Hey everyone! This is my biggest, most thorough blog yet! 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! Actually, while you wait, consider signing up for my newsletter so you never miss a blog post ever again! I have 15 in the works full of unreleased photos, gifs, suggestions and crazy stories.

And as always, even if you just look at the pretty pictures, please “like” this post and leave a comment, I love hearing from you! Thanks for reading and enjoy our adventure!

5000 miles from 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 a 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 3 days…

Los Angeles, 8 Months Prior…

I’m a big planner when it comes to trips. I want to have enough time to research, figure out the best things to see, the best prices and limit the chances of something going wrong. So, together in our Los Angeles apartment, Emily and I started looking. When searching for honeymoon destinations, it made sense to go somewhere “different”. Emily and I can’t lay by a pool for hours and do nothing. We also don’t like drinking or nightlife. We pretty much like eating, hiking and each other (a perfect match). One doesn’t instantly associate a group of islands in the South Pacific with hiking, but we’re also enamored with Kaua’i, so finding somewhere similar was an obvious priority.

Additionally, since we were asking for travel money at our cheaper-than-average wedding, we could splurge a little bit and go somewhere that would be more expensive. A once in a lifetime trip. When I thought of an expensive, dream honeymoon location, French Polynesia came to mind.

99% of the photo results for “French Polynesia” are the island of Bora Bora

Once the secret playground for the vacationing elite, these islands, specifically Bora Bora, are often thought as the pinnacle of island luxury. We didn’t have quite enough money to commit to Bora Bora (a single night in an over-water bungalow costs over $800). However, there were plenty of islands, such as Mo’orea, that offered identical activities and characteristics. I was making progress. In the research I did of the Windward Islands (where Mo’orea and Bora Bora are located), hiking was never represented as a huge pastime, so I dug a little deeper. And that’s when I found the Marquesas.

Known as one of the most remote island chains in the world, the Marquesas rise dramatically from the South Pacific, their jutting rock formations and lush jungles beckoning adventurers and explorers alike. The dynamic landscapes offered amazing hiking opportunities and most of the islands featured a resort so we could still feel comfortable and relaxed. This place seemed to check all the boxes. Untouched, beautiful, mysterious, with a hint of luxury.

Rather than pick one or two islands, I figured the likelihood of returning would be slim, so I made it a priority to see as many as we could. We settled on Nuku Hiva, Hiva Oa, Mo’orea, and Tahiti. However, there was one other island that caught my eye.

The Bay of Hanavave, Fatu Hiva, Marquesas

Out of the six inhabited islands in the Marquesas, two lack an airport. One of those two, Tahuata, is a quick 30 minute ferry ride away from Hiva Oa, easy enough. However, the other, called Fatu Hiva, was a good 4 hours by supply boat, a journey only taken twice a week (weather permitting). Ironically, this island appeared to be the most visually spectacular. I wanted this trip to be special and one-of-a-kind and, to me, this island would make that happen. With very little information online, I challenged myself to find a way there.

Emily and I saved for months, researched, translated French web-pages, bought our tickets, reserved hotels and created an itinerary. After celebrating our wedding, we embarked on our adventure.

The Journey to Tahiti

On August 24th, 2019, we started our day with a 3:30 AM wake up call. We had to drive an hour to Spokane International and catch the inevitable flight to the larger Seattle Airport. Already exhausted from our wedding and the early wake up, we knew it was gonna be a long day. We then flew to San Francisco and began our 8-hour international journey to Polynesia. This was the longest flight and longest travel day Emily or I had experienced, so getting complimentary dinners, blankets and a little extra leg room felt foreign but exciting. Emily had me watch “Casablanca” for the first time, which I loved, and we tried to take an occasional nap. Unfortunately, I rarely sleep on planes, so it was no sleep for me.

Flying for so long over the ocean is a bit unnerving. Nothing but air between you and the infinite black ocean that stretches for thousands of miles in any direction. Finally, the black nothingness below us was pierced by a twinkle of light, then more, then thousands. We had finally made it to Tahiti. We landed in Papeete and gleefully left the plane. We were instantly hit with that tropical humidity we know so well from our trips to Hawaii. A traditional Polynesian band with dancers and ukuleles welcomed us to the island and kept us distracted while we waited in line to get our passports stamped. We grabbed our luggage, made a quick stop at the ATM to withdraw local currency, jumped in a cab and headed for our cheap hotel for the night. In the morning, we would be flying four hours back the way we came to the Marquesas.

