Arrival in the Middle of Nowhere - 3 1/2 time zones away
Harmonie
Don and Anne Myers
Thu 27 Mar 2008 23:42
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09:48.188S 139:01.897W
We arrived safely in Tahuku Bay on the Marquesas
island of Hiva Oa last night at 9:15 Galapagos time - which come to find out was
5:45 pm Marquesas time. Yup, the Marquesas are not three hours or
four hours behind Galapagos (Central) time, but three and a half
hours. A time zone all their own. At some point during our trek to
the middle of nowhere, we must have unknowingly crashed through the space-time
continuum and landed in half of a time zone.
Although the last two hours of our trip were
completely excruciating (the wind died and we were crawling along at five knots
in a race with the fading daylight), the scenery was incredible and our arrival
into Tahuku Bay was like a homecoming. As we motored slowly past the ten
or so anchored World ARC boats, everyone came out on deck and waved us in,
calling out a big welcome. Others got on the VHF radio and guided us to a
perfect anchoring spot with their advice. One of the teenage sons on board
the American catamaran Candela serenaded us with his guitar, and we
smoothly came to rest and lowered the anchor. At that point, the anchor
chain kinked, got stuck and stopped moving. So much for our smooth
landing! Don scrambled around and crawled half-way into the chain locker
(small space in the very bow of the boat accessible only through a very
small opening) to un-kink the chain. Meanwhile, we hung perilously close
to one of the other anchored boats, but luckily they weren't on board, so we
didn't get the evil eye. This is kind of like the old question, 'If a tree
falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, does it really make a
sound?'. In this case, 'If a boat comes in to anchor and gets too close to
another anchored boat, but no one is on the anchored boat to see it, is it
really a problem?' Eventually we got it all worked out. Aside from
the anchor chain incident, we can't think of a nicer way to end an incredibly
long voyage.
And there's more. We heard chatter on the VHF
about a group dinner at one of the nearby restaurants, so although we were tired
and Don in particular was more inclined to hang out on the boat and relax, we
tidied up quickly, got all the important things put away, hopped in the dinghy
and headed to shore in the dark, just as it started to rain. The dinghy
dock here is a big chunk of concrete with a few giant black tires hanging on
it. Without the moderately crashing surf it would have been a challenge to
crawl up onto it, but with the surf, it was even more interesting. We
dragged ourselves up the big, black tires onto the concrete chunk while it
started to rain in earnest (mind you, all done in our out-to-dinner clothes -
which aren't that fancy, but still!). Once we were on solid ground, we ran
to the waiting taxi (a strange converted pick-up truck with a bench on either
side of the truck bed and a roof overhead thankfully). There are only
four taxis on this island (and only ten rental cars), so we weren't
complaining. The World ARC people met us at the taxi with our official
Polynesian lays (not the plastic variety, the real thing - simply gorgeous) and
we were off to the restaurant. With the exception of the trimaran Branec's
crew, everyone was there from the other twelve boats that had arrived in the
Marquesas. We had a grand time and fulfilled Don's and my #1 priorities in
high style (a drink and food prepared by someone else). Don and I only had
one episode of severe 'swaying' (the phenomena that happens on solid ground
after being on a moving boat for an extended period of time) just as we entered
the restaurant. After that we were fine.
The waitresses at the restaurant were all beautiful
Polynesian girls and women, complete with pink sarongs, flowers in their hair
and bare feet. After dinner, one of them performed a modern version of
several traditional Polynesian dances. The men drooled and the women
marveled at the dancer's ability to jiggle her butt in the most unusual
ways - all to the beat of the music. At one point, Brian and Peter from
the British boats Tallulah Ruby and Asolare decided they could do the butt
jiggle thing just as well as the dancer, and both made several attempts.
Although their efforts were appreciated by the crowd, they did not even come
close to the butt jiggle standard set by the dancer.
At an unspecified time (we were so confused by the
time zone thing, it was tough to tell just what time it was), we left the
restaurant in the pickup truck taxi, climbed down the big, black tires into the
dinghy, returned to the boat and fell into bed. Hence, my #2 priority was
met.
In the morning we got our first good look
around. Since it was nearly dark when we arrived last night, we didn't
really have a chance to view our surroundings. Pictures will
follow in future updates, but for now I think Don put it best when he said, 'It
looks just like the pictures.' And it does.
Anne
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