Brigadoon
(Greg)
It is tough to describe Fatu Hiva – the southern-most and most remote island of the Marquesas archipelago – without instinctively reverting to hyperbole. It is treacherously steep, intoxicatingly lush and verdant, sculpted as if the Marquesan Gods cleaved it out of volcanic rock, put down their mythic chisels in satisfaction and said, “Hah! Top this!”
As we arrived at Golden Hour I was reminded of skiing Arapahoe Basin in Colorado, a place so sheer and jagged and perfect that my college buddies and I called it the “throne room of the Gods.” If A-basin is the mountain version, then surely Fatu Hiva is its’ oceanic big brother.
Fatu Hiva is big and overwhelming and intimidating but also supremely generous. Mangoes and grapefruit and coconuts literally fall from the sky. I love mangoes and think I ate more in the last 4 days than I have in my lifetime combined. They are on the paths and the roads. Pick one up, chomp in and let the tropical magic take you away. Public Service Announcement: Mango juice stains the front of your shirt. Don’t ask me how I know that (or how many shirts now have the magical mango imprimatur).
Fatu Hiva’s natural bounty is matched by its’ people’s generosity. Our friends Poi and Reva gave us boxes of fruit, invited us to their home for dinner, showed us traditional Marquesan craft making, drove us over the cliffs from their village on Hanevave Bay to the adjoining village in Omoa. It’s a hair-raising and stunningly beautiful ride:
Everyday we snorkeled with visiting manta rays, sometimes showing up in squadrons of as many as 10 perfectly-evolved creatures silently gliding the bay collecting its ample plankton. Dana is convinced she has found her true spirit animal and spent so much time swimming with them yesterday that she has blisters on her feet from her fins.
Feeling bolstered but regretful, we sailed out of Hanavave Bay this morning as rain clouds climbed over the sheer cliffs and enveloped the Bay in a concealing shroud of mist. Fatu Hiva’s magical doors were closing.
Brigadoon is safe once more.
As the mist fell on Fatu Hiva, we followed a rainbow (thank you Cat on Carina)