We got a few hours of sleep before begrudgingly heading back to the airport and making the last leg of our journey to Hiva Oa. But not before grabbing a few chocolate croissants! These airport pastries were a necessity for Emily and one of her favorite food items of the whole trip!

We navigated the small airport and found the line for our gate. Looking at the faces around us, I couldn’t help but notice the lack of tourists getting on our plane. There wasn’t a single one among us. We stepped into the security line with dozens of locals, who spoke French, Tahitian or Marquesan to each other. Most were heavily tattooed and some wore military garb. We walked onto the runway and marveled at the distant peaks of Mo’orea, the neighboring, more tourist-friendly island. We’d be back soon enough, but for now, we were heading towards the unknown.

Flying over the numerous atolls was a welcome distraction from the long journey. And the ocean was crystal clear. The gradients of the water faded from dark cobalt to light blue the closer it got to the small atolls. The sun reflected the white sand brilliantly and small groups of palm trees could be seen lining the shores of these small paradises. Four hours later, the plane glided down towards Hiva Oa, and my spirits soared. We circled the island and descended between two mountain ridges. Seemingly out of nowhere, a runway appeared below us amidst the thick jungle and we landed on a mountain top. An indescribable experience, and we had only just arrived. Emily and I felt like true explorers and all our planning and hardwork was finally paying off.

Hiva Oa “Garden of the Marquesas”

We arrived at one of the smallest airports we’ve ever seen. It consisted of two small open-air buildings and the runway. We made our way to the baggage claim (a few large tables in the corner of one of the buildings). In a country where we didn’t speak the language and didn’t know who we were looking for, our only defense was to look as confused as possible, which we were apparently really good at. A burly local man approached us in a sleeveless shirt, his arms and both sides of his head adorned with Marquesan tattoos. He asked if we were going to the Chalet Hanakee. I cautiously nodded at the stranger. With a big smile, Tematai welcomed Emily and I to Hiva Oa and presented us with Marquesan beaded necklaces. He helped us with our luggage and we hopped into his truck. Tematai spoke some basic English, but we found ourselves rewording questions in hopes he would better understand. And Tematai did the same for us. I was honestly very surprised at the patience and care he took in trying to communicate, understand and make us feel welcome. I had taken some French lessons, but I quickly found that the French I knew was pretty much worthless due to my terrible pronunciation. Emily surprised me with her communication skills and I was infinitely better off with her help. She seemed to always understand when I didn’t, and could always restructure what I was saying so that the locals could understand.

Atuona Airport on Hiva Oa. No security lines!

We were surprised to see a few pine trees as we descended the winding road toward Atuona, the main settlement on Hiva Oa. The air was clean and the smell of flowers and salt filled our nostrils. Tematai asked our plans and what he could do to make our stay memorable. We only had the following day to explore. I had heard of a village called Puama'u which housed ancient stone tikis that towered over 12 feet tall and dated back to 1300 BC. The trip across the island was supposedly beautiful. When asked about the trek, Tematai paused. He proceeded to tell us that all the tour guides were currently off-island at an annual tourism meeting for a few days and he had to stay and run the hotel. “So we came at the wrong time?” I asked. “Yes” he smiled . Despite this speed bump, he said he would try to figure something out. We entered Atuona and Tematai let us stop at the store to pick up food, but before we arrived, he waved down a passing truck. “I need to talk to the man” said Tematai. The truck did a U-turn and met us at a dirt pullout. Tematai exchanged some words in French, then the man leaned out of his truck window and shouted “See you tomorrow!” with a big smile. Emily and I laughed at his enthusiasm. Apparently, we had found our guide.

