Trip 40 — Niue and Dogojima Walks

Niue day 2: Makefu to Hikutavake and the Talava Arches and Matapa Chasm
Saturday, 17 February 2024

Today: 11959 steps/9.10 km/5.65 mi/1h 59m
(including return to hotel 18292 steps/14.33 km/8.90 mi/2h 56m)
Total: 24360 steps/19.35 km/12.02 mi/3h 46m
(including hotel access 30693 steps/24.58 km/15.27 mi/4h 43m)

A rooster in dire need of voice lessons woke me up at 4:30, and again at 4:30:10, 4:30:30, 4:30:40, and so on. His usual protocol was two calls in quick succession, followed by just enough time for me to think the wretched performance was over, and then an encore. Or perhaps it was two roosters with the same paucity of vocal skills.

I got used to this addition to my morning routine and managed to sleep for three more hours. The Anaiki Motel's lack of air conditioning (the fans are adequate but localized) and the couch springs reminiscent of the threadbare cushioning on dilapidated Cambodian buses didn't give me much hope for the shower, but the water was surprisingly warm and focused and the pressure decent.

I had to get out early, because today's plan was to make it up to the Talava Arches, which were supposedly best seen at low water. The handy paper schedule distributed at the airport showed today's first low tide at 8:27 a.m.; I thought it best to get there not much after ten. I also hoped to see the Limu Pools and the Matapa Chasm, plus a couple of caves near the motel.

The Anaiki Motel is at the northern extreme of Makefu village. I crossed into Tuapa, passed an abandoned car and an abandoned bus, and then reached the main residential area. I soon had a run-in with my first dogs of the day. They weren't enormous, but they barked and bared their teeth. I tossed one of the three rocks I was carrying.

"No! Go home!"

They didn't come closer, and when the owner came out, they backed off.

"All right," I said. I didn't know whether he had seen me throw a rock. I wished I hadn't had to resort to that.

Tuapa's church stood on the near side of a broad green. There was a barking dog on its porch.

"Come on, man, at a church? That's supposed to be a safe space."

The dog watched me as I proceeded along the green. There seemed to be a few other dogs behind the green. They were noisy, but they didn't approach. There were a few people out, but not as many as I would have liked.

Once I was past the green, all was clear. I soon reached the Hio Cafe, which my paper said would be open for lunch later. I found Victoria there, who confirmed it.

"You've been walking a lot!" she said. "People are already talking about you."

"Really?" I didn't mind that.

"Yes. I saw you get off the plane. We always like to see who's coming. I saw you in Alofi and almost offered you a ride, but I had to keep going."

"That's OK, thank you. I'm walking around the whole island." I gave her a brief description.

"But it's so hot! At least today we have a breeze, for the first time in a while."

"It's lovely. Coming from New York, where it's snowing, I'll take the heat. And everyone has been so friendly."

"The people here are very friendly. You'll have a great walk."

"The only problem is the dogs," I said. I felt it was worth mentioning whenever I could.

"They're just curious. But one tourist was bitten. She went out for a walk from the Matavai." That happens to be the third place I'm staying on Niue. "It was early in the morning, and she went into a village. The dogs are on guard at that hour."

So one must find the right balance between walking early, before it's too hot, and walking later, when dogs are used to the day's foot traffic.

"Anyway, you need a stick," she said. "I'll go find you one."

She came back with a forked piece of a coconut frond, about half my height. It was heavy. I could have used it as a pair of tongs.

"There'll be four dogs up around the corner, but they're mine and they're harmless," she said.

"I love dogs. I wish I didn't have to protect myself this way."

"Well, they'll feel your good energy, then."

"I hope so. Thank you so much for the stick, and see you in a couple of hours for lunch."

Just ahead, the road forked, with the direct eastbound route to the right and my destinations for the day to the left. If her dogs were along my route, I didn't see them. All was quiet until I reached the turnoff to the Limu Pools, where it was an easy walk down to the shore. This idyllic spot in tiny Namukulu village has been a favorite place for a dip since the times of the early settlers, but I was saving my swim — and the associated exertion of drying and dressing — for the Matapa Chasm.

Between the pools and the chasm, in the village of Hikutavake, I came upon a group sitting in front of a house with the sign "Vaituku Market — Saturday Only 830AM til 11AM." Well, here I was on a Saturday just before ten. Food was crammed onto a picnic table. They invited me to approach.

"This looks great," I said. "What do you have?"

"Fruit salad." Mele — a different Mele from the one who had urged me to get the uga from Norman — was in charge. She was about 70 years old.

"Fruit salad. Yes, please." I'd been missing fruits and vegetables.

"Taro." It was wrapped in aluminum foil.

"Cooked and ready to eat?"

"Yes. Just keep it in the refrigerator and heat it in the microwave."

"Maybe." I wanted it but I wasn't sure how much I wished to carry. A whole taro root is heavy. But not as heavy as...

"Coconut."

"Thank you, but I don't think I need that."

"Curry." Chicken curry, the last item on offer. It would solve a lot of my issues — it had vegetables and spice, and the package looked large enough to last at least a couple meals. Tomorrow I'd be moving on to a place with a kitchen but no restaurants nearby, only a convenience store that the Niue brochure (presented together with the handy paper schedule at the airport) said was open every day from 6:00 to 7:30 in the morning and from 4:00 to 9:00 in the afternoon. I wasn't sure how accurate that was.

"All right, curry and fruit salad," I said after a moment.

"I'll give you this taro too," she said. "A little gift."

"Oh, that's very kind. I'm glad I found you!"

Farther along in Hikutavake, I put my coconut stick to use when a couple of dogs surprised me. Waving it kept them at bay, and I got used to waving it whenever I passed a house.

The paths to the Matapa Chasm and the Talava Arches start from the same place. I put my stick down; there wouldn't be dogs guarding the paths. The latter is much longer (1.5 kilometers according to the sign, but just under a kilometer according to MapMyWalk), and with the urgency of getting there before the tide came in, I took that one first. It was easy walking with thick footwear; the rocks were sharp on this ancient coral bed. The last couple of minutes took me through a kind of cave, with a rope provided for support.

Suddenly the double arch opened up, a marvelous setting enhanced by the surprise with which it hove into view. An almost-triangular rock window framed a rounder arch a short distance out to sea, with clear water barely covering the reef in between. I picked my way through the window and looked back for a view that was almost as impressive, the drapes of the green-topped cliff hanging down like curtains.

The Matapa Chasm was just as impressive. Access was formerly limited to royalty, they say, so I joined in the regal tradition by having a swim. Here, too, the water was exceptionally clear, offering glimpses of rainbow-colored and black-and-white striped fish. (I did not, alas, find the notorious striped Niuean sea snake, which is among the world's most venomous but is — I want to believe this — harmless to humans because its mouth is too small to bite us.)

The water was delightfully warm, but the current seemed strong where the chasm opened out to sea, and I didn't feel confident swimming far out without anyone else around. I enjoyed the view from a rock a short distance out and then came back to shore, grateful that there was no sand to make things messy. I air-dried for a few minutes and then climbed out of the chasm, just as a tour group was coming down — perhaps the Niue Orientation Tour offered every day following plane day.

To get back to the Anaiki, I continued southeast until the junction with the eastbound road that had branched off near the Hio Cafe. I took that latter road back to the west, forming a triangle; tomorrow I can resume the clockwise walk around the island from that junction.

This road was mostly secluded except for a couple burning trash a short distance along. Their dogs popped out from under their car, startling me, and they didn't pay much heed to my stick, but the people called them back. From there it was a lonely half-hour to the Hio Cafe.

I ordered a smoothie in a coconut and a chicken wrap with breadfruit chips, and then I assured Victoria that it had been a delightful morning. As I was finishing, another couple sat down. Barry and Trini had come back to Niue for a visit after living on the island in the 1980s.

They knew Margaret Pointer and her history of Niue and agreed that it was time for another book about all the changes that have happened since 1974. In the 1980s, the population was more than double what it is now. Victoria was among those who left and one of the few who came back to "the rock," as they call it.

There are ways Niue could become more advanced, Barry said. The whole electricity supply comes from a diesel generator in Alofi. Why haven't they harnessed solar energy? "This would be a great place to live off the grid," he remarked. And he mentioned an Irishman who had walked around the island.

Trini had almost been bitten by a dog. "Was that back in Alofi?" I asked.

"No, it's near where we're staying, in Lakepa," Barry said.

That's where I'm headed tomorrow. "I guess I'll have some more dogs to look forward to," I said.

The good news was that maybe I would run into Barry and Trini again. I liked their stories of the island from 40 years ago. And they said the convenience store was open, if maybe not the precise hours mentioned in the brochure.

As we left, Barry and Trini were talking to Victoria about all the people they knew from decades ago — schoolteachers and the person who used to cut Barry's hair. The names Kupa and Mary got mentioned; they're the people who run the converted schoolhouse in Lakepa where I'll be staying for three nights starting tomorrow.

Tuapa was quiet when I crossed through after lunch, and I wondered where the dogs were. I made it past the church and then I saw three of them, clustered together, lying down next to the road.

"Stay," I said, waving my stick gently. "It's all right." I kept to the other side of the road and continued at a steady pace. The dogs kept their eyes on me, but they didn't move, and I made it back to the Anaiki without incident.

After washing out my bag — the curry leaked slightly, as I knew it would — I explored the two caves near the motel. Palaha had beautiful limestone formations, some with brilliant green and purple colors. Avaiki — perhaps the site of the first landing on Niue by Polynesians, and with the same root as "Hawaii," a word for an ancestral home — was traditionally limited to those of the upper ranks, and while the formations weren't as impressive, it did have a lovely pool for swimming.

There was plenty to eat for dinner: chicken curry, taro, and fruit salad from Mele; fried chicken and French fries from Buk Buk; nanē from Ane; cookies I'd brought from Auckland. And there's plenty of all of it to be repackaged and brought to Lakepa. As I prepared dinner, the cats wailed behind my door. I never saw Norman today. Had he fed them?

Go on to Niue day 3