Hey everyone! I’m back with Part 2 of my French Polynesia Honeymoon Blog! If you haven’t read Part 1 yet, you can find it right here! I tried to condense this one as much as possible, but it still turned out even bigger than my last one! As a result, it may take a bit to load all the photos and gifs if you don’t have fast internet. I’m still learning the best way to make my pages load quickly, so bare with me! And while you wait, consider signing up for my newsletter! I release all my blogs early to my subscribers, so make sure you’re on the list!
The Boat to Fatu Hiva
We puttered out of the bay and the engines came to life. I asked the man who had taken our money if I could go up to the bow. He gave me a strange look as if to say “suit yourself” and let me pass. I soon understood why. Salt water barraged the front windshield of the boat with incredible force as we ventured into the open ocean. The increasingly resistant waves pushed the boat from side to side with ease. I nearly lost my balance one too many times and decided some blurry photos of the ocean were not worth the effort. I hobbled back to Emily who kept watch over our things.
We both had fairly decent sea-legs and rarely got seasick, however, the exhaust fumes mixed with the occasional cigarette were enough to make both of us queasy. Still, the boat trudged on. And we had nowhere to go but forward. To alleviate my nausea, I stepped to the back of the boat where the air rushed around me and the saltwater sprayed lightly against my face. This seemed to help and after some convincing, Emily joined me as well. She took a seat on a bench along the side of the boat and I stood in front of her to block the small splashes of water from hitting her. Suddenly, the boat dipped a bit more than usual. A giant wave crashed against the side of the boat, completely drenching me. Hat, shirt, shorts, shoes, everything. I opened my eyes after bracing and looked at my wife who was laughing with me. I must have made a great umbrella because she was mostly dry. To be honest, it felt amazing. I fully embraced my new duty as water-shield and unbuttoned my shirt. It flapped in the wind and I felt the salt on my skin. We were alive in the most honest sense.
Supplies for the island of Fatu Hiva
The uninhabited islands of Mohotani (left) and Terihi, part of the Motane Nature Reserve.
During our voyage we passed three islands: Tahuata, Mohotani and Terihi. Tahuata is the largest of the three and is a place many islanders go for vacation, due to the golden beaches that are rare in the Marquesas. An hour later and Mohotani came clearly into view on our left. An uninhabited island that was home to many birds, goats, and other wildlife. Tematai had told us that, when a man and woman are married on Hiva Oa (and possibly anywhere in the Marquesas), the man goes on a ceremonial hunting trip to this island and brings home food for his new family. The final island, Terihi, is a small, jagged cluster of rocks off the coast of Mohotani. This island is populated with thousands of roosting seabirds.
As we passed Terihi, we saw nothing but open ocean for over an hour. The incessant rocking of the boat began to take a toll on both of us, as our muscles would tense and relax with each wave. We were losing energy. But finally, we saw birds. Red-footed boobies to be exact! These birds would patrol the open waters looking for fish, but they never strayed too far from land. Among them, we saw Albatross, Frigatebirds and Terns. Then, suddenly, an unknown bird burst from the waves heading skyward, then five more. They glided over the water and darted back into the ocean. The second time they emerged, Emily and I realized they weren’t birds at all, but fish! Flying fish! We were awestruck by these strange creatures and couldn’t help but think about the land dwelling fish we had seen on Hiva Oa. On these islands, fish do everything except swim!
The silhouette of an island appeared on the horizon. Once again, our spirits were rejuvenated. “Do you feel like Thor?” asked Emily. I had been reading a book about the Norwegian explorer, Thor Heyerdahl, who had honeymooned on this island with his wife. I thought it was a funny coincidence, as we’d chosen to come to this island before ever hearing of his adventure. All I know is I felt lucky to a have an adventurous wife to join me on such an unconventional honeymoon. If you’d like to read about Thor’s adventure, here’s my affiliate link to the book on Amazon.
We travelled closer and closer until we reached the north end of the island. The journey had felt much longer than 4 hours, but we had made it. Rocky ridges weaved along the waterside and the tops of the ancient volcano pierced the clouds above our heads. We followed the shoreline into the first and most beautiful bay in the Marquesas, arguably in the world. The Bay of Virgins.
8-shot Panorama. The North end of the island as we closed in on Hanavave. The scale of this place was so difficult to capture in-camera
“Bay of Virgins”, previously “Bay of Penes’”. I wonder why they changed the named…
Seeing this bay with our own eyes was indescribable. My camera felt useless in authentically capturing the experience, so I found myself slinging it to my side and just taking it all in. Monumental cliffs set the backdrop for unique, towering stone pillars. The jungle was a vibrant green. Squinting, I could see tropical white birds, soaring through the infinite space between us and the volcanic peaks in the distance. Had this place not been so remote, I imagine many adventure films would have been shot here. The sheer scale was overwhelming. Suddenly, a pod of dolphins shot up from the blue water and danced alongside the boat. A few of them leaped into the air, much to our delight. I was caught off guard and scrambled for my camera. What an amazing photo this would make! I slammed my face against the viewfinder, but I was too late, the dolphins had turned back towards the open ocean. I pride myself on being ready for the universe’s inevitable coincidences, those moments that truly happen only once every trip. Henri Cartier-Bresson, a famous street photographer coined it the “decisive moment”. But this is the one that got away, and oddly, I’m content with it. It’s a memory Emily and I will cherish for a long time.
Koko’o had told us a story of this bay. Apparently, the first French sailors who arrived in the bay of Hanavave saw the phallic shaped rocks and named the place "Baie des Verges" meaning Bay of Penes. Shortly after, the Catholic missionaries arrived. No doubt outraged, they claimed that the peaks were in the form of veiled virgins. They added an “I” renaming it “Baie de Vierge” or Bay of Virgins.
The sea was calm. Our boat rounded the jetty and pulled up to the dock. A few passengers got off and supplies were unloaded. It was only a few short minutes before we were underway and, despite our desire to stay in Hanavave, we headed towards Omoa at the other end of the island. We were feeling a bit seasick, so we were ready to be standing on solid ground again. The dolphins re-emerged and escorted us down the coast.
The village of Omoa
The Unknown
While researching the mysterious Fatu Hiva, an auto-generated search result I consistently stumbled upon read “Top 10 Best Hotels on Fatu Hiva”. This gave me a good laugh because, come to find out, there isn’t a single one on the island. There are no banks, no restaurants, no gas stations and one road. The closest thing to a hotel was a family-owned pension, run by the head of tourism on the island, a Frenchman named Lionel. Pensions are very popular throughout French Polynesia and are the lodging of choice when you want to truly get a feel for the people and their culture. We had reserved a bungalow separate from the main house and, although we were looking forward to experiencing a new culture, we were pleased to have a little privacy in such a foreign place.
The boat pulled up to the concrete dock and we waited our turn to disembark. Many people waited to board the boat and the remaining passengers were all getting off, so the scene was quite hectic. Shouting between families and crew members, luggage and supplies being moved around. And yet there was an unspoken order to everything. Emily and I took the leap of faith off the boat and found our luggage. Now we needed to find our host. Once again, we stood looking confused and hoping that our man was also looking for us. Someone approached us and started speaking French. I asked if he spoke English and he did his best to ask us who we were looking for. “Lionel”, I said. The man stared at me with a blank expression. “Lionel?” I repeated, but the man looked at me confused and shook his head, as if to say he had no idea who I was talking about. I had a sudden feeling of panic. We had just landed on an island with a population fewer than 600 people, only one well-known pension, and this man did not know who I was talking about. How could this be? I tried to remember Lionel’s wife’s name, but I could only remember his daughters name who I had conversed with via email. Still the man looked confused. I felt like giving up when suddenly the man said “Ahhh! Lionel?” in a heavy French accent. I had been pronouncing Lionel like an American (LEYE-UH-NUL) and not the correct French way (LEE-OH-NEL). I smiled and shook my head. “Oui!” I said. He pointed behind us and, amidst the crowd, was a short, caucasian, shirtless, tattooed old man. He was bidding farewell to his most recent guests and had turned towards his car to leave. We came up behind him and said hello. He turned around and looked at us cheerfully, yet, confused as to why we were talking to him. I told him my name and said we were here to stay at his pension. I soon learned that Lionel spoke the least amount of English of anyone we encountered on our entire trip. It took some effort to get our point across, but after he understood, he started speaking to his wife. I heard him say “Mercredi” which means Wednesday in French. And it was Tuesday. Had there been a miscommunication? Were we not expected until tomorrow? Was it merely chance he happened to have visitors leaving on the ferry the same day we were arriving? Regardless, Lionel helped us with our bags and we headed for his house.
