Nuku Hiva, 6-16-2017--Collet Bay hike

We're just back from a great hike to Collet Bay, the next bay west of here. A big part of what made it great is that at 5 miles and 500' elevation gain, it's by far the most strenuous workout I've had since the illness began almost 6 weeks ago. It went well, though I'm sure we'll both be sore tomorrow.

On the way to the bay we passed the high school where an end of the school year celebration was underway. The gate into the event was closed, but when one of the teachers Pearl had gotten to know spotted us, he whisked us right in. A description of the event and the hike is in the photos below.

Looking ahead, our current plan is to do a driving tour of the east side of the island on Monday. That will include the valley where Melville spent time with a cannibalistic tribe that became the basis for the book Typee. We also hope to see several archeological sites and do a hike to Anaho Bay, reputed to be one of the most beautiful bays on the Island. We'll be going with Matt and Amy, an English couple who seem to have similar interests. Should be a fun day.

Looking further ahead, the weekend of June 29-July 1 marks the beginning of a month of celebrations throughout French Polynesia. We're still trying to figure out what's being celebrated and will report on that later. Meanwhile, booths are being set up all along the waterfront road, so it looks to be a big event.

We'll probably clear out of French Polynesia right after that, on July 2^nd or 3^rd. Then we'll once again be at sea, heading to the Tuamotu Archipelago.

Pearl and the high school history teacher.  We don't even know his name but he recognized us from the Snack and whisked us right into the celebration.

Bocce ball is a serious sport here in the Marquesas

This is the first time we've ever seen a lime used as the bocce palino.

A drum group from the local elementary school.  These kids were amazing.  They did close to two dozen drum routines, some of them quite complicated and all perfectly coordinated.  

After the school event, we passed a monument to Herman Melville.  This is where he jumped ship and hiked overland to the valley of Typee.

Looking back over Taiohae Bay (where we're anchored) from the ridge between it and Collet Bay

Collet Bay

We came upon a homestead several acres in size at the edge of Collet Bay where an impressive variety of food was being grown.  In addition to dozens of beehives were coconuts, pamplemousse, limes, bananas, green apple and breadfruit. 

Limes

Pamplemousse

 

Nuku Hiva, 6-13-2017--To-do jobs

Our apologies in advance, as today's post will probably not be one of our more engaging.  The day has mostly been spent crossing jobs off the to-do list.

Last night brought gusty winds and this morning dawned uncharacteristically gray, drizzly and cool.
We were so glad to have gotten the roll reducers deployed before nightfall.  They made a huge difference in comfort last night. Pearl slept without even putting up her lee cloths.  Without the roll reducers, she would have been dumped onto the cabin floor in short order.  In case it's of interest, here's a link to a photo:

http://www.omick.net/adventure/sailing/anchoring/Anchoring.html

Fortunately, by mid-morning the weather turn sunny and calm so

we got busy crossing off jobs.  First was cleaning the anchor line.  During the past 5 weeks the beginning of an impressive coral reef had begin to grow on it.  An hours worth of scraping with a butter knife removed all manner of barnacles and unidentifiable growth.

That was followed by scrubbing a slimy and unsightly growth off the sides of the hull.  

We also finally got Minnie properly seated on the bulkhead instead of being ignominiously stuffed in the net bag above Pearl's bunk.

We won't bore you with the rest of the items crossed off, but we were pleased with the progress.

An email came in today from a young Dutch fellow we met several weeks ago.  He's crewing on boats and making videos along the way.  He interviewed us and took a short video of us pulling up the anchor and rowing out of the anchorage on Ua Pou.  We haven't seen it yet due to the slow internet here, so it's with some trepidation that we're sharing the link.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6jGO8Z29H2c&feature=youtu.be

Minnie the mascot finally gets a proper seat on the cabin bulkhead.

Looking over the side of the boat, one of the roll reducers can be dimly seen in the water. the other one is on the opposite side of the boat.

Nuku Hiva, 6-11-2017--Sunday at the Snack

It's a festive Sunday afternoon here at the Nuku Hiva Snack.  A variety of local foods are being prepared and the local jam group is belting out Polynesian tunes.

Sunday afternoon at the Snack

Henri, owner and spirit of the Snack.
Customers are free to help themselves from the hanging bunches of bananas.

Coconut husks used for cooking breadfruit

Breadfruit being cooked over coconut husk fire

Husking fire roasted breadfruit

Pounding roasted breadfruit with stone pestle

Pounded breadfruit is dunked into coconut milk to make huru, a local favorite.
We thought it was pretty good.

The coconut milk used for making huru is made by finely grating coconut meat, then mixing it with a small amount of water. The mixture is gathered in a towel and wrung out, leaving coconut milk.  The dry pulp is discarded.   

The milk is strained through a towel to remove the few remaining bits of coconut pulp.  

Pure coconut milk

Sunday afternoon jam session at the Snack

Nuku Hiva, 6-10-2017--David returns!

Our happy reunion

David here, writing from the Snack. I never got to know Nuku Hiva when we first arrived here. Except for the hospital, it's all new to me. My first impression is that the Snack needs a more illustrious name. Given the multiple nationalities gathered here, the “international cultural center” or some such seems more fitting.

A congenial mix of several dozen folks from at least 8 countries are gathered here, sipping fruit drinks, talking, laughing, checking up on email. In addition to European languages, I've even heard Hebrew, as there's a couple on a boat from Israel here. The local maestro is playing Marquesan tunes on the uke. It's quite a pleasant atmosphere.

Pearl seems to know everyone here and I got quite a welcome when I arrived.

It's a day of festivities on Nuku Hiva today, with the big event being canoe racing. Canoe racing is the sporting event here in the islands. These are colorful single outrigger canoes about 18 feet long and barely wide enough to seat a paddler. In fact, without the outrigger the canoe would capsize instantly.   

This morning's race has competitors coming from as far as Moorea, almost 1000 miles away. Those coming in from other islands transport their canoes on the inter-island supply ships. 25 canoes just started and will cover a 24 kilometer course. From our perspective going just ¼ mile from Minimus to shore, that's a very long way to paddle a canoe at what appears to be full speed.

Balanced against this congenial and idyllic setting are the raw realities of long-distance sailing in such a remote part of the world. Most of the sailors here are about our age and, as for most of us entering our senior years, health issues begin to loom large.

A fellow sailor from England just got out of the hospital this morning. He just had a transfusion of 8 units of blood. He looks weak. Pearl thinks his illness is more serious than he realizes. Still, he and his crew plan to sail on to Tahiti. From there, he will likely have to fly back to the UK for treatment. We hear through the grapevine of other health issues, less serious but still anxiety producing given the distance to medical care.

Then there are equipment issues. Many of the boats here are anxiously awaiting parts to be flown in from Tahiti. Some are of relatively minor importance, like water maker or refrigerator parts, though to the boat owner, every broken part means a whole system down. In reality, only the parts necessary to keep the boat afloat and sailing are really critical, but plenty of boats are in need of those.

What are merely annoying glitches back home with computers, smart phones, tablets, credit cards, ad nauseum become major headaches here. A fellow sailor sitting beside me has been on the phone for the past half hour trying to straighten out a credit card problem. Overhearing the conversation, she's dealing with the all-to-familiar litany of circular reasoning and maddeningly unworkable suggestions.

These issues notwithstanding, it's wonderful to be back. The mix of being together again, and in such a scenic setting, listening to melodic Polynesian music, rocking to sleep at night aboard Minimus, meeting new friends each day, makes it more than worth it.

Canoes at race start

They're off

The first of 3 laps around the bay

Leis for the finishers

Pit roasted plantains in palm thatch

Pit roasted pig, also in palm thatch

Roasted sheep in coconut milk

Serving meals at the school fair and fundraiser

The uke maestro plays

Nuku Hiva, 6-8-2017--David's return trip

Back in Nuku Hiva!

