Day 5 - Sunday, Oct. 20 - Hiva Oa

Again rainfall in the night - twice - and this time very heavy.  The mosquitos at today’s destination will have loved it!
       Just before breakfast, another rolling storm starting with a sprinkle, then a downpour, then gone.  Strangely enough, it gives me my first view of the rounded top of Mt. Feani across the valley.
       After breakfast we’re off to the utmost northeastern tip of the island: Puama’u Valley and its giant tikis.
       (And speaking of directions, it’s strange here to follow the sun from east to north - not south - to west.  Just another reminder I’m not in Kansas any more, Toto.)

       Our driver is Moeava, from the first day.  As the hours go by, we find that any people on the island who aren’t in Hei’s family are in Moeava’s:  uncle, grandmother, great-grandfather... Are there really only two tribes on the entire island?

We go up the road leading east and climb until my ears start to pop.  Then, at the ridge, there are three roads (counting the one we’re on) running off of... a traffic circle!  Not a single other car.  And no road signs.!  You just have to know where you’re going.  Tourists beware!

       We take the road to the left, to our first stop:  Hanaiapa (pop. 80).  Trees everywhere along the way, and in several curves (and there are curves) tall trees that rise and then spread like a parasol.  Moeava says they’re falkatas, of the acacia family.  Down and down we twist on this narrow road until we reach Hanaiapa and its bay with one lone rock shaped like a head with Negroid features, especially nappy hair.  Its old name is no longer PC, but there’s a French pastry with the same name.

Small line is the road

       After a stop to enjoy the view, we head back up along the road past a mountain called Tapaeata, which means “cloud-catcher”.  I like that.  Then, back at the roundabout, we take the third road heading northeast to Puama’u.  (Past that, there is no road.)  It’s not very wide, barely wide enough for two cars to pass - and not always - with no barrier separating the road from the void, especially in the switchback curves.  In addition, most of it is not paved - none of it was until recently - and the parts that are just track are fairly rutted and puddled.  Do not go on this excursion if you are a) afraid of heights, or b) get carsick on winding roads!  For taking photos of the coast though, it’s breath-taking.  Literally.

       There are a few tikis along the way.  One called Utuka in Punaei Valley seems to smile back at you.  But the jackpot lies at the archaeological site of Ma’ea Iipona, the largest cult site in all the Marquesas, which may date back to 1500 B.C.  There’s a large rectangular sacrificial altar where victims were killed - by garrote or club (like in Taa’Oa yesterday).  They were then eviscerated and all the organs that contain mana (spirit) - heart, kidneys, brain... - were eaten by the king, nobles and priests.  (Women got the kidneys.)

       An aside:  The kings were buried in caves high up in the cliff.  Then the steps up to the cave were broken off so no one could go there any more.  Kind of like Egypt’s Valley of the Kings.  Sometimes the top step would be broken first, in order to break off the lower ones, which meant that the men who had done the burying would fall to their death, somewhat as sacrifices.

Ma’ea Iipona

Eiaone

       In addition to the house of ancestors, there are many tikis.  One, called Makai’i Taua Pepe, is horizontal.  It represents a woman lying on her stomach, her head stretched out, arms pointing toward the sky. Experts believe it represents a woman giving birth.  There are also petroglyphs on the pedestal that represent dogs but their meaning is unknown.  (The species of dog went extinct before the arrival of Europeans in the islands; all that’s left to show they existed are petroglyphs like this one and others elsewhere.)  Nearby are two tikis standing side by side - a man and a woman.  Yet another - Takaii, named after a brave warrior - is the tallest tiki of French Polynesia at 2m43 (8 ft).  Any genitals the male statues may once have had were broken off by the missionaries a long time ago.

       Our lunch today is in Puama’u, a town of about 300, at a little restaurant addition to the House of Marie Antoinette (not the queen).  She has passed on now but her husband is still the chef and her daughter the waitress, although our three guides - Hei, Alain and Moeava - do a lot of the work for her.  On the menu:  raw fish salad, wild boar with eggplant and zucchini, goat stew in coconut milk, rice, French fried breadfruit, and ending with fruit pastry.  All delicious.

       But after lunch, one of the Swiss ladies touches something she shouldn’t somewhere outdoors and ends up with lots of tiny prickers in her hand.  I teach Alain the trick of pulling them out with scotch tape, winning the gratitude of all eight Swiss.

       The last stop on the way back is Eiaone - a broad, deep-cut bay - for a swim.  Hobbling over the rocks, I reach the sandy sea floor and enjoy being tossed around - literally - by the high waves.  A return of my Jersey Shore childhood, diving under the waves just before they crest.  I keep heading out until I’m into enough ocean to swim a bit.  Finally, a bit of simili-bodysurfing back to shore.

       The road home is every bit as turning and bumpy as the way out, given that it’s the same road.  The only road.  Back at the hotel, I wash lots of sand out of my bathing suit and off of my body, sand left in spite of the shower heads installed back at the beach.  Not very hungry at dinner, but very tired, so off to bed early.