Nuku Hiva, Marquesas, French Polynesia
A full moon, as bright as burnished silver, set as the sun broke through its watery cover. As morning broke, the mercury climbed as if keeping pace with the rising sun. The National Geographic Endeavour was sailing along the eastern shore of Nuku Hiva, the island’s ribbed and rugged ramparts stretching almost to the light cotton ball clouds above. Rafts of white terns and brown noddies swarmed over feeding areas churned by wave action, and bottlenose dolphins gracefully rode our bow. Before breakfast the temperature registered a balmy 80 degrees.
The main island of the northern group and the largest island in the archipelago, Nuku Hiva, is the Marquesas’ administrative and economic capital. Nuku Hiva was formed from two volcanoes, stacked one on top of the other to form two concentric calderas. The top of the main caldera forms a jagged framework that surrounds the Toovii plateau, the island’s central region. Nuku Hiva has the largest population of the Marquesas but one of the lowest population densities. The highest point on Nuku Hiva is Mt. Tekkao (1224m). To the south the broken-mouthed caldera of the secondary volcano reaches its highest point at Mount Muake (864m) and outlines a huge natural amphitheatre. At its foot is a vast natural harbor, around which curls Taiohae, the island’s main town. Deep bays cut into the south and east coasts and on the north coast erosion has shaped impressive basalt aiguilles (needles).
Anchoring in Hatiheu Bay on the island’s north shore, we landed on to a concrete slipway before striking off on our respected hikes. All treks visited some of the largest and most impressively constructed marae in not only the Marquesas but the entire South Pacific. Enormous ylang-ylang trees, beach hibiscus, Indian almond, kapok and breadfruit trees, as well as large fruiting mango trees lined the roads and the grounds around the marae, providing much sought-after shade. Our first stop was at the Kamuihei & Tahakia marae, a vast site that spreads across both sides of the track. The sheer scale of construction was most impressive. The site was built around a stream and assembled numerous tribal architectural elements. Archaeologist Edmundo Edwards pointed out vestiges of the pae pae, tohua and ua ma. The importance and sheer number of these structures testifies to the dense population the valley we were standing in once sheltered. Petroglyphs, moss-covered basalt rocks, and large sacred banyan trees lent an air of mystery to the place.
Either on foot or via open air trucks we descended to the Hikokua marae, one of the most attractive archaeological sites in the Marquesas. It dates from around 1250AD and was in use until the 1800s. Once a place of ceremony and human sacrifice, today ancient sculptures stand alongside modern works. The tohua, a vast, central, rectangular esplanade, stretches north-south and was used for dance performances at community festivals. It is flanked by tiers of small flat basalt blocks that were once used as steps for the spectators. On the terrace stand two modern sculptures, and a flat rock that was used for various purposes including solo dances associated with puberty. A thunderous and rhythmic dance performance recalled the spirits and energy of yore.
During lunch our vessel repositioned to Anoha bay. After anchoring we boarded Zodiacs for an afternoon of leisure and waterspots on a small stretch of beach on the bay’s southern reaches. The Marquesas, geologically young and remotely located from the historical path of coral spreading and evolution, are virtually devoid of coral reef formations. In the eastern reaches of the Pacific on latitude ripe for coral reef exploitation, these islands stand isolated, not only from floods of tourists, but from coral settling. Snorkeling here was unremarkable, but a few pearls of underwater natural history were spotted, including lion and scorpion fish.
In the evening as a full moon burned a silver streak across a black sea, the National Geographic Endeavour deployed its Remote Operated Vehicle (ROV) to plumb the depths off the east side of Nuku Hiva. To a depth of 200 feet it slowly descended through a suspended field of aquatic detritus before showing a sandy bottom dotted with the holes of the siphons of clams. A few silversides, small silver-scaled fish, darted into and out of a frame that showed an at-first-glance wasteland. A highlight came when a murex shell and a cone shell filled the center of the screen. Many species of cone shells harbor frighteningly toxic venoms. At least one species, Conus Geographus has registered, for a shelled creature, an impressive human body count. As the ROV was brought to the surface, we were left with one salient and titillating fact; In these remote islands on an even more remote stretch of ocean bottom, we had seen a piece of the Earth not previously witnessed by human eyes.