Driving through the village of Omoa, we were in awe of the beautiful lush greenery surrounding us. I couldn’t wait to explore with Emily. The further we drove down that road, however, the further we felt from home. Many villagers were burning piles of old trimmings and the air smelled of smoke and rotten fruit. Houses lacked doors and many looked dilapidated. Skinny dogs ran up and down the street, many bearing evidence of fleas or mange. We followed the river deeper into the valley and we saw a family, naked, bathing in the stream near the road. Despite our research, we were still surprised at the third-world conditions of the village. If Hiva Oa had been any indication of luxury, Fatu Hiva was the opposite. I could see the concern on Emily’s face as we pulled into Lionel’s gated home.
Lionel grabbed our bags and we walked to the small building adjacent to his home. We slid sideways the rusted lock to our small bungalow, jarred open the glass paned doors and pushed the sun bleached privacy curtains aside. What we saw inside wasn’t pretty. It was apparent our arrival had been overlooked or miscalculated, as the floor looked unswept. Ants trailed from a corner of the room, but plenty of stragglers could be found across the whole floor. Three wasps the size of my thumb hummed aggressively in the rafters, annoyed we had disturbed their home. And in a final display of dark comedic gold, as if orchestrated by a production company to prank unexpecting honeymooners, an oversized lizard dropped itself from the vaulted ceiling, straight onto our bed. The impact made a loud thud, only emphasizing the lizards size and intensifying our surprise. It immediately darted off the bed and within a single second, had disappeared behind a piece of old furniture. The scene was absurd and I let out an gasp and laughed as I turned to Emily. But she was not laughing. Her mouth was gaping in disbelief as she stared into our home for the next three days. She was not happy at all. I tried to comfort her but she was not in the mood. This is not what she pictured for a honeymoon getaway. Not only that, but this was her first experience in a third-world setting. I asked Lionel for some wasp spray, which he promptly brought and took care of the devils himself. “Desole!” (Sorry), he said with a shrug and a smile.
I used some of our bug spray to target where the ants were coming in and swept up the stragglers. I looked for the lizard but to no avail, so we decided to go on a walk. We didn’t get far before the mosquitoes chased us back to the bungalow. The first night on the island wasn’t going too well. I dimmed the lights and put on some familiar music from our wedding that would make us feel like we were back home. This seemed to help Emily a little and we decided to take a shower. The water came out warm for a few minutes, but went cold immediately after that. Emily decided that, although conditions were not ideal, she wanted us to stay busy our entire stay on Fatu Hiva, so the time spent thinking about the creepy crawlies and cold showers came at a minimum. I agreed and we met Lionel and his wife for dinner at their house. We had paid for half-board, so a daily dinner and breakfast were included with our stay.
Continuing the day’s theme, our first dinner on Fatu Hiva was a little chaotic. We hurried from our bungalow as to not let any mosquitoes through the door. As we walked into the outdoor seating area, two dogs stood up and started barking at us. They were large, tan colored dogs, probably around 150 pounds each. You could tell they weren’t going to let us scratch their ears, let alone go anywhere near them. They weren’t bluffing, they were protecting their home. Lionel rushed outside and told them to hush. They listened and laid back down, but kept a watchful eye on us.
As soon as we sat down, a huge insect started flying in circles around our table. It was a species of hawk moth (sometimes called hummingbird moths), although it’s size made it look like a small bird. With each air-donut, it got closer and closer to me until it smacked me in the face and fell into my water cup. Emily isn’t a fan of big bugs and didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Lionel saw this play out from across the room. He hurried over and scooped the moth from my water cup, but it broke free again and started circling once more. With a quick swoop, Lionel swatted the creature out of the air and then, with all his force, he threw the bug against the ground with a huge crunch. He pointed to the moth on the floor and said something to his dog in French. The dog proceeded to walk over and eat the moth with one bite. It was quite the dinner show.
Macroglossum Marquesanum, a species of hawk moth found in the Marquesas
The shenanigans came to a halt and we enjoyed our amazing meal cooked by Bernadette, Lionel’s lovely wife. She had prepared me a plate of pan-fried pork with rice and veggies for Emily. Our meal was accompanied by loads of local fruit including Marquesan bananas (much smaller and sweeter), grapefruit, ramboutan, and mango. When Emily saw the bananas being brought out, she exclaimed “Bananas!” This must have made an impression on Lionel because, before long, he brought out an even bigger plate full of bananas. He also noticed how much grapefruit Emily ate and made sure there was extra for her at every meal from then on. Despite the miscommunication of our arrival date, Lionel and Bernadette were so incredibly hospitable and their kindness was Emily’s favorite part of this wild island. We loved having them as our hosts.
Trans-Island Hike
Fatu Hiva is about the furtherest you can run from anything, except of course the roosters. We were awoken at 3:00 AM, then 4:00 AM, and finally 6:00 AM, all because of these little screaming birds. I guarantee no one is ever late on Fatu Hiva due to sleeping in. Emily described our accommodations on this island as “camping indoors” which, honestly, described most of our time in the Marquesas. Tropical locations have trouble keeping critters outside, and this place was no exception. Luckily, our room was stocked with mosquito coils which we would burn every night before bed, keeping the most dangerous and obnoxious pests out.
We met Lionel for breakfast at 7:00 AM. Bread, crepes, butter, soft cheese, fruit and juice, the perfect start to our adventurous day on Fatu Hiva. Lionel asked us what we wanted to do today. He let us know that the sea was fairly rough, so it would not be a good day to take the boat out. We had decided the night before that today, we would hike from Omoa to Hanavave and back. This would almost certainly take up our entire day as the full round-trip distance was close to 20 miles. Lionel looked impressed and gave us some extra water for our journey. We finished breakfast, grabbed our things and headed off down the road.
Emily expressing her opinion of my honeymoon location decision
One of many leftover somethings in Fatu Hiva
Vibrant flowers along the road
The weather was mostly overcast, which helped with the hot sun. However, the clouds made for a very humid hike. We walked through town and passed the only shop, which was closed. We curved towards the ocean and the road started to go up. And once it started, it didn’t stop. After about a mile or two of hardcore elevation gain, a truck slowly drove up behind us and stopped. A local man smiled at us and asked if we were going to Hanavave (first in French, then English). We said yes and he offered to give us a ride. We must’ve been looking pretty rough already. We caught our breath, kindly declined and said we wanted to hike there. The man didn’t seem to understand why someone would want to do that, but he smiled and waved goodbye. As he drove off, I wondered if we were making the right choice. “There’s bound to be more cars if we change our mind” I thought. “That can’t be the only person going to Hanavave”. Turns out, it was. He was the last person we’d see for the next four hours.
We continued up the road, which was kicking our butts. Each step was a workout and we had to stop constantly to rest. I started laughing. “What?” Emily asked in between breaths. “I was just imagining if we died and we were reincarnated as birds or something on this island, you’d probably peck me to death.” she enthusiastically agreed (maybe a little too enthusiastically). We trudged on and eventually reached the end of the pavement. The road turned to mud and we took care not to slip. We talked about childhood memories and how crazy it was that we were so far from home.
We had hiked until the pavement disappeared and the road turned to mud
As we approached the precipice of the never ending road, we spotted some wooden benches and some shelter. We had reached what some would call the half-way point. The wind had slowly increased as we hiked higher into the mountains and it blew quite violently here. The flap on my backpack was caught by a gust, flipping it up into the back of my head. Emily helped me secure the strap back down, but not before grabbing a few snacks and some water to tide us over for the next part of the journey.
The landscape suddenly changed. Instead of thick jungle, we descended into rolling hills, as if we’d suddenly teleported to the highlands of Ireland. The high grass whipped in the wind and the clouds cast fast-moving shadows over the green hills. The light show was mesmerizing and the island felt alive. I was able to take advantage of the racing clouds and found enjoyment waiting for the perfect composition to present itself. An uninspired scene became beautiful as natural spotlights opened and closed over the hills. The valley revealed itself below us and we got our first view of Hanavave from above.
Abandoned construction equipment along the road
Beautiful tree highlighted by a break in the clouds
Looking down towards Hanavave
The steep road into the valley
After a fairly difficult & humid section of the hike…
Hanavave
We had done it! After 5 miles of steep uphill and 5 more down, we reached flat ground in the valley of Hanavave. We felt accomplished as we proudly strolled into town, taking in the beautiful valley. Palm trees swayed in the breeze and the towering peaks looked down on us as we made our way to the pier. There we found a small covered bench where we sat and caught our breath. We climbed on the jetty and looked out into the clear blue water.
