On-board the Aranui

It seems a shame to come back to French Polynesia, from Pitcairn, without seeing more of this far flung country. So, I’ve booked a twelve day cruise, which sails to the Marquesas Islands, via the Tuomoto Islands. This way I get to travel to more extremes, some different edges of the world.

Like the Pitcairn Silver Supporter, the Aranui 5 is part (bows) cargo ship and half passenger cabins and all the accoutrements, on nine decks (plus observation deck above). But this one has 108 cabins and can accommodate up to 295 passengers. Fortunately, there’s under half that number on board today.

There’s a petite blue plastic pond, which they’ve called a swimming pool, surrounded by utilitarian bars and sundecks. There’s a small gym and even a tattoo parlour. Comfortable, rather than luxurious. They used this boat as the Olympic Village for the surfing at Tahiti Iti. They’re obviously very proud of this. Olympic logos still decorate some of the doors.

The main challenge of a cruise, especially one of any length, of course, is ‘socialising ‘with the other passengers. Just under half of them are French speaking and they, for the most part, tend to act as if the rest of us do not exist. They certainly have no intention of conversing in anything other than their mother tongue, whilst on French territory. The majority of us are English speaking and the largest group amongst those, by a long way, are Australian. Some Americans of course, a few Kiwis, six Brits, including me and Steve, who is six foot five inches and therefore unmissable and also went to Pitcairn, a couple of Canadians and an Italian couple.

There are seven decks of cabins, with the more costly balcony adorned rooms up top, along with the presidential and owners suites. It passes the time to try and work out who is in which. The presidential suite is occupied by a blonde haired lady, who I understand is the daughter of an (ex?) German consul. That doesn't seem like celebrity material to me, but she definitely acts like a celebrity. She poses, smiles and waves at her 'adoring' subjects. The staff spend a vast amount of their time taking pictures of her in different locations; she was even singing and dancing in Reception with some of the musicians. And a photographer, of course.

But, I tell myself, up top is also more prone to the effects of the boat’s rock and roll. My cabin, on Deck 5, has loads of cupboards and a huge bed, so I’m happy. It’s obstructed view - which fortunately doesn’t mean that part of the window is covered, but there are suspended launches in my line of sight, to sea. It’s a little disconcerting to draw the curtain and find a member of crew staring in, as he dismantles the winch outside. But they wave cheerily, before carrying on with their work. It was a lot cheaper than standard double cabin - about the same as a single cabin.

Talking of singles, there are very few on the boat and little provision is made for us. We are expected to turn up to the sit down three course meals for lunch and dinner and just slide into a place, on one of the six or eight person tables. It’s a little daunting.

The group of Kiwis I next encountered broke off their conversation to chat to me for five minutes asking what I thought of the mornings’ activities. The rest of the time they acted as if I wasn’t there. If you end up with a French group they smile (if you’re lucky) and then ignore you for the whole meal. I suppose you can at least then read, instead of having to make polite conversation, especially when the buzz in the room is such that you can’t hear much of what they say anyway.

There are various lectures and activities on offer, as we sail, and daily briefings about what to expect from tomorrow’s programme and optional activities. The Polynesian guy in charge of these has a gentle, strongly accented voice, and speaks very slowly. It’s a challenge to stay awake. I have to check the accompanying information sheet afterwards, to see what I’ve missed. It’s packed with quaint English. The weather forecast is generally ‘rare showers.’ And usually they’re so rare that we don’t get any rain at all.

Papeete to Fakarava

We’re departing a very rainy Papeete, the mountains rapidly disappearing, the odd dolphin leaping to wave us off. And a procession of old sailing vessels from Moorea, glide past, rapturously welcomed by crowds on the shore.

The first day’s offering includes Polynesian dancing with participation (!), a very thorough mandatory evacuation drill, pearl selling, Happy Hour, karaoke and a Polynesian dance class. I’ll leave you to decide which of these on-board activities I participate in.

It also gets very choppy quite quickly. More rolling – deja vu - and some very green faces. But this time my Sea Legs are holding it off.

The Tuamoto Islands - in a Nutshell

• The Tuamotu Archipelago is a French Polynesian chain, of just under 80 islands and atolls, in the southern Pacific Ocean. This is the largest chain of atolls, in the world, extending (from northwest to southeast) over an area roughly the size of Western Europe.
• The archipelago's major islands are Rangiroa, Anaa, Fakarava, Hao and Makemo.
• The Tuamotus have approximately 16,000 inhabitants.
• Robert Louis Stevenson and Fanny Stevenson travelled among the Tuamotus (then called the Paumotus) on the yacht Casco in 1888; an account of their journey was published as In the South Seas.
• Jack London wrote a story, The Seed of McCoy, based on an incident, in 1900, in which a burning ship, The Pyrenees, had been safely beached on Mangareva. He set the climax on Fakarava.
• In 1947, the Norwegian ethnographer Thor Heyerdahl, exploring immigration routes, sailed from South America with a crew of five others, reached Raroia, on his raft Kon-Tiki.
• France conducted nuclear weapons testing on the atolls of Moruroa and Fangataufa.

Fakarava -The Tuamoto Islands

Dawn, the next day, sees us sailing through the entrance to Fakarava Atoll, having reached the Tuamoto Island group. The Sky Bar, on Deck 9, is crammed with early risers, keen to witness the spectacle of passing through the gap, the Passe Garuae, the largest atoll opening in French Polynesia. It’s not really that exciting. This is the second biggest atoll in the Tuamotos, 60 kilometres by 25, just a rectangle of flattish land, covered in vegetation, surrounding a vast expanse of blue sea. Thankfully, that’s fairly calm now.

Catamarans are the vehicle of choice round here, bobbing on the water. The strip, on two sides of the atoll, which is home to almost 800 inhabitants, is so narrow, you can easily see the sea on both sides, The first tiny village is Rotoava. Neat and sleepy; it’s Sunday. The locals are lined up outside coral built, St John’s Church, in their floral best. On the lagoon side, small white sand patches of beach. interspersed with jetties. Some of the planks on those creak alarmingly. There are fins circling lazily beneath. The atoll is home to a very large population of grey reef sharks, which are protected.

I settle on a small section of shore and swim out to inspect the coral reef. It’s fairly ravaged, with just a few miniature clams and some brawling and swooping angelfish. But it’s pleasant enough, under the casuarina trees, the light dappling the jade water and joyful background singing from the church.

Heading to the Marquesas

Now, we're heading across open seas, from Rotoava to Nuka Hiva in the Marquesas. I’ve found a comfortable cushioned sofa, on the covered veranda deck, behind the main bar. It’s good to get some fresh air. My bathroom has already acquired that whiff of drains. Even on the veranda there’s a fly trying to crawl up my leg. How’s he managed to get out here ? …

I’ve paid an extortionate price for all day access to Wi-Fi in my cabin. I reason that it will give me something to do on the two long sea crossings between the Tuamotos and the Marquesas. It’s a day and a half each way. And I’ve got a backlog of programmes on BBC Sounds Catch Up waiting.

All the best laid plans. We’ve hardly embarked on our journey to the Marquesas, at a steady 15 knots, when the Wi-Fi disappears. Technical glitch, we're told, over the Butlins style tannