The warmly cool, clear, ringing, perfumed, overflowing, redundant days, were as crystal goblets of Persian sherbet, heaped up – flaked up, with rose-water snow. — Herman Melville
In the bar at Paradise resort, there’s an historically dubious caption pasted on a black and white picture of a dreadlocked Fijian, claiming to be of Udre Udre, famous for eating 872 or 999 people, which raises the question of who’s keeping those records? Seems a bit incredible until google informs you that the average American will consume 7,000 animals in a lifetime (vegetarianism anyone?). ~MS
Heart shaped leaves of the Taro plant. Beats Gore Tex for water repellency.Lots of work to devein and prepare vitamin/antioxidant rich Taro leaves.Sunset and friendship on the lawn at Paradise Resort. Allora’s anchored just offshore.In this case, these are resort employees, but it didn’t look a lot different from a joy perspective than any other village ceremony.
“Fiji night” kava and a guitar missing the D string. Traditional dances offered by the employees (which they must learn as kids) casual enough to feel authentic. We share the end of the table with doctors and nurses from San Diego who come to the island each year to volunteer their services for local women, long days providing surgeries that otherwise require a long trip to the mainland. Paradise is their reward at the end of a non-stop week. ~MS
On the long and bumpy ride up north to the Lavena Coastal walk.We joined our very special cruiser friends, Claudia (from Switzerland) and Bertil (from Sweden) on the 6k coastal hike.
Liam remarked on the mighty trees that line the long ride down the island of Taveuni, arched over the battered road, lush and green. Glimpses of the blue tropical water in the Somosomo Strait between Vanua Levu and Fiji’s rainiest island. Here’s where the 180th meridian plays funny games with our navigation programs, and astronomically speaking the date should properly change. The dive resort at the end of Taveuni, calls itself Paradise. “Welcome to Paradise” probably gets old for the staff. Or maybe not. Green vines with blue flowers tumble down black volcanic rocks and red dirt off shore. After school, kids leap into the gentle blue surge in the glowing warm sunset. Tucked under the dock a frog fish holds perfectly still, out by the yellow can bouy, blue ribbon eels poke their heads out of the sand, waving back an forth with as must bluster as they can muster. ~MS
Dads are pretty participatory with the kids in Fiji.
Spider Lily.Red Ginger Flower.
Haley Forging ahead …Banana plant.Phallus indusiatus, (yep!) commonly called the bridal veil, or veiled lady, is a fungus in the family Phallaceae, or stinkhorns.I wished it hadn’t been raining because the lacy ‘skirt’ would have been more impressive, but I was excited to see my first of these!Likin’ the lichen?Cane Toad or Giant Neotropical Toad was introduced to many islands to combat mosquitoes, but now THEY have been driving native fauna, especially amphibians, reptiles and birds, towards extinction.Lots to learn about the focus on my new Sony A7RV!I think this might be a deadly ‘Destroying Angel Mushroom?’Inside of the coconut palm.Taveuni is known as the ‘garden island of Fiji.’
Tree bark.
A windy Lavena coastal walk, winding up the luxuriant Wainibau valley to the thundering falls. The usual swim against the current in warm fresh water, clinging to the cliff walls between dashes across the torrent. Liam and Diana make it the whole way. A 70 year old Fijian guide urges his charges on, climbs the cliff for a daring dive he must have made since a child. ~MS
Two waterfalls await at the end of the Lavena Coastal Walk.
Haley and Liam swimming up current to reach the falls.
Some pristine rainforest can still be seen on this island, but deforestation poses a huge problem here, too.We walked by a couple settlements on the way back. Clever use of a cut up buoy – makes a great swing!Locals enjoying their backyard.
This isn’t vacation – it’s just life.Kids are awesome!
My camera at the time was waterproof to 50′ and these Ribbon Eels were at 54′ – not a successful gambit, sadly for the Olympus TG-6.Haley and Liam feeling peaceful.You know who.‘Mackerel sky, not twenty-four hours dry’Such a beautiful team.Quite often our first coffee of the day spot on Allora.Willy and his family in Viani Bay are keen to help out cruisers by selling veggies from their garden and guiding hikes, etc.Love how they name their houses (and especially this one!)Haley and Liam’s first Kava offering, called ‘Sevusevu,’ – to the chief of the village.This swing was set up in a coconut palm 30′ up.Happy to see this dog getting so much loving.Our Marquesan horn has greeted and sounded farewell to many – and always gets us giggling with the efforts.So so fun to have Haley home!
Haley and Liam tuck comfortably into life aboard Allora (Liam, knees slightly bent). Plans yield slowly to late mornings and less ambitious days. Scuba to snorkeling. Rainbow Reef in Viani Bay slips in and out of sun, turtles, schools of shimmering reef fish, clown fish in the anemone, moray eels, turtles, the odd Whitetip reef shark, luminous damsel fish and blue stars. Kids swim out from the beach for a visit, photo ops diving from the swim step. ~MS
This trio, Viola, Handry and Michael swam out to Allora and then jumped off her stern probably a million times!
Kids going to school in the nearby village.I’d sit under this tree for hours, too!
At the turnoff to the natural waterslide where the taxi drops us is Taveuni’s prison set on a the green hillside, palm trees and a view, orange clad inmates wave Bula, Bula! The guidebook suggests that if locals are not using the slide, the water may be too high from rain to be safe. It doesn’t say anything about what it indicates that the locals are riding the slide on foot and doing flips into the pools. We were happy for Liam to go first, and appreciated the tips about hidden rocks along the fast and sometimes painful ride. ~MS
This natural rock waterslide was a MOVIN! and took us for some tumbles.The calm after the storm!
Post waterslide euphoria!
Farkle games at night reminded us of days in New Zealand when we lived in the same town. Casual dinners, walks without destinations. Just being in the same place without plans is the best part, rain or shine. ~MS
Sadness as we row to shore from Allora for our goodbyes.So hard to be without our loved ones. Makes me want to gather all my people and live like the Fijian islanders …
Each visit from friends and family has a certain ‘flavor’ and when Haley and Liam are aboard, it’s about EASE. They are gracious and lighthearted, generous and fun. We have a sense that we can just BE without fuss – and these days, I especially appreciate that important lesson. ‘Vinaka vakalevu’ for the inspiration, you two! And for creating the space in your lives to make the trip! ~DS
Logbook entry says, ‘Choppy Sloppy!’Marcus usually smiles and hand steers through the rough stuff!
The run outside between Caswell and George Sounds is around 14 miles. We left early to try to beat some forecast rain and gusty NW winds, and almost made it. The rain started just as we made our turn in. Diana logged the max wind at 27.2 knots, then went down and crossed it out to a revised 29 knots. By the time the wind had blasted us another two miles down the sound, Diana had crossed that out to record 42 knots. Looking on the chart with the wind howling behind us, we were concerned if Anchorage Cove would be able to offer any shelter from this angle of wind, even though it’s listed as an ‘all-weather anchorage.’ We worried it might be too gusty to safely negotiate the narrow spot between the river bar and small rocky island. We decided to poke in and check it out if we could. Right away the wind dropped into the low twenties then the teens, which still felt like a lot to try getting into the tight spot where fishermen had set up a line we could theoretically side tie to. The rain hammered down as Diana watched from the bow for shallow rocks off the island and I maneuvered Allora in, ready to back out if we needed. Despite whitecaps just outside, the winds this close to the little island dropped to near zero and Allora was able to hover effortlessly while Diana (in the kayak) quickly tied lines on the bow and stern, getting absolutely soaked in the process. It was a kind of a crazy feeling, the sudden stillness and security of that spot with gusts in the forties not half a mile away. We wouldn’t have guessed even from a couple hundred yards out that it was worth chancing. ~MS
Super tricky spot to get Allora tucked up into, it required getting sidled alongside the fishermen’s line while keeping Allora out of a couple way too shallow spots. We sat in 6’8″ of water at low tide and we draw 6’6″!Good thing I love RAIN! (less so, freezing rain!)We were tied between an island and the very close shore, with all sorts of debris having also been deposited in the relatively calm cove.Weather’s clearing! The George River valley as seen from our small spot called, ‘Anchorage Cove.’A new day dawns!!Heading up with Namo to explore the George River (Marcus with fishing gear, me with a camera, both with awe).Might we hear Wyatt saying, ‘watch your back cast Dad?!’Luscious landscape!