We finished up at the store pretty quickly. It was only 11:00 AM, but because of the time change, we were starving. However, it wasn’t time to eat just yet. Tematai took us on a tour of the beautiful village of Atuona. He showed us all the important buildings, banks, churches, schools, etc. We passed a small park with many women sitting together, while one yelled repetitively to the group. “What are they doing?” I asked. “Wives of village come together every week. She saying numbers. Do you know Bingo?” This made Emily and I laugh. It was a Ladies Bingo Brunch. We talked to Tematai about his family and learned his father, a French man, owned the lodges we were staying in. We also learned Tematai was a grandpa! He took us to the port and showed us the fishing boats. Lastly, on our way back into town, he slowed to a stop. There was a large bush on the side of the road bearing some small red peppers. He told us to pick some. He then told me to try a bite. “Is it really hot?” I asked. Tematai had the face of a child who was up to no good. He admitted it was a very hot pepper, and that I should probably only eat a small amount. I told him I would save it for later when I had access to a big jug of water.

Tematai took us to a restaurant and told us he would pick us up in about an hour. We had a meal of fresh fish and barbecue chicken with rice. After eating pretty quickly, we took some time to wander around Atuona and get our bearings. At the seaside, large waves crashed with incredible force against the black rocks that contained the bay. By the water, we noticed strange creatures hopping between the rocks. They were only a few inches long, perhaps lizards or some kind of frog? A closer look revealed that they were fish! With gills, fins and all, these salamander-esque land-sea hybrids leaped skillfully from rock to rock and then dove back into the sea. When I returned from this trip, I did some research and found they were called Marquesan Rockstrippers, a species of “blenny”. These creatures have evolved to avoid ocean-based predators by becoming largely terrestrial and learning to use there fins to hop around on land. Scientists sometimes refer to these fish as an example of evolution in action, and Tematai told us they’ve been around since the dinosaurs. It was such an exciting experience discovering them for ourselves. Tematai picked us up and took us to our Chalet. Our little A-frame was cozy and inviting. Not only was the inside perfect, but the view was unbeatable. We could see the “Bay of Traitors”, the small island, the village and mountains. Finally, we could relax.

We unpacked a few necessities and laid down for a nap. As we slept, the sun crept down below the clouds and eventually shined through our window onto my leg. The sensation woke me up and I walked onto the balcony where I witnessed this beautiful view. A blanket of clouds had overtaken the valley, but the sun managed to pierce through, illuminating Mount Temetiu and the adjoining cliffs.

The highest point on Hiva Oa is the 4000 foot Mount Temetiu.

As the sun started to set, we took a stroll up the path to the hotel above us. These lodges had a pool and a different view of the bay. Unfortunately, we were told we couldn’t swim unless we were guests. I assume we could’ve offered them some money to use it for the night, but it was already getting dark, so we just took a few photos before heading back. We had a long day ahead of us with our roadtrip and all, so we turned in for the night.

As we settled into bed, we heard a sort of chirping sound coming from the ceiling. A bird perhaps? We heard something scurry from behind a curtain and a pale, tan gecko ran up the wall. Emily and I were fans of these little guys despite their vocalizations (and ocassional droppings they would leave around our room). I had no idea they made noises, but welcomed them regardless. Besides, they ate any bugs that managed to make their way into our cabin. They were our bug repellant (in addition to our plug-in bug repellant and spray-on bug repellant. After being eaten alive by mosquitoes in Kauai, we weren’t messing around with bugs anymore). Emily and I talked about the events of the day until we drifted off to sleep.

3:00 AM. A new sound woke both of us up. A terrifying sound. Off in the distance was a droning chorus, a pulsating moan that varied in volume but was seemingly never-ending. It lingered over the entire village and put chills down my spine. I sat up in bed, half asleep, confused and on edge. “What is that?” whispered Emily. The sound would not stop. Suddenly, from the bushes below our balcony, a rooster screamed it’s crow, replying to the thousands of other roosters in the village of Atuona that, together, were making this mysterious and ghostly sound. The absurd amount of crowing roosters created a continuous hum that radiated from the valley below. I had never heard anything like it. We would grow to detest these roosters more and more over the next few weeks. Just as one gets used to the sound of cars in the city, I’m sure a person eventually gets used to the sound of the roosters. However, we weren’t so lucky. Our nerves relaxed once we came to terms with the source of the noise and we did our best to fall back to sleep.

The next morning, I was able to walk back up to the other hotel and photograph the beautiful sunrise. Waking up early was fairly easy with the time change, so we wanted to take advantage while we were still adjusting. I returned to our cabin and we prepared for our trip to the other side of the island.