After nearly 3 weeks in the U.S., I'm overjoyed to be back with Pearl and aboard Minimus.

I almost didn't get here though, and that's a story I want to share. It's one of generosity, kindness and empathy.

My friend Tom Brightman, who could easily have dropped me off at the shuttle stop just 5 minutes away, instead got up at 4:30 AM and made us breakfast. Then, under the dubious guise of having other business to do in Phoenix, insisted on delivering me to the Phoenix airport two hours away. That's the kind of friend he is.

I didn't know it then, but my day would hinge on that act of generosity. The trip to the airport went well enough. Once inside the airport though, things began to go downhill. I seldom go into large airports, and when I do, find them to be an alien, impersonal and soul-deadening world. One of rigidly adhered to rules and regulations, of hurrying masses of humanity, of endless blaring announcements on unintelligible PA systems.

That's exactly how it began and, but for the grace of two people, that's how it would have ended. I got routed to the international counter, where the French bureaucracy reared it's ugly head. The complication was that no one is allowed to fly to French Polynesia without either a round trip ticket or proof of a bank bond equal to the value of a one way ticket out of the county. I had the latter, and had three documents to prove it. One was a hard copy, the other two were digital copies on my computer.

I showed them to the American Airlines attendant. She winced, then made a call to immigration. Then another one. Then a third. Nope. I would need hard copies of all three documents. Without them, I not only wasn't going anywhere, I'd have to forfeit my ticket, return to Tucson and buy another ticket for another day.

Nothing in the process of purchasing my ticket had alerted me to this impending train wreck. After all I'd been through the past month, my heart sank. Running on only a few hours sleep from the night before wasn't helping either.

Tracy, the attendant, was sympathetic, despite the line forming behind me. She called her supervisor. If I could attach the documents to an email, she could print copies for me. I went into high gear trying to connect to an airport internet connection. Tom meanwhile pulled out his phone and began searching for the nearest copy place to the airport. The closest one was 3 miles away and rush hour traffic was quickly snarling the freeway around the airport. Time was ticking by.

Meanwhile, my efforts to connect to an internet service were going nowhere. I would have paid a premium price for a connection, but my computer would have nothing of it.

Tom, keeping a cooler head than I, remembered that I had emailed him the documents the day before. He attached them to an email and sent it to Tracy's supervisor. She disappeared, eventually coming back to report no dice. Three documents at once wouldn't get through airport IT security. He tried again, one attachment at a time. Two went though this time but not the third one. He tried again and finally the remaining one went through.

Tracy disappeared again. The noise, the crowds, the anxiety, the lack of sleep, had me starting to feel light headed. I leaned against the wall. More time ticked by. I can deal so much better with a mountain storm or a gale at sea. I'm just not well equipped for this kind of stress. I tried to mentally brace myself for returning to Tucson, losing the ticket and then doing it all over again. I felt sick.

After what felt like an eternity, Tracy reappeared. She had hard copies. They were dark and hard to read. She scanned them and called immigration again. The copies were poor, but acceptable. She warned though, that I might face more red tape in LA. I wanted to hug her but feared airport security would haul me off.

Not without a few tears, I embraced Tom and headed to my gate.

Sitting there, I was surprised some twenty minutes later when Tracy suddenly appeared beside me, more copies in hand. Tom had not just dropped me off and left. He'd driven three miles through Phoenix rush hour traffic, gotten high quality copies made, then returned to the airport and given them to Tracy.

She had then gone through security, located me at the gate and hand-delivered them. This time I didn't care, I spread my arms and gave her a hug of deeply felt thanks. She shared that she'd beaten cancer three times and knew well how important empathy was. What a dear, sweet soul.

She was right about the bureaucratic odyssey not being over though. The flight to LA went smoothly enough and then I found myself again in the maw of an overwhelming airport. Limping down what seemed like miles of corridors and escalators, I eventually found my way to the international terminal.

Finally at my gate, I gave the Air Tahiti Nui attendant my passport and the copies that had gotten me onto the plane in Phoenix. She scanned them, then called immigration. Another road block. They weren't satisfied with the poor quality of the copies. I wasn't getting on.

Through my sleep-deprived stupor, I belatedly remembered the copies Tom had made. Brilliantly, he'd had them printed on high-quality glossy card stock. They were much clearer and had an official look. She scanned them and made another call to immigration. Five minutes later the last hurdle was behind me.

Emotionally exhausted, I sank into the airplane seat and spent a long time reflecting on what a blessed difference generosity, empathy and kindness can make.  

Nuku Hiva, 6-2-2017--David reporting from Tucson

Hi, David here reporting from Tucson again and maybe for the last time before returning to Nuku Hiva.  Looks like I finally have a green light to return to Pearl and Minimus on the 7th!

I was in the emergency room again yesterday where Ramesh did a fluid draw on the knee.  It does not appear to be infected, though they're culturing it to be sure.

This morning I had my last doctors appointment, this one with an orthopedic surgeon.   He carefully examined the knee, looked at the MRI and the lab results from the fluid draw.  He feels that it's unlikely there's any infection left in the knee.  He wants to see me again when we get back, but feels that knee surgery is not indicated now and probably not even when we get back. Whew!!

I also saw an infectious disease specialist a few days ago.  She said that, with the caveat that no one will ever know for sure exactly what happened, her best guess is that the infection may have entered my bloodstream through the rash I developed on the passage.  Once there, it took root on my right arm, right knee and left shin.  All three areas swelled considerably.  The swelling in the knee may have caused the tear in the medial meniscus of the knee, which led to the formation of the Bakers cyst on the back of the knee.  But again, it's mostly speculation.

As with the other doctors, she was quite clear about how lucky I was to have been near the little hospital when this developed.  We get it and won't stop being very grateful any time soon.

Going forward, I'll continue on oral antibiotics for a few more weeks, then wait a couple weeks to see if the infection comes back.  If not, we hope to be continuing the voyage by late June or early July.  In addition, we'll have a full course of antibiotics on board just in case.

Another piece in the dynamic is that the French immigration bureaucracy is absolutely immovable about any kind of extension on our visas.  Health concerns, safety concerns, etc. apparently carry no weight with them.  Having tried hard to play by their rules, we now have no choice but to play by our own.  

Our game plan is indeed to check out from Nuku Hiva on or before July 5, per their requirements.  From Nuku Hiva, it's another 1000 miles of sailing before we're out of French Polynesia, so we'll be entirely illegal during that time.   Few boats seem to get checked though, so we're not too worried.  At worst they can put us in jail.

However that goes, we're not forgetting that we dodged a big bullet and the rest is little stuff.

Nuku Hiva, 6-1-2017--Gratitude

Most of these blog pages are in my head before I (David) even sit down to write.  This one is different though, and for once I hardly know where to begin.  I'm sitting here stunned.  Stunned with gratitude.

Recently I became aware that our friend and Cascabel neighbor Melissa Miller, a long time fundraiser with the local public television station, had spoken with Pearl about doing a fundraiser to help us with expenses related to my recent illness.  I was absorbed with medical issues and hadn't paid much attention to it.

Until now.  Melissa just sent an email saying that it raised enough money to cover virtually all the costs related to my illness.  Since the beginning of this medical mystery, we've again and again reminded ourselves that given how close I came to realizing my mortality, everything else was just 'little stuff'.  And yet the financial cost of this unexpected detour has been weighing on us.

I know that now because I find myself on the verge of tears.  Tears of gratitude. Gratitude for something we don't deserve, that we can only hope to have the opportunity to repay to our community over time.  

Melissa, our friend, neighbor and a fund-raising dynamo.

We're deeply humbled by her effort and the community response to it.