Week 83: Nuku Hiva (0nm)

After almost a month at sea, our joyous celebrations on reaching land were understandably dampened by the new post-COVID world that we encountered for the first time. We do our best to turn Serenity around for her onward passage to Tahiti whilst living under a fairly severe lockdown, as we are forced to say goodbye to the Marquesas almost before we’ve finished saying hello.

PS – Apologies for the lack of photos in this post – we never really mobilised into tourist / documentarian mode for reasons that will become apparent!

Captain’s log

3rd Apr: Spent our first afternoon transitioning from passage to anchor mode and getting the dinghy launched so that we could make our way to shore. Being careful to follow the quarantine measures that had been explained to us over VHF, I visited the Yacht Services office ashore to register our vessel and and apply for permission to delay our onward journey to Tahiti so that we could make some repairs. I was also able to procure some local fruit and veg, including some incredible mangoes that were well received by the crew before we all passed out for the night.

4th Apr: With visits ashore strongly discouraged, we began to plan our repairs list and also ‘visited’ (i.e. drove over in the dinghy without disembarking) a couple of boats we knew who had arrived before us. We were finally able to trade the beer with Alkemi (who had sailed past us mid-Pacific) for some fresh bread, and also swapped some crossing stories with Andy and Alison off Venture Lady. Everyone was still catching up on sleep and so the rest of the day was devoted to napping.

5th Apr: Engine repairs were the number one priority on our list, so Laura led the charge in trying to pin point the cause of the misfiring that we had been noticing each time it was started, but the problem became harder to recreate (always very frustrating when trying to fix things!). I had some electrical bugs to resolve and spent the time trying to reprogram the solar controllers to allow for more aggressive battery charging. Our evening sundowners were excitingly accompanied by the first broadcast of “Paradise Radio”, which was a local production by cruisers in the bay to provide some respite to the 90-some boats at anchor, within which the limerick competition proved particularly enjoyable.

6th Apr: Started the day off well with a visit from a fruit and veg delivery boat, from which we procured some of the famous Marquesan pamplemousse (grapefruit), which lived up to the all the hype that Pacific sailors grant them. The weather was proving to be highly changeable, which is problematic if you are trying to design a solar battery charging regimen, and so I ended up swapping to the alternator instead to see if I could try and pump a bit more life into the system. This was made possible as Laura had come up with a theory on why the engine was misbehaving and so we were less nervous about extended run times. The day ended on a negative as our request for a multi-week stopover was denied and we were told that we were expected to leave in the next three days.

7th Apr: Crossed the remaining critical repair items off our list, which is probably more of a function of them not being as major as we had made out on our temporary stay application rather than us being repair gurus! The engine issue turned out to be a bug in the throttle position; the electrical issue was something that would need to wait until Tahiti and everything else was effectively solved with the abundance of time that the lockdown provided us with. The limited wind in the area between the Marquesas and Society Islands did not look promising for our passage, but we were in the ill-advised position of having our departure chosen for us and there wasn’t much we could do other than buy lots of diesel.

8th Apr: Befriended one of the local long-term French Polynesia cruisers who helped us to procure some duty free fuel, which we were entitled to but applications were refused due to COVID – refuelling from a sketchy dock via jerry can was certainly a new experience. The rest of the crew took care of the remaining shore chores including collecting our gas bottles, laundry and groceries for our upcoming passage. The mood aboard Serenity was pretty flat as no-one was excited to be sailing again when it felt like we had only just recovered from the Pacific leg.

Story of the week

As we mentioned in our Pacific crossing posts, rumours were abound among our various cruiser communication groups as to what the situation that greeted us in Nuku Hiva would be. We were also hearing stories from friends and families around the world that were all entering various forms of lockdown; however, we were hoping that measures for us would at least partly reflect the fact that we had just been through potentially the most effective quarantine around, and that there had been no known cases of COVID-19 in the island chain where we were landing. Unfortunately, that wasn’t to be, although with the benefit of hindsight I can now appreciate the rationale (and success) behind the measures that were put in place.

It started before we had even entered the bay, as we were contacted by a boat at anchor who ‘welcomed us to Nuku Hiva’ and explained that one person must immediately visit the shore once we were anchored and no detours or contact with other boats was permitted other than via VHF. Given we were making an application for a temporary stay, we were keen to show we would follow the rules to the letter and I made my way directly to the office of the Yacht Agent, who was acting as the temporary liaison between the cruising community and the authorities.