Puama'u

We were picked up by Tematai’s wife. She drove us to the bank to rendevue with our guide. After a few minutes, a younger looking man drove up in a truck and hopped out to greet us. “Hello! My name is Koko’o”, he said. Koko’o spoke better English than Tematai and we were relieved to have someone to talk to. We wasted no time and headed up the familiar road towards the airport. We cruised through the jungle asking about Koko’o’s island, his career and other pleasantries, stopping at a few lookout points along the way. He told us stories about how certain sacred banyan trees were used as burial sites for his ancestors and used the “Tree of Life” from Avatar as a general example. The skulls were kept in the trees and the ancestors lived on in the roots of the trees. Our first stop would be the village of Hanaiapa, the village where Koko’o was born and raised. He picked us a huge pamplemousse (French for grapefruit). “Is this stealing?” we asked. He said as long as the tree was near the road, it was free to take. We walked to the coast and he showed us the bay’s iconic rock which he used to swim to and climb when he was a kid. Emily and I imagined what it’d be like to grow up in such a simple and compact environment. In a way, it’s not much different than most people’s childhoods. Being raised around the same people in the same place is fairly normal, it’s just a lot harder to move when you live on a remote island (so hopefully you like your neighbors).

We were soon driving down one of the steepest roads Emily or I had ever encountered. The forest transitioned into rocky terrain. We were met with the ocean, but we weren’t at sea level. Sheer cliffs dropped hundreds of feet into the water, their faces carved from years of erosion. Large fallen rocks were scattered across the road, evidence of the continual degradation. We pulled over and I climbed to the top of a boulder jutting over the edge for a better view. Right around the corner was the beautiful Eiaone Bay, and past that, Puama’u.

We descended to sea level and drove to a small sign that read “Lipona Archeological Site”. Koko’o hopped out and ran around the building to pay the fee to the caretakers of the grounds. He explained that some people in this village had lived here their entire life and only spoke Marquesan. “Mostly the older generation”, he explained. “Now, in school, you are taught French, Spanish, English and the traditional languages as well.” Koko’o could speak 5 different languages. He had also travelled to France and many of the other islands. We drove for a short while and pulled up to the site. After our trip, I read about this site and how it was visited by the explorer Thor Heyerdahl. He had been fascinated by these meticulously carved stone figures and insisted the Polynesian ancestors had crossed the Pacific from South America. This was in direct opposition of the scientific community who believed the early Polynesians traveled from Southeast Asia. After his initial trip, he returned to do a proper assessment and found that some of the ancient statues may have originated as far back as 1300 BC. Thor had also climbed the large stone pillar seen in the image below. He found ancient bones and weapons on top, including a sling, an ancient weapon originating in South America. We explored the site and Emily found some beautiful flowers to photograph. Flowers such as these, green overgrowth and pepper plants dotted the stone, terraced landscape. There was immense history all around us and it hovered over the site like a dense fog. Some tikis stood as guardians, while others were pedestals used for sacrificial ceremonies. For some reason, when I reviewed my images later that night, the few photos I took of the stone tikis had been corrupted and were not viewable. Out of the 200+ photos I took on this day, the only photos that were messed up had tikis in them. Maybe the tikis were camera shy.

We left the site and went down to the ocean. Koko’o asked if we’d like to go swimming, but we were ready for lunch. Plus the waves looked pretty rough. Emily and I pulled out our PB&Js and started eating. Koko’o disappeared into the village and emerged a short while later with sandwiches on long baguettes. He handed one to me and I decided to try it. I could tell the cheese was extremely fresh (possibly goat cheese) and there was some kind of meat as well. I took a bite and, although it tasted good, I wasn’t quite sure what I was eating. “What kind of meat is this?” I asked. Koko’o looked down at his sandwich and peeled the bread back for a closer look. He glanced back at me with a comic shrug and mumbled “I dunno” with a smile. Despite the mystery meat, I took a few more bites and put the rest in my bag for later. We finished our lunch by the sea and explored a bit longer. We found a skeletal frame of an old building that was completely overgrown, as well as a church. Almost every village had a church, some had two; Protestant and Catholic. Eventually, we said farewell to the mysterious village and it’s stone inhabitants.