I meandered along the trail in the woods while Marcus ambled upriver casting. People often ask about how we manage to find alone time living on a boat – this is one way.
When I saw this ‘rock of plenty,’ I knew I’d not make it too much farther up the trail!
Found this online: “Nurse logs are described as offering a verdant opportunity to contemplate the passing of time, the generational handoff, and the support we can offer each other.” HERE, HERE!
I was right there with this and still don’t know what it is I was seeing?!
No fish, still smiling – tough day on a beautiful river.Heading back out of the river just in time for some new rain to fall. Allora is just there on the other side of the river bar.Before we left this anchorage for another, I had designs to see if the existing water hose was flowing so we could fill our tanks. My outfits are devolving, but my motivation was intact!This was the waterfall right near Allora which was off color from the recent downpour, but the hose would have been buried far above in cleaner water (I hoped).Sadly, the hose wasn’t producing more than the faintest trickle. There was a fair surge in this little cove and the thick, heavy hose was all entangled in the exposed low tide rocks. Got that cleared but still no water. After some soaking wet, slippery scrambling a ways above the falls, I found the other end of the hose and ‘yahoo’, all I needed to do was secure it back in the water! I was PRETTY tickled with my own cleverness and couldn’t wait to tell Marcus about my heroic efforts (yeah, I’ve been reading about the role of the ego, yeah, I still need to read more!) but you probably can sense the anticlimax here – it didn’t work!!! UGH. So sad. I was exhausted and deflated, but thankful that I’m also reading about gratitude so I could be appreciative of our water maker!We moved down to the end of the sound, poked into a somewhat famous (for sandflies) anchorage called, ‘Alice Falls,’ but didn’t stay because we were itching (pun) to sit at an old school free- swinging anchorage, which was also an option at the head of the bay.More typical weather for Fiordland.
Little Blue Penguins seem pretty tiny to handle what Fiordland must dish up?!My mom moved from southern to northern California while we were in George Sound. Thank you, dear siblings, for manifesting such an effort! Wish we could have helped, but know that we were sending soggy hugs from Fiordland! Weird to be on the other side of the planet when bigger life changes occur.
The rain eased but the wind came up in our free swinging yet exposed anchorage, so we moved back over to Alice Falls – tucked back in a very sweet cove offering lots of protection. Believe it or not, besides the prolific sandflies, this place mainly gets complaints about the noise from the roaring falls!
The next morning, we had glorious sun!Good thing, because EVERYTHING was wet! Scenic laundromat.We took Namo over to the George Sound DOC hut, to take the hike up to Lake Katherine.Again, mainly a hunter’s cabin, but it was past the season, so we found it empty.
This hut is mainly used by hunters during the season. There is also an ‘expert’ rated 18 km (one way) tramping (backpacking) route from Lake TeAnau to George Sound, but it’s seriously overgrown and described by Wyatt as ‘burly.’ We hiked up just 2k (one way) to Lake Katherine and it took AWHILE on some very soggy but ‘georgeous’ trail!Nicer hut than the Caswell 2 person.
One of the first things we had to do was something Marcus had hoped to avoid entirely – a classic 3 wire bridge with no netting or boardwalks. These are being replaced almost entirely by swing bridges or suspension bridges, but some remain in Fiordland. This river was just too high to try to wade.So many glorious hours spent traipsing through Fiordland’s grand forests. In Japan it’s called, ‘shinrin-yoku,’ or eco-therapy forest bathing. (It was our most frequent bathing!)Noticing the wee ones.Textures, too.And oh so fresh mountain water!!!! (Consider that we normally drink reverse osmosis water from our de-salination system).
Some Root Beer gummy worms?
Had hopes of seeing this Wapiti at the lake since this track was so fresh.Lake Katherine.Look what showed up just as we arrived?!Sweetly imperfect.Colorful plate mushroom.
Our return. More my kind of thing – I’d have paid to go on it!Idyllic scene, lovely day.It’s entirely unnerving to send that drone up and off the deck of Allora. I give Marcus huge credit for being willing to face the tummy tumult -maybe he’s tempted by the comfy clothing?He uses the screen and I watch the actual drone, just in case.So worth it, right?!We tried scrambling up the true left side of Alice Falls the next day to maybe reach Alice Lake, but neither of us had what it would take!After 5 nights in glorious George, we set out on a ‘splitter bluebird’ day for Bligh Sound. Too cold for sandflies on this sunny am!And LOOK WHO accompanied us, smiling all the while?!Thanks for the mighty sweet escort!
Pretty little welcome rainbow as we get set to enter Caswell Sound.There are a number of rocks studding the entrance to this fiord and caution was definitely on our minds. Often we can see that there’d be gorgeous coves to explore, but not in Allora!How do you REALLY feel about that entrance, Marcus?!Shirley Falls, dropping 365 meters from Lake Shirley on Caswell’s southern side. There is supposedly evidence of an old marble works that ran between 1882 and 1887 here, but I suspect it’s quite overgrown!Ooh, let’s go look at THAT one?!!And then this sweet, unnamed waterfall, one of a zillion that show up after each deluge. Thank you sun, for lighting her up!We may have chosen to skip Caswell were it not for the Stillwater River at the head. It’s a gorgeous fiord though, with steep shores and rugged peaks and we spent 3 lovely nights here.This boat, Ponowhai 3, came by to offer us some fresh fish, and I missed the shot where they were holding up the enormous Grouper (they say Groper here in NZ, same fish), but they passed over a downright SLAB which ended up being 4 meals for us two. Gratitude to the boat folks AND the grand fish.
Big Fish
a big fish lived here
under this rock
in this sound
70 meters of water
down down down
finning the murky fathoms
there must be something it is like to be
a big fish
broad tail to the tide
jaw slowly moving, gills filtering
oxygen and salt from darkness
listening to the strange whirr of a prop churning distantly overhead
scent in the current
vibrations of much younger, much smaller, more foolish fish
everyone makes mistakes
joy to the world!
big fish on!
the breathless mystery of something deep
that unremitting pull of an invisible line
uncompromising bite and stick and metal barb
is there hoping it might break free
what is it like
to be another’s flesh and dinner?
exhausted thrashing on the surface
searing bright light and fierce dryness
the gaseous, ethereal world
where white birds like cherubs flitter and follow
where albatross glide like shadows of another understanding
what is it like, big fish?
now that two men hold you in firm hands
knife wielding hands
careless hands
is this the dance?
waves surge against the rocks
seaweed starfish worms green saltwater alive
o’ fish shaped wave
these men call you big fish
men who came to find things to take
big trees all in a row
is there something it is like
to be a man holding a gray dead fish
for a picture
flesh stripped from her ancient bones ~MS
‘Stay put,’ we always say as we zip off to check out the Stillwater River on this grey and soggy day.
Our big adventure: get Namo upstream just far enough to pick up the scenic track along the Stillwater River which leads to Lake Marchant. We had to be tide conscious though, as there were 9′ tides here!This is the two bunk hut run by the Department of Conservation (DOC), mainly used by hunters, but we were there just past the season, so were able to burn a bit of our paper trash in the fireplace before setting off toward the lake. Caswell sits on the 45th parallel and Wyatt’s NZ friends/roommates, Tanya and Ben had just been there in February raising funds and advocating for women suffering from domestic abuse. They scrambled, ran and traipsed the entire 45th as it crosses the South Island in NZ, from where they were dropped via helicopter at the ocean entrance to the sound to Oamaru on the east coast. We had heard from Wyatt about their effort and knew that they had planned to be exclusively off trail, but ended up coming down off the staggeringly high ridge to seek shelter from a massive storm for 3 days in this hut. The river, just below in this pic, was so high – they were worried that it would flood and the cabin might be washed away. Indeed, we were there just following a big rain, and the flow was anything BUT a still river! It would have been terrifying to be in their situation, truly. You can read about it here: https://runliketanya.com/athlete/challenges/the-45th-parallel-traverse/ I think Ben might be putting together a documentary on their arduous mission? We found their entry in the logbook which all DOC huts have and made our own, too. ~DSThe most humble DOC hut we’d ever seen.
