Position: same as yesterday in Baie Puamau

The Tiki is considered to be a "protector"

Some are shorter than others...

With Mark and Ann from Blue Rodeo

Me Big Tiki!

Today was the big day to go ashore. As we sat in the cockpit enjoying our morning coffee, bananas and papaya, I was watching the waves breaking on shore and thought they looked pretty good size, but manageable in the dinghy. Mark on Blue Rodeo, our boat neighbor, thought the same, so after checking the weather on the shortwave (forecast East wind, 12 knots occasionally to 16) we decided to go for it. We packed all our gear in our dry bags, no use taking a chance on getting cameras wet with an unplanned dunk, and we headed ashore in our respective dinghies. Approaching the surf zone, we waited for a set to go through before timing our approach. Hmm, the waves were looking a little bigger than they did from the boat. But, we found a lull and headed in. Mostly 2 foot faces, which are plenty big enough on inflatable dinghies, but manageable. Surfed the last 10 yards on some whitewater and slid up onto the sand. We all jumped out whooping; “we made it, we made it, without getting wet. Yahooo!” So we pulled the dinghies up the beach and tied them to a couple trees in case the tide came up high while we were gone. We had no idea how long we might be gone.

This was one of those really hot, but beautiful tropical days. Clear blue sky and blazing sun. Even though it was only 1000, we were perspiring to the point our clothes were drenched. Thank goodness for a slight breeze or it would really be hot. We headed toward what looked to be the main part of town. Hard to tell, as the area is very dense and lush with palm trees, banana trees and many other tropical fruit and general jungle. You don’t see people’s houses until you are right on them. Most of the houses are very basic; lots of open sides (i.e. few windows and tin or thatched roofs) and lanais with which to sit and enjoy the ocean breeze. Anyway, we walked in what looked to be a promising direction and after a bit, came upon a sort of restaurant/convenience store. Got directions from the proprietress and we conversed in broken French enough to determine that the way to the Tikis was up the hill. And I do mean UP. This bay is surrounded by vertical mountains that rise virtually straight up out of the water. Somehow people manage to build on the lower part of the slope, but it becomes too steep within a ¼ mile of the water, so the town is very small. Anyway, up we went. After so much time on the boat, we were all huffing and puffing our way, not having gotten much aerobic activity in the last month or more. As we walked, we saw a lot of horses “parked” by the side of the road. There are a few cars here, but horses seem to be easier. People ride them to visit or work, then tie them to a tree on the side of the road. We were disappointed to not see a lot of people this day. Maybe they were being smart not going out in the heat of the day like us.

On the walk uphill, we were continually amazed by the abundance of fruit. It’s everywhere. Bananas hanging within reach on the side of the road, coconuts overhead dropping their fruit (we took one back for our Charismas and are enjoying the meat for dessert), pamplemoose, mangoes, starfruit and a couple others we haven’t yet been able to identify.

So, after walking uphill for ½ an hour, we finally got to the former holy spot where the Tikis are. We were not disappointed. They are majestic and amazing. You can still feel the Mana when you stand there. The largest one was eight feet tall and gazed out over the bay and the Pacific beyond. The area had several “lesser” Tikis as well as other statues and stone terraces where you could easily imagine ancient rituals being held (probably with lots of fruit). We all decided it was a spectacular spot and well worth the trip up the hill.

The real heat of the day was on us, so time to get back to the boats. As we got back down the hill and to the water, we realized that the wind had come up significantly and more importantly the waves had increased in size. Hmmm, these were some big waves now and the seemed unrelenting and without the usual “sets” that let you get out during a lull. Easily three foot faces. Getting out through this surf in our inflatable dinghy was going to prove daunting. We stood there quite a while, each couple planning their own exit strategy. Mark and Anne’s dinghy had a small outboard and a rigid aluminum bottom. Ann and I had just oars. The surf zone went out about thirty yards, so we would have to row that far, really fast to get outside without getting hit by one of the larger waves. I actually considered sitting it out and waiting on the beach until later in the day (around 1700 or so when the waves and wind usually die down a bit) but I thought we could probably make it out. Anyway, worse thing we get wet, right?

We prepared the dinghy for what was looking like a rough trip. All our extra clothes, shoes, cameras, water bottles, etc. went in the dry bags and were sealed. Ann hooked the dry bags onto one of the lifting slings. As a further precaution, at the last moment, I also tied the bags down to the “d-ring” in the bow of the dinghy. Turned out to be a good thing.