We thought we were heading home, but we turned down a new road. We had one more stop before heading back to Atuona; the small village of Hanapaaoa. Not much was going on in this village and it appeared to be cleaning day. Huge burn piles were scattered across the ground and villagers raked palm fronds and debris in the ancient cemetery. Smoke blew into our faces from the wind and the smell wasn’t very pleasant. I had read about a single tiki that overlooked the bay in a secret place above the valley, but having seen many tikis at the Lipona site, we opted for a short walk around the beautiful village before we were ready to head back.

The distant island of Fatu Huku and it’s tiki-esque silhouette

We drove back the way we came, up the winding road and back into the dense jungle. As we neared the top of the mountain pass, our guide hit the brakes. A single “caution” sign had been placed directly in the middle of the road. Koko’o looked confused. We started moving forward again when suddenly, one of the hundred foot tall acacia trees came crashing down onto the road in front of us, just a mere ten feet in front of our car. Koko’o immediately backed up and shook his head in disbelief. He explained that the trees grew so fast, they needed to be cut every year to keep them from blowing over from high winds. We sat and waited as more and more trees fell across the road and the workers began to emerge from the forest. “This is a joke” he said, obviously frustrated by our poor timing. To kill time, we started asking Koko’o more questions about his travels and what he likes to do on the island. One of his hobbies was dancing. He participated in performing the ceremonial “Haka”, an ancient Polynesian war dance. He shared a song they danced to called “The Bird Dance”. Emily bobbed along in the backseat until the trees were cleared and we were home free.

“Do you want to see smiling tiki?” Koko’o asked. I had heard of this enthusiastically happy tiki through my research. Apparently, it’s one of the few smiling tikis and was also uncharacteristically adorable. We pulled over and hiked down a washed out dirt road. A quick walk through the jungle and there, smiling between the palm trees at us, was the tiki.

Back in Atuona, we finished our tour with a stop at one last overlook and a quick tour of the local cemetery. Paul Gauguin was a famous French painter who had been buried here. He had lived in Hiva Oa and was supposedly really sleezy to the local women, so I’m not sure why he is so celebrated on the island. Regardless, we enjoyed seeing the generations of people that had called this beautiful island home. Before we were sent off, Koko’o wanted to give us some fresh fruit from his house since Emily had expressed her love for grapefruit and mangoes. He gave us juice and we met his dog Blambo (Emily and I thought this name was hilarious).

We returned to the Chalet for a quick dinner and went to bed early. Tomorrow, we would make the journey to Fatu Hiva for 3 days. At this point, I still had uncovered very little information about the island. We had a way to get there, a place to stay, and we would be fed…something. Compared to Hiva Oa, which offered quite a few tourist activities, only one person on Fatu Hiva offered anything remotely close to a tour. For all we knew, that person was the only one who spoke English on the island. The nerves were kicking in, but we were both ready. Ready for our trip to nowhere.

The Boat To Nowhere

Our time on Hiva Oa had come to an end and we had enjoyed every minute of our stay. We packed up our belongings and ate a beautiful breakfast prepared by Emily. Scrambled eggs, toast, fresh mango (courtesy of Koko’o), juice and a (REALLY) hot pepper!

Tematai arrived and drove us to the port. We loved Hiva Oa, so we were sad to leave. At the same time, we were buzzing with excitement thinking about what this next island held. As we walked onto the dock, I noticed the boat was larger than I had imagined, which was a relief. However, it was still quite small. The vessel had room for a few dozen passengers, with an open area in the back near the cargo hold. The boat was not secured tightly to the dock and the space between the two fluctuated between one and five feet. This meant getting aboard required a well timed leap. I went first and then helped Emily across. We found our seats and waived farewell to our friend.

The boat’s engines came to life and exhaust filled the cabin. Before we knew it, we were on our way. We signed a piece of paper with our names and ages, paid the fee and tried to get comfortable. We had a long ride ahead of us.

Next Stop: Fatu Hiva

Click here for Part 2!

If you enjoyed my blog, please leave a comment and let me know! And make sure you’re following me on Instagram! As always, thanks for reading!

Hiva Oa - French Polynesia Part 1