Such a happy place.Gorgeous hiking!
Perchance some fish thoughts, hmmm?
Nearing the lake, we had to slog through some boggy ground.
Plenty of water to be had and squeezed from our clothes!Marcus had to be super sneaky and crawl around so as not to be seen by the fish at the glassy lake edge.Stealthily casting to fussy fish.Fish on! I had to run from this vantage point all the way slopping through the marsh to get there for a pic!
Several nice fish in the shallow water’s edge, but they were super spooky.
Brown Trout from a brown lake – not easy to spot! This one took a small nymph.Back at it! Tying on a fly in sandfly country means there are sacrifices which must be made and sometimes you just have to hope it’s a male that lands on your face and finger (the females are the biters).Neat place to be just hanging out. I heard the ‘pffft’ of a startled deer as I was taking some pics in the grasses, but never saw it.Thistles throw a gorgeous flower to seed.
Going to have to do some research to learn about this fungi?!
Oh, I see your whimsy, Nature!And your complexity, too.Sweet spot, captivating to us both.Another exquisite purple.
Took our face protection down for a pic and see, I’m just about to get bit. Their sensors are spectacular!
Through the droplet glass.Moody and broody and time to go back!
Allora just waiting for us!We saw no real wind here but got plenty WET. Waterfalls appeared all around our boat!Had to bail Namo out and secure her up on the davits with the drain plug open!
Leaving Caswell in sloppy conditions, but arguably easier than Ben and Tanya’s method!
We glided through Thompson Sound early in the am so as to avoid forecasted weather and seas on the outside.On our way out to open ocean. Had to go check out this unusual formation?!What looked like snow was actually bare white stone under shallow rooted vegetation (including trees) which ‘slide’ in big rains.This mauve color was authentic and WOW!The rocks at the fiord ‘mouth’ are always treacherous and we keep PLENTY of distance. This weather is more characteristic of the area than the gorgeous month + we’ve been wildly lucky to enjoy.Of all the fiords, we only skipped Chalky Inlet and Nancy Sound. This was the narrow entrance to Nancy and although you can’t see it in this pic, it looked sufficiently tight and rough to make us feel ok about our earlier decision to give it a miss (based on our need to get to Picton for some much needed boat work before our Fiji passage in June).Charles Sound/Taiporoporo. It had rained the day before, and often we are on the lookout for debris, but this downright tree wasn’t going to be missed! Later, we did hit a log at full speed and never saw it, just heard the dull thud on Allora’s hull 🙁
Charles Sound doesn’t have quite the extensive ‘tentacles’ as Doubtful or Dusky – there are only two! We chose Gold Arm and found such a dear spot for Allora just through this narrow gap, behind Catherine Island. There was a fisherman’s line in place, so we pulled right up alongside it and secured Allora at all 3 cleats, Voilá! (No anchor.)Birdsong and sandflies aplenty!The shoreline of Charles is entrancing!
Seaweed left high and dry on display at low tide.
Abstracts
My favorite of Diana’s photographs from Fiordland are the “abstracts,” which she discovers by looking in a very careful, unique way, at the tidal line along the rocks, that magical transitional space between the hidden world underwater and the green, vibrant life-on-fire world above. Bare stone, stained and painted with time and color, bent and reflected by the still, secret, freshwater shimmering over the tide, the infinite, creative capacity of nature. Diana uses framing to share this vision, to point out Nature’s mastery of abstract art. It’s no surprise (and no accident) that these images feel so profoundly connected to her mosaic work. Most of the time these photographic expeditions are her solo meditations, which she shares with me when she gets back to Allora (after hours in the kayak!). But I’ve also been with her, paddling Namo gently into position, sitting right next to her, appreciating the wholeness of a beautiful place but without quite seeing what she is seeing. These images, for me, represent a particular (and particularly magical) collaboration between Diana and this very, very special world we are navigating in Fiordland.~MS
We heard dolphins exhale RIGHT beside Allora, so donned our goofy outfits, lowered Namo off the davits and went out around the corner to see if they’d still be about. A visual feast: the bush, the shoreline, dolphins and the water, ahhh!!!There were 6, and they were nonplussed by us. (I just went down a Wifi wormhole reading about how ‘nonplussed’ is a contronym!)See the dorsal fin shape in the intertidal zone, too?!
After that glorious evening light, we settled in for what would be torrential rain all night. We saw 38.5 knots of wind as our max, but from the N/NW – a good direction for this location.In the morning the water was chocolate colored and there were gushing waterfalls EVERYWHERE!
We had hopes of taking Namo up the Windward River at the head of the bay, but it was a raging ‘NO!’
Sinuous lines, ‘tidelines’ of foam where two currents meet.
Instead of moving Allora over to Emelius Arm, we left her tucked by Catherine Island and ventured 5 miles with Namo in the FREEZING early morning! Visibility was almost nil, but we went slowly and visualized a log free path!By the time we arrived at the head of Emelius Arm, the sun had started coming up over the peaks, so we knew we’d be warm soon! It’s always harder than we imagine to find where the river (which comes from up high in the canyon ) flows into the sound. Sometimes our guide books showed an approximate position, but not always. We were tempted to follow these shadow arrows, as they seemed to be pointing the way!Found the Irene River, though at this early stage it was as still as a lake. Our plan was to take Namo up as far as we could and then hike up beyond that until the tide dictated we return.Hallelujah for the sun!Sun makes us all so warm and fuzzy!Through a narrow little offshoot, trees all around, we took Namo back and in (following the sound and a glint of white water) and look what we found?!
Looked it up on our favorite (offline) app, NZ TOPO 50, and learned that this beauty is Marjorie Falls!
Super hard visibility for seeing the myriad snags. It was gorgeous, but took intense focus getting upriver.
Time to hike/fish and let Namo rest.And to the cicada’s surprise, two new creatures showed up!
Happy to get in the forest on foot and lay some hands on these wise elders!Marcus didn’t end up seeing any fish, but it was such a pleasure: gravel beds, a reasonable trail on the true left bank, deer sign and a sun dappled forest.I left this for Marcus so he might see it on his way back down river. Glad I took the pic, because he didn’t!
A fine, fine day!Had to tear ourselves away and still we left about 1.5 hours after our intention, so the water was REALLY ‘skinny’ for our return.
We negotiated snags the whole way and had to walk/pull Namo out the last 200′!
What a beautiful sight, to see Allora peacefully resting just as we’d left her! Phenomenal day!Left Charles Sound at 10am – 3 days of solitude and bliss.
The relatively short distances between sounds along Fiordland’s rugged coast allow for mad dashes timed to brief calms, but you can’t really read the ocean’s mood sheltered in the steep granite walls of the fiords. Often the designation, “all weather anchorage,” means that fishermen have figured out that even in the worst conditions, certain spots are spared. The only way to know when it’s time to go, if you don’t have the benefit of years of local knowledge, is to study the weather models that we download twice a day from PredictWind. Because they are downloading via Iridium satellite, the resolution of the models cannot be higher that 50km. So there’s a bit of an odd effect as the models average how much the wind on the Tasman Sea is slowed down by the mountainous Fiordland coast, giving the appearance of lighter winds close to shore. They probably are a little lighter compared to what they are 20 miles out at sea, but our experience is that the models generally underestimate what it’s like on the outside and overestimate what we’ll experience once inside.Wind or no, gale or no, the seas are almost always a mess, particularly where local winds funnel through the openings of the sounds. Schedules are well known as the bane of sailing but in the land based world they are unavoidable, and Wyatt had a particularly narrow window of time to squeeze in a visit to us amid preparations to leave New Zealand. So we considered ourselves unreasonably lucky when the wind that pinned us down for a couple of days in Daag, relented in perfect time for us to make the dash. We arrived at the opening of Doubtful with what Wyatt would call a ‘splitter bluebird’ sunny day. ~MS
We have experienced a profound cumulative effect traveling through the wilderness of these southern fiords, as we mash through the tangled forest or glide like a whisper through glassy, watery mountain reflections. We feel a growing, deepening awareness of the liveness and power of this unfettered place. Every day Diana peers a little closer into the magical profusion of the rainforest, its tiniest creatures (or the smallest we may perceive) all this abundance of life fueled by fresh water, gray stormy clouds, shifting rays of sunlight, massive stone faces fading softly into the distance. The boundless imagination of nature is vividly accessible here, free of scheming human interference. Inexhaustible, effortless celebration. We feel blessed to feel like we belong, to participate at our particular scale, with our particular way of perceiving. Gratefully reconnected as dolphins come to play alongside Allora, turn and smile and look back at us with familiar eyes, into our own delighted gaze. As the sky softens at sunset, or looms heavy with rain before the storm, as water gushes from waterfalls that were not there before the deluge, thundering into the fiord, as williwaws tornado in wild rainbow mists across startled coves, how delightful it is to be alive, a part of, this marvelous, miraculous world. ~MS
Always and already …We spent our last evening at the end of Crooked Arm, just 1 mile as the crow flies to Dagg Sound. I was sure Wyatt would want to run across, but we didn’t arrive till quite late in the afternoon and we were cherishing our last time for sweet conversation.And what an evening it was! Fiordland showed off a wee bit.We shot this when we thought Wyatt had the possibility of extending his stay one more day, hence the smiles. We learned soon after that we had to rush in the morning to get him back to Deep Cove for an earlier bus because they’d cancelled the other option. 🙁One last kayak outing.Leaving Crooked Arm and working our way back to Deep Cove, Marcus maneuvered Allora right up next to these stunners.
