Back to Baie Tahauku
Mindful of our past trauma at Baie Tahauku, we parked Lady Jane at the opposite side of the bay. The holding here was just as bad, but it presented a change of scenery and some entertainment from the canoe teams, who were practising for their main event at Ua Poa in a couple of weeks.
We checked with the boatyard that all was still OK for lift out (it was), then spent the next few days taking care of the remaining jobs that were best to do while in the water.
On Monday morning, we lifted our anchors (the stern one took some lifting – it had dug in deeper than a petulant child dragged from a playground), then motored over to, and onto, the cradle waiting for us on the slipway.
This exercise proved to be a lot easier than expected: The boatyard crew, carefully supervised by Vincent (the owner of the yard), positioned Lady Jane on the cradle, used the hydraulic pads to support and lift her. Then we started our journey into the yard. And a few minutes later, we were parked up. Someone gave us a ladder, we got off the boat and went for a walk around; and by the time we came back, Lady Jane’s hull had been pressure-washed clean. It was all pretty slick.
Our expectations of comfort for our experience in the boatyard were low. That was just as well, as there wasn’t too much comfort on offer. With no breeze to cool the crew, the heat inside Lady Jane increased to over 33 degrees. And the bathroom and shower facilities were limited to a toilet and shower contained in a wooden shed in the corner of the yard; that’s an ultra-efficient use of real estate space, but hardly luxury living.
So, we occasionally took a break from last-minute jobs on Lady Jane, hauling ourselves up the hill to Sandra’s place for some internet respite, where we also uncovered her secret life as M:
Eventually, with Lady Jane thoroughly disinfected and cleaned, jobs done, and other work offloaded to the boatyard to complete while we are away, we escaped to our Airbnb house up in the hills.
Run to the hills
Rather than run, we got a lift from the boatyard to the Airbnb house in a 4×4, courtesy of Tui (the person rather than the travel company). Tui takes care of the property and is the owner’s nephew. He is also the tallest Marquesan we have seen.
The house, located on the hills of Taaoa has a spectacular view of Taaoa Bay – something we never tired of during our 2-days stay – and has fruit trees in the garden, with Pamplemousse ready for picking.
The downside of the property was that the bed had all the comfort of a mortuary slab but without the extended sleep. So, despite the view, we were glad to get away to head for the promise of luxury at the Intercontinental Resort in Tahiti.
Tui picked us up on Sunday morning, and 40 minutes later, we arrived at Hiva Oa’s airport.
On the way to Tahiti, we flew over the Tuamotos where I caught this shot of what I think is Rangiroa:
Four hours later we found ourselves basking by the pool at the Intercontinental – pleasantly pleased to have received a room upgrade allowing us to step out of our room and flop onto a sunbed in less than a minute.
Our flight to Easter Island was at the awkward time of 0245. Fortunately, however, we received a very-welcome extended checkout time of 4 pm, which helped. And at midnight we were in a taxi for the 10-minute (and £20) journey to the airport and a 4-hour flight to Hanga Roa.