TAIOHAE BAY, NUKU HIVA, Marquesas Islands » Twenty-six days after leaving Mexico on my 37-foot sailboat, Honu, I dropped anchor in a bay so stunningly beautiful I felt I had landed in the middle of a movie set. Jagged mountains separated by jungled valleys surround a former volcanic crater filled with warm blue water, bright tropical fish and about 40 resting sailboats. A tiny storybook town (population about 1,200) filled with friendly people lines the bay.
But this is no make-believe place. It’s the administrative center of the islands we call the Marquesas, the most northerly group of French Polynesia.
The Marquesas consist of six large and six small islands. Compared with Hawaii, though, the Marquesas are all small, the 12 island totaling only 492 square miles. The land area of Hawaii is 6,425 square miles.
All the Marquesas Islands are ancient volcanic mountains rising steeply from the sea to about 4,000 feet. As I sailed in, the jutting basalt columns of Nuku Hiva’s windward side reminded me of Easter Island statues. Here the wind, rain and sun have carved their own colossal moai.
With their Spanish-sounding name, I always wondered whether the Marquesas had a Spanish flavor to them. But no. The Spanish link is in name only, bestowed by a 1595 Spanish explorer. He named the group after his sponsor, a marquess married to the viceroy of Peru.
Two centuries later other European explorers came upon the islands, and in 1842 France declared them a French protectorate.
Today the Marquesas are a charming mix of French and Polynesian culture. Both baguettes and breadfruit accompany lunch plates. You buy tapa cloth and pandanus hats with Polynesian francs.
French is the official language, but many locals also speak Marquesan, a language that sounds similar to Hawaiian but with significant differences. For instance, there is no "L" sound in Marquesan. Even so, the sights and sounds of the ancient Polynesian culture here feel so familiar to this 30-year Hawaii resident that even though I can’t understand a thing people are saying, I feel oddly at home.
The fish and seabirds make me feel welcome, too.
Soon after I checked in with immigration, I went snorkeling. From my little dinghy, I watched fairy terns hover over the water fishing, while above them soared my favorite pirates, magnificent frigate birds.
Back-flipping from the dinghy into the deliciously cool water near some shoreline coral heads, I found myself in the middle of a school of flagtails, called aholeahole in Hawaiian.
During the day these silver 12-inch-long fish rest in dense schools near reefs. I kept my movements slow and easy, and they allowed me to swim among them.
A moment later I got a thrilling reminder that I am not at home. A dozen or so neon damselfish passed below. The blue of these South Pacific fish is so bright, they look plugged in.
Being one with the fish hours after arriving proved to me that this adventure is going to be well worth the tremendous effort it took to get here. I will never star in a movie, but by sailing here I’ve done better. I’m the star of my own dream.
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Reach Susan Scott at www.susanscott.net.