Our wake was the only disturbance as we slinked up Acheron Passage toward Wet Jacket Arm.Did the whole Astanga practice in sandfly attire on the foredeck, underway but oh so calm.
In our past experience, being this close to shore would NOT feel like where you’d want to be in a big blow, but when in Fiordland …We’re tied every which way!Lavishly colored intertidal zones.It’s always fun to explore after we get Allora all set and secure.Not sure if the sandflies avoid us because we’re covered or just too dorky.Me if we stayed in Fiordland much longer.We just kept cracking up at our ‘get ups.’These teensy charmers were just about a half centimeter!Nature has some clever solutions for seed distribution.Walked up this creekbed for a ways. In general, we managed far more hiking than in most places, despite the clear challenges.Possibly another lichenized fungus, but I’m not sure?! Will research!Let the rain begin …
We ended up with buckets of rain and big winds from the west. At night there was bioluminescence as the raindrops hit the water!!!The next day there were waterfalls everywhere, and the creekbed we had walked up was a river!
Lots to captivate ~ lingering rainbows, new waterfalls, breathtaking bush, dolphins and surreal reflections while moving up to the end of Wet Jacket Arm. I wrote these words in the logbook from that day: ‘OH MY GOODNESS – A VISUAL FEAST!’
A group of maybe 12 Bottlenose cruised along the shore, paralleling our movements for :45!
Called this my ‘surfboard.’Such a pretty paletteSphagnum magellanicum, commonly called Magellanic bogmoss.
Another stunning move to our next anchorage NE of Oke Island. Happy me.While trying to decide if we’d head out on an afternoon hike at Herrick Creek across the bay, this rainbow arched directly over the access point, so our decision was made!We should most definitely look up to them.As if ‘normal’ colored mushrooms weren’t rad enough already?!
And THESE?!!! (I’ll hope to edit in some names later).Classic Fiordland.
An altar in the woods.Heard there are no poisonous berries in NZ, but we didn’t dare.Lush habitat.Okay, THEN we came upon THIS!!!
Time time time
the blink of an eye
this old tree stands
long passed her prime
twists and turns and bends
green and tattered limbs
once a luxurious crown, thin and brittle now
built a mighty trunk
roots bound to ancient stone
deep fissures of wisdom
etched by sun and boundless sky
age like vines creeps in
dancing with cruel and gentle winds
obliging every whim
mist and storm, drought and deluge
now these wooden branches
broken and hollow
hang as open arms
rings within rings
home of a million creatures
grateful or indifferent
loss and love make her beautiful
mother to a forest ~MS
Phenomenal, truly.Cohabitation.
Symbiotic joy!A shelf mushroom with the same myriad colors as our magic tree.These water droplet patterns reminded me of molecular structures from Chemistry.We reached the lake!No context, just expression!There are more. Message me if you want the full repertoire?! I kept thinking that our Magic tree might know just what was being communicated here.
Heading back to Allora.And this was our post hike rainbow!
Dusky is the longest and most extensive fiord in Fiordland at nearly 24 miles in length. Named ‘Dusky’ after Captain Cook’s evening sail by in 1770, and ‘Tamatea’ after the renown Māori explorer who spent much time there. He’s also known for the coining the longest name of a place near Hawke’s Bay ‘Taumatawhakatangihangakoauauotamateaturipukakapikimaungahoronukupokaiwhenuakitanatahu,’ so I’m glad I didn’t have to work that into our logbook! ~DS
From ‘the outside,’ transiting open ocean between Preservation Inlet to Dusky/Tamatea Complex. The endless layers of blue …Sometimes the entrance to the fiord would be relatively narrow and the transitions could be tough depending on the conditions. We avoided a reef by taking a dishearteningly named shortcut, ‘Broke Adrift Passage,’ leaving Preservation.Thank you, Albacore, for being just the right size and feeding us.We wove our way back through the narrow twists and turns to find ourselves alone in this magical nook.
Inner Luncheon Cove on Anchor Island, Dusky Sound
We are anchored in an 18th century naturalist’s illustration. The Kākā, subtly colored parrots, russet and carmine, gray and mossy green, chatter in mobs back and forth. Fur seals and their pups bawl and rumble along the densely wooded shore, draped on rocks, sunning just out of the vivid green tide, or hidden mysteriously in the forest. Rays and Broadnose Sevengill sharks patrol the shallows. Bellbirds chime and Wood Pigeons dive and soar in mating displays, wind whirring in their wings. The water is supernaturally still after the tumult and breaking swell of Broke Adrift Passage, and the long motor up the easing blue Pacific around Cape Providence. The scale of the world is abruptly more intimate. Captain Cook dined on crayfish here in 1773. He left behind a recipe for brewing beer from the bark of Rimu trees, molasses and yeast. The island is also predator free, and refuge to the rare ground parrot, the Kākāpō, once thought to be extinct – rediscovered in Port Pegasus, Stewart Island by Rodney Russ, a sailor/explorer we met in Christchurch.
A chance to sit on the bow and meditate outside, to the constant music of birds, “Here and now boys, here and now.”
The dearth of sandflies and still air made for a pleasant barbecue, cooking up fillets of the Albacore tuna we caught on our way into Dusky.
The trails on Anchor Island are named and well marked, though oddly, do not seem to clearly indicate which of the many paths lead to the lake (just a kilometer or two away). We weren’t very far along the “wrong” trail when a mob of Kaka settled noisly into the trees over our heads. We sat still and waited and they ventured closer and closer, sailing back and forth, gnawing at the branches with their strong beaks and then landed a few feet away, turning their heads upside down for a curious closer look. A South Island Robin/Kakaruai (re-introduced in 2002) also hopped over to say hello, as they do, finally summoning the courage to peck at the bottom of my shoe. ~MS
Itty bitty baby fur seal curious about my kayak.Some facts. Thanks Southland Historical Committee!We’d have to consider the sizable tides when tying up Namo (our dinghy).Until this encounter, we’d only seen Kākā from a distance.A connection was made.Gorgeous underbellies!Such a treat!South Island Robins follow hikers, nibbling on what gets stirred up underfoot and generally being joyful.Still haven’t figured out what these are called – besides COOL!!!The view from atop Anchor Island and the freshwater lake in the interior.Coulda stayed here forever!Dusky (Bottlenose) Dolphins bringing GLEE with every splash!!!And smiles …
Fanny Cove, Dusky Sound
It was still when we arrived after the move from Anchor Island. Along the way we enjoyed the company of some of Dusky Sound’s residence Bottlenose dolphins, and stopped for a closer look at a waterfall, a hundred feet of depth under Allora’s keel a boat length or less from shore. We ate some bread that Diana pulled from the oven just as we entered the broad cove and thought about our plan for anchoring. The forecast was for twenty-five to thirty knots of northerly on the outside (a little less than the full Pusygar gale which prevails three hundred days out of a year), but all the models showed much less fifteen miles inland form the open sea. Still with the wind and williwas, we didn’t really know what we might get. The dramatic cove with the huge granite wall of Perpendicular Peak at the head is much bigger than in looks on the chart. The opposite of intimate Luncheon cove. We dropped in 60 feet of water and laid out all of our 100 meters of chain at a shallow angle along the shoreline, still sitting in thirty feet of water but with rocky shallows close by. Our first line would not really hold us off, and we ran a second as the wind came up and it was clear that the topography of cove seemed to twist the north wind with just a hint of west in it to solid west, coming at Allora from the port side and pushing us toward shore. The cove is big enough for a reasonable bit of fetch too, but the water on the east side is just too deep. Already worn out from setting the first two lines we debated putting out a second anchor from our midships cleat, but we worried about dealing with picking it back up if things got rough and we hand to move. We finally settled on putting out a third shore line using forty feet of chain to tie around a rock and pulled that up tight. By then the wind was pushing us with gusts of 18 knots. It went against every sailor instinct to be holding off a lee shore this way, but as long as our lines held it would take some mighty force indeed to drag 100 meters of chain and an anchor uphill. A power boat came in, and poked around on the east side and dropped anchor along the east side which we thought was too deep and we briefly wondered if we’d read the situation wrong (having no advice in our books about where to anchor in this broad open cove). But then they sent a dinghy over and we recognized the driver as he approached. Junate! from Hokey Pokey, a catamaran we knew from Papeete and the Gambier! We shared a brief excited catch-up about the last three years before he headed back. They’d also decided that it was too deep to anchor on the more protected east side and were zooming off (as only a power boat may) to find a mooring in another cove, much too far away for us to make before dark. And we were left alone with the wind, checking our shorelines and worrying how much more the night would bring. Just before dark the wind gusted to the mid twenties and Allora settled back about fifteen feet closer to shore than she had been. Our starboard shoreline went momentarily slack and the depth rose to twenty five feet. It began to rain.We donned foulies and went on deck ready to take more drastic action if it turned out that our anchor was actually not holding. We tightened up the breast line chained to the rock to pull us out into deeper water, and checked the GPS. We finally decided that the low tide had allowed some slack in our chain which the gusts shook out and we were holding fine. We made sure the dishes were away and everything was ship shape for the night, just in case, and then the wind quit completely, the rain settled in gently. In the middle of the night we woke up to an amazing stillness, just the finest pitter patter of rain. Light from a still nearly full moon softly lit the stunning granite faces that guard the entrance to the cove and the fine rain softened their reflection in the still water. It felt like a big reassuring landscape hug for a wonderful, still, uneventful night of sleep. ~MS
We could motor over and get super close to shore with Allora because of the steep drop offs/depths.Couldn’t resist. Dropped the kayak while Marcus held Allora just off shore. The force of the water was strong enough that I couldn’t swish under it like I’d imagined.This is one frame of one spot in one fiord. Think about the scale and magnitude and impenetrability of this wilderness area?!!I kept seeing an Animé character in this one!Fanny Bay: Choosing the exact whereabouts of where we’d be about!It’s so exciting to add a whole (reflection) dimension to your visual field.After 7 years, my Oru kayak is on its’ last adventure (I was sitting in a fair amount of water!), but boy did we get about! (Me here in full dork garb for sandfly avoidance.)There are more where this came from! I had a blast cruising along the water’s edge and finding snippets to savor.There were heaps of these backlit webs, but no spiders to be seen?
Special spot, Fanny Bay.
Ahhh, the graceful FERNS!!! So so many!!!The wind in Fiordland has two speeds: gale or glass.We ended up feeling like we wound our own web with all the lines securing Allora!Had some fun trying to find a lake which we’d read was just a kilometer up the forest basin.A healthy shelf fungi – they get HUGE in Fiordland.It was love at first sight – Marcus meets sponge moss! Nap time.Hehe. Seeing through new lenses.
So much green … So much life …Finally made it to the lake, but we’re not getting any FKT’s (fastest known times)!OOPS! Also not making any ‘how to’ videos on leaving your tender! Didn’t quite calculate THAT tide right! Sorry Namo!Back on Allora, watching the moonset.On the move again, heading through Bowen Channel toward Shark Cove.
Shark Cove Anchorage – our bow anchor and two stern lines to shore. See ‘backstory’ below!
Seaforth River, Dusky Sound
It took us three tries to get the anchor to hold in Shark Cove. Communication from bow (Diana) to the helm (Marcus) is always a bit challenging (West Marine sells headsets called “marriage savers”). The view is different, too. We did alright for the first couple of attempted sets, but both got a little impatient and grumpy by the third. It held, and we were finally tied up, but tired and neither of us feeling great about how the teamwork had held up. There’s a lot at stake — sudden weather switches, unpredictable williwaws make it crucial to get this right. Every couple of days we get another chance to see if we can improve on our mutual desire to work together.
We got a little of a late start for the longish dinghy ride over to Supper Cove where the Seaforth River enters the Sound. It’s reported to hold brown trout! The Dusky trail slopes along the banks, through mud puddles and a podocarp forest of magnificent rimu, kahikatea, miro, mataī and tōtara trees. The river tumbles off some boulders and then flattens like a lake for several kilometers. Tea stained with tannins, spotting fish (the only way to fish in New Zealand) was tough. Ultimately we didn’t see any, though a few rocks got some very intense attention.~MS We took Namo over to the next bay, Supper Cove, to be able to hike on the Dusky Track. It’s an advanced tramper track – 84km one way, but we just did 6km and found it muddy but heavenly (not bushwhacking).
An official TRAIL, baby!Forest light can look like studio light!Focus schmocus, look at those colors!The non-green vegetation really stood out.The leaves of the Beech trees leach acidic tannins into the rivers making them appear ‘tea stained.’Sticta Coronata, a lichenized fungi. We learned from our Lyttelton artist friend, Virginia, that it makes fabulous natural dye for fabric!Virginia’s Sticta dyed wool.Back in Shark Cove. No sharks spotted but some magical kayaking and wise trees!Some really lovely Australians invited us aboard their custom built boat of 30 years, s/v Fine Tolerance for tea!I’d heard a waterfall from the kayak and went back to get Marcus so we could try to find the source! Took this pic to show that we can drink the water ANYWHERE in NZ without fear of getting Giardia. This ‘quick cup’ is our favorite thing from Wyatt’s running world – clip it on your backpack and it’s light as a feather – voila, water at the ready!Paradise found!What is it about falling water?!!Just might have to be a mosaic someday?!Our last night in Shark Cove. We ended up with just under two months in Fiordland and we’d have loved twice as much at least.We saw so few other boats, but at dusk this boat ‘Flightless’ showed up and picked up the big mooring. In the wee hours of the morning (hence the soft focus), the morning, the helicopter dropped in from the head of the bay, landed and shifted out crew for this tour boat operated by a conservation minded company called, ‘Pure Salt.’The Acheron Passage is a north/south running inland route which connects Dusky Sound to Wet Jacket Arm to Breaksea Sound. Quite nice from our perspective as we didn’t need to go ALL the way back out to the open ocean to traverse up to Breaksea. Plus, we had the benefit of securing ourselves in what’s known as an ‘All Weather Anchorage,’ and the safest spot in all of Fiordland for a W/NW blow due in the next day. Sure couldn’t imagine it with these mirror like conditions though …
While Wet Jacket Arm and Breaksea Sound are still part of the Dusky/Tamatea Complex, I’ve broken them up, if for no other reason than my own sanity, so I can feel a sense of progression, ha! ~DS
For sailors, these outlying islands are tempting and we’ve had Maupiti in our minds since reading an article about it in a sailing magazine while still in Bozeman. It did not disappoint and it was fun to have some days to explore the little, sleepy island some call Bora Bora’s rival. Maupiti was our last stop before saying ‘au revoir’ to French Polynesia. We would have liked to be able to make it to its’ neighbor Maupiha’a (Mopelia), some 130nm away, but we felt the tug to gain momentum westward …
In May we had the chance to buddy boat with my brother Doug and his family and friends. They flew from Washington and chartered a catamaran big enough to accommodate eleven people on board. We kept a pretty busy schedule touring Raiatea and Bora Bora, hiking, snorkeling, sailing, diving, SUPing and kayaking. A few of us fit in an epic, muddy climb to the top of the peak of Bora Bora. It was great fun to sail alongside my brother, beat him sailing to windward and then watch him blow by us like a ghost ship with the wind behind the beam. He hailed us on the VHF sailing to Bora to tell us that for the comfort of his crew and to keep up with us on the windward leg he was turning on the engine. I said, “That’s awesome (I never expected to be able to beat that catamaran) he said, “Great for you, Marcus…”Evenings onboard Kiwi will probably stick with us the longest. I guess sunsets are like that. After a long day of whatever and wherevering (usually in the water) their ridiculously spacious Bali 46 was a great place to hang out with no particular agenda, sip a little rum or scotch, a glass of wine or a dark and stormy and enjoy the warm tropical breeze and another delicious meal. ~MS
DIVE IN!We’ve been to the Gambier before, this little Archipelago on the southeastern edge of French Polynesia, clinging to the tropics by a few minutes of a degree. From any place to any other place in the Gambier it always seems to be six miles. Motus, reefs, mountain islands, all of French Polynesia on a small scale. Not a lot of people anywhere, basically one road on Magareva, no traffic lights, or stop signs or yield signs. No internet to speak of.
