So, I haven’t shaved my legs since we left Mexico. My first dabbling with unshaven legs was way back in college, just after Andrew was born. We became good friends with Angela and Uwe, a couple from Germany who had a son just a couple months older than Andrew. I noticed that she didn’t shave her legs, and that totally appealed to me at that time in my life. I was busy, mostly focusing on Andrew and school, and mostly not focusing on how I looked, so I embraced my newfound granola-ness. I also became a vegetarian around that time, but that’s for another story.
This time, I mostly stopped shaving out of practicality. In order not to waste the fresh water, I typically shave sitting on one of the back swim steps using sea water, and you can’t really do that while underway, so I figured for the long passage, I would abstain. But then we got to the Marquesas, and I learned that hairy legs have a very real benefit that comes in most handy in the tropic, that is, as mosquito repellant. Not really repellant, per se, but more like shield. Tim has always commented that he has a natural mosquito barrier, and now I do to.
Fun fact: It is now the year 2022 and I’ve lived back in San Diego for 5 years, and I still don’t shave my legs.
We spent 5 days in Taiohae, the capital of The Marquesas. Here are my memories, in no particular order:
1. Busy, crowded, rolly anchorage
2. Hours and hours at the coffee shop at the dock for internet. Buy a $2 coffee, and you get all the wifi you want. I would often purchase a fresh squeezed pamlemousse juice too. Mmmmm.
3. The dinghy dock ladder. First, if you parked too close to it at low tide your dinghy could get caught underneath it, and then as the tide rose it could pop your dinghy. Second, the sides of the ladder stopped at the top wrung, so there was no higher leverage point to pull yourself up with. It made for very awkward dinghy deboardings.
4. Fruit and Veggie market at o’dark thirty on Saturday morning. Chaos.
5. Bad burgers, but good brick fired pizza.
6. Tim is becoming quite the seamstress. He made a cover for our generator.
7. Finishing all of my chores before Tim was ready to leave, so I had a full day to take a solo walk around the entire bay. It was a holiday and there were many families gathering for picnics and fun.
As cruisers we are no strangers to being jolted awake during a peaceful slumber. Sometimes it’s a gust of wind through the rigging or sometimes its rain falling into our open hatch, and still other times it’s a little bit of boat motion at anchor that makes you jump up and check the time because you are sure you are underway and must have overslept your watch. This particular morning at anchor in Controller Bay, we were awakened by a voice on the VHF radio asking for assistance. Steve on Lady Carolina was first to respond, and it turns out it was someone he knew, a single hander, from back in Mexico. The vessel is called Grace. From what I gathered during that initial transmission, Grace’s engine was not working, and he was coming up on the rocks that were just at the entrance to the very large bay. He suspected he was possibly out of fuel, but maybe the fuel gauge wasn’t working, so he wasn’t sure. Steve responded that he’d launch the dinghy and be out to help him as soon as possible. Shortly after, Craig on True Blue V responded that he’d be out to help too.
At this point I got on the radio and asked Grace what his position was, so we could see how far away from us he was and how close he really was to rocks before we entertained going out in a dinghy to help. Seconds after that Steve got back on the radio and resumed his conversation, so I just listened, but didn’t really gather any new information beyond his position coordinates that I had asked for. Tim quickly plugged those into his iPad, and responded with, “F that.” Grace was just at the edge of the bay and nowhere near the rocks. It’s about as big as any anchorage ever gets, and he should be able to sail in and anchor no problem.
I don’t remember exactly how it went, but Tim got persuaded to go out and help. True Blue V’s dinghy outboard is only 8HP, so it wouldn’t be practical for the trip, so Tim and Craig went in our dinghy and Steve and Kyle went in their dinghy. At some point I suggested they take some diesel, in case that’s the problem. Tim was very cranky about all this and refused to go too far out in the anchorage until it was clear that 1) Grace actually needed assistance, and 2) There was anything an additional dinghy and 2 people could do to help. Following the VHF traffic, it appears that Grace started sailing away from land, and at that point Tim absolutely refused to follow. Grace was clearly out of danger of any rocks and was clearly moving under sail.
Steve and Kyle went after him, though. And to make a long story short, Steve boarded Grace from his dinghy and left Kyle in the dinghy being towed, since that was safer than trying to board. Grace’s skipper did not seem to be firing on all cylinders and seemed to be more interested in serving tea and chatting then doing anything about the situation. Steve helped him sail all the way NOT to our bay, but to the next bay over, Taiohae, which is the capital of Nuku Hiva. He helped him anchor, and then he and Kyle drove all the way back in the dinghy. He believes that without his help Grace may have just sailed back out to sea and something bad could have happened.
At first blush, it might seem that Tim was being cold and heartless. But after doing an objective assessment of what happened, it’s clear that Tim was being sensible. And I’m not the only one who thinks this. Leann, from True Blue V, took this as a learning opportunity and put together a checklist of things to ask and do when responding to any sort of call for help. Being nice and helpful is a good thing, but not at the expense of putting yourself or any of your own crew at risk.
One of my reference books actually says the following: “Anyone who encounters another person or vessel at sea who is in need of assistance must render that assistance as long as it can be done without endangering the passengers, crew, or vessel rendering aid.”
In hindsight, Grace didn’t really need physical help. His problem was he was out of sorts a bit after completing the Pacific crossing alone and while hand steering most of the way (his autopilot failed). Perhaps with a little more careful handling of his initial VHF call for help we could have calmly talked him through it and could have led him safely to anchor in our anchorage by voice. I don’t know. I wasn’t there. I did not personally assess his state of mind. I do think, however, that understanding the facts a bit better before rushing out of the anchorage in the dinghies would have been the more prudent thing to do.
I learned a lesson that day, and I’ve taken Leann’s checklist, added my own thoughts and commentary, and I keep it in my comms notebook.
And I’m so very glad Tim was as levelheaded as he was that morning.
While in the village of Taipivai (called “Typee” by Herman Melville) we took our dinghy into the river (at high tide so we could get through the shallows) to the town and tied it up to a concrete wharf. We walked around a bit and checked out the few stores. At one of the stores, we ordered bread for the next day, and they wouldn’t let us leave without also taking a box full of bananas, “gratis.” It rained on us a bit, but we still enjoyed stretching our legs and getting out a bit. When we got back to the dinghy, we noticed something was missing. Our dinghy painter! The painter is the bit of lined used to tie it off to a dock or whatever. However, they were thoughtful thieves, in that they didn’t just take the painter and let our dinghy drift away. They took our spectra harness that we mostly use when anchoring the dinghy and tied that to the dock. They took our very cheap Home Depot painter and left the very expensive spectra harness. We got a good laugh about it.
Our dinghy tied to the dock
The next day our friends on True Blue V parked their dinghy on the beach and tied their painter to a tree, so it wouldn’t float away when the tide rose. Would you believe that when they got back their painter was also stolen. And the thieves were thoughtful enough to pull their dinghy up higher on the beach to avoid the tides.
Our next time to shore we all brought extra line and just set it on the dinghy for the thieves, but I guess they had fulfilled their rope needs, because they didn’t take what we left. Or maybe they just don’t like handouts.
The beautiful white sandy beach offered more than fun in the surf and sun. All four boys (Alex & Brenden & the two Lady Carolina boys) were playing on or near shore with their surfboards, when Tim and I hear Brenden start yelling, “Mom! Alex needs help!” They are close to the boat at this point and Brenden is paddling Alex back on one of the surf boards, and Alex is in obvious distress. Once he was on board, we could see that he had pink welts all over his chest, stomach, and one of his arms. He was crying, and saying, “it hurts, it hurts, it hurts,” and Alex doesn’t cry. I obviously gasped or made a face or something when I saw the welts, because Tim yelled at me, “You’re not helping!”
We went about putting vinegar all over his welts, but this didn’t seem to be helping, so we tried baking soda and ice. This really seemed to help the pain, so we kept this up for a while. He was in pretty much agonizing pain for about 30-40 min, and then it seemed to lighten up for good. He rallied and even went over to Lady Carolina with us that evening for a potluck. He got to show off his welts.
Reading up a bit more after the fact, the first aid book said to initially put a paste of baking soda and sea water on the welts in order to scrape off any loose tentacles that are still attached and possibly still releasing venom. However, it says, absolutely do not use fresh water since this activates the venom already there, so we blew it by using the ice, I guess. Then it said to use vinegar to continue neutralizing the stings. The ice seemed to help since it numbed the stings, but maybe it would have passed more quickly overall if we hadn’t used fresh water. Of course, there were lots of jokes all around about who would pee on it next time it happens. I guess we can thank the sitcom Friends for the fact that it is now common knowledge that if you don’t have vinegar, you can use pee instead.
I’ve already mentioned in a previous essay how one of our younger cruising friends said to me, “but we love you guys,” referring to the old, or rather, middle aged crowd, but this really takes the cake.
