Hiking and eating at Hakatea

30 nautical miles to the north of Hakahetau is an intimate, and well protected (finally) cove; Hakatea on the island of Nuka HIva. The wind was still blowing the day we chose to hop islands, but at least the wind would be on our beam for the day. The wind was not going crazy or anything, but it was on the gusty side. Kerri kept a diligent watch on our sails, ready to release the main sheet to depower when a gust came by for a visit. In the end, nothing of note happened as we sailed four and a half of the six hours to our fifth and final island of our time in the Marquesas.

Upon arrival, we set anchor and began to enjoy the calm waters of the bay. By now we were so accustomed to the constant rolling from the previous weeks in other bays, and the four week crossing of the Pacific, that the still waters felt out of place. Looking in any direction was met with a towering mountain of green. It was very Alaska-esque with the tall jagged peaks, lacking only a touch of white powder, and complete solitude, to really make it Alaska.

Since we had a few days of waiting out more stiff winds and sea state outside the bay, we chose to head out for yet another hike to a waterfall; this one advertised as the tallest in the Marquesas. Our first attempt to land the dinghy at the village to start the trail was aborted due to the ocean surge still causing some good sized swell at the entry to the river we needed to navigate a short distance. Instead, we returned to our calmer bay and beached the dinghy there. This extended our hike by a half mile in each direction, but the landscape was beautiful enough. After going the wrong direction for a bit, we figured it out (thanks in part to a local pointing the way) and we set off for a morning of jungle hiking, river crossings, and whole lot of spider webs in our face. Eventually making it to the waterfall view point after a couple hours on the trail, we stopped to snap a few photographs and soak in the grandeur before picking up our belongings and reversed course. We might have stayed longer, but the mosquitoes began to get the word we were there.

At the onset of our trek up to the water fall, as we passed through the small village, we were approached by a stout woman asking if we would like lunch upon our return from the waterfall. We gladly accepted the invitation, accomplished the hike, and had returned to her shack some hours later. There she directed us to a small table in the shade while she served us homemade lime-aid (more limes then lemons out here apparently) and set about cooking our meals. The local stray cats kept us company while we waited, the smells emanating from her outdoor grill teasing my senses all through out.

Not too long later she was sliding a plate in front of each of us. A mound of what we believed was pork, mango salad, and a hefty serving of grilled bread-fruit which turn out to be a fine replacement for potato in my opinion. This was also our first experience with bread fruit, and we were pleased enough with it to buy a few at our next resupply. The meal was mindbogglingly delicious. Maybe it was the post hike hungers, but I couldn’t believe how good all of it was. I’m no fan of mango by the way. The meat though. Oh my. So tender, and oh so tasty in what ever dark glaze she used. We both had decided it had to be some of the best pork we had ever had, but when the local came to collect our plates we asked about the meat. She replied that it was tuna, not pork. Tuna?! She nodded. Wow… just wow.

We thanked her, fed the cats a few scraps under the table, and bought up what fresh fruits we could before returning to Meriwether where, over the course of the next few days, most of said fruit spoiled and was tossed overboard. So is the way of French Polynesia; eat it today, or toss it tomorrow, your choice. This rule applies to most things bought at the store as well, but fresh fruit/veggies take it to the extreme.

A few pictures of the village: