Roadtrip
Breakfast brought delicious crepes with jam and butter along with the usual fruits and juices. Today, Lionel would show us some incredibly old petroglyphs, a beautiful overlook and a waterfall. The sea was calm, so we would finish off the day with a ride from Hanavave back to Omoa in a small fishing boat to photograph the island at sunset.
Our first stop was the petroglyph. After a bumpy ride up an overgrown road, we reached this massive carving done by islanders many, many years ago. It’s said to be one of the largest petroglyphs in the Marquesas.
We drove up the road we had gotten so well acquainted with the day prior. After a few photo-related stops (the light was much better today than it was the day before), we pulled up to our destination. Lionel hopped out and put on his “hiking shoes”.
During our time in the Marquesas, we couldn’t help but notice the local’s unique choice of hiking shoe. They were made of a clear, plastic material, and as soon as I saw them, I remembered them from grade school. Girls used to wear them and called them “Jellies”. Little did I know, these shoes were not only meant for young girls, but the shoe had been invented in 1946 and was somewhat of a French staple. When we returned to Tahiti, we walked into a grocery store and saw an entire aisle full of every size. Cultural differences like these are such a fun part of traveling.
The Cannibal Valley
We hiked down a skinny, overgrown trail that weaved in and out of the jungle. We passed orange, banana, and mango trees and our guide pointed to each one as we passed by. Lionel bent over and squeezed a small green bulb that looked like a pinecone. He motioned for me to reach out and proceeded to rub the slimy goo all over my hands. The liquid felt cool on my hands and slowly dried, leaving my hands moisturized. Lionel explained that this plant was used to make shampoo. A google search when I got home revealed it was called “pinecone ginger”.
We heard a dull roar and we came to a sheer drop-off. Wind shot up thousands of feet from the valley floor below and our hair stood straight up. The view was magnificent. I inched closer to the edge for a better shot, although Lionel made it clear I needed to be careful. He urged that there was a better lookout point coming soon. We continued on and Lionel spotted some wild boar tracks. “Cochon!” he said. He made a snorting sound with his nose that made me and Emily laugh.
We eventually came to a beautiful bamboo grove, and, finally, one last viewpoint overlooking the Ouia Valley, the most gorgeous view yet. As we took in the view, Lionel walked behind us and picked up a weathered water bottle that was lying against a tree. He unscrewed the cap, did the indisputable “smell test”, and drank most of it down. Emily ‘s face cringed as she looked over at me. It’s probably only been there for a few days…or maybe not.
La Cascade
We made a quick stop on the side of the road. A hole was cut into the cliffside and the opening was reinforced with stones. A statue of the Virgin Mary had been placed at the mouth of the spring and water trickled out of the mountain. Lionel hopped out and filled his wife’s water bottle with the spring water. I imagine this specific water source had some sort of religious significance, or perhaps the statue was meant to cleanse the water. Island water is often riddled with bacteria and can sometimes cause terrible illnesses. Or maybe it was just a nice decoration around the community water spigot. I found myself doing a lot more observing than talking, as the language barrier was a bit of an obstacle and Lionel was trying very hard as it was to communicate the basics.
We came to a rocky river with a petroglyph on a mossy rock. After taking some pictures, we expected to continue on foot. Lionel had other plans. He drove straight across the river, the suspension of his SUV squeaking with each oversized rock the tires climbed over. Emily gave me a classic “what is happening” look and we soon came to the end of the road. The trail to the waterfall was overgrown and full of spiderwebs. It was quite clear how few people visit this beautiful 200 foot waterfall.
We were dropped off in Hanavave. Lionel drove back to Omoa and would come grab us with his boat at sunset. Until then, Emily and I had some time to lay in the grass, take some pictures of “babies” (what Emily calls cows) and take in the sites and sounds of this ancient village.
The local soccer team was practicing, not on the soccer field, but on the concrete pier. Emily and I looked on with curiosity, and we both gasped when their soccer ball was accidentally kicked into the water. We thought the game was over, until one of the girls jumped into the water, flung the ball back up and kept playing. How different life is here on Fatu Hiva.
The Calm
Emily and I grabbed some drinks from the shop and watched the sun slowly drop over the bay. I am always taken back by golden hour’s light and how it changes our surroundings for the better. Hanavave’s cliffs began to glow and the heat of the day subsided, the sweat on our necks cooled by the ocean breeze, sending chills down our back. Lionel pulled up in his small metal boat, the same boat he used to catch us our dinner the day prior. He had brought a friend along with him, Michael. We hopped in, avoiding the loose hooks and fishing gear, and puttered out into the bay. I couldn’t contain my excitement. This was the reason I was drawn to this island. To see this bay at sunset. And it did not disappoint.
The sun sank, illuminating the ancient island, a spotlight exposing the true beauty of this distant paradise. The cliffs and valleys of Fatu Hiva were only emphasized by the dramatic lighting, and Lionel turned the motor off so that we could enjoy the silence. Long, predatory fish darted in circles around our boat, chasing after our flying fish friends. Occasionally, the flying fish would leap from the water, doing their best to avoid becoming a sunset snack. But the larger fish would leap out of the water as well, determined to have his meal. We followed the coast towards Omoa. Lionel showed us a natural keyhole in the rocks, palm-filled valleys and a herd of goats that were walking dangerously close to the edge of a cliff. Lionel is a hunter, and, as a joke, he mimed shooting a goat with an invisible rifle. He traced the invisible goat falling into the ocean, and pretended to grab it out of the water and throw it into the boat. We laughed, but I had a feeling his invisible gun wasn’t so invisible at one point.
We made it back to port just as the sun disappeared below the horizon. We decided to walk back in the twilight hours and we passed a church. The congregation was singing a beautiful hymn that echoed out of the windows of the small church and into the purple jungle. We stopped and listened in silence until the service was over. A few people got in their cars to drive home, but the rest hopped on their bikes and pedaled past us, smiling and waving as they returned home for the night.
On the menu tonight was an appetizer of fresh, sliced tomatoes with garlic and spices. Our main course was a delicious pasta with red sauce. It was our last night on the island, and it was a bittersweet feeling. As much as we were ready for the next part of our adventure, we were dreading the boat ride back to Hiva Oa. We’d managed before, so we knew we could do it again. Besides, it’s not like it could get any worse…right?
The Storm
We ate breakfast and packed up our suitcases. We had time to kill, but we decided to spend the time resting, after all we had a long trip ahead of us. I showed Lionel a few of my photos on the back of my camera. “Oh!” He said, “Professionnel!” At the port, we sat on a grassy knoll and watched as the tiny boat in the distance grew larger and larger. Lionel shook my hand and Bernadette gave us kisses and goodbyes. We jumped aboard and found our seats. The boat made a stop in Hanavave before turning toward the open ocean.
Our last look at Fatu Hiva
Ahead of us, an army of dark clouds grew larger and more sinister. Before long it started to rain. The waves heightened and I clenched the side of the boat a little tighter as we journeyed toward our next adventure.
Next Stop: Nuku Hiva (to be continued…)
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