Hmmm. Time to figure out what I've got myself into here. Mr. Planet has this to say:
"The dramatic landscape of the six inhabited islands are drier and steeper than the society and austral islands. With no barrier reef and no protective lagoon, the feeling here is wild and earthbound. In the northern group of Nuku Hiva, 'Uo Pou and 'Ua Huka, the land is a desert of low shrubs surrounding sharp basalt peaks and pinnacles; only the river valleys are lush and habitable. South, Hiva Oa, Tahuata and Fatu Hiva are carpeted by fruit trees, ferns and flowers. blah blah blah.
The Marquesas is _not_ a beach destination. There are a few enticing stretches of sand, but they are invariably infested with nono, a small aggressive biting fly that the locals will tell you is fiercer than a lion. blah blah blah"
Wait a minute! What do you mean this isn't a beach destination? Why the hell did I pack my sun focusing screen, lawn chair and Budweiser beer can cap? Damn. I'll save them for the Tuomotos I guess ;)
So apparently this used to be called the Bay of Penises until the outraged missionaries cleverly moved a letter of the name around and it became the Bay of Virgins. I'm not sure what the massive stone phalluses everywhere have to do with virginity, but nobody ever accused a missionary of scientific or observational accuracy.
Dramatic - check. Wild and earthbound - without a doubt. 562 people on the island... hmm. I only see about 30. After dreaming of civilization for a month, I came racing ashore to get my hands on anything that could be bought (I know, its sick). There is one little booth where they sell canned goods and grocery type stuff for the village. I am embarrassed to say that I spent 8.50 USD on pringles and a can of coke. Retail therapy in its most basic form. Its not like I've been going hungry and the food on the boat has been quite good, but did it ever feel good to wolf down something cold.
I wonder if people actually get land sick after being at sea for some time? It took a long time for me to walk straight. Chris and I went swimming in a (Fresh!) stream, got in a water fight with a couple local kids and ate mangoes as they fell from the trees.
I seriously needed to go for a walk. Check. I headed up the only road out of town (there is only one road which connects this village with its larger cousin on the other side of the island). The road forked and I took the one which is not right and ended up in a dead end after some very strenuous switch backs. With a fervor born from a month of obsessing about it, I blazed on, straight up. Mountain climbing sandals on. Check. Up over a tree line of sorts (it appears as though they did a controlled burn at one time and the very, very steep ground was a weird blackened root system.
The views were amazing, but I was stymied from achieving my goal of getting to the top of the hill. 10 feet from the top it just became too steep and I kept sliding downwards. Sat there for a bit, enjoyed the solitude and then slid to the bottom on my ass. Over exertion struck and I almost crawled home to the boat.
The people here are very nice, but I am kind of sad for them. Not for their quality of life, not because they don't seem happy, but because me and people like me are here. We aren't the first to be here by a long shot and we will not be the last by a longer shot. Somewhere along the way somebody traded something for something and somebody got invited to a local home for a simple dinner. Reports come back and subsequent visitors expect the same. The behavior is reinforced and the reports are confirmed. It was fully my expectation that we would be able to trade for fish and fruit and that somewhere along the way we would end up with a bounty of Marquesan delights in some home or another. As a tourist I felt due my authentic Marquesan experience in hospitality which was not denied. The Mahi Mahi fish steaks we bartered for were delicious, the meal was a hoot. In the end though, I felt like I had been a part of a remote village less than I felt that I was a cog in a transplanted tourist economy. Competition, greed and status are on their way and a nice happy village will learn to pander more and more to the needs of a bunch of crappy tourists. I don't want to come across as self righteous and far be it for me to deny a hundred people their slice of the american dollar, its just that I get nervous around fragile communities, especially when I am the one buying the pringles.
By all reports this place has changed a lot in the last few years as more and more boats make it a stop. Its a striking place with a beautiful spirit. I wish them the best.
Today I did nothing. Woke up at 5:30am. Did... nothing. Well, I read a book in one sitting for the first time in a decade. Swam a couple of times and hung on the anchor chain like I was 7 years old. Watched as Buffy, Chad and Lance went ashore in a dingy and then secretly snickered as they all fell over trying to launch from the steep beech. Oh well, tonight they sleep in air conditioning and I don't. Chris delighted in pouring flaming brandy on over-ripe bananas (damn fine and dangerous) and we had our daily confab with Klos. Klos has been good to us.
French Keyboards suck more than Spanish keyboards. When they are attached to the first iMac sporting IE for Macs v5.0 (at $15 / hour) they are simply ludicrous. Excited that I might actually get to check my mail, I went rushing to the only computer for use on the island. 2 hours worth of waiting and technical difficulties, I was kind of writing an email. (I still haven't read my emails - hoping for Niku Hiva to save the day). 
Today I humped 35 gallons of water to the boat by dingy in the (burny burny) tropical sun. I had a shower under a fresh water hose on the jetty while three local dudes watched. I managed to somehow snarl the dingy anchor on some diabolical rock formation and spent an hour trying to dislodge it. Had to swim down ten feet to recover the dingy anchor that some looser snarled (I am tired of dealing with rank amateurs). The harbor, in addition to being rumored as having problems with sharks (which I think is BS) is not really what I would call "pristine". I think I will name my ear infection "Atuona". I also made a decision.
I walked 20 minutes or so up to a small hotel and everything seemed a bit odd. I think it is a great place, but anything would seem odd that isn't the boat me thinks. For the cash it is a little bit sparse (the prices in the Marquesas have to be witnessed to be understood - perhaps the most expensive cost of goods that I have ever seen, anywhere). My "real" bed turned out to be two cots pushed together, there is only a half height wall between the washroom and the bedroom, but it is clean, the shower is fresh. It's all mine. I am listening to a salamander munch on a crunchy bug in time with the pounding surf below. The TV is on, only because it's there. Luxury.
Hope springs eternal.
Short, overnight run to the next anchorage (42 miles). It was nice to have to actually slow down for once (to make sure that we had light when we reached the next island). Highlights of the trip included another complete power failure and when I woke the captain at 3am to let him know that we where on a probable collision course with 2 ships on the horizon. I swear, I was tracking these things for some time and I never noticed that they coincidentally shared the same bearing as our destination. I actually headed 5 degrees to starboard so that I could keep them in view off the port bow (I kept loosing them behind that pesky mast)... Nope - didn't register. Any way I calculated it, we were going to eventually collide. Chris politely informed me of the potential that these may actually not be ships. "Skips - We are on a collision course with our destination, we are all doomed. Whatever will we do??". Not my best sailing moment.
So apparently this used to be called the Bay of Penises until the outraged missionaries cleverly moved a letter of the name around and it became the Bay of Virgins. I'm not sure what the massive stone phalluses everywhere have to do with virginity, but nobody ever accused a missionary of scientific or observational accuracy.
I seriously needed to go for a walk. Check. I headed up the only road out of town (there is only one road which connects this village with its larger cousin on the other side of the island). The road forked and I took the one which is not right and ended up in a dead end after some very strenuous switch backs. With a fervor born from a month of obsessing about it, I blazed on, straight up. Mountain climbing sandals on. Check. Up over a tree line of sorts (it appears as though they did a controlled burn at one time and the very, very steep ground was a weird blackened root system. 
The views were amazing, but I was stymied from achieving my goal of getting to the top of the hill. 10 feet from the top it just became too steep and I kept sliding downwards. Sat there for a bit, enjoyed the solitude and then slid to the bottom on my ass. Over exertion struck and I almost crawled home to the boat.
I had the dawn watch today (5-8 am). This, the day that we finally put this leg to rest. I was so excited to be the first to sight land after so long, alone, the sun rising at my back, a piece of something on the horizon that didn't disappear or bob up and down like a top. The sun rose with clouds everywhere and.... no land! Around seven Chris came up from below and I gave him the bad news. He shook my hand and congratulated me while he pointed off into the distance at what was, in retrospect, so obviously Fatu Hiva. I guess you have to know what you are looking for in this life.
