The wall of sharks

After leaving Tahanea, we made our way to Fakarava about 40 miles to the north-west. Fakarava is different from all the atolls we’ve visited in the Tuamotus so far. We entered through the south pass and arrived to an area completely set up for tourists. There are no shops, only a few B&Bs, restaurants and dives shops. Although the area had a bit of a ‘holiday resort’ feel to it, I absolutely loved it here. The people are really used to tourists so of course are incredibly friendly, welcoming and helpful – and SPOKE ENGLISH! Despite this, all the buildings still had a local Polynesian feel about them. They were built in such a way to make the most of the surroundings and were absolutely immaculate. This atoll is a marine reserve where fishing is restricted, so the coral reefs and associated species were out of this world. The south pass (being narrow, long and deep) is home to an abundance of different fish species which you would struggle to see in such abundance anywhere else. It reminded me a little of visiting Disneyland as a child, everything is amazing and perfectly placed for the enjoyment of their guests. Even the sharks would come right up to your boat when anchoring, like they too were welcoming us to the area.

The centre-hub of Tetamanu

Some of the guest houses at the Tetamanu Pension. Mum I think you would love it here. Perhaps a future holiday destination when we make our millions and can afford the flights?

Fakarava is famous for scuba diving, in particular for its ‘wall of sharks’ dive along the south pass. It seemed to me that this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, so we decided to fork out some dosh and do a dive with the local company run by the Tetamanu Pension. I would recommend this company to anyone – it’s a combined dive shop, B&B and restaurant run by a wonderful couple who made us feel incredibly welcome. So for my 8th scuba dive ever I decided to do the infamous ‘wall of sharks’, despite my initial trepidation. The dive boat dropped us off at one end of the pass and we were able to let the current take us effortlessly back towards the dive shop. The pass is blanketed with a multitude of colourful branching and boulder corals, providing shelter to a wealth of fish species. Hundreds of bigeyes, snappers, groupers and tuna lined the pass. All swimming effortlessly upstream, appearing suspended and motionless in the water just waiting for the current to languidly push an unsuspecting prey victim into their mouths. Swimming in the same manner was literally hundreds of sharks, which of course was the true spectacle of the dive and gives a real meaning to the name ‘wall of sharks’. Most were grey sharks and whitetip reef sharks, but we knew that other species of shark weren’t far away. The dive shop offer other packages which take you further into the deep blue and allow you to see dolphins and large oceanic sharks such as Silvertips! I think I’ll save that one for a future date however. Even the terrace of the dive shop restaurant stretches out into the water where tonnes of blacktip reef sharks circle waiting for scraps of food to be discarded by the restaurant customers. If you’re feeling daring, you can even go for a snorkel with them if you’re the thrill-seeking type.

A small selection of the grey sharks we saw during the ‘wall of sharks’ scuba dive

Alex with a slightly terrifying backdrop

Blacktip reef shark cruising along

Blacktip reef sharks racing for food scraps near the restaurant at Tetamanu Pension

We briefly visited some of the other areas of Fakarava, including a 5 year old ‘yacht facility’ located half way up the east side of the atoll. The area is owned by a young couple who operate a small B&B and various yacht services such as wifi, mooring buoys, good meals, beers and a skilled helping hand to any boat problem. The main village in the north is home to some 2000 inhabitants. Despite the large population (well, large in comparison to other atoll in the Tuamotus), shops are still expensive and understocked unless the supply ship has just landed.

We left Fakarava about a week ago and we’re now currently in Tahiti waiting for Alex’s mum to arrive for her visit in a few days time – the days can’t go by fast enough. We’ve been here for just over a day and already we’ve enjoyed a McDonalds and been shopping at the Carrefour – the best selection of food I’ve seen in well over a year! Tahiti might not be as picturesque as our previous destinations, but I’m certainly enjoying the development and access to amenities. I’ve been craving people, shops, bars, restaurants and general development for quite some time now. Although I wouldn’t admit it to other cruisers, Tahiti has always been at the top of my ‘must visit’ list and I feel more at home right now than I have in a long, long time.

The most beautiful place in the world?

