12 | Sailing to Fatu Hiva, the Most Beautiful Island in the World

We pulled the anchor at first light, slipping out around the awash rocks, behind which we had found some tenuous protection for the night. After one last push to windward, we rounded the east end of Hivaoa and found ourselves in clear water once again. The sheets were eased to a close reach and, compared to the last week of continuous slogging to windward, Julia seemed to come alive on the slightly more generous point of sail. Our course was set toward the place that we have always felt is the ultimate South Pacific destination, a garden isle of unparalleled beauty. We were bound for the fabled Bay of Virgins on Fatu Hiva. The bay, known as Hanavave in the native language, is quite deep. We anchored in 90 feet of water, the deepest of our entire voyage, and we put out every inch of our anchor chain for a secure hold in the gusty harbor. We just arrived in the Bay of Virgins. Hanavave is a place that compels you to continuously look upwards. We wander the valley, staring up at the sheer cliffs and rock spires all around us. This is the main highway on Fatu Hiva. With no air service to the island, the people here live truly remote lives. The nearest full-size supermarket or hospital is 800 miles away in Tahiti. Supply ships arrive occasionally, and a few tourists make their way here by boat. The unspoiled scenery towers in every direction. Lush valleys rise between green hills, soaring cliffs peak in razor-sharp ridges, and the sea shimmers all around the jagged land. There are no restaurants in the village, but we were invited to a local house for dinner for a reasonable fee. We happily accepted. Fresh flowers were draped around our necks, and a feast of grilled pork and mahi-mahi and many other dishes was set before us. It was a delicious and very memorable meal. The small store in the village does not bother selling any fresh fruit, as everyone grows their own. We met a family who offered to trade us some fruit in exchange for fishing lures and some rope we had on board. We loaded into the truck and headed up to their family plot in the hills. We were going to help pick it fresh right at the source. One of our favorite treats is the local pompomus, which are related to grapefruit but are much bigger and sweeter. It is sort of a project to dissect one, but definitely worth it. It was a bit surreal to be anchored here, in this beautiful bay that has been the epicenter of our wildest cruising dreams. Just sitting at anchor and looking at the rock spires felt extremely meaningful. All of the effort and planning that led to this point, all of the ocean miles and hidden fears, it was all repaid by these green cliffs and welcoming people. The view of this scene from Julia's deck will be one that we remember for the rest of our lives. We filled a couple of water jugs on shore and prepared to visit the other inhabited valley on Fatuhiva, the village of Omoa. Believing the most perfect, beautiful anchorage on earth. Omoa has fairly poor holding in the anchorage, but we had very calm weather, so we decided to leave the boat for a day of shore exploration, and we planned to stay the night as well if conditions held. As we walked through town, we heard a distinctive tapping noise beside one of the houses. We had high hopes of seeing tapa cloth being made, and we quickly went to investigate. This one's thicker, it must be heavier. Wow, so you beat the tapa with that? Oh, bigger grooves. See the pattern in the cloth from hitting it? Oh, that's beautiful. Tapa cloth was historically produced across the South Pacific, but in French Polynesia, it is now only produced on Fatuhiva. The cloth is made from the bark of the breadfruit mulberry or banyan tree, each tree providing a distinctive color. It was traditionally used for clothing and other items, but it is now usually painted with traditional designs and used decoratively. We absolutely loved her work, and were thrilled to come away with some beautifully crafted pieces. Continuing through the village, we saw another craftsman at work. He noticed us watching him and waved us over to see his wares. We headed back to the boat at sunset, carrying our newfound treasures, and with some of the happiest memories of anywhere we have ever visited. Fatuhiva will hold a special place for us, not just because of its spectacular and unspoiled beauty, but also for the kind-hearted people, and the lovely way that they live their lives on their garden island. It was hard to pull ourselves away, but with time running short and so many places to explore, we set out on a calm morning for the island of Tahuata. Well, we're on our way to Tahuata from Fatuhiva, and there was supposed to be 15 knots of wind on a perfect beam reach. But there's not. It's an absolute flat cone, so we're motoring. When we would encounter a wharf that was too tall to haul the dinghy up behind us, we use a stern anchor to hold the boat out away from the wall to protect it from the ever-present surge. The main pathway in Hapatoni is lined with massive trees that were planted in pre-colonial times. That was definitely worth the pick. Windfallen mangoes were everywhere. We found a few fresh ones to replenish ourselves as we climbed high above the town. In the mornings, a pod of spinner dolphins would join us in the anchorage. They played amongst the boats and seemed to jump and spin just for the joy of it. Well, now I'm covered in pig mud. Well, I finally got around to using all the bananas that were ripening, so today we baked four loaves of banana bread. Only three survived. That wind was sure something last night. I know. It blew both of our hatch covers away. A neighboring boat saw our covers blow off and went to retrieve them for us, so we were very lucky to get both of them back before they drifted out to sea. We left Tahuata behind and sailed up the channel along the coast of Hivaoa. We were heading to Atuana, the largest town on Hivaoa, and a good place to replenish supplies before heading back out to more remote islands. The harbor at Atuana is quite small. Boats anchor bow and stern to limit swinging. We ended up using two anchors and a stern line to a mooring buoy to secure ourselves close to the other boats. Atuana is nestled in a green valley, a short walk in from the harbor. Clouds stuck to the top of the mountains, and we counted 10 waterfalls cascading off the peaks around town. The main portion of the harbor has to be kept open for the arrival of supply ships. The Aranui arrived while we were there, dropping an anchor out in the harbor to help swing the ship alongside the wharf. The forward half of this ship is a cargo vessel, the aft half carries passengers as a sort of mini cruise ship. We crossed paths with them many times on our wanderings. After resupplying, we got the boat ready for the next big adventure, making some final changes to the wind vane and tuning up the rig. Our time in the Marquesas Islands had surpassed all of our expectations with their spectacular beauty and great cruising. Next time, we will set sail on a 500 nautical mile passage to the south, landing in the Tuamotus. These islands are the opposite of the Marquesas in many ways. Instead of soaring green cliffs, thin ribbons of sand and coral barely rise above the waves. Instead of deep anchorages lined with black rocks, we will find turquoise lagoons and some of the best coral reefs anywhere.