Over the last four weeks we’ve flitted among these sweet little jems floating lazily in the warm South Pacific getting to know each one as much as one can in what feels like a rushed first date. But our short time on each has been long enough to get to know each beguiling girl just enough for her to steal our hearts.

Our first days on Hiva Oa left us feeling starstruck: we were bowled over with all the new sights, smells and tastes of this foreign land, especially made all the more luscious after nearly a month of sea and sky and salt. We fell in love with the people on Tahuata: so many smiles, so much generosity and kindness. And the singing!

Fatu Hiva, oh my, Fatu Hiva. She is the mystical queen lying in the southernmost corner of the islands. The breathtaking green pillars of her crown rise straight out of the sea. She can be a little difficult and doesn’t seem to welcome visitors; you have to anchor on a tiny ledge off one of her strikingly steep vales. But once you creep ashore and gaze upon her unbelievable beauty – towering peaks, deep dark green valleys, waterfalls, powerful rock sculptures – you know you are surrounded by magic. She is called the most beautiful island in the world. I believe that.

Hitching a ride is easy in the Marquesas, in fact the locals will practically demand you get in the back of their pickup when they see you walking with kids.

We pressed on to Ua Pou, sailing the 100 miles overnight directly from Fatu Hiva. In the little shallow harbor we dropped our bow anchor and then our stern, nice and snug for our planned two-day stop. Ua Pou taught us about island time: five days later our anchors were still happily buried in her mud. Each day there was spent doing just short of nothing, excepting just taking in the beauty around us (especially the outrigger paddlers that would practice around our boat every evening) and of course the lovely spires Ua Pou wears. We strolled to a magasin for ice-cream bars, splurged on a poisson cru lunch at the Snack Vehine, stumbled upon a traditional Marquesan dance show put on for the Aranui passengers. As the girls rolled around in delight in the quiet surf, we sat on the beach under the palms by the rowing club, chatting with Xavier, a most curious retired French ex-pat who now spends his days getting to know passing sailors. Despite the many excuses to keep spending easy days in this pleasant harbor we sailed on to Nuku Hiva.

After a week on this grand island, we’re coming to see that she is multi-personalitied and that alone is reason enough to love her. The town of Taiohae, where we are anchored now, is the metropolis of the Marquesas (though with fewer than 2,000 inhabitants still feels distinctly like a village). We are smack in the enormous crater of a volcano, so of course the bay is beautiful and greener than even the Northwest springtime. There are well-stocked stores here (about 1/8 the size of a typical Trader Joes), a hospital, a few exquisitely expensive restaurants (mainly serving pizza). Each time we walk along the waterfront boys gallop by on horses.

We counted 45 boats anchored along with us in the rolly bay; the fleet practically dwarfs the town. The sailors here – politely, but still – compete to connect to the few free wireless internet connections and grab heads of cabbage and bundles of carrots at the 0400 farmer’s market on Saturday mornings. But just when I think the village might do just fine without all us visitors we are stopped today by a man and his two small sons who insist Michael, myself, Holly, Leah and her friend Ruby get into the cab of his small Toyota pickup for a ride back to the village instead of hiking the 1.5 miles downhill in the rain with all the children, tired, wet, muddy from exploring an ancient sacred site up in the valley. They let us off at the quay and the two boys see us safely off in our dinghy.

Family tiki, Taiohae Bay, Nuku Hiva

Just when the busyness of Taiohae seems like too much, just head up and around to the opposite side of the island. Here you will find Anaho Bay which is opposite Taiohae in many ways: the anchorage is tucked inside a perfect notch of land, just the right amount to make the bay absolutely still. A few days ago we were anchored there, marveling at the fact that our boat was not rocking back and forth for the first time in over two months. But that’s nothing; just when we thought we’d seen the most beautiful harbors the Marquesas had to offer, here was one even more lovely. Once our anchor was set all we could see was land all around us, Anaho wrapped us like a hug. And what a view! Steep towering buttresses of rock, a perfect rim of brown sugar sand and palms trees, a handful of small tidy homes and beautiful gardens nestled amongst them. We would have loved to stay longer than the three nights we spent there but the cabbages at that 0400 Saturday market in Taiohae were calling….