We met a couple of young guys taking some time off from their lives to cross the Pacific from Mexico to Australia. We hung out a few times, and they also went diving with Tim a few times. The first time they came over to Exodus they brought a horrendous bottle of pink wine, and I thanked them by pouring them glasses and sharing it with them. Well, it turns out one, or maybe both of them, I don’t remember, are also engineers, and one evening the rum was flowing, and one of them asked me what it was like being a woman in engineering back in my day. Ha!
While in Atuona, I happened to be standing on shore waiting for one of my dinghy chauffeurs to come pick me up, when the Gendarme pulled up in his pickup truck. He showed me a clipboard which held a picture of a young family: father, mother, daughter. I noticed the mother and daughter were Asian, and they all looked happy. The Gendarme asked me if I had seen them or their vessel, Norango. They left Panama City on Feb 18 bound for The Marquesas, and they have not been heard from since. It’s now early April, so I can see why their friends and family would be worried. I let him know that no, I hadn’t seen them, and yes, I would ask around among the other cruisers. Then he drove away, which sort of surprised me since I seemed to be the only one he talked to.
Fast forward to Fatu Hiva, when a small, well weathered, vessel seemed to limp into the anchorage. We were all enjoying drinks on Lady Carolina at the time, and from my vantage point I couldn’t make out the entire boat name, but I thought in ended in “…ango.” It took several minutes for that to sink in, and when I realized it might be the missing vessel, I started asking everyone else what they thought the boat name was. No one had a terribly good look, so I decided to paddle over and talk to them. If it’s not them, then hey, I’m simply welcoming a new boat to the anchorage.
Of course, it turned out to be them. They were David, Lynn, and Sianna (6 years old) and you could tell right away that they had been at sea a long time and that they were so happy to be there because they just soaked up my presence, the presence of another person, which they hadn’t had in so long. We talked for quite a while with me on my knees on my paddle board, and I told them about the Gendarme looking for them. They realized, yes, yes, everyone must be so worried about them, because unlike us, who transmit our position every 15 minutes via InReach and who send an e-mail via SSB radio almost daily, they did not have any means of long-range communication while at sea. They would go to shore in the morning to notify the authorities of their arrival, but I offered to send emails to their families right then if they wanted me to. I could just imagine how every night must be difficult for their loved ones not knowing their fate.
Once I made it back to Lady Carolina after stopping at Exodus to send those emails, I told Steve about them, and he right away headed over in the dinghy to invite them over, and apparently there was some reluctance on Lynn’s part, because David had already been imbibing much alcohol, but in the end, Steve talked her into it. I think Siana was the happiest to come over. Imagine a very social little 6-year-old girl at sea with her parents for 45 days. She loved being with all the boys. They let her play with the Legos and stuffed animals, and from the cockpit I could hear her constantly chattering away. I felt happy for her.
We learned that they had, in fact, made landfall at The Galapagos hoping to take on fuel and water, but they were turned away by the Ecuador Officials unless they paid the outrageous landing fee. They didn’t want to stay they just wanted to take on resources, but Ecuador still said no. I guess they ended up getting water from another cruising vessel at some point. Anyway, while the French Government was looking for them Ecuador made no report that they had stopped in The Galapagos. So, that seems like a failure times 2 on the part of Ecuador. First, turning away a vessel that is in need of resources is a safety issue, and the fact that they were turned away is negligence on the part of the Ecuador government, in my opinion. Second, when contacted by the French government, they should have had some record of their visit to The Galapagos, no matter how brief, to report back. Since The Galapagos was a planned stop for them, as far as anyone knew, they had never even made it there. So, “Boo! Boo, Ecuador, Boo!”
In French it is called Baie des Vierges, but it is rumored to have been originally named Baie des Verges, which means Bay of Phalli. Apparently, it warranted this name because of the shape of the rocky pillars on steep north side of the bay. However, the missionaries disapproved (party poopers!) so the name was changed. In Marquesan the bay is called Hanavave, meaning strong surf. The guidebook says that is an appropriate name at times, but we certainly didn’t experience it while we were there.
This bay, whatever you call it, is supposed to be one of the most beautiful in all the South Pacific. Although I knew it was bound to be stunning, since a bay doesn’t get a reputation like that for nothing, but on approach I was worried that it simply wouldn’t live up. I had such high expectations. I was wrong to be worried. The combination of the dramatic steep cliff landscape, the bright green of the tropical flora, and, of course, the phalli made for a stunning arrival scene. Photos can nowhere near do it justice, but that didn’t stop me from trying. Unfortunately, I dropped my lens cap overboard in the process.