The business of the Gambier is pearls. Its cooler water temps and open lagoon are ideal for cultivating that one particular oyster which has captured the imagination of the world’s great connoisseur and collector ape, an irredeemable species with a bizarre obsession with grading things according to their level of perfection, and assigning abstract value. Toiling like 49’ers, cleaning the oysters, nurturing and counting them, performing delicate surgeries to create little iridescent balls of nacre.
We had lots of company in the Gambier this time around. Lots of time to go explore some of the places we missed the last. We thought it would feel like lots of time in general, but I guess Time doesn’t exactly work that way. First to arrive was Maddi, followed a few days later by Wyatt’s girlfriend, Heather. All passionate outdoors people, crazy about running over mountains and diving with sharks and mantas. Heather kept a diary of the fish she identified (as a scientifically trained person would). She and Wyatt would pour over Diana’s books at the end of their dives. Diana’s pretty good at this, but I’ve been slower remembering the names of (non-game) fish. One that Wyatt and Heather found that has stuck and is easy for me now is the Piano Fangblenny. Nice name for a fish with what sounds like a mean habit of eating other fishes scales. We had lots of music and card games for the rainy days. Maddi hooked a giant bonefish right off the shore in front of Eric’s. It charged her fly and then ripped into her backing. She landed the next one. Wyatt landed a nice fish there, too, a few before having eluded getting their picture taken by slipping off the hook at the very last second. We dove, exploring new places in the Gambier, had some gear trouble, and then got that fixed. We played volleyball in Taravai and climbed Mt Duff in the pouring rain. It felt quick (as almost everything seems to these days) but filled with memories.
The weather was unsettled during most our stay this year in the Gambier. Everyone says so. It’s a thing. We had great weather and we had rainy weather. We had calms that made it possible to swim with mantas at Ile Kamaka and spend a wonderful Sunday afternoon relaxing in the shallow water beach in front of Eric’s pearl farm. We also had the worse wind we have ever experienced at anchor, a glancing blow from a depression that plunged the barometer to the low 990’s. Top gusts of 54 knots and sustained winds of 40 knots. A proper gale. Other sailors certainly got tired of us commenting that it wasn’t like this last year.
Christmas day the festivities were held at Edouard and Denises, at the southern end of Taravai. We wore our hats from the Australs, and like everyone brought food to share. Herve supplied the pig for the roast (he introduced me to the doomed prisoner the day before) and Edouard made Tuamotuan-style bread on the fire from coconut heart and flour wrapped in leaves (delicious). We brought guitars and ukuleles and I backed up Maddi on few songs, then Wyatt came in. For me the best song of the afternoon was the one Wyatt and Maddi sang together “Wildermen.” It starts, “my brother and I”… but Wyatt sang “my sister and I.” They stopped and tried again, laughing when they each switched the line, and then on a third try got on with the song. Funny and relaxed, what a great afternoon! The song Maddi wrote for mother’s Day“Anywhere You Are” was also a big hit. We played the chorus a few extra times so everyone could sing along. After awhile, Herve brought out his Marquesan style ukulele, which confounded us at first because he’s left handed, though he hasn’t restrung the instrument to match, so he plays it upside down and backwards. It didn’t make it easier that here they use the do re mi system of notation in French Polynesia instead of A B C chords that we’re used to. But after a bit of mental gymnastics we were able to share some songs with him, too.
And Tahitian dancing to round off the impromptu concert!
KAMAKA is a small, steep island on the south edge of the Gambier. Because the reef is submerged along this border of the archipelago the ocean swell is free to move in. There’s a patch of sand that great for anchoring (though watch out for a lost anchor on bottom about one third in from the east side), but the conditions have to be pretty calm for it to be comfortable. There is almost always a south swell breaking on the west side of the beach (in case you’re a surfer).
Tehoto shared his island and told stories of being raised and homeschooled here. He now lives in Mangareva, but comes to tend to the place often.Thanks Heather, for taking this group shot, but we’re sure missing HALEY!
Taravai is a sort of sailors mecca in the Gambier. It’s a good anchorage in most normal weather even big southeast isn’t too bad. But the real attraction is Herve and Valerie. They live on this island with their son Ariki, the only child on the island. Herve’s uncle, Edouard and his wife Denise live at the other end. It’s kind of amazing in the 21st century to see such a gorgeous place so simply occupied. Gambier’s blessing for being enough off the beaten track and a place where sweaters maybe required in winter. On Sunday’s they put on a pot luck BBQ, usually chipping in some fish that Herve has speared and sailors bring food and drink to hang out, play petanque and volleyball. Hard to beat. Valerie greets newcomers with a warning not to beach their dink under the coconut tree which is tall and would be lethal if it let go a coconut as just the wrong moment. The games of volleyball are played with Taravai rules, which include a slightly lower than regulation net and an easy going vibe … Herve’s secret weapon, besides his wicked sense of humor, is the headshot. It never fails to unnerve the opposition. Valerie is a committed player, too, always giggling, saying “Fakarava!” when she misses. Herve calls her “my lady.” The games often persist until it is just too dark to see, so Diana had the idea to ask Wyatt to find a glow in the dark volleyball to bring along as a gift. It lights up when hit, and stays lit for some period of seconds. The first night we played until the only thing people could see was the ball.
In a calm but northeasterly breeze we decided to anchor on the west side of the island of Rurutu. The southwest swell wasn’t big and it was a pretty spot. The next morning the sea began to build with an eerie feeling as we lifted on long rollers at anchor and watched them break bigger and bigger onshore until it was pretty clear the dinghy pass there was no longer navigable.
Still, it was a pretty day and we set sail to the south to see the rest of the island before heading for the small harbor on the NE side. Not far along we caught a small Yellowfin tuna, what Diana calls ‘the perfect size.’ Then as we approached the harbor we spotted whales and drifted for a while watching what seemed like two juvenile humpbacks playing, left behind as though reluctant to leave the tropical waters and join the rest who were already headed south to Antarctica. A last hurrah, for us too. It was calm and lovely and there was only one boat in the very small harbor (friends from the Gambier last season) when we ventured in and anchored, tying a long line to the wharf to keep from swinging. We were the 4th boat to check-in to Rurutu that year (in November!)~MS
The Australs lie a few hundred miles south of Tahiti, some just barely within the tropic of Capricorn, more remote islands like Rapa lie distinctly out of the tropics at 27 degrees south. We’re talking water temps below 70 degrees. Brrrrr. The weather is often challenging here and so these islands get few visitors. Intrepid tourists fly to Rurutu (where Wyatt met us) for the whales which winter around the island to raise their calves, but there aren’t enough visitors to support even one taxi. Still, whenever we needed to hitchhike, the first car would always stop to pick us up.
Rurutu is a hybrid island, half lifted makatea (limestone from petrified coral) and half volcanic, caves with stalactites like the atoll Makatea in the Tuamotus, but also real peaks and steep rock faces. No lagoon.