The agent confirmed that we would not be permitted to stay in Nuku Hiva any longer than was necessary as the local population was nervous about the volume of boats that were building up in the bay, and so we would have to move to Tahiti as soon as possible. I explained the various technical issues that I wanted to resolve to him, and he suggested I make a request for a two week layover – we were eventually granted a little under a week. I don’t know what would have happened if I had gone back to the agent and requested more time / refused to leave for a genuine sailing concern, but by this point we had resigned ourselves to moving to Tahiti anyway. Since we had got Serenity to a point where we were happy to sail and it didn’t look like the situation in Nuku Hiva would change any time soon, we decided to move on without picking a fight.

The extent of the lockdown in French Polynesia was, as far as I can tell and excluding China, on the severe end of the various approaches around the world. In the beginning, everyone was confined to their houses or boats for 24 hours a day, with the only exception being an allowance to get household essentials that was expected to be limited to one shop by one person once per week. I don’t know whether this was ever fully enforced, and the agent advised us that provided we rotated the visitor and didn’t visit on consecutive days, cruisers on boats in Nuku Hiva could get away with 2-3 visits per week. However, there was a form that needed to be carried with you at all times, and check points were set up every 200m around the main town to check the rules were being adhered to.

On top of this, no more than two dinghies could be tied to the dock at any one time, and visiting other boats (even if you stayed in your dinghy and talked to them over open water) was also prohibited unless you needed to deliver or receive tools / parts necessary to make the repairs that were delaying your departure to Tahiti (in this latter case, in was suggested that the items be placed in a bucket that was suspended off the side of the boat, so that social distancing was not compromised). No swimming was permitted even if you stayed close to your own boat, and there was also a curfew between the hours of 8pm-6am and a ban on all alcohol sales.

Whilst these restrictions initially seemed onerous, we eventually grasped the justification of the relative risk posed by these sorts of pandemics due to the limited healthcare facilities within these various remote island groups, which was further supported by their past experience with pandemics (over 80% of the local populations died as a result of the diseases brought by the first wave of Europeans). On top of this, the local authorities were concerned that the island population could turn against the cruising community if it appeared that we were operating under a different set of rules (taking account of passage quarantines would be tough to explain or manage). So the rules on the water tended to be as well enforced as those ashore with the long-stay cruisers taking a lead role – this was initially confusing, but we then realised then that they were hoping to remain in Nuku Hiva for the duration of the crisis and so had skin in the game to keep relationships as positive as possible.

We weren’t looking to ignore the rules entirely, but found the lack of space for common sense a bit of a challenge. The greatest barrier to us making our repairs and leaving for Tahiti was a lack of ability to research our issues, which requires internet or speaking with other cruisers. Internet was only reliably available on shore (and even then access was strongly policed), and restricting conversations with cruisers to VHF also limited their efficacy in diagnosing and resolving issues. Essentially, we felt like we were being told to make our repairs asap, but with no thought being provided to what that could entail. The “best” example I heard of this was someone who professed to have a problem with his rudder that required him to visually inspect it. The agent informed him that swimming was banned, so the cruiser asked what action he should take – ‘make your repairs as quickly as possible and leave for Tahiti’ was the reply.

Looking back at how well the spread of the virus has been contained in French Polynesia (only 60 cases, no deaths, and no spread of the virus outside of Tahiti as of 15th May), I certainly now have more appreciation for the approach that was taken. In fact, it has meant that lockdown restrictions have been able to be eased in French Polynesia far more rapidly than in Europe, and that is something that we are now able to benefit from in Tahiti. My remaining discontent is whether a bit more understanding could have been extended to the boats that were being moved on after such a long passage, especially by the cruisers who were already there and not being asked to leave. Quarantines on a boat are no-one’s idea of fun, but they represent a far bigger request for those who have just spent 30 days at sea. Cruisers tend to pride themselves as being an inclusive and warm-hearted community, and it was sad to see that undermined for the first time by this distinction between the newly arrived and the rest. It was certainly a driving factor in pushing us onto Tahiti, and I suspect we aren’t the only group finding new divisions amongst us during this crisis – the silver lining is that we’ve had some wonderful experiences since leaving Nuku Hiva (as will be clear in our next few posts) and certainly now count ourselves fortunate to be sailing during this time.

Parting thoughts

My main regret now in leaving the Marquesas so soon is that I haven’t been able to eat anywhere near the number of pamplemousse that I’d hoped in my short stay there. This relative of the grapefruit is so much sweeter than what we’re used to in Europe and America (whilst still retaining some tartness), but what really sets it apart is the size. They are like bowling balls and probably pose a similar risk as coconuts to unfortunate walkers below. Apparently, whilst hiking around the Marquesas, it is common to find trees festooned with fruit to the point that you can become self-sufficient through foraging alone. I hope that this unchecked bucket-list item will help provide the motivation to bring me back to these stunningly beautiful islands, although I now suspect that this will have to be a trip on a different boat at a much later time…finger’s crossed they are still growing them here then!