In the Valley of the Gods

Much like Tahiti and Bora Bora, Fatu Hiva is the stuff of which legends are made. Sailors talk of Fatu Hiva in a reverent voice. They have difficulty adequately describing the fabled anchorage that is typically the first landfall for boats crossing from North and South America. Unfortunately Fatu Hiva isn’t an official port of entry for French Polynesia so you run the risk of a $200 fine from the gendarmes. In reality this seems to happen rarely and I wish we would have stopped there first to save us having to double back after clearing in at Hiva Oa.

We departed on Hana Moe Noa on Tahuata on Saturday morning, June 6th and were fortunate to have near perfect weather as we sailed in the lee of the mountainous island. The scenery along Tahuata is incredible, looking very much like a movie set that some Hollywood mogul constructed to film the movie South Pacific.

We had a pleasant crossing on a close reach with moderate waves, much different from that experienced by most boats heading up to Fatu Hiva. Many sailors, including Thor Heyerdahl of Kon Tiki fame, mentioned a feeling of unease when approaching the island. Heyerdahl spent a year exploring Fatu Hiva with his young wife and wrote a book about the experience. I think it’s mainly the dark, ominous clouds that cling to the mountain tops and give the island a surreal quality.

The Bay of Virgins.

As you approach you see a wall of extremely steep mountainsides painted in a cacophony of every shade of green imaginable. Waterfalls cascade off the vertical walls like in a fairly land. More dominant are the bulbous round rock towers that led early settlers to call it the Bay of Penis’.  The missionaries, in their zeal to cleanse all immoral thoughts, later renamed it to Baie des Verges (The Bay of Virgins). An interesting leap of logic, but non-the-less confusing to the local free-spirited islanders.

The next day we went ashore to the village of Hanavave (Han-nah-vah-vay) to explore. It’s not like a typical village with a commercial area near the water, but more a collection of private homes leading up the valley. We walked on the single paved road passing St. Michel’s Catholic Church on the right where locals practice for church services on their guitars and ukeles.

Further on we tried to find the trail to a famous waterfall, but without directions and anyone to ask (it was Sunday and no one seemed to be outside) we simply meandered up a muddy dirt road for about two miles, experiencing some incredible scenery but no waterfall. We backtracked to the road and met a German couple who said the trail was just around the bend up the the road. Naturally.

The spectacular Vai'e'enui Falls.

A series of small rock cairns mark the trail and once you are on it it’s fairly easy to follow. If you love the color green you will love Fatu Hiva. Along one stretch we walked along a virtual wall of red hibiscus lining the trail alongside a rock platform that must of been a pae'pae in ancient days. After about an hour, including a tricky bit over some slippery rocks, we could hear the roar of the waterfall. Called Vai’e’enui Falls, it drops several hundred feet into a small pool at the base. We stripped down and slowly entered the water (it’s cold) over the slippery rocks. Once in it was very refreshing, especially after all the hiking we’d just done. It was a little unnerving when a fellow cruiser asked us if we saw all the ells swimming at the base of the falls. We hadn't but maybe that was the tickling feeling around my feet.

The hike down was less enjoyable since we were fairly wiped out (we don’t get to do much hiking living on a boat) but once back at the harbor we were treated to breathtaking sunset with the surrounding mountain faces bathed in a deepening yellow to orange light. I’d have to say this is probably one the top three most beautiful places I’ve visited in my life.

Later that night we heard a very irritated young French woman anchored behind us who felt we were too close to her boat. We promised to move first thing in the morning to which she replied something nondescript (and probably obscene) in French. Another boat had come in late that night and tried to anchor for over an hour but had no luck and left.

We had the same experience the next morning as I felt the anchor rumble over a rocky bottom. Seemed like we caught on something and were well anchored, but later that night we heard an irritated German voice (at least I know the obscene words in German) who said we were anchored too close to him, and sure enough we had dragged a bit when a 20- to 30-knot gust roared down the from the mountain tops. Re-anchoring at night in a small harbor is not a pleasant experience and we began to feel some of the foreboding the other sailors had voiced about the bay.

On the next morning we took another trip into town. There was a cement boat ramp they use to launch their fishing boats and we dragged the dingy up and secured it to a post. We met a man named Joseph walking down the road and asked him were we could find a local carver, and by some miracle he stated he was a carver (as are many of the island men). We went to his house and looked at several carved pieces out of rosewood and ebony. We decided on a beautiful serving bowl as a birthday gift for our daughter. The prices seemed high, but we understand they transport their art work to Papeete where they sell for three to four times the price to the cruise ship passengers.

Sopi, the honey man, hanging up fish soaked in lime and coconut juice, a local staple.

We asked Joseph where to find the renowned local honey and he pointed us across the river to the home of Sopi, a local fisherman who also maintains several bee hives. He and his wife were in the process of soaking fish in a mixture of lime and coconut juice, which essentially pickles and preserves the fish. They then hang it up to dry along the south side of the house. After a while Sopi invited us into his house and talked a bit about island life. He did have some honey, but nothing to put it in, and unfortunately the price was $30 for a liter. That was a little more than we wanted to spend. He did give us a handful of prune de Cythere also know locally as golden apple. They had a somewhat nondescript taste, but could be diced up for a salad. As we were walking back down the road we saw a group of locals out jogging on the single paved road on the island. Given the elevation gains they were in for quite a work out.

On June 10th, tired of the continual rain and wind, we headed back to Hana Moe Noa for a taste of calm waters and sunshine. We had another idyllic sail down the leeward side to Tahuata and were happy to see Ednabal and several other friend’s boat at anchor in the the beautiful bay.