This was our view upon arrival
When we arrived, we were the first of our convoy to arrive, and there were already 5 boats there, and we circled around until we found a spot we might fit, but it was still a tight squeeze, as we were crowding Icarus II a bit. Fortunately, we knew them from a previous anchorage, and they didn’t seem to mind too much. After we were settled in, boats just kept arriving, one after another, and somehow everyone kept finding a spot to park. By the time True Blue V arrived I think there were 9 or so boats there, and they did the same as us and circled a few times before dropping in a deep spot behind us. We were laughing at ourselves that we had trouble when there were only 5 boats. Then, by the time Lady Carolina arrived, there were something like 12 boats, and in a very un-Lady Carolina like fashion they barreled right up in the middle of us, True Blue V, and a charter boat, and just plopped down amongst us. Now, we are used to being nice and cozy with Lady Carolina, but this was extreme. Some mornings I’m pretty sure I could have stepped off our boat right onto theirs. When the wind was blowing there were no issues, since we all pulled back on our anchors in more or less the same direction. It was during periods of light winds when we were all sort of drifting around that we get a little too close for comfort. In fact, Lady Carolina had to push off the charter boat a couple times. Would you believe that by the time we left there were over 20 boats there? Bay of Virgins is where we learned that there really always seems to be room for one more boat.
Our first afternoon I went out on the paddle board and went over to check the situation at the dock (where could we tie up a dinghy? Where can we dump trash? Etc…) and the local kids asked me, in that clunky sign language that you use when you don’t speak each other’s languages, if they could try the paddle board. So, I seriously spent about an hour and a half with them while they all took turns trying the paddle board. They loved it! And as they got more and more comfortable with me, they got more and more aggressive over who’s turn it was and kept looking to me to adjudicate. Communication was very difficult, since my French is horrible, and one of the girls only spoke a few words of English. Then, after they got even more comfortable, they started asking me for things and simply would not stop. Fishing line, hooks, pencils, notebooks, crayons, erasers. And of course, all of this was communicated playing that sign language game again. I’m not sure if they were just being annoyingly persistent or they were worried I didn’t understand, but they kept asking me over and over for the same stuff. After I became tired of all of the children invading my personal space, I told them I was going back to my boat, and I would see them later. Several times after that I brought pencils and fishing hooks to shore, but I never saw anyone from that group of kids again.
We also enjoyed an easy hike up to a waterfall. This was the waterfall that everyone raves about, although we found the ones on Nuku Hive to be more spectacular. We walked up the road through town a bit, and we were briefly stopped by the local police officer asking if we had already been to Hiva Oa. We passed a small store and peaked in and bought a couple boxes of SAO crackers. These are crackers from Australia that are big and hearty, and they now double as our meat and cheese delivery vehicles when we are out of bread and want sandwiches for lunch.
We were visited at our boat by a Marquesan couple who said they were doing a traditional Marquesan dinner on shore that evening for 1700 XPF per person (roughly $20 US) and would we like to come. They gave us a slightly cheaper price for the boys (That’s a bargain for us since they eat so much) and we told them, yes, all 4 of us would like to come. Lady Carolina originally said no, but we talked them into it, so we let Alex and Brenden off the hook, and they stayed and made their own dinner with Kyle and Joel, and Steve and Carolina joined us at the dinner. Also, there were True Blue V and Dragon Fly, a large catamaran with 6 people on board. They served many of the dishes we had at the potluck on Tahuata, but they also had poisson crue, which is pretty much the Polynesian version of ceviche. Our hosts spoke quite a bit of English, and we shared our wine with them, and the conversation was relaxed and enjoyable. Except the part where one of the men asked us if we were Catholic or Protestant. That was a bit awkward. Anyway, we found out during the conversation that Jack, one of the men there, was a good diver and fisherman, and Tim and Steve and one of the guys from Dragonfly made arrangements to go out fishing with him the next morning at 5:30 in exchange for some gasoline. (Incidentally, in addition to fishing, Jack also took the guys out diving for lobsters at dusk, and that was a very successful endeavor.
After dinner, they started with the entertainment including a guitar, a bongo drum, and a ukelele. A young girl, maybe 11 or 12 years old, did some singing and dancing and she was quite spectacular. At the end of the evening as things were winding down was when they started asking for things. The list wasn’t too long, and the only thing I remember was that they wanted some wine glasses if we had any to spare. I think Carolina went back the next day and took them some wine glasses and maybe some perfume or something for Caroline, the girl who sang for us. Interestingly, Fatu Hiva was the only place in French Polynesia where people asked us for things, the exception being William and his request for alcohol.
