Omoa, Fatu Hiva 1 May 2010 10.5125S 138.6885W
Workers Unite! Spring is here! Demand summer vacation early! I’ll be finding a fragrant flower today to stick my nose into, and as I inhale the sweet scent of the Marqueses, I’ll be picturing all of you in your gardens, or at the flower shop doing the same. To really connect, see if you can find some plumeria or gardenias, take them into your yard, turn on the sprinklers and your yard heat lamp, and stand underneath while inhaling. That should come close to giving you the full effect. Yes it’s hot and rainy today, in fact we get a little rain every day, and it’s always welcome. Sometimes the heat can be overwhelming, and vapor visions of extreme tubing on the snowy slopes of Homer, Alaska dance before our wishful closed eyes. We’re probably passing Gart, Deb, Leland and Margo in the vision ether, as they close their eyes to the Homer cold, and dream of hiking to the waterfalls, skin dripping with sweat, sun beating down. Well it’s spring in Homer too, and the smells of a winter’s worth of decaying forest floor, have probably been completely freed from any remaining snow prison there. That decomposing wood smell is very similar to the jungle floor smell here (if you ignore the occasional plumeria or rotting mango scent). Walking trails here, I’ve had more than a few flashbacks to my own childhood backpacking trips in the Olympic Peninsula, there’s something similar in the smells and in the resonance of the trails as your feet fall – maybe it’s the soil density? Similar makeup? Equal parts tree root, rotting vegetation, sand and clay? It’s as if the trail bounces a little to tap your foot back with each step. And even though it’s not cedar and redwood coming back at you, there’s still a similar scent in these plant things as they begin to decay.
Day before yesterday we had followed our new friends on “Secret Agent Man” around to a new cove on the east end of Fatu Hiva. The bay there is more exposed to swells wrapping around the island (you may even be able to see that on the satelite image), so there were no other yachts anchored. It’s a safe anchorage as long as there is no swell from the southwest, and our first night was less bouncy than the anchorage at Santa Barbara Island by far. We took a long hike up and halfway across the island. We brought water, but not enough, and since it was a ridge hike not a valley hike, we did not come across any streams to refill our canteens. The desire to push on, to see what new discovery or view awaits around the next corner, is strong in a new place – sometimes, stronger than hunger, exhaustion and thirst. The kids stuck in there to the top, curiosity driving them forward as well. We knew the trip back would be downhill, and cloud-cover and rain, kept us cool for the last three-quarters of the hike, making us bolder for the final push. Still, we went a little native on the way back, looking for leaves that had collected moisture, venturing out on guava bushes clinging to steep cliffs to pick their fruit, foraging under mango trees for even partly eaten ground fruit, sucking on limes we’d found to cut the thirst edge. There’s so much fruit growing by the roadside, but as we discovered most of it is out of reach unless you have climbing ropes or a picking basket (very long bamboo stick with a net on the end). Without such an adventure, how would we ever learn the real flavor of a mango or guava; I swear the few we found and rationed out, were the best and juiciest I’d ever tasted. When we finally did arrive at the first house back at the bottom, I was amazed at how generous the occupants seemed, and how sweet was the water from their garden hose.
We have decided that we need a machete to bring along on our next trip; then we could open a coconut to quench our thirst in a pinch. We may also need to rethink the school-first strategy of our daily schedule. It means we don’t depart for these adventures until the absolute hottest part of the day. We should be getting up at 5 a.m. to take on five-hour hikes in the tropics. The locals figured that out long before us; everything in town is shutdown between noon and 2, and you don’t see any real action till 4 p.m. But I’m imagining that Algebra at 4 p.m., may be tough too. We’re ever seeking new solutions to new dilemmas here on Silver Lining.
May your May Day be a Play Day, and a day to appreciate decay in every way.
xoxomo