A full moon, as bright as burnished silver, set as the sun broke through its watery cover. As morning broke, the mercury climbed as if keeping pace with the rising sun. The National Geographic Endeavour was sailing along the eastern shore of Nuku Hiva, the island’s ribbed and rugged ramparts stretching almost to the light cotton ball clouds above. Rafts of white terns and brown noddies swarmed over feeding areas churned by wave action, and bottlenose dolphins gracefully rode our bow. Before breakfast the temperature registered a balmy 80 degrees.
The main island of the northern group and the largest island in the archipelago, Nuku Hiva, is the Marquesas’ administrative and economic capital. Nuku Hiva was formed from two volcanoes, stacked one on top of the other to form two concentric calderas. The top of the main caldera forms a jagged framework that surrounds the Toovii plateau, the island’s central region. Nuku Hiva has the largest population of the Marquesas but one of the lowest population densities. The highest point on Nuku Hiva is Mt. Tekkao (1224m). To the south the broken-mouthed caldera of the secondary volcano reaches its highest point at Mount Muake (864m) and outlines a huge natural amphitheatre. At its foot is a vast natural harbor, around which curls Taiohae, the island’s main town. Deep bays cut into the south and east coasts and on the north coast erosion has shaped impressive basalt aiguilles (needles).
Anchoring in Hatiheu Bay on the island’s north shore, we landed on to a concrete slipway before striking off on our respected hikes. All treks visited some of the largest and most impressively constructed marae in not only the Marquesas but the entire South Pacific. Enormous ylang-ylang trees, beach hibiscus, Indian almond, kapok and breadfruit trees, as well as large fruiting mango trees lined the roads and the grounds around the marae, providing much sought-after shade. Our first stop was at the Kamuihei & Tahakia marae, a vast site that spreads across both sides of the track. The sheer scale of construction was most impressive. The site was built around a stream and assembled numerous tribal architectural elements. Archaeologist Edmundo Edwards pointed out vestiges of the pae pae, tohua and ua ma. The importance and sheer number of these structures testifies to the dense population the valley we were standing in once sheltered. Petroglyphs, moss-covered basalt rocks, and large sacred banyan trees lent an air of mystery to the place.
Either on foot or via open air trucks we descended to the Hikokua marae, one of the most attractive archaeological sites in the Marquesas. It dates from around 1250AD and was in use until the 1800s. Once a place of ceremony and human sacrifice, today ancient sculptures stand alongside modern works. The tohua, a vast, central, rectangular esplanade, stretches north-south and was used for dance performances at community festivals. It is flanked by tiers of small flat basalt blocks that were once used as steps for the spectators. On the terrace stand two modern sculptures, and a flat rock that was used for various purposes including solo dances associated with puberty. A thunderous and rhythmic dance performance recalled the spirits and energy of yore.
During lunch our vessel repositioned to Anoha bay. After anchoring we boarded Zodiacs for an afternoon of leisure and waterspots on a small stretch of beach on the bay’s southern reaches. The Marquesas, geologically young and remotely located from the historical path of coral spreading and evolution, are virtually devoid of coral reef formations. In the eastern reaches of the Pacific on latitude ripe for coral reef exploitation, these islands stand isolated, not only from floods of tourists, but from coral settling. Snorkeling here was unremarkable, but a few pearls of underwater natural history were spotted, including lion and scorpion fish.
In the evening as a full moon burned a silver streak across a black sea, the National Geographic Endeavour deployed its Remote Operated Vehicle (ROV) to plumb the depths off the east side of Nuku Hiva. To a depth of 200 feet it slowly descended through a suspended field of aquatic detritus before showing a sandy bottom dotted with the holes of the siphons of clams. A few silversides, small silver-scaled fish, darted into and out of a frame that showed an at-first-glance wasteland. A highlight came when a murex shell and a cone shell filled the center of the screen. Many species of cone shells harbor frighteningly toxic venoms. At least one species, Conus Geographus has registered, for a shelled creature, an impressive human body count. As the ROV was brought to the surface, we were left with one salient and titillating fact; In these remote islands on an even more remote stretch of ocean bottom, we had seen a piece of the Earth not previously witnessed by human eyes.
