SV Molokoi

After thirty-five days at sea, we dropped anchor in Fatu Hiva. Here, one brushes against the very creation of the world. Cliffs rise from the ocean as if from the first dawn, and the anchorage opens before us, splendid and untouched. We had barely caught our breath when fishermen came alongside. Their faces were grave, their gestures urgent as they crossed themselves three times. A tsunami, they said. The largest in seventy years. A four-meter wave, ready to sweep everything away. “Go offshore,” they urged, wishing us good luck. Without fear, we weighed anchor again. The sea is our home; we returned to it as one returns to their own door. That night, no waves came, but the ocean carried a strange, unfamiliar scent. At dawn, we came back, and for the second time, Fatu Hiva revealed itself to us, untouched, as if nothing could ever wound its wild heart.