We’re still getting to know Nuku Hiva. She might end up being our favorite of these island girls – she’s got a lot of uniqueness to love. Tomorrow we head around the corner to Taipivai (this is where Herman Melville’s Typee takes place) and then Daniel’s Bay (this is where the fourth season of Survivor takes place) and we’re anxious to experience our own stories at each one. After that, we’re going to leave these island lovelies astern and it won’t be easy, not at all.

Three kid boats, bathtub-warm water, beach sand like sugar - paradise, truly!

In late February we made a quick trip up to San Diego to bring down a number of things we did not trust to Mexican shipping (and it was also a nice break from the boat as well). Some of the things we stuffed in our luggage: a new Simrad autopilot (our older Simrad will be our backup unit), diabetes supplies for me, guidebooks, charts and courtesy flags, a second Kindle (since all of us fight over the one we have), a spare HAM radio and our repaired IC-7000 we shipped back to ICOM from La Paz earlier in the month, a new portlight to improve airflow at the end of our double bunk, kids’ workbooks, more quick-dry clothing, and of course chocolate from Trader Joes.

Back in La Paz I spent days purchasing and stowing provisions and supplies onboard, with the goal of having enough staples for 3-4 months, both because little is available where we will be sailing and what is available is much more expensive than in Mexico. Indeed, now having been in the Marquesas for nearly a month we still have plenty of stores left (even Pacifico!) and have only needed to purchase fresh food (except for all the exciting local and Asian products available here which we are enjoying trying out).

S/V Wondertime’s February-March 2012 Cruising Expenses

airfare – $915
autopilot – $2,777
boat bits – $1,063
books – $16
bus/taxi/trolley – $69
car rental (San Diego and Cabo) – $248
clothing – $435
camera/computer/kindle – $472
courtesy flags – $62
dentist (3 cleanings, 4 fillings, 1 crown) – $498
diesel – $154
dinghy dock – $5
dive tank fill – $5
DVD – $17
eating out – $795
entertainment – $53
French Polynesia agent – $280
gasoline – dinghy – $32
gasoline – rental car – $17
groceries – $2,456
guidebooks/charts – $573
HAM radios – $1,048
internet – $42
kids’ books – $67
laundry – $73
medical – $46
medical supplies – $2,543
moorage – $528
personal care – $176
postage/shipping – $86
propane – $18
showers – $6
souvenirs – $14
supplies – $690
toys – $71
Zarpe fees – $150

total: $16,500

I thought, and thought and thought and thought about what tattoo I wanted to get to celebrate my own passage through Polynesia for months beforehand. It wasn’t until days before we were set to sail to Vaitahu on the island of Tahuata where we’d heard the best tattooist in the Marquesas lives that the image came to me one night as I was drifting off to sleep. I woke up the next morning and sketched it out on paper and tucked it away.

A few days later, along with the crew of Convivia, we were walking up the road to Fati’s tattoo shack in Vaitahu. It doesn’t have a sign and he no longer lives in the house next to it – you have to find someone in the village to phone him and he’ll drive down from his new house up on the hill to meet you. Everyone seems to know his number. Felix Fii — or Fati as he’s usually called – speaks only a handful of English but we suspect he understands a whole lot more than he lets on. But maybe not; like most people with the gift of an artist’s hand he looks at you and sees you, and there is no language barrier there.

Fati tattoos, I stare at the bugs on the ceiling

Tucker and Victoria sat with Fati in his shack first, each in turn discussing their tattoos. They both were not sure what they wanted when they each walked into the small, plain, paint-peeled building but by the time they walked out some time later Fati knew. As our four kids ran around in the yard chasing chickens and running through the banana trees I walked up the couple of steps, sat down in front of Fati and showed him my drawing. “No problem,” he said as he looked at me. “Very simple.” He pointed at the drawing, then his head then at me and smiled hugely. “Your spirit is here. Very unique. Beautiful tattoo!” Then in French he told me to come back in two days, on Monday at 7 am sharp.

Two days later I am laying on his tattoo table, watching flies and bees travel in and out of the open door to the shack. I listen to the modern Polynesian reggae music playing on the stereo with the accompanying buzz of the tattoo gun. I listen to the rain pound on the metal roof. I watch a mother hen and two chicks stroll past the door, tiptoeing in the mud. I study the breadfruit tree outside in the small yard.  For hours. And hours and hours as Fati fills in the design he’d drawn around my arm early that morning. It stings, it burns, it tickles, sometimes it hurts like he’s searing my arm with a hot iron. Fati is in the zone and works without stopping the entire day. Michael sits nearby, so patient. He’s chosen to get his tattoo later, if at all, and is happy watching me for now and handing me my water bottle to sip from.

Finally it is done: my story spiraling down permanently on my right arm. The spirit dolphin leads the way as they often do at the bow of our little ship. Michael’s tiki, our boat(s), our two daughters also in tiki form (the feeling one and the thinking one), the turtle representing not only our travels south but living a slow, meaningful life, the flower of Polynesia, and the sun setting over the western sea.

It’s not exactly the same as I had originally sketched out but I’ve come to love it even more. Fati knew.

Fati and Me. I'm beaming mostly because the pain is over. But I love my new tattoo too.

We only have a month to explore this beautiful and wild island group (since we have three months total in French Polynesia) so it was time to move on. Our original plan had been to head next to Fatu Hiva, the southernmost island about 45 miles away. But it took us nearly two hours to retrieve our stern anchor (stuck a little too well in the mud) and our bow anchor (stuck underneath the boat anchored in front of us). With a little help from new sailing friends we got them both onboard and were off.

By that time however it was too late in the day to be able to make Fatu Hiva before dark so we put up our spinnaker and scooted downwind through the Bordelais Channel between Hiva Oa and the island of Tahuata and made landfall 10 miles later at Hanamoenoa Bay. After we dropped our hook in 30 feet of the brightest, clearest aqua water we’d ever seen and gazed about us at the stunning bay we were sure glad our anchors had been a bit difficult after all. It was a large bay with very little swell and plenty of room for a number of boats, although there were only two other boats in the bay when we arrived. In front of us was a scene like you’d see in a stock photo: brilliant aqua water that you could see through nearly 100 feet, bright tropical fish darting under the boat, a nearly white sand beach backed by gently waving coconut palms and behind it lush green valleys and hills that rose up up and up into the island. It was stunning.

Here, we enjoyed several lovely quiet days of just being a family together again. We explored the beach, played in the 85-degree F waves, swam around the boat, snorkeled on the nearby reefs. The tradewinds blew down from the valley in front of us everyday and kept us cooled down nicely.

A few days later we went around the corner to the village of Vaitahu where our friends on Convivia (who had made it to Fatu Hiva) were meeting us. The kids were all glad to see their friends again (as were we of course). As seems to be the trend around here, this bay was even more gorgeous than the last two; the colorful small village was nestled in a towering lush green valley. Even from the boat we could see the tidy homes, flowers growing everywhere, the beautiful church made of local woods and stained glass.

I will always remember Vaitahu as the village where we collected things: the sight of nearly-naked local kids curiously surrounding ours as they waded in the surf with lifejackets, huge sun hats, long-sleeved sunshirts and bright plastic shoes. The hands that appeared from out of nowhere — even in the dark — to grab our dinghy painter and help a child each and every time we exited or boarded our dinghy on the slippery, sea-washed cement quay. The delirious scent of flowers which lined every street, surrounded every house and was worn behind the ear of nearly every smiling woman we passed. The sweet sweet Polynesian harmonies sung in the open air Catholic church on Sunday morning. The taste of one of the fresh bananas handed to us by a man as we strolled past his house one afternoon. The laughter and camaraderie we shared with Convivia each night as our kids played and we took turns making dinner for each other. The sound of the heavy warm rain that pounded down on our boat several times each day and filled our rain buckets to overflowing. The burn of the tattoo as my story came alive on my arm in the smoky, music-filled shack.

When we did finally point our bow south for Fatu Hiva yesterday, we felt a little homesick for this sweet, kind village. But our treasures will always remind us of our visit here.

Our last few days at sea the girls would tell us how they couldn't wait to run free on a beach again. Wish granted.

We have been in a sort of dream state here on Hiva Oa for the past five days. Most of the time we still can’t believe we are really here and have to pinch ourselves to make sure we are truly awake. It’s so beautiful here, so exotic. It’s everything you think of when you picture “French Polynesia” and even more. All new sights, smells, tastes, sounds. All delightful. The best part is we are home, floating in an amazing whole new world.

Our check-in process in Atuona took 10 minutes total, thanks to our wonderful agent Sandra, the friendly Gendarmerie and the amazing efficiency of the French Polynesian government.

Celebrating our arrival with the local brew.

Leah is enjoying her thoroughly Marquesan breakfast: pamplemousse (the most heavenly grapefruit ever) and a fresh baguette.

It doesn't take much to arrange a playdate on an island in the middle of the ocean; all you need are a couple of coordinates. Here, the young crews of Wondertime and Convivia are delighted to be reunited after we last saw them in La Cruz - 3,000 miles ago.

This one is for you Stephie.

Neither of us speaks a lick of French, which makes it even more interesting in this French-speaking country. We are slowing learning though, and the fresh baguettes, French cheeses, French chocolates and the sing-songy way every says “bonjour!” makes our language struggles wholly worthwhile.

The best produce deal is right from the grower....meeting up with the Monday produce truck in Atuona.

What $50 will buy in the Marquesas. We will savor those cabbages!

Sweet.

Here we go…a few photos of our 26 days at sea. (Hover over a photo to view the description, click on it to view in full size.)

Wow. Oh wow oh wow oh wow. It is gorgeous here.

I was on watch when the sky started to lighten this morning and gradually the grey smudge on the horizon grew bigger and bigger. Land ho!

All of us came up to the cockpit to watch the sun rise and the details of this island paradise come into view. Tall craggy green cliffs and misty valleys. Dramatic clouds. Rain showers in the distance. Even rainbows.

We couldn’t smell the island as it was to leeward of us, until we motored into the anchorage at Atuona. Suddenly a breeze blew down from the towering green hillside and hit us: it was like we had sailed right into a flower shop.

What I will remember most about this day though was the incredible kindness bestowed upon us: from the new cruising friend who came by in his dinghy to kedge our stern anchor out for us to another cruiser friend who kayaked by with a fresh pamplemousse for us to savor as we sat in the cockpit shortly after landing, just taking in the incredible view around us. As we sat outside a grocery store this afternoon munching a fresh baguette the older gentleman who worked in the store brought us a tray of chocolate eclairs and motioned for us each to take one; we soon had chocolate eclaire filling dripping down our chins. This evening we treated our crew Matt to dinner out and as we were leaving the restaurant the owner stopped us and offered to drive the five of us the two dark miles back to the yacht harbor.

This is a beautiful, beautiful place and we are so glad to be here.

Total miles: 2713

Wondertime began as a dream herself, a vision of a Mr. Paul Pfeifer who had been planning his ideal ship years before her lines were put to blueprint. I wonder if Mr. Pfeifer, back in 1978, as he sat sketching out the many details for his new boat ever put down his pencil and closed his eyes. Did he ever try to imagine the feel of the soft warm South Pacific wind on his face? The feel of his ship charging along up and down waves, mile after mile, white sails raised up to the sun? Setting foot on a distant land and smelling a frangipani tree for the very first time?

I know that while he had the boat’s hull built soon after, it took another 20 years for her to be completed. Her early years as a sailboat only saw her to Catalina Island and back to her Southern California berth, whether sailed by Mr. Pfeifer or her other owners we do not know. I hope he at least got to sail her to that distant island once. They both deserved it after so many years and dreams together.

But now, we’ve taken Wondertime to the waters she was perfectly built for. Where I’m sure Mr. Pfeifer had dreamed of sailing her. Out here, she’s become a live thing, romping through the waves, so so steady and safe and sure. If she were a girl she’d be running before the wind, her hair flying back behind her, her face pure smile. Happy, joyful. We love her for that.

And tomorrow, she gets a well deserved rest.

Total miles at noon: 2604
Miles since yesterday: 117
Miles to Hiva Oa: 87

Today however, has been a day of perfect tradewind sailing. Full sails up, 15 knots just aft of the beam, light SE swell running. We’ve been making nearly 6 knots the entire day. So nice. We are thinking that we may be shouting land-ho! tomorrow evening but our landfall will likely be Thursday morning.

Leah wrote a message and we sealed it up in a bottle and tossed it over this afternoon at 07 45′S, 136 24′W. If you find it on a beach somewhere, do let us know.

Total miles at noon: 2487
Miles since yesterday: 101
Miles to Hiva Oa: 204
Limes ready for margaritas when we arrive (since there were 0 tuna caught for ceviche): 77