One day as we prepped for Wyatt’s arrival, a man swam by Allora and stopped to chat with us. The next day he appeared again, this time at the wharf with a pickup and three huge bunches of bananas, two giant squash and bucket of limes. These were gifts. Welcome to the true heart of Polynesian culture. We told him we could not possibly take three bunches of bananas, but he insisted. Obviously, he knew more about bananas that we ever will. They were timed perfectly to ripen one bunch at a time. Bananas for a month! A couple of days later two women showed up waving half of a tuna. We got one half and Charlotte and Pierre (the other sailboat here) got the other half. A gift again. We gave them what we could quickly scrap together, some cartons of juices, an uneven bargain indeed.
Picture Rurutu, an island with a few moderate peaks, Wyatt with his trail running shoes running circles, mountain to mountain, with occasional breaks to explore limestone caves with his relatively more sedentary mom and dad.
Rurutu grows coffee and strawberries. Yum!
We threw out a second anchor when the wind started blowing from the east northeast, and it got a little bouncy and rainy for a day or two, but nothing worrisome. Could have skipped the extra hook. A real northeast blow would not be good, but even twenty knots was fine in the small harbor.
We sailed passed Tubuai, reluctant to miss out on it’s vegetable gardens, and burned a little diesel to make it to Raivavae before dark. Like Bora Bora without the tourists, jets skis and cruise ships. Dodgy weather keeps it that way, but it was fine for our short visit. Lychee nuts were in season and we were given bags full.
There are bonefish in Raivavae. Wyatt and I spent the first afternoon fishing what looked like a classic flat. We caught Brassy Trevally, but saw not a single bonefish. The next day I decided to follow Diana’s advice and ask a local, and this woman very confidently pointed us to the unlikely looking shallows along the motu away from the “classic” flat. Wyatt spotted the first one a hundred feet down the beach and hooked the first one a hundred feet later. There were lots of fish, but they were very picky. It took a while to get the presentation right.
There’s a point of sand that separates the classic flat and the long beach where the bones actually are. It’s a steep drop off and the trevally cruise the edge. We were having fun chasing those, Wyatt with popper, when a Giant Trevally (GT) swam up on the flat, in about two feet of water. I finally got a cast to it and it swirled on the fly, but didn’t hook up. It looked at the fly one more time, unconvinced, and then swam back toward the edge, right toward Wyatt. I yelled to him that it was coming and he cast the popper out into the deep and waited until the fish was close. I’m not going to be able to adequately describe the excitement of watching that huge fish (guess 80 pounds) charge after his fly, straight at him. It finally engulfed the popper with a furious and massive gulp just fifteen feet in front of Wyatt. Holy shit! At first it didn’t quite seem to know what’s up. I played Dad yelling, “Let it go, let it go!” afraid it would break him off immediately, and Wyatt’s yelled back, “He’s not running.” And then he did (may I say holy shit again) and never stopped. Finally Wyatt had no choice but to start adding drag and inevitably the fish broke off. It would have been a miracle to land a fish like that on an 8 wt fly rod. But who cares? That was unforgettable. If you want to get a real idea of what it looked like watch BBC’s Blue Planet II Part I, “One Ocean” about 14 minutes in. Let David Attenborough explain it to you. Giant Trevally gather at a particular South Pacific atoll to feed on fledgling birds, literally jumping out of the water and grabbing them mid air or swallowing them whole when they make the mistake of resting on the water. The whole series is awesome.
We hiked the peak, watching Wyatt traipse ahead in the distance, spec of a red shirt bobbing on the steep green slopes of the peaks. The view from the peak was beautiful, but all I could think about was a chance lost to get one of those GT, this time with a 12 wt rod that might stand a chance. We had to leave the next morning.
The sail from Raivave to Rapa wasn’t too bad, but like all the sailing in these latitudes, the winds were fickle compared to the steady trades we’ve been accustomed to in the Tuamotus. Very light from the east when we arrived. We took a rare opportunity to anchor in one of the northern bays. In stronger winds no doubt the waves wrap and make the anchorage uncomfortable at best.
Wild horses, cattle and stone foundations, the remains of earlier settlements. We explored the valley and the next day climbed the ridge, aiming for a nearby peak, but halfway up we spotted a group of outriggers paddling toward Allora. We weren’t sure who they were, but they finally spotted us up on the hill and paddled over, we climbed down to meet Alain and , the one Rapa policeman, plus paddling friends. They’d figured out we were here (having not checked in), so they came to greet us. They returned in the morning, we thought to check us in, but really to have coffee and muffins. They looked at our papers but then asked us to come see them in town to really check in. It was an elaborate process considering we were still in French Polynesia, but super nice guys. It probably didn’t help shorten the formalities that Diana kept making the yummy muffins and cookies, no doubt it could be done in one stop instead of three.
We heard somewhere that there was a compressor on the island for filling scuba tanks, owned by the community. To get our tanks filled we had to go see the mayor of Rapa, who is also the main guy at the post office (used for banking and many other purposes here). Once we got the nod, they would not take money, and sent three young guys to collect them, and then return them to the dinghy on the dock.
Everything in Rapa went like that. We were given as much tuna as we could carry. “No money. No money,” and bags of peaches and nectarines and a local berry kind of like a blackberry. We tried to gift back, Diana baked peach muffins and banana bread, and we gave them little things from the boat and fishing line, but really you can’t win a gift giving contest with a Polynesian. They have the home turf advantage. It was all light hearted and a real pleasure.
To manage their fisheries, the island has a general ban that is in place most of the time for the east side of the island called the Rahui. From time to time they lift the ban and the boon of fish is piled up on the docks and shared among the whole community. Everybody gets fish.
There is no airport in Rapa, and it’s quite isolated, so things have to work differently. Not much room for disparate income levels, and the pretense of independence that underscores our western culture. No doubt there are tensions that go with that. Everybody knowing everybody’s business. It’s a small island. Centuries ago, before the arrival of Europeans, things got really, really tense on Rapa, which is just five miles across. There are the remains of fifteen forts on the island, occupying all the peaks and high ground to be found.
Wyatt and I cleaned Allora’s hull in preparation for our passage to the Gambier. Deep water under cloudy skies. We were circled by curious Galapagos sharks for the whole hour or so underwater.
Before leaving we visited church, for the hats (amazing) and the singing (magical). We were told everyone went, but in fact, only about seventy out of the four hundred some odd souls of Rapa showed up. Alain, who told us everyone went, wasn’t there either. Children attended, minded by an imposing man with a very big stick. The program was dismally long, and heavy on patriarchal themes, but it concluded with a feast and more music, the insistence that we bring lots of leftovers away with us.
We prepared to weigh anchor in the rain, but our chain was trapped between two towering bommies in the deep anchorage. Diana had to put on scuba gear and dive sixty feet in the gloom among the sharks to free it.
On our way out, we spotted Raymond, our tuna and peach benefactor who was running shuttles across the deep channel to take people back from church. Wyatt scooted over in the dinghy with a Montana hat to give him. He laughed because we got him, he had nothing on him to give back! ~MS
THROUGH WYATT’S LENS:
Follow Wyatt and his buddy, Tully, as they embark on their northern Russia expedition: https://www.summerinchukotka.com
The experience of sailing across the Pacific has been, predictably,
exactly what I expected and totally different
the days are not endless, nor really repeated
each has felt unique even though they blur together
they also go by so quickly
moments of boredom have been brief
and moments of claustrophobia which would seem normal
have not occurred
I don’t want “off” of Allora
I don’t yearn to walk on land
(other than to pee without thinking about my balance)
I don’t actually yearn to see land or even green, I don’t think
though, that may change when it happens
I think I will appreciate quiet and a sense of relative motionlessness
for a bit
this would have been incredibly hard without our crew
The things we worried about, as a family stuck together on a little boat
have been so much less than expected
tiny spats that lead to good resolutions
perhaps even especially for Diana and I
our big, big blow up on day four or whatever it was
resolved, or at least reframed, months of simmering issues
the challenges are still there as they probably always will be
but rebutting them with love and affection
has reminded us of what we have made over twenty-seven years
a formidable partnership
having Haley Maddi and Wyatt here was by far and above all
the best thing about this crossing
~MS
Approaching around the north end of Fatu Hiva.