There was a church service going on when we walked to dinner and the singing was very welcoming. We asked if it would be OK for us to come to Easter service, and they said yes, but told us we (the women) would need to cover our shoulders. Every guidebook we have mentions that you should be sure to go to church at least once for the lively and beautiful singing, so we thought an evening Easter service would be perfect. It was a nice evening, and everything started outside and then there was a bit of singing and a procession as everyone filed into the church. The first song they sung was mesmerizing. It wasn’t all that lively, but the harmonizing was spectacular. Especially when they would transition from just the men singing to having the women join them in harmony. Brilliant. Unfortunately, from my perspective, the whole thing went downhill from there. It was stiflingly hot in the church, and the service turned out to be just your typical Catholic mass. It was in Marquesan, so I couldn’t understand anything, and I’m not sure if that made it better or worse, and as it turns out, one of the men from dinner the previous night, the one who asked us about our religion, was actually the priest. The service was long and boring, and we were sitting near the back and everyone around us seemed as miserable as we were. It couldn’t be over soon enough, and as we were all walking back to the dock, we laughed, and all agreed that would likely be the last service for us.
All that said, we thoroughly enjoyed our time in Fatu Hiva and could have stayed much, much longer, but it already felt like time on our 3-month visa was ticking, so we had to keep moving.
Fatu Hiva is the most windward of all the islands in The Marquesas, so from a sailing perspective, it would be the obvious first choice as a place to make landfall. However, there is no Gendarmerie on Fatu Hiva, and it is not an official port of entry. So, to be legal a boat must first go to Hiva Oa and then bash a bit to windward to get to Fatu Hiva. Such is the Fatu Hiva Dilemma. Do you do what makes the most sense from a cruising perspective or do you follow the rules?
Needless to say, since we had no idea of what the risk would be to NOT follow the rules, we followed the rules, and had a somewhat unpleasant overnight bash down from Hiva Oa to Fatu Hiva. OK, this was mostly me, Tim TOTALLY would have just gone to Fatu Hiva. And in this specific instance, he was right.
We met several other boats while we were there who made landfall in Fatu Hiva. The ones we noticed flew their yellow “Q” flag and some checked in with the local municipal police, and then they did their official clear in when they got to Hiva Oa. There were no repercussions as far as we could tell, and at least in some cases, the clocks didn’t start on their 3-month visa until their official clear in, so they essentially got extra time in French Polynesia by NOT following the rules.
Hanaiapa, on the north side of Hiva Oa, was a nice little town. There were no stores or services there, but it was clean, the houses were well looked after, and the people were friendly. We went to shore with Lady Carolina and True Blue V, so we were quite the gang walking around. We passed a house with a well-cared for yard and noticed a sign saying “Yacht Club” which caused us all to smile a bit. Before we had completely passed by the house, a man came out who spoke a little bit of English, and he introduced himself as William. Well, we had read in the guidebook about William and his yacht club, so I asked if it would be possible for us to sign his guidebook. He said yes, if we could come back, maybe in about an hour.
So, after our walking tour of the village, we returned to the yacht club, and William gave us a warm welcome. His house was modest, with a small entry way with a table and chairs, and he had enough chairs for all of us. He served us lemonade in only slightly dirty glasses and passed around coconut and banana. Then he brought out his guest books, and they were fun to look through. Many, many cruisers from years past have signed. In fact, Steve was pretty sure his parents had met William and signed his guest book 20 or so years before, but we learned that the older books had been destroyed when William’s house caught on fire a few years back. We had a pleasant time, signed the guest book, and William gave us stalks of Bananas to take with us.
Then came the punchline. He started talking about how he would not take any money for any of this, but if we had some things to trade, that would be good. Specifically, wine or rum. We asked him if there was anything else he needed, like rope, or fishing hooks, or anything. No. He was adamant, he would like rum or wine. We told him OK, we would return likely the next day, and he said he would prefer to walk with us down to the dock to get it. I guess he was desperate. We ended up giving him two boxes of wine, and wouldn’t you know he asked about the fact that there were 3 boats among us, but we just responded that True Blue V didn’t drink. (Ha, yeah, right!)
We had a pleasant day, and the visit with William was very nice. But something about it felt icky afterward. We like giving, and would give almost anything we had, but it became apparent that he runs the yacht club to get alcohol and only alcohol.
Gresham Family Exodus 