Global Voyage

A Story About Sailing Around the World

Ray & Jenny aboard the ketch Suka

3 years, 35,000 miles, Nov 1982 - Jan 1986

Ray & Jenny Jardine

Chapter 2: Marquesas Magnifique page 35 of 109


En route to Daniel's Bay

Taioa (Daniel's Bay)

After lying quietly for a few days in the company of the amiable yachtees, we motored out the bay and traversed west five miles to an anchorage called Taioa (Tah-ee-oh'-ah), known more simply as Daniel's Bay. This is a small but landlocked bight, enclosed by strikingly steep-to and lofty bluffs covered in dense greenery, as was nearly everything here that did not move.

The Australians accompanied us on this jaunt, and that evening we invited Bruce and Leslie Atkinson aboard for dinner. During a six-month cruise of the South Pacific, they had recently come from some of the places we hoped to visit. So we spent an enjoyable evening listening to their stories and learning of their experiences.

A'Strayin was a marvelous, steel hulled 38-foot sloop. We were astonished to learn that Bruce had designed her, and with his wife's able help, had built her with his own hands, in only two years, and on a stringent budget.

“We awoke to a loud splash. A large turtle, head above water, scrutinized us curiously.”

The nights were sultry, and Jenny and I usually slept in the cockpit, first laying plywood boards athwartships, onto which we placed settee cushions. This provided pleasant bedding, until typically a sudden downpour would send us scrambling belowdecks. But this particular night was without much rain, and early the next morning we awoke to a loud splash. A large turtle, head above water, scrutinized us curiously.



Daniel's Bay. Cascade Hakaui is the vertical cleft in the center of the photo.

A Trek to Cascade Hakaui

Mid morning we joined forces with Bruce and Leslie, and headed ashore with the intent of visiting a spectacular waterfall a few miles inland. On the beach our bare legs were swarmed by voracious nanus, but after we had left the beach they bothered us no more. We paid a quick visit to the venerable resident, Daniel, who greeted us with a toothless grin and bid us to stand around his coconut-husk smoldering smudge-pot. "Beaucoup mosquitos," he said. In answer to our request for directions, he pointed to a trail passing through his lavish garden of fruits and vegetables, and past a capacious drying-bin laden with sweet-scented copra, or coconut meat.

For several miles we followed an ancient pathway leading into the lush interior. The stone-laid foot path was about three feet wide, and several feet above ground level, presumably to remove one's feet from the ever present mud, and as a hedge against the occasionally flooding river. Wending through the jungle, we passed stone platforms built long ago to serve as house foundations. Most were heavily overgrown. Also we found stone tikis standing near some of the platforms, or lying toppled in the choking brush. Here was the vestige of the civilization so aptly described by Herman Melville in his account, "Typee." My mind was aglut with his lucid descriptions written some 125 years previously. The comparisons of what he wrote about and what we were seeing were staggering in their similarity. Lost to my imaginings, I had an eerie sensation that at any moment some head-hunting savage might leap from the bush.

Suddenly the scene was rent with nerve shattering pandemonium.

“They're chickens," I mumbled, incredulously. "Super chickens." And at that they burst into another flurry of commotion, and with great heaving efforts they flew away.”

It was only a few large birds taking wing. But my how large they were! In curiosity we pursued, and soon found them perched in branches high overhead. "They're chickens," I mumbled, incredulously. "Super chickens." And at that they burst into another flurry of commotion, and with great heaving efforts they flew away. I had no idea that chickens could fly, but later learned that after the English departed in the 19th century, their abandoned domestic chickens had taken to the wilds. And for some reason the islanders had considered the fowl tabu ever since.


Drenched in bursts of rain we pressed on, our feet occasionally slipping off the smooth, wet stones and slapping into the mud. Admiring the mango and lime trees, and the banana plants - for technically a banana is a plant not a tree (someone had told us) - we climbed ever higher into the jungle, at one point gaping at a waterfall rumbling into the river. While crossing each cascading rivulet feeding this river, we observed a variety of strange and beautiful plants which thrived in the additional moisture provided by the streams.

Eventually the stone pathway terminated in a small clearing, in an area of many foundations, called paepaes (Pie'-pies). The way ahead was uncertain. Bruce and Leslie had gone ahead, leaving Jenny and me uncertain of the way. We were about to turn back when Jenny noticed a small sign nailed to a tree. Below the words "Cascade Hakaui" (hawk-ah-ooh'-wee) was an arrow pointing improbably down the hill.

Proceeding as directed, soon we came to a cairn: a small pile of rocks. From there a faint trail led into the thicket. The trail was so faint that we lost it several times, although each time we eventually found the next cairn. These led us through a dimly-lit and magnificent forest of strangely fluted mape (Mah'-pay) trees. (When roasted, the seed pods of this tree are known as Tahitian chestnuts. Raw they were not tasty.) As we wandered eyes agape among the odd trunks, which at ground level resembled generously apportioned ribbon stalagmites, I mused that perhaps we had indeed stumbled upon Tolkien's Middle Earth.

“What the Green Berets do for training, we do for fun!”