Arrival in Hanavave, Fatu Hiva.
Wyatt called Heather the second we had cell reception!
Took advantage of the rain to clean all the flying fish and squid residue off Allora’s decks.
Rainshower shower and a moment of appreciation.
Rock walls covered in green, eroded vertically to emerald water
on the island of music Maddi sings in the grocery store!
A wet and blissful hike.
Good to stretch our legs.
Marcus on the edge.
Some nice city planning.
Dramatic rain showers made it even more fun out here.
Such love (and a little pride).
Feelin’ good.
Yeah, it was a muddy, barefoot kind of walk.
“I’m singin’ in the rain…”
This verdant and dramatic landscape blew our minds!
Waterfalls EVERYWHERE!
Crew (‘GREM’) extraordinaire.
Captain hasn’t worn a shirt in AGES!
The view out to our anchorage, where Allora is resting for the first real time in 25 days!
Contour map of stunning Nuku Hiva.
The villagers offered to cook us dinner, so we met up with the crew of Orso to celebrate our parallel crossing.
Lovely Giulia from s/v Orso. We chatted via our SAT system while we were out on the ocean. (These wreaths are amazing!)
I didn’t think it looked silly at all.
Music was part of the celebratory dinner. Wyatt ended up getting a ukulele for his upcoming birthday!
Handmade ‘Ukerere’
Dinghy excursion around to Baie Omoa.
Tapa (Barkcloth) from Mulberry, Breadfruit and other trees. The inner bark is stripped, dried in the sun, soaked, beaten and pressed. It is an ancient artform and wedding garments were once made from it. The Marquesas are one of the very few places where the laborious process is still happening.
Mariana, in Omoa, shared her meticulous tapas.
Every corner had luscious scenery.
The ubiquitous outrigger.
This guy wanted a FAST dinghy ride. Wyatt didn’t disappoint.
How’s that for a soccer field?!
Short hike to these falls up behind the village in Fatu Hiva. Wyatt and a guy we called the Marquesan Joseph Gordon Levitt hiked up a slippery slope to jump into the cascade’s pool.
These 3 …
Kids of Taiohae, Nuku Hiva
The missionaries worked with fervor in these islands and these altars are a part of all the homes we saw.
A ukulele in progress.
Pori’s dog
They each had a distinctly different sound, naturally.
Maddi chose her Uke at the atelier of Pori. There are 5 different woods in this one instrument.
Back at Henri’s Snack in Taiohae, Nuku Hiva (our anchorage on the South side of the island), Maddi joins the music jam.
And Haley was asked by this guy to play his keyboard. With no music, under his watchful eyes, she played two pieces and made a connection.
Great energy from these kiddos.
Ever changing light in the anchorage.
They make necklaces and wind chimes from these spikes.
Fete des Mères, Mother’s Day celebration. These shots need audio. What a treat to see and hear them belt out these Marquesan songs.
They wear flowers, not only for festivals.
I watched her watching the musicians so intently. No doubt she’s got music in her.
Artistry in all the details.
Mesmerizing dance.
Young kids are alike all over the world.
Even at this age, they could MOVE!!
Maddi/Fatu Hiva replacing the cheek block on the mast before we sail to Tahuata, Ua Pou and Nuku Hiva.
Fueling up at the ? dock?! Taiohae
Winner of the ‘hairiest refueling stop EVER!’ award. We backed up to the surging dock and I had to hold us off with a repertoire of alternating reverse and forward throttle maneuvers while Marcus was thrown line to which the diesel nozzle was tied. He then had to carefully try to keep the line and nozzle out of the water as it was passed to pitching Allora over the void, only to be repeated to return it. Nuts!
The yellow squalls surrounding us on the radar screen made for a soggy ride enroute to Hapatoni, Tahuata.
Jackets on for the first time on the whole passage.
Vai arranged a birthday celebration, Marquesan style, when we’d mentioned the day before that it was Wyatt’s birthday the next day. Generosity beyond compare!
And as usual, music is a big part of the ‘event.’
Wyatt’s 21st birthday, Hapatoni
Petanque, Anse Desanis, Baie Hapatoni, Hana Tefau, Tahuata
This construction worker saw Maddi carrying the violin and asked to be serenaded. Don’t think he was disappointed.
We sailed over to do the Vaipo Falls hike in Hakatea, (Daniel’s Bay), Nuku Hiva.
Paul shows us the petroglyph that he found in the woods on his place and is incorporating it into his landscaped wall.
Humble house, not so humble backdrop.
Met Paul, in his forties, who ended up asking Maddi to marry him. She loves the Marquesas, but … He added pamplemousse to the offer.
Cutest Tiki EVER!
I wondered how long it would take from the time this flower fell to disappear completely? Probably not long at all.
Root art.
Is it just me, or is this gorgeous?!
There were eels in the water getting to this spot. Single drop of 1148 ft (350 m) and we had to swim HARD through the deafening roar to reach this precarious spot. Probably shouldn’t have been there, in hindsight, as it’d been raining a lot, so rocks and logs were raining down occasionally.
The Hakaui Valley is spectacular. Early morning kayak foray. So so green!
The whole place is an oasis.
Heron checking us out.
Incredible homemade dinner ($10. each) – 5 courses, including poisson cru (raw fish with citron and coconut milk and spices, yum). Lovely couple. The guy reminded me of my Dad all night.
We shared the meal with Jennifer and Mark on m/v Starlet and a couple other guys (Harry and Josh) from the anchorage.
Early A.M. passage back to Taiohae.
Always worth an early departure.
We were cutting it close with time, as we had to get Maddi and Wyatt to the airport later that day.
Drive around Nuku Hiva on the way to/from the airport (dropping Maddi and Wyatt off)
So hard to let them out that door!
Allora finds herself in a setting as beautiful as she is!
Rain or shine, we’re gonna play on Wyatt’s 21st B’day.
IvaivaNui, HanaMoeNoa South, Tahuata
A place to turn 21.
It’s just the three of us now. Hale stayed a bit longer. Kayaking around our anchorage.
After Hale set off, Marcus and I sailed around the island to the north, Anaho Bay.
Can the drone come out and play?!
Love these vertical staircase fissures in the rocks all around this bay.
Secret little magical beaches.
We went on a hike over the hill to the next bay, so this is the view of Allora tucked in the anchorage.
Hike to Hatiheu Bay from Anaho Bay. Petroglyphs all over this marae, historical religious and spiritual site.
We wandered this extensive site all by ourselves.
These magnificent Banyan trees often are connected with the marae’s.
This is a place we’ll return to!
The aesthetics of decay.
Coconut copra drying before they export it for coconut oil and other products.
Lovey. Everywhere you look.
Lobster lunch in Hatiheu bay. We didn’t see anyone on the 3 hour hike over. Arrived and SO did a cruise ship, so this sleepy village was suddenly overtaken by tourists from the Aranui 3. We ate lunch quickly while they were whisked to the marae historical site.
Hikokua archaeological site near Hatiheu Bay.
Authentic tikis at the ancient marae site. There were human sacrifices made here.
Yep, floating heads!
Necklace on the main guy.
This pit in the rock was the perfect reservoir for this leaf, which fell into this position naturally.
The hike home.
Lovely smile and greeting along the way.
This woman’s name is Diana. I asked about limes and if they grew in the area and she huffed her baby on her shoulders and had me follow her through a coconut grove (aka mine field if they drop) to go collect some. Within 10 minutes, I had a giant bag of limes to take back to the boat. No money, but I went back later with some gifts to share. We carry lots of different things for these occasions.
Back on Allora – Marcus caught this gorgeous creature, then let him go.
People have sailed into these remote places for ages
when it was a much more dangerous and difficult thing to do
no guardian angel satellites watching over with pin point accuracy
no buzz of data vibrating in the invisible electromagnetic spectrum
They came for whale oil and gold.
It’s hardest to understand how the captains found their sailors
willing to fall off the end of the earth
What were they promised?
Whalers raided the Marquesas for women
stories of rape they did not share back in New Bedford
with their pious wives hiding wooden dildos in the walls
the food the rot the stink
there must not have been many better choices
the brutal life of a common sailor
~MS