Having visited two of the atolls in the Tuamotus at the end of last year I already had an idea that they are a sight to behold, but nothing could prepare me for the splendour of Tahanea. This deserted atoll is breathtakingly beautiful with unspoilt sand bars, pioneering palm trees, turquoise waters and white sandy beaches carpeted with shells. I always thought that those photos you see in travel magazines advertising idyllic paradise getaways to secluded tropical islands were a bit of a fabrication. Not so. I’m actually in one of them, it’s the real deal and it’s just absolutely beautiful. But don’t just take my word for it…. have a look at these:

Tahanea after a spot of rain

 

Our anchorage near the main pass

I think these are Spinner dolphins. They came to say hello during our sail to Seven Reef at the south of the atoll

Anchored on our own at Seven Reef

Sand bar at Seven Reef

What’s that strange new species?

As you might expect in any deserted island, we spend our time snorkelling, spear fishing and coconut gathering. Tahanea is uninhabited apart from a small settlement that’s occupied for only four months of the year for the copra business. It might be uninhabited at the moment, but Tahanea is not much of a secret with the cruising community as there were already three sailboats here when we arrived. Not that this hindered us in any way, the presence of other sailboats inevitably led to new friendships being formed. Also, we managed to find a private place to anchor completely by ourselves for a number of days in a very protected area in the south of the atoll known as seven reef (as it looks like the number ‘7’ from the satellite imagery). This is the most stunning place I think Bob has ever anchored and the snorkelling around here is just fantastic.

The bird life here is also very special. Alex noticed a sign written in French which might have said that Tahanea is part of a wildlife reserve. Then again, it might have said that all people are free to hunt, kill and eat all the birds – we wouldn’t really have been able to tell the difference! Having said that, we were lucky enough to see what I think is the endangered Tuamotu sandpiper. I noticed a small brown bird that looked like it was an imitating a sand piper but with a shorter beak and seemingly more interested in the scrub habitat near the beach rather than the beach itself – more like a typical insect feeder. The bird also happened to have some rings on it’s legs. I had to do a double take as I thought it was very strange that bird ringing would be going on in this incredibly remote location, and this species certainly didn’t look like any of the usual sea birds I was used to seeing migrate across the oceans. Anyway, I read later on in the Tuamotus compendium that this bird is resident on Tahanea and is a highly endangered species endemic to the Tuamotus. Unfortunately I didn’t get a photo, but I did get some of these crested terns instead. Not in the slightest bit rare but their lives of long distance migration across the oceans is impressive nonetheless.

Crested Terns

Crested Terns

All good things must come to an end

After five months in the Marquesas Islands our time here is coming to an end. We’re currently in Nuku Hiva organising a multitude of things so that we can go to sea tomorrow and head to the Tuamotus. We have exactly 26 days to explore some of the atolls before arriving in Tahiti for the 3rd of May for a much anticipated visit from Alex’s mum (Paulina we can’t wait to see you).

I’ve been pleasantly surprised by our return visit to Nuku Hiva. I was expecting to spend most of our time here doing jobs in preparation for our next voyage. As well as being super productive, we’ve also had plenty of time to enjoy ourselves. About a week after we got here, 45 boats from the ARC rally arrived as Nuku Hiva was their next rendezvous point. Although it made for a crowded anchorage, it was nice to make some new friends and the locals were prepared with fully stocked shops, markets and craft fairs. We also had time to re-visit the waterfall that Alex missed out on last time when he was trying to keep out of the sun to protect his new tattoo. We seemed to switch roles for a moment and Alex also found time to take a hike while I stayed on board to do some boat work.

We had a lovely surprise when we heard that the Hokule’a was arriving to the island and the locals were holding a ceremony to commemorate the occasion. The Hokule’a is a traditional Polynesian pirogue (in this case, two canoes joined together with a crab claw sailing rig) with no engine – the only means of propulsion is through either sailing or rowing. The vessel is based in Hawaii and was designed to test a theory regarding historic navigation techniques. The traditional wayfinding techniques were learned from elders in Micronesia. These techniques use the position of the stars and sea-swell analysis (amongst other things) to determine position and course. No instruments are needed whatsoever – no electronic equipment, no GPS, no sextant, not even a compass. A crew sailed the Hokule’a using these ancient methods on various voyages around the Pacific since being launched in the 1970s, thus proving the theory of how ancient Polynesians migrated through the islands and their ancestral descent, which has since been confirmed by genetic analysis. More recently, in 2014 the vessel set sail from Hawaii for a circumnavigation which is now coming to an end. Their stop in Marquesas is only two stops before their final destination in Hawaii after successfully sailing around the world. The arrival of the crew on shore was really spectacular. Many of the locals were dressed in traditional attire and were singing, blowing horns, dancing and beckoning the new arrivals to land. The crew were brought to shore in smaller pirogues and greeted by a parade through the street then a ceremony performed in front of the entire village. It was a wonderful sight. For the crew (who had just arrived from a long journey from Pitcairn Island over 1000 miles away) it must have been truly magnificent, if not a little overwhelming.