Once prepared, we waded out into the surf up to our waists and waited, watching. We watched through three sets to get a feel for the timing of the lulls. There weren’t really any good ones. There were a lot of “sneaker” waves that would break into the lulls. I briefed Ann on what to do if we were flipped (bail out the side so the dinghy doesn’t hit you as it flips, put your hand over your face to hold you glasses on as you go under). After about 10 minutes I saw a lull and said; “let’s go!” Ann jumped in the back. I ran it a few more steps into deeper water and jumped in, grabbed the oars and rowed! I mean really ROWED. Ann was facing forward so she would see the waves; “here comes one, hang on!” and blam, we’d get hit by a wave and sucked back 10 feet. ROW, ROW, ROW, gotta get outside before one of the big ones comes in. “Here comes another one” BLAM! Past that one, we’re getting outside the surf zone, beyond the whitewater. “Here’s another one!” We got just over the crest on that one and now we’re outside the zone. Mark and Anne are on the beach cheering. We’re soaking wet, but we’ve done it! I rowed a few more yards to make sure we were safely outside, then slowed down in order to wait for Mark and Anne in the other dinghy who seeing us safely outside turned around and walked back to their dinghy waiting on the beach so they could now launch. Just then Ann says; “OH NO, LOOK OUT!” I turn my head just in time to see the biggest wave we had seen. This one had to be a four to six foot face, especially since we were at least 15-20 yards past where all the waves had been breaking. By the time it registered with me that it was big, and peaking, it lifted us vertically-I was looking down at Ann from the top of the wave-and flipped us bow over stern. I bailed out to the side as I had briefed Ann to do. She reported (afterward) that since the wave appeared out of nowhere and it happened so fast, she didn’t have time to react and the boat flipped her backwards into the water and went over her. The last thing I remember is putting my hand over my prescription sunglasses as I went under. I had the glasses with one hand and a handhold of the dinghy in the other. I felt the surf pull my hat off my head. The other thing I remember is thinking; “man, this water is really warm!” I came up still holding onto the dinghy which was now upside down. Looked around for Ann, she was a few yards away and looked well in control, so I worked on trying to right the dinghy before the next wave hit. Wasn’t gonna happen. It is very hard for one person to right a dinghy in the surf zone, so I resigned myself to just guiding it in as follow up waves hit us and grabbing anything that might fall off. We were soon back on the beach and realized we were actually exhausted. It took quite a bit of effort to get back through the waves to shore with a swamped dinghy. Unfortunately Ann lost her glasses and one shoe. We sat down to rest. Mark and Anne looked worriedly at their own departure. We went over to talk with them a moment as they were standing on the edge of the surf getting ready to try the same thing, but in their case with a RIB (rigid inflatable boat-it has an aluminum boat bottom with inflatable sides. “What happened” I wanted to know. “We don’t know! We saw that you made it, so we turned around to get our boat and when we turned back you guys were in the water”.

I’ll fast forward a bit. We found Ann’s shoe washed up down the beach so she has two “reef walkers” again. One of the dry bags blew open and got drenched. Fortunately just the one with the shoes. The one with the cameras held and the cameras are safe and dry. Now we’re sitting on the beach trying to get our wits back and two Marquesan teenagers came down to the boat and pointed at the water to say; “We get you out”. I thought, why not? I’m tired now from our first attempt, I’ll take a little help. So, these two guys drag the dinghy out while we jump in. Through the surf they pull us, hanging on as the whitewater tries to drag the boat back to shore. Finally a big final shove and we’re on our own. Again. ROW, ROW, ROW. This time I’m not stopping for anything until we’re at least 50 yards past the surf line. We came close on a couple of waves and I thought; “oh, not again!”, but we made it. Whew! Mark and Anne followed soon after punching through the surf with their aluminum hull and outboard. Two different boats, two different strategies and outcomes. We’re all certain of three things. One; we DID make it out. Two; it was a rogue wave that took us back in. Three; never stop just outside of the surf line because you think you’re far enough. This isn’t Santa Cruz with predictable waves. This is the middle of the Pacific Ocean. What I call a “learning experience”.

Post Script: I mentioned yesterday the solenoid for the engine shut off broke. Today after our excursion, I had time to really look at it and found the pushrod on the solenoid was no longer attached to the lever on the fuel injector pump. I spend a good 20 minutes looking around the engine and in the bilge to find the part, but to no avail. So, I look in the engine manual expecting to see that it’s some kind of exotic rod that needs to be calibrated and whatever and what do I find? It’s a bolt. OK, I can fix this. I look though all my nuts and bolts and pure luck I fine TWO bolts that are the right fit. They are leftovers from some other project I did that I can’t remember and I saved the bolts. So, screwed it on (with the requisite amount of swearing due to the difficult location-fortunately I have a small angle driver as there’s no room for a normal screwdriver). Everything seems to fit. Ann went into the cockpit; “OK, turn it on” Vroom, clank, clank, clank (that’s a normal diesel sound at idle). “OK, push the cut-off button” Blessed silence. Sometimes things work.

Quite a day.

P.P.S. Tomorrow, we leave Hiva Oa and head South about 40 miles to the island of Fatu Hiva. It’s known as a more primitive, less visited island. We’re looking forward to it.