The Bounty of Nuku Hiva

–by ARLO

We walked onto the patio and were confronted by the severed head of a 200 pound wild boar sitting on the grill. That’s right, a boar’s head, on the grill–tusks, eyes, hair, everything. This scene took place on the beautiful island of Nuku Hiva, which we have just finished a circumnavigating. Along the way, we encountered and harvested enough natural resources to feed a small army.

Up a coconut tree to reach nearby mangoes

 

 

 

 

 

The fruit trees on Nuku Hiva, and the rest of the Marquesas for that matter, are abundant. When we go on a hike inland from a harbor, we hardly need to pack snacks because of the mangos, starfruit, pomme citerne (not sure how to spell this, but it’s like a tropical apple), and limes, which are all just hanging there, free for the taking. It is one of the nicest things to be able to just be walking along, pick up a fallen mango, peel of  the skin, and eat it whole, all without breaking your stride.

Coconuts are a central part of life in the Marquesas. The ancient Polynesians provisioned with coconuts on their voyages, and now locals drink the water from them, eat the meat, and dry them to make copra to sell, which will be processed into oil in Tahiti. The animals eat them, I open them with my machete, and shrimp cooked in coconut is very good.

 

Without coconuts, the Marquesans would be in a real fix. The island is overrun with coconuts for the taking, and we’ve eaten our share.

The fishing and hunting in Nuku Hiva is excellent. During a sail from one bay to the next, I let back a couple of fishing lines into the wake, and before I finished putting them out, a three foot long bonito had the lure in its mouth. We quickly hauled it in, filleted it, and popped the thick, red, fillets into our semi-cold fridge. That afternoon, when we arrived in our next bay, we made some delicious poisson cru for lunch.

My other seafood gathering expedition occurred when two fellow cruisers, one from Norway, the other Belgian, invited my dad and me spearfishing for octopus. We climbed into the dinghy, anchored in about 6 feet of water, put on our masks, snorkels, and fins, and grabbed the two spearguns. Now, I had never touched a speargun in my life before, but I was explained how it works. You put the spear into the gun, and slide it back until it clicks. Then, with the safety on, you brace the butt of the gun against yourself, and pull back the rubber into to the notch. Then just dive down, flick the safety off, and pull the trigger. So we split up into teams of two, each with a speargun. You swam around, diving down to peer into likely looking holes and crevices for octopus. I saw the first one, so I called over my buddy, the Belgian guy. He dove down, shot the octopus, and pulled it out of the cave. Once we had gotten four, we went to a small beach, and each of us tied a two-foot long string to our octopus, and beat it against a rock until it had doubled in length, to soften it up. After beating the juice out with a mallet and removing the innards, eyes, and beak, we washed them in water, then boiled them for 30 minutes. After slicing and sauteeing them in olive oil and garlic, we declared them excellent eating. Both my dad and I liked spearfishing so much that we are now building our own “Hawaiian sling” to shoot the spears.

The local Marquesans also hunt the wild boars that live on the islands that were brought by Europeans, like I mentioned earlier. We ate lunch at one family’s house and the guy that lived there had just returned from a boar hunt, in which his dog had tracked down a boar, chased it to him, then he stabbed it with a knife, and then the dog had chased it until it collapsed. Then he walked home with a dead, 200 pound boar, sliced off the head, and put it on the grill, and was in the process of lighting the grill as we walked in. The locals here use all the parts of a pig. They roast most of it, and then make a paté out of the brain, liver, and heart. Unfortunately, my parents won’t let me go on a boar hunt. 

With all of this readily available food, you can eat as much as you like, for free. I can easily see how people have lived and thrived on these islands for 1,000 years. We’re eating our fill now before we head to the Tuamotu archipelago, whose low coral atolls offer coconuts and fish, but no fruit and definitely no boar liver paté.




And a few other recent shots around the island: