Maiden Voyage to the Marquesas Islands
I have to admit the first time my friend suggested ‘sailing on a freighter ship to the
Marquesas Islands’, the first thought that entered my head was “Must verify where in the
hell that is on the map.” The name “Marquesas” evokes images of exotic lands but few
people can name off the top of their head what part of the world these old, majestic
sprouts of volcanic rock emerge from, yours included. And not being an avid fan of
“Survivor”, one afternoon I Googled the name and found the 10 speck of islands located
about 1,000 miles northeast of Tahiti in French Polynesia. Then I remembered
something else ---“freighter ship”. As a self-proclaimed landlubber who has never set
foot on a passenger cruise-liner, the idea of sailing on a vessel, loaded with cargo,
suddenly called to mind romantic images of the tramping days of Mark Twain and
Herman Melville, who sailed off to mysterious lands in a bygone era. It didn’t take long to
realize that I was hooked.
A semi translucent moon hangs above the lagoon in downtown Papeete, Tahiti,
competing with the bright lights reflecting from the hotels and restaurants near shore. A
cool tropical breeze wafts by, sending the aroma of tiare from the lei around my neck
gently to my nostrils. Intoxicated with this perfume, I stand on the deck of the Aranui 3, a
passenger/freighter vessel, waiting to embark on her monthly voyage to the Marquesas
Islands. Each month townspeople greet the coming of the Aranui (name means ‘Big
Highway’), which returns, like a faithful comrade, to bring bounty to the islands’ peoples
and serves as the lifeblood of its commerce. 386 feet in length and weighing 3800 tons,
the Aranui 3 is dwarfed by the other cruise ships lined along the quay, hulking
behemoths that one of my fellow passengers aptly dubbed as ‘giant water slugs’.
Ironically, I soon discovered, the rustic settings I imagined I’d be living in gave way to a
‘rude awakening’ of passenger ‘luxuries’ such as air conditioning, French wine & cuisine
(including yummy pastries), washers & dryers, a DVD/movie room and even an on-board
boutique. “C’est quoi?” Well, if this is going to be my first experience at sea, then “C’est
la vie!” and “thank you, I think I will have another glass of Bordeaux”.
We are scheduled to make landfall around 6:30am in Ua Poa, the first island of the
Marquesas, on the 5th day of our journey. Ua Poa is the most populated of the 6 that are
inhabited and is known for its craggy peak, Oave, in a constant shroud of mist. I was
excited for this moment, so I ran to port deck, armed with my old trusty AE-1 camera, to
catch a glimpse of the island. I was not disappointed. The sunrise was peeking over the
water’s horizon and against the crag of rock that would serve as our entrance point
towards the lagoon, as an assembly of brooding clouds looms overhead. The shot I
captured of this moment, would epitomize what I’d come to discover about the
Marquesas --- mysterious, wild, untouched, majestic, --- and something else. Was it a
case of déjà vu, perhaps? I knew from my prior research that Paul Gauguin came to the
Marquesas in 1901 and eventually died on the 3rd island we would visit, Hiva Oa.
Perhaps it was that same siren song that drew him to these lands that I felt now, a
mixture of exhilaration, reverie, somber contemplation and familiarity. As far as virgin
adventures go, this is turning out to be quite unique.
After a rather slippery landing on the dock, several of us embark on a 2 mile hike to a
vantage point overlooking the bay at Hakahau, a precursor to whet our appetites for a
traditional lunch served at a local restaurant. After about 20 minutes of tramping up a
muddy trail, we stop to admire the view atop a holy shrine. Imagine my surprise when
the first thing I spied on the summit was not the outline of a crucifix but the distinctive
shape of a satellite dish! Despite this obvious encroachment of modern Western
civilization, my eyes swept across the landscape and became transfixed again to the
natural wonder that is the Marquesas. It reminds me of a vintage calendar photo,
unchanged by time. If you are impressed with the Hawaiian Islands, you will be in awe of
the Marquesas due to its overwhelming sense of remoteness and unspoiled timeless
beauty. Below the expanse of greenery, the Aranui 3 appears toy-like and the crew men
even more out of proportion as I watch them unload the bundles of cargo for the
welcoming villagers.
Back at sea level, we gather at a little town square to watch the local boys and girls
perform traditional dances for us (‘les touristes’). Several village youngsters, dressed in
Western clothing, eye me curiously. They must see hundreds of fair European-looking
passengers each month during the Aranui’s visits. And yet, I am an anomaly amongst
this motley crew of strangers. With my brown skin, straight dark hair, and
Asian/Polynesian features, I appear physically ‘closer’ to these local people, as though, if
asked to join in song & dance, I might somehow know the words, the movements, the
stories of their ancient Polynesian ancestors. I wonder if I remind them of a long lost
cousin; a dead relative? I suppose that isn’t so strange when you realize in the grand
scheme of things, I probably do share bits & pieces of the same genetic makeup as
these South Pacific islanders.
One precocious little boy approaches me with 2 sidekicks, speaking in half French &
Marquesan from what I can make out, eying the glass of wine in my hand (yes, the wine
never seems to stop flowing around here, to the delight of the French passengers as
well as yours truly). I wasn’t quite sure what he was asking me and shortly, a bystander,
jokingly, asked me if the little fellow was asking me for a date. Seeing that the boy was
probably no more than 10 years old, I replied, “No, but I do think he wants me to buy him
alcohol!” I knew underage drinking wasn’t confined to the Western nations but this is a
little extreme!
Lunch at Rosalies’, a local establishment, proved to be a welcome surprise, not just for
the present opportunity to satisfy our hunger, but, for me, it was like a glimpse back in
the past….
Now, me, I love to eat. And I eat a lot, for my small frame. It must be an unconscious
remnant of the guilt instilled from my mother during our early immigrant days in the
US…”There are starving people in the Philippines so you better eat all your food!” They
say smell is the human sense that is associated with memory. That’s partly correct. One
mustn’t forget to mention her close cousin: taste. The taste of Marquesan cuisine
reminds me of “home”, whether home in the present or home in the past. The succulent
pork during our Ua Poa lunch, marinated in garlic (?) and soy sauce (to create a rich
dark brown sauce) transports me to holidays at my relatives’, eating “adobo”, a staple
entrée on a Filipino table; the goat, cooked in a curry type sauce, brings back memories
of an afternoon BBQ in our neighborhood in the Philippines, as I romp with other
toddlers around our backyard, flanked with banana leaves and taro plants, the smell of
smoke & roasting goat permeating the air; the bananas we would later eat in Tahuata, --caramelized, deliciously soggy with its slight burnt sugar taste --- reminds me of my
grade school years in Carson, California when mom would serve these as an afternoon
snack on weekends. As I polished off my 3rd plate of pork (washed down with a cold
bottle of Hinano beer), I wondered if the others at my table thought my goofy smile was
caused by an oncoming wave of food coma. I suppose unless you had a little bit of
‘native’ in you, you wouldn’t experience the same kind of amusement from these private
musings.
And with that lingering thought in mind, we head back onboard the Aranui 3, which
would be our home for the next 11 days, as we sail through the other islands of the
Marquesas, stopping through the Tuamotos, and finally arriving back to Papeete. It will
be a journey filled with breathtaking scenery, boisterous laughter, palpable pain (thanks
to 1 horrific day suffering from an intestinal bug) and indescribable memorable moments.
It didn’t take much for me to realize, as I look at the outline of Ua Poa against the fading
light, that this voyage, my own maiden voyage, would leave an indelible mark on me and
all my senses…in more ways than one.