Magnificent rock formations
One of the valley’s iconic monuments
The road leading into town
Main Street Hanavave
Looking back at Hanavave from the jetty
After a PB&J, we checked the time. If we were to make it back before dark, we’d have to start heading back right away. We were still tired, but we couldn’t rest for long. Emily and I are great hikers, however, we have our bad days and our good days. This was a bad day for me. My camera gear was weighing me down and I felt overly exhausted. The thought of walking all the way back was a daunting idea, however, with a bit slower pace, I knew we could make it. Despite my opposition, Emily helped me carry my backpack full of camera gear, all while carrying her own bag of water and food. She knew I was having a rough time. I was really grateful for her kindness, and told how much it meant to me. Sitting behind a desk and planning a grand adventure is one thing, but actually living it is another. The reality of the situation comes crashing down unexpectedly. Legs ache and morale drops. But Emily always helps me realize it’s possible to pull through. She helps me realize all the things I dream about and write down are obtainable.
On our way back up the road, I brushed against a plant with my shoe and saw it move. I knew I was tired, but I didn’t think I was hallucination-tired. I bent down and poked the plant, only to discover it’s leaves collapsing in on themselves. It did move! Emily and I marveled at the shy plant. It stayed spread out despite brushing against fellow plants and being battered by the wind, and yet, curled up when I touched it with my bare hands. This was one smart shrub!
Hiking back and discovering Mimosa Pudica, the plant with moving leaves
The Hanavave Valley. In the far right corner you can see a faint waterfall.
We continued up the road at a pace that slowed with each few meters. Emily had an incredible energy reserve she had tapped into for carrying both our bags, but I knew it was still a strain for her. We took a break at an overlook of the valley. Just then, we heard the squeaking of a truck’s suspension coming up the hill from Hanavave. A truck pulled around the corner and the driver was non-other then our friend who had passed us by earlier that morning. Not a moment too soon! Needless to say, we asked for a ride back to Omoa. Emily actually wanted to keep hiking and seemed a bit disappointed by the free ride, but I convinced her we shouldn’t completely kill ourselves. After all, we wanted to be able to walk in the morning.
The man welcomed us into his truck and introduced himself as Paul. He put a shirt on his toddler in the front seat and we hopped in the back. The road was very rough and plagued with ruts and potholes, which went unnoticed while hiking. Now that we were in a vehicle, we felt every single bump. After a few minutes of bouncing and jerking, we looked down and were horrified to see his toddler playing with a pair of scissors! Emily and I looked at each other wide-eyed. Paul, however, was unfazed. “You found scissors!” he said. He spoke decent English and asked us about where we were staying. He mentioned that he ran a pension in Hanavave, the only one in the valley. During our drive, Paul brought up American politics, giving us a thumbs up when he said “Obama” and thumbs down for Trump. He also asked about our trip and told us a bit about the fauna we passed. We made it back to Omoa and happily paid him for the lift. The shop was open, so we grabbed a few comfort foods (pringles and chocolate) and made it back to Lionel’s for a well deserved rest.
We kicked back until dinner time. Bernadette came out of the kitchen and set down two plates full of something we had hoped she wouldn’t make for us. Raw fish. Neither Emily nor I had any experience eating raw fish and we were terrified of getting sick. She smiled and went back to the kitchen. I leaned towards Emily and asked if she wanted to eat it, avoiding the risk of insulting our cook. We both decided we should just ask her to cook it. I nervously did my best to explain to her our dietary differences. She seemed to take it ok and brought out the main course. Huge filets of grilled fish and potatoes. Emily and I agreed it was some of the best fish we ever had. I felt the need to let Bernadette know how much we liked dinner, and she relayed to us that Lionel had caught the fish just a few hours prior from his boat.
Emily trying a cup of…well we weren’t sure what it was
Emily and I ate fairly quickly and turned in for the night, but not before taking a few star photos! I wanted to go down to the pier, but weather was moving in quickly and I was lucky to capture the Milky Way through a break in the clouds above our bungalow. My first time photographing our galaxy from the Southern Hemisphere! The sky was dark and images were quite noisy, but I was able to get a few photos worth editing.
The wind had picked up and the rain started. Being on a tropical island, daily rainstorms weren’t uncommon and the sound helped lull us to sleep. A few hours later I woke up. The first thing I noticed was how quiet it was. Secondly, it was almost pitch black. The street lights had gone off and my laptop had stopped charging. It was clear the power was out on the island. For some reason this put me on edge. I mean it’s not like you can call Avista and they come fix your power. Despite my nerves I was able to fall back asleep and when I next awoke, the power had returned. Small islands use large generators to create power and, until I had heard them off, I had no idea how loud they were. Electricity is something we take for granted, and I was certainly glad it came back before morning.