The Hokule’a anchored in the main harbour in Nuku Hiva. It’s a spectacular boat, it looks stunning and is a true testament to Polynesian heritage. Although, does anyone know what that weird British flag is? Neither Alex or I have ever seen it before.
If you’re interested, you can read more about the Hokule’a here: http://www.hokulea.com/voyages/our-story/

The crew being greeted by the village chief in Taiohae. This and the next few photos are from Marc from s/v Scallywag (thanks Marc!)

During the ceremony. Many local Marquisians dressed in traditional attire, proudly displaying their expressive tattoos.

Many Westerners would cross the street to avoid someone who looks like this. Here, facial and body tattoos are not just accepted but are embraced. In fact, this gentleman is called Farah and was involved in the organisation of the music festival we attended here last November. He’s a really nice guy and even got involved in our silly coconut game that we mentioned in a previous blog.

Another high point was swimming with manta rays on three separate occasions. The last time was absolutely amazing! We swam with about 10 reef mantas for about half an hour as they were feeding. They were very happy to play nearby and often swam within about 30cm of us – they were bigger than Alex. It was one of the most awesome wildlife experiences I’ve ever had and I’d really recommend it if you ever get the chance.

Manta ray photo taken with the GoPro

I also managed to fit in one final dance session with my local friends and introduced a few new cruising ladies to the joys of the Polynesian dance classes. Hopefully they will continue to go after I’ve left.

All good things must come to an end and although I’ve really enjoyed my time here, I must admit I’m okay at the thought of leaving. It’s the first time that I’ve not gotten sentimental about leaving an area. I suppose we have been here for 5 months now and there are so many exciting places ahead of us this year, I’m ready to leave.

The Wonders of Fatu Hiva and Ua Huka (Despite the Goats and Horses)

Sarah and I have embarked on our final tour of Marquesas before we head off over the blue yonder once again in search of unexplored lands (unexplored by us anyway). We set sail from Hiva ‘Oa having bidden farewell for a time to some new friends and pointed Bob’s bow toward Fatu Hiva, 45 miles to the SSE. It was a little tight on the breeze but we made it without having to tack and pulled into Hanavave Bay (Baie Des Vierges) for the second time with the intention of giving it a proper opportunity to impress us. I have to admit I was a unenthused by the prospect of heading 45 miles upwind in order to visit a bay that we’d been to before, but Sarah persuaded me and I’m very, very glad that she did. It really is spectacular – towering rock structures loom imposingly over the village of Hanavave, jutting from the face of a cliff that must be at least 1000 feet high. I can’t help but wonder if the tradition of ‘tikis’ (google for an explanation) may have been originally inspired in the first Polynesian settlers by these very same cliffs. They seem to be almost alive with the faces of giants seemingly carved into the rocks themselves. Very cool.

Determined to make the most of it I think we did Fatu Hiva justice in the short time we were there – we explored a cave that we learned about from a fellow cruiser, walked the remains of an ancient village that was buried by a catastrophic landslide, undertook a 17-kilometre hike over the mountains from one bay to the next, visited one of the most beautiful waterfalls I have ever had the pleasure to visit and generally enjoyed ourselves. There were, however, a couple of hiccups.

Our dinghy, Numpty, is incredibly versatile. It’s by no means the best-looking, or even the safest on account of it’s distinct lack of stability, but it’s light-weight, motors economically, rows well and, we hope, sails well. In Galapagos I measured, bought and cut some seasoned bamboo for a mast and boom. In Taravai I built a dagger board out of plywood and fibreglass, and figured out a system for a steering oar. Finally, about 6 weeks ago, a fellow cruiser gave us an old genoa that he was going to throw away and I was able to commence work on cutting it down to make a sail. I finished it in Hiva Oa and took it out for the first sea trial, but there really wasn’t much wind at all. I could tell that she’d sail well in a decent breeze but the wind was so fluky that it ended up being a frustrating experience overall. In Fatu Hiva one afternoon a land breeze sprung up so I decided to give it another go. Sarah and I both climbed in this time, but of course as soon as we got into the boat the breeze died and we were back to paddling. Never mind. Perhaps tomorrow. “Should we take the mast out overnight?”, Sarah sagely suggested. “Nah, it’ll be fine”, said silly me.

Hanavave has a strange quality. Those same spectacular cliffs of which I spoke earlier have the effect of compressing and concentrating any breeze from the East and spitting it out across Hanavave Bay with storm-force ferocity. 60-knot gusts are not unheard-of. At night, the added effect of the cooling landmass and the cold air coming down from the mountains makes these gusts even stronger than they are in the day. Unfortunately, this was our first experience of this phenomenon and we weren’t ready for it. More precisely, Numpty wasn’t ready for it thanks to my lack of foresight and planning. I got up for a pee during the night and was dismayed to find Numpty capsized astern of Bob. Goodbye two pairs of flip flops, one oar, one paddle, an anchor, a decent line and the centreboard. Two good things came out of it – we didn’t lose the mast and sail because I’d lashed them down and, more importantly, I learned a lesson in humility. It could have been much worse – we could have lost the dinghy, and that would have been a distinct inconvenience.

The second hiccup came as we were leaving. Internet access and therefore weather information are not easy to come by, but we’d managed to get a wind forecast for the local area and decided on a good day to sail the 40 miles up to Tahuata, where a pod of very playful dolphins is said to be in residence and manta rays are veritably prolific. We’d decided we had plenty of time, that we could have a coffee, some breakfast and then set sail at about 10am with plenty of time to make it to Tahuata before dark. This was, in fact, to be our most leisurely departure to date, since we usually find ourselves having to set sail either very early in the morning or late in the evening. We knew it sounded too good to be true. As we were pulling up the anchor a friendly French sailor shouted over that today there would be ‘un horreur!’, a storm.

“Today?”, I shouted back.

“Yes!”, said she.

“Here?”, I shouted again.

“Yes!”, said she.

Now, this didn’t agree at all with our weather forecast. A storm? Here? In Marquesas? Surely we would see that on our weather forecast? They must be mistaken. Besides, after our experience with the wind gusts the last place we wanted to be if it got really windy was in Hanavave Bay. We set sail towards a beautiful sky and picked up a lovely 15-knot Easterly breeze, just as forecast, as soon as we’d cleared the headland. But there was something else visible as we cleared that headland – an impending wall of nasty, dark, wet and occasionally flashy doom. Of course, they didn’t mean a storm storm. Not a tropical cyclone or even a depression. Just a very active thunderstorm. After all, the declination of the sun at the moment is right around our latitude – it makes perfect sense. How stupid of me not to realise. We’d only managed to download the wind forecast but they had the full picture.

We took some consolation from the fact that we weren’t the only idiots out here and decided to press on. A French catamaran had left the bay about half an hour before us and we could see them clearly about 4 miles ahead of us. The storm front reached them first, and the last thing we saw of them was a massive bolt of lightning striking the water right next to their boat.

There are few situations less appropriate to be in during a lightning storm than at sea in a sailing boat. You’re surrounded by a relatively flat plane with zero features, and you’re bobbing around in a silly artificial hole-in-the-water with a 50-foot metal spike sticking straight up into the air. On the very top of that spike is a collection of antennas and other stuff that make the perfect lightning-attraction apparatus. We’d shoved all of our electronics into the oven (including the radio, which I’d disconnected from it’s usual mounting) and were attempting to rationally decide what to do next about this considerably-less-than-perfect situation when a powerful bolt of lightning struck the water approximately 2/3 of a mile off our starboard bow. You could see the water erupt and vaporise where the bolt had struck. Well, that decided it! About ship! We turned straight around and raced back toward the blue skies and relative safety of mountains and land.

Now, I want to have a bit of a gripe about some of the information that is published online about these islands, and about cruising advice in general. When we headed back to Fatu Hiva that day it was going to be too hard to make it back to Hanavave, so we decided to give Omua, the other town in Fatu Hiva, a try instead. The literature is lacking for feedback on this bay as an anchorage but we’d heard from another cruiser that it was fine so long as there wasn’t a big swell running. We found that to be the case – in fact we preferred it to Baie des Vierges as there were no violet gusts from the cliff faces and the bottom where we were anchored in 10 metres was unobstructed sand and gently-sloping. By contrast, in Baie des Vierges our anchor was in 44 feet of water but Bob (with 250 feet of chain out) sat in 100 feet – a steep slope. There is a document called the ‘Marquesas Compendium’ which is available on line and which I would recommend to any future visitors to this area, but I would advise caution when using it to decide where it is and isn’t good to plan your stops. There is only one entry in it concerning Omua Bay, and the writer states categorically that ‘it is not suitable as an overnight anchorage’. Poppycock! They never stayed because they didn’t want to and weren’t comfortable with the weather at the time that they visited. It is my firm belief, however, that any anchorage with good holding and an unobstructed bottom is an excellent anchorage under certain weather conditions. To state that any such anchorage is always ‘unsuitable’ is short-sighted in my opinion. We loved it at Omua.

I have the same gripe about the information that is published about our current anchorage here in Ua Huka. We arrived here a few days ago after a beautiful, excitingly fast overnight sail from Fatu Hiva and are currently anchored by the village of Hane. Ua Huka may be my favourite island so far, and I regret that we have not visited here earlier and spent more time here. Two days ago we enjoyed a lovely day frolicking among an area of rock pools known as ‘the swimming pools’, yesterday we had the good fortune to be introduced to a wonderful lady who dropped everything to spend the day driving us all over the island and taught us more in one day about Marquesian culture than we’ve learned in our entire time here to date. Today Sarah spent the afternoon with that very same lady and her family talking and learning how to cook traditional Polynesian cuisine over an open fire. It’s been phenomenal for us. The only account of Ua Huka in the Marquisas Compendium is from a boat that turned up, found the anchorages untenable due to a large swell, left immediately having never been to shore and complained that the large numbers of goats and horses spoil the landscape, as they were sailing away! In fact, I am informed by a reliable ecologist that the goats and horses maintain a unique habitat (in the ‘early-successional stage’) which promotes diversity of certain species. The locals here have also managed, through intense hard-work and dedication, to thus far prevent invasion by the Black Rat, which is so damaging to ecosystems on other islands. The coconut trees on Ua Huka are twice as lush as on other islands, native bird populations are able to thrive and it is the last remaining refuge for the endemic Ultramarine Vini Bird. It pains me that hundreds of cruisers will have read those short-sighted and uninformed accounts in the Marquisas Compendium and pre-formed judgments about these locations based solely on those accounts. Of course it is true that one must always be alert to the weather (it’s currently calm where we are anchored but we are told that in May, June and July we might be amidst breaking waves) but if one were to anchor only in the bays and locations that are recommended by the guide books* they would miss out on a smorgasbord of experiences.

Tomorrow the swell is forecast to be from the South, so I’m going to take the dinghy and practice surf-landings under oars (well, one paddle and one oar…….) and then maybe we’ll go for a snorkel. I don’t hold out much hope for it being enjoyable though – I’m sure the view will be spoiled by all the goats and horses.

 

While I was running around trying to minimise our chances of fiery death, Sarah was occupied trying to get photographs of the lightning bolts that were crashing down to the sea right next to us. It was worth it, because as it turns out we didn’t die and she actually succeeded!

 

The spectacular cliffs around Hanavave. Don’t they look like faces in the rocks? Or have I been at sea too long?………

 

 

‘The Swimming Pools’, with model, Ua Huka

 

Sarah Frolicking (well, in a very broad sense of the word. I just like saying it. Try it. Out loud. Frolicking. It’s a wonderful word don’t you think? Rolls off the tongue nicely.)

 

 

A beautiful picture of one of the many bird species that are numerous on Ua Huka (don’t ask me which species!)

 

 

Sarah learns how to make some traditional Marquesian cuisine. Here we see Silvain pounding baked breadfruit with a ‘stone penis’ while the family looks on. It’s really very tasty stuff.

 

 

* Warwick Clay’s ‘South Pacific Anchorages’ is another one that I would recommend, but with caution. They missed out the best and most protected anchorage in the Gambier Islands because in order to get there you have to sail through un-charted waters.

The ‘South Pacific Crossing Guide’ is another one to use with caution, but at least in that book they make it clear that it is not to be used as a comprehensive guide.

‘Charlie’s Charts’ are old but still very valuable.

We have found the collection of google earth imagery and the scanned charts and notations posted via the ‘Soggy Paws’ website to be particularly useful in the Marquisas Islands. I expect they will be even more useful when we venture to the Kingdon of Tonga, Fiji and Vanuatu, which are notoriously poorly-charted. Download them before setting sail into the Pacific!

Fatu Iva or Fatu Hiva?

Most of the charts we’ve seen and relevant books we’ve come across always seem to refer to ‘Fatu Hiva’ as the southernmost island of the Marquesas. However, when we first arrived in Baie des Vierges (or Baie des Verges if we’re to use its original name) all those months ago, I saw a large signpost to welcome sailors and other tourists which clearly referred to the island as ‘Fatu Iva’. Since then I’ve got it in my head that it’s called ‘Fatu Iva’. As the locals clearly refer to it as this, I will continue to use ‘Fatu Iva’ opposed to ‘Fatu Hiva’, but to save any confusion I want to make it perfectly clear that I am, in fact, talking about the same place – Fatu Iva.

