Ricochet: Workin’ in the Boatyard; Hiva Oa, Marquesas Jan-Feb 2022

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The world was just opening up after Covid. After weeks of emails and WhatsApp video calls, the plan was for me to join W. , a Dutch captain, in the Marquesas to help commission his boat and join him as crew to sail all the way to Fiji, nearly 3000 miles of open ocean. After I assembled the heap of necessary documents; vaccination certificates, official permissions to enter the country, negative test results, etc., and I flew for 12 hours over the endless Pacific. I arrived at Atuona airport to meet W., who could pass for my brother with a mop of curly hair which matched my own. He presented me with a lei (clearly a discard, flowers browned and withered???) and we drove down to the boatyard on the island of Hiva Oa, where his boat was still up on jack-stands after 14 months of covid lockdown. We drove through cool forests of pine, and descended into the valley where the coconut palms and breadfruit trees grow.

Hiva Oa Yacht Services boatyard

Atuona town

Tikis at the community center

The bay at Atuona.

Walking up the road.

Beautiful trail through the woods

It is stunningly beautiful, surrounded by high spires of lava from ancient volcanic eruptions. We drove into Atuona town, past neatly raked yards and impeccably clean roadsides with no speck of litter. We stopped at the grocery store, the center of cruising life outside the boatyard. Here the market carries what produce is in season, and if there is no cheese, you have to wait til the next cheese-boat (the Aranui) comes in. We bought a few things and enjoyed an ice cream, then headed to the boatyard.

Walking to town, a view of the anchorage.

The handy honor-system fruit stand near the boatyard. Everything picked today.

While the rental car was available, we took a drive to the farthest end of the island, to the village of Puamau to see the ancient stone tikis and ceremonial site. The road curved up through towering rain forest and banana groves clinging to the mountainsides, to the more arid country where the narrow road wound precariously along the cliff face.

Wind howling on a ridge above the sea, captain vainly trying to tidy his hair.

The famous tiki of the swimming man

For the next three weeks, we worked. Back in the boatyard, I was impressed with W’s thoroughness and attention to detail, and was I happy to help to commission the boat. I thoroughly washed all the dishes and utensils, drawers, storage lockers and containers, sorted canned goods and spices to discard old product, washed the overheads with soapy water and the woodwork with vinegar. I deep-cleaned the tubes of the dinghy and removed barnacle and oyster growth from the aluminum hull, making it look new and ready to use. We painted the bottom of the boat with two coats of anti-fouling; we measured and marked the length of the new anchor chain in the blazing mid-day sun. ( I had a touch of heatstroke.) I washed the decks, waterproofed the dodger and cleaned and taped the cracked dodger windows to preserve them as best we could. Dripping sweat all day long, it was good to be working on boats again, and hoping for a good voyage ahead, but there were troubling signs. W worked doggedly on mechanical and electrical issues.

I masked my new flip flops to protect them from paint spatters.

Marking the new anchor chain. Heat exhaustion ensued .

W. had befriended a pregnant cat, who had been lurking around the boat for food and spying inside to see where she could drop her litter.

One day she showed up wild-eyed and panting. Her time had come. W. put some old tee shirts in a crate and placed her in it, and after a time, she delivered one, two three flour, five little kittens, The firstborn we called Rambo, born aboard the Rambler, and a robust little guy. The last I named Monkeyface, well, because that’s what she looked like!

After three weeks of hard labor, at last the day came to launch. W. raced to wax the hull while the boatyard workers put the boat on the launch trailer. Rambler lumbered down the boat ramp and down she went into the water. With no water coming in, she was ready. We celebrated with a tiny travel sized bottle of wine I brought from home.

After two more days working, we raised the anchor and motored over to the neighboring Island of Tahuata, only 10 miles away. It was a nice to be on the water at last.

The deserted bay on Tahuata

We sailed for nearby Tahuata, and anchored in a deserted bay for two days. We bent on the two headsails, and had some time to swim and chill out.

The next day we motored down to the little village of Hapatoni, and went ashore to visit Tehina at the Blue House. This charming Marquesan lady has Wi-Fi for cruisers to use, and will make coffee or lemonade while we click away on her veranda. She enjoys meeting the cruisers, and we were grateful forcompany

Approaching Hapatoni.

The main road in Hapatoni, heading over the mountain.

Honeybees feasting on a smashed mango. Mmmm, honey!

The anchorage, on the way over the mountain.

The next day we made a plan to walk for two hours over the mountains to the next village, where there is a good restaurant with a faster Wi-Fi service. On the way to shore, we were appalled to discover that the dinghy was leaking badly; a 12 inch gap had opened where the tube joins the hull. It was spurting water as fast as I could bale. We made it to shore, hauled the dinghy up t using an old outrigger beam as a roller to keep it from sinking. We decided to continue with our hike. By then the sun was high overhead and we were standing in a pool of our own shadow, being close to the equator. Although we stopped frequently, W was overcome with heat exhaustion. I suggested he wet his tee shirt and put it on his head and neck to cool him down, and we rested in the shade til he was ready to move on. Once in the village, we found Chez Jimmy, where we each drank two liters of water and a cold beer, and that only just quenched our dehydration. It is the gathering place for the locals so it was a great place for people watching.

Resting at Chez Jimmy.

We gladly paid the waitresses 5 euros for a ride back to Hapatoni, and then there was the dinghy to deal with. These island girls were big and strong!! They helpedW. move the dinghy down the slippery ramp, while I was stepping gingerly to keep from falling. So grateful for the help! On the way back, I bailed steadily as W. drove, and all was going well til the middle of the bay, where the engine quit. Fortunately another cruiser in his dinghy came along straight away and towed us to the boat. It was a real setback to be without a dinghy, and two more urgent repair jobs.

Riding back with the Chez Jimmy crew.

We motored back to Hiva Oa, and had to anchor outside the breakwater because the cargo-ship Aranui was in port. We spent a rolly tonight aboard, then woke up early and had the engine running by the time Aranui got underway. We were the first ones in and got the best, quietest parking place.

Aranui in our parking place!

After more days of slaving and sleuthing, W. found that the tube separation from the dinghy hull was caused by the formation of aluminum hydroxide between the tube and the aluminum hull. To repair this, the tube must be separated from the hull, thoroughly cleaned and prepped, then both sides coated with epoxy and immediately glued together with Sikaflex adhesive. There was no Sikiflex to be had on the island at the time. The malfunctioning outboard was caused by a gelatinous biological growth in the lower unit, and after methodical trouble shooting, W. found and corrected the problem after another day of intense work.

Some things had been happening throughout my stay here that made it clear that it was not in my best interests to cross the vast Pacific in company with this captain, and I made the decision to leave the boat. During my stay he said many quite insulting things to me, in spite of me telling him repeatedly that I didn’t like the way he was treating me. I don't believe he had bad intentions, but the accumulation of obnoxious behaviors had become intolerable. I moved off the boat and into a guesthouse. I stayed on for a few extra days, and explored on foot, visiting the Gaugin Museum and the gravesites of Jacques Brel and Paul Gaugin in a lovely old cemetery above the town. I treated myself by stopping in California on the way home to bask in the love of my marvelous little grandchildren and their sweet mama.