenery or they strut around on soccer fields or between garden fence posts. When we take walks we invariable startle a big male down from his perch in a tree or see a little half grown fuzzy one running through the underbrush. Their meat is part of the local cuisine and their tameness lends itself to easy meals. A person can merely walk outside and with a bit of stealth, capture a bird. Their eggs are also edible but the locals don't collect them to eat because they can be purchased in packages of 12 at the local markets.

These beautiful tropical birds are none other than what we would call a common chicken. The sound of a rooster crowing is more common here than sounds of cell phones in a downtown Trader Joe's store. They were brought to the islands centuries ago and are not cultivated or penned up because they're bigger than the cats around here and seem to fend quite well on their own.

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Leaving the Marquesas

Today we left Nuka Hiva and are headed South West toward Fakarava, one of the many many atolls in the Tuomotus. The last bay was full of boats we have met on our journey: Balu (from Ireland), Ketchup II (from Australia/England), Carina (Washington State), Suwarrow Blue (Holland), Mainly (Florida), Leonidas (from Santa Cruz!), Irene (Finland) and Jubilee (U.S./Columbia). It's nice to be part of a group that knows our names and invites us for nibbles and drinks in the evenings. Although we're from many different countries, different backgrounds and different ways of looking at the world we have a lot in common. We all understand what it's like to lose your autopilot or to have miserable weather. We reminisce about various anchorages we've been through and find out about each other's families. We exchange weather interpretation software and tips about how to down load grib files. We help each other out. For example, Suwarrow Blue brought us 2 dozen eggs and 2 baguettes of bread the other day on their way from a different bay. It saved us an all day trip. We hadn't even officially met them yet but they showed up at our boat with our groceries in hand.
And of course, like all communities, there's gossip. We hear about who has the unseaworthy boat, who is the ungrateful single-hander, who lost their sail overboard on the crossing from the Galapagos, and who took 92 days to sail from Panama to Hiva Oa by himself. It's more wholesome than TV but can cause alliances between groups of boats. Brian and I try to meet each person for ourselves and make our own decisions.
But now we're off and we hope to meet up again with our floating community members in a different bay in a different group of islands.

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Nuka Hiva

On Monday, we dropped off some pictures we'd printed for Calix and his family, picked up Vincent and his luggage, hauled anchor and had a perfect beam reach sail across the 25 mile channel to Nuka Hiva. Vincent is a tall thin French physical therapist that asked just finished a two week substitute stint at the hospital on Ua Pou. He approached us Friday on the beach and asked if we might be going to Nuka Hiva. The tiny airplanes that go between the islands are expensive and he was "hitch-hiking".

He brought FRESH VEGETABLES purchased from a local man. This has been a wonderful thing since fresh fruit abounds but in the groceries one only sees potatoes, onions and the occasional sad head of cabbage. Vincent brought bell peppers, a head of lettuce, eggplant, tomatoes and cucumbers! So we had a nice sail across and a nicer dinner. He spent the night and the next morning we went to the beach with a twofold goal of hiking to the legendary waterfall and finding him a ride to the main town five miles east of where we're anchored.

On our two hour hike we passed many many rectangular rock platforms 3 to 6 feet high, some with rock stairways still intact. These platforms are where the people used to build their houses. Based on the number of platforms we passed, and the quality of the ancient stone walkway we used for most of the trail, there used to be a LOT of people in this valley. Now, there are only 7-8 houses which aren't even used all the time. There's no school here so only one old couple and 4 single men are all we saw on our walk through town.

The waterfall was freezing cold and tucked back in a tiny green ravine carved in 900 foot high volcanic cliffs. White tropic birds swirled in circles on the drafts between the two cliff faces, their tails as long as their wingspans. Brian and I swam to the large boulder separating the outer pool from the deep narrow pool below the waterfall. Behind the boulder, it was even more beautiful. On the east wall was a tall cave painted in vertical slippery stripes of mineral colors, creams, ochres, and olives laid down over many many years. The waterfall itself was at the junction of the east and west walls, not a roaring river but a steady heavy spray like pelting rain.

After hiking down to the beach, Vincent saw a small motor boat preparing to leave the bay. He hailed the man aboard, found out he was headed toward the main town, secured a ride, picked up his gear from Nomad and zoomed away, leaving us the precious veggies.

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Kaikai

According to our Cruising the Marquesas guidebook, "kai" is the Marquesan word for food and "kaikai" means meal. But there's a lot more to it than those simple definitions.

Brian and I were walking home from St. Etienne, the Catholic Church last Sunday. The flowers arrangements in the women's hair, the colors of clothing, the harmonious singing, the haunting crucifix carved from Rosewood, and the after- service tables of homemade pre-prepared food for purchasing fresh in our minds. I was disappointed that we'd had no money with us to buy some local food. We were headed back to the dinghy to return to Nomad to decide what our lunch plans might be.

From the road above the beach we heard a yell and saw a man we'd met two evenings before standing in the back of a truck motioning us over. His family was having a gathering and did we want to come eat with them. Despite the fact that we couldn't even remember his name, we agreed. We were dropped off at his house where he lives with his mother who wasn't home. We sat and looked at his pictures of his world travels with Catholic church groups while he made forays into the large yard collecting fruit for us. We received about 10 pounds of oranges, 5 pounds of mangoes, a stalk of green bananas, 2 fruits they call apples but which I've never seen before, and a "corazone" (spiky green thing shaped like a human heart and slightly smaller than a volleyball).
After two hours of this, Calix (not sure the spelling, that's what other people called him) said it was time to walk to some other family member's house. We gathered our fruit and walked through backyards, across mud puddles, and past multitudes of fruit trees. Pop music in French and English was playing. Under some banana trees and another large unknown fruit tree were three tables spread with table cloths. Two had chairs around them. We were seated, offered beverages and sat smiling and trying to speak to the various relative. Over the course of the day we met one brother, three sisters, and multitudes of nieces and nephews. He has a total of 16 siblings so this was a small family gathering. Calix's English was sufficient and other relatives had smatterings and we got by.

Since there weren't enough plates for everyone, it was quite informal, but after Hugo prayed for our meal we were urged to fill up our plates. Here's an inventory of the dishes we got to choose from:
Plate of raw pieces of octopus
Plate of raw chitons -those segmented shells you see on rocks in tidepools
(there were limes for squeezing on the raw stuff)
A large pot of very tiny crabs cooked in some sauce that had coconut milk in it
Another coconutty sauce full of unknown seafood (cooked), kind of like a curry
A 2-foot diameter pot of a tangy red sauce with chicken, mutton, garbanzo beans and canned tomatoes.
Huge serving bowl of couscous
Platter of cooked white rice
Pot of sliced goat meat with savory seasonings
Ma (breadfruit cooked in its skin on a fire until soft and fluffy, a little denser than mashed potatoes)

After the meal, we washed our dishes behind the house and soon another couple of people were serving up food for themselves. Brian and I kicked a soccer ball around with Joselin, a 12-year old girl, I chatted with a 16 year old girl, Haapu, who spoke better English than her identical twin sister, Tevaiotemeama. (yes, that's her real name and yes we bonded over being twins).

Seven hours after our visit began, we dropped Calix off next to the beach for his bocci ball session (it's pretty popular here and called something different which I can't remember) and told to pick him up in two hours so we could all go back and eat some more for dinner. I whipped up a batch of chocolate chip cookies and Brian copied some music CDs of Jack Johnson for them, and back into shore, and to the same yard for more sitting around, talking, music, and the same table of food. So now we really know what kaikai means.

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