After wading calf-deep in ooze, and thrashing through tangles of limbs that had us climbing over and crawling under, I jested to Jenny: "What the Green Berets do for training, we do for fun!"


A rock-walled gorge 40 feet wide and hundreds of feet high.

Once again we reached the river, and could see the next cairn on its opposite bank. We forded the swift and thigh-deep water, and twenty minutes later found ourselves wading up a smaller tributary - the outflow of our elusive waterfall. This was unmistakably the Hakaui, for we could see its upper cascade perhaps a thousand feet overhead. Between us and it, was a rock-walled gorge 40 feet wide and hundreds of feet high. This led to the base of the falls, which pounded into a large pool of water of a temperature just right for swimming.

“We flung ourselves back out, alarmed at certain prickly sensations on our bare feet.”

Wading into the muddy, brown water, within moments we flung ourselves back out, alarmed at certain prickly sensations on our bare feet. Returning to investigate, we found fresh water shrimp in the pool. Big ones. Ignoring these spindly creatures, Jenny swam to the back of the pool, shrieking with delight in the waterfall's refreshing spray.


The pool at the base of Cascade Hakaui.

Darkening skies prompted our return; and indeed, during the long trek back the rainfall fell with a vengeance. We slipped, slid, and squished our way along, while wiping the rain-sweat from our brows. How eagerly we anticipated reaching dry shelter - ironically our floating home.

At the beach we found that Bruce and Leslie had returned aboard, without having found the falls, we later learned. But two days later we joined forces again for another equally rewarding hike to the splendid Cascade Hakaui.


The story has 109 pages. This is page 35.
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Page Links
GV 001: Title Page
GV 002: TOC
GV 003: Dedication
GV 004: Preface
GV 005: Prologue
GV 006: Beginnings
GV 007: Work Done
GV 008: Making Ready
GV 009: Departure
GV 010: Sailing Credentials
GV 011: First Lesson
GV 012: Sextant Navigation
GV 013: Safety Harness
GV 014: Murphy's law
GV 015: Spirit of Adventure
GV 016: Holding On
GV 017: First Big Storm
GV 018: Storm Intensified
GV 019: Rolling Violently
GV 020: Mizzen Sleeping Bag'sl
GV 021: Freeing the Propeller
GV 022: Visits by Birds
GV 023: Crossing the Doldrums
GV 024: Nearing First Landfall
GV 025: Land Ho
GV 026: Fatu Hiva
GV 027: Trek Inland
GV 028: Anchor Watch
GV 029: Passage
GV 030: Hiva Oa
GV 031: Skin Diving Circus
GV 032: Almost Like a Jungle
GV 033: Polaris Missile
GV 034: Taiohaie Bay
> GV 035: Cascade Hakaui
GV 036: Taipi Bay
GV 037: Cyclone Lisa
GV 038: Cyclone Nano
GV 039: Passage of Patience
GV 040: Tuamotu Archipelago
GV 041: Tahiti
GV 042: Cyclone Reva
GV 043: Secret Sharer
GV 044: Moorea
GV 045: Cyclone Veena
GV 046: Aftermath
GV 047: Good Weather in Papeete
GV 048: Huahine
GV 049: Raiatea
GV 050: BoraBora
GV 051: Rarotonga
GV 052: Tonga
GV 053: Fresh Air
GV 054: Tongan Feast
GV 055: Excursion to Maninita
GV 056: Mariner's Cave
GV 057: Fiji
GV 058: Ndravuni Island
GV 059: Mara Island
GV 060: Aneityum
GV 061: Noumea
GV 062: St Elmo's fire
GV 063: Breakwater Reef
GV 064: Bundaberg
GV 065: Life on the Burnett River
GV 066: Engine Sabotage
GV 067: Flying
GV 068: Aground in Round Hill Creek
GV 069: Gladstone Confinement
GV 070: Tropical Queensland
GV 071: Trip into Townsville
GV 072: Cairns Sojourn
GV 073: Cramped Cooktown
GV 074: Lizard Island
GV 075: The San Michelle
GV 076: Lost Mummy Cave
GV 077: Land's End
GV 078: Darwin
GV 079: Christmas Is
GV 080: Passage
GV 081: Cocos Keeling
GV 082: Crossing the Indian Ocean
GV 083: Rodriguez
GV 084: Mauritius
GV 085: Reunion Cirque de Mafate
GV 086: Reunion Cirque de Salazie
GV 087: Passage to Africa
GV 088: Kruger National Park
GV 089: Richards Bay
GV 090: Durban
GV 091: Port Elizabeth
GV 092: Cape Town
GV 093: Storm Passage
GV 094: St Helena
GV 095: Passage to Brazil
GV 096: Fortaleza
GV 097: Passage to Caribbean
GV 098: Bonaire
GV 099: Passage to Panama
GV 100: Panama
GV 101: Panama Canal
GV 102: Medidor
GV 103: Costa Rica
GV 104: Passage to Acapulco
GV 105: Acapulco to Cabo
GV 106: Baja
GV 107: Home Port
GV 108: In Retrospect
GV 109: Next Time
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