Last November, we arrived in the Marquesas Islands for the first time and our very first stop was here, in Fatu Iva. We we’re in a bit of a rush to pick up my friend, Charline, who was coming to visit and flying in to Hiva Oa. As a result we only had a quick pit stop in Fatu Iva before heading off to our next destination. Now we’re back to see the island properly. As the maintenance work on Bob is finally done and we’ve left the boatyard, we have some time to simply enjoy the places we’re visiting without having to worry (too much) about boat work.

People often refer to Baie des Vierges as one of the most beautiful anchorages in the world. It certainly is stunning with towering rocks protruding out of the ground like skyscrapers and lush green forest as far as the eye can see. Many people arrive here after sailing for many weeks, sometimes months, from Panama or Galapagos and I can completely understand that after so long at sea, arriving here could really take a person’s breath away. We first arrived here from the Gambier Islands where the mountains, whilst not as grand, are just as lush, the white sandy beaches are deserted and the water is crystal clear with the colours of the reef shimmering proudly in the sunlight. Whilst I can still appreciate the beauty of Baie des Vierges – the cloudy water, black sand and the beginnings of a new breakwater combined with a bright yellow crane was a little underwhelming. It was difficult getting Alex motivated to come back here to visit an island that we’ve already been to, and moreover, is a complete detour to where we want to go next. I’m really glad we did though, there are so many hidden gems that we would have missed if we had bypassed this place.

We spent a day trekking 17km from the bay to south (in Omoa) back towards Baie des Vierges. This is one of the stunning views we saw on the trek. If you look really closely (and have excellent eyesight) you can just about see Bob anchored in the bay.

After 4 hours hiking up hill, we were greeted by this picnic bench. This bench not only marked the time to have lunch, but also the highest point of our trek. After 4 hours of steep uphill walking – this is the best picnic bench I have ever seen in my life!

There is nowhere to buy sandwiches, salads or any lunch materials in the one shop we found in Omoa at the beginning of our trek. This was the best we could do. Luckily we were hungry enough to enjoy it.

Another day we took a much shorter hike (less than an hour this time) through some tropical jungle to this beautiful waterfall. What a lovely place to take a nice, cooling swim.

We also took the dingy to explore some of the coast. We came across an ancient settlement that was flattened by recent landslide. We also found this cave hidden by rocks about 2 miles north of the anchorage. There’s a small beach inside with water you can swim around in.

On our final night in Fatu Iva we decided to anchor in Omoa, a bay to the south of Baie des Vierges and where the main village is located. We had originally planned to sail to Tahuata, but a very large lightning storm prevented us from doing so. Instead, we anchored in the safety of Omoa bay and waited out the storm before leaving. Although the sea swell meant we were rolling around a bit, the bay is scenic, the village lovely and the people very friendly.

While we were on shore in Omoa we stopped briefly to talk to some fellow sailors, and when I looked down at my feet, to my horror I saw a dark cloud of tiny blood sucking midges – ‘nonos’. I’ve been bitten by the black nonos in Nuku Hiva and the result was hundreds of large, itchy, angry red lumps all over my body on any ounce of flesh that I had foolishly not covered with clothing. I looked like I was in the primary stages of small pox and would not have been surprised if people turned and ran in the opposite direction for fear of catching some contagious disease! Given that past experience, I started doing the hysteric chicken dance in the middle of the street whilst frantically trying to pull the insect repellent out of my bag to lather my legs in. It may have looked strange to everyone else, but I considered it absolutely necessary! Unfortunately, I knew that I’d been bitten a number of times before I got the insect repellent on (despite my dancing efforts). However, to my delight and amazement I hardly noticed the bites over the next few days. It turns out that the species of nono in Fatu Iva are different and nowhere near as nasty as the ones in Nuku Hiva. So luckily, I didn’t have to suffer another week of itchy skin welts. Thank. God.

There’s one shop in Omoa with good supplies and a bakery open in the early mornings. Like with many of the islands in French Polynesia fresh food is difficult to come by, but there are many mango trees growing at the side of the road towards Baie des Vierges which you can help yourself to. I had also heard that the dancing here in Fatu Iva is the best in the Marquesas. Unfortunately we weren’t able to see any performances, but if anyone else is thinking of visiting, it sounds like it would be well worth checking out.