Wind, wind, heavenly child

My last week on Ua Pou has begun. The weather forecast predicts favorable winds to Tahiti. We leave on Sunday. This gives me the opportunity to go on another hike. Two bays further north is Shark Bay. A white sandy beach awaits me, which is extremely rare in the Marquesas. However, the bay is said to be teeming with sharks. Perhaps this is just to keep the tourists away from the beach, as the beach is also used by turtles to lay their eggs. I prefer not to try it out and refrain from swimming. Instead, I collect a few shells. At least from the beach, there are no sharks to be seen.

Shark Bay Ua Pou, Marquesas

On the way back, I'm picked up by the Chocolate Man, who has just left town and is heading home. This saves me the walk back, and my laziness wins out once again. I make the most of the time I have saved and book lunch for the next day at the only restaurant in Hakahetau. Yes, you have to book because the landlord only cooks as much as he has orders for. But it is excellent, as I can see for myself the next day. The motto is to eat what's on the table. Today, three kinds of fish with lentils and homemade chips. As I said, very tasty! Here I also meet the crew who picked up Gaby a few weeks ago when she dislocated her arm. This time it was someone who fell down a steep slope on the same tour to Mt. Poumaka that I did a few days ago. He seems to have severe pain in his right foot. A couple from the group who are having lunch at my table tell me about the incident. On the descent from Mt. Poumaka, he slipped on a narrow ridge and fell down with his rucksack. They had a hard time getting him back up. It was a miracle that nothing more happened. Now he is being taken to the medical center while the rest of the group enjoys their lunch.

Final preparations, Ua Pou Marquesas

Back on board, I prepare for departure. After lunch, I quickly went to the store and did a bit of shopping. Now I tie up the dinghy and stow the outboard. I go over the route again in my mind. It's around 740 nautical miles to Papeete, and the weather forecast promises me ten to fifteen knots of wind. So I set off on Sunday morning as planned. Initially, I make very good progress. The wind is deflected from the leeward side of the island, but I have twelve knots from the northeast, which takes me away from the island quickly. Nevertheless, I still catch a bit of the lee of Ua Pous, as if the island wanted to say: Stay a little longer. But even this short stretch is quickly overcome, and a south-easterly wind of up to sixteen knots sets in. The island quickly disappears from my field of vision.

Ua Pou South Coast, Marquesas

That's it for the Marquesas now. They will remain unforgotten. And once again I experience a first: I spend my first night completely alone. Of course, the weather doesn't stick to the forecast and the very next day I have to contend with decreasing winds. Ten knots at first, but it continued to drop from day to day until I reached one knot on the fourth day. I remember the crossing to the Gambiers. On day 31, I'm sitting in the cockpit on my night watch and meet the man with the shovel:

I'm sitting in the cockpit looking out to sea. I'm listening to the song: "Wind northeast, runway 03, I can hear the engines up to here", when suddenly a man with a shovel stands in front of me. "Who are you?" I ask him. "I'm Window, and I'm shoveling wind from one corner to the other here in the Pacific." "Oh, that's you," I reply. "With respect, but you're doing a miserable job, if I may say so myself." "Oh, you know, I'm not happy either.  Down south, ten people do the job that I do here all by myself, and then there's the sickness cover for my colleague in Galápagos, who's been ill for weeks. Yes, the damn shortage of skilled workers and the job is badly paid too." "Fine, but it's not my fault," I counter. "I was sold this place with a steady south-easterly trade wind, and what do I find here? A calm!" "Well, let's see what we can do," and started shoveling. By three o'clock in the afternoon, he had shoveled together five knots. "Go one better and come back tomorrow," I shouted after him. "Shout even louder, then you'll wake Wello up too," he replied. He didn't say whether he'd be back tomorrow.

Night watch, after all!

Just like back then, I'm sitting in the cockpit again today and thinking about Window. I wonder if he is also responsible for the Pacific area? It's probably the colleague who is still on sick leave. I shout out into the night: "Wind, wind, heavenly child", but nobody hears me apart from a gannet. So I wait, what else can I do, for the man with the shovel and bob towards the Tuamotus. Always fair winds and keep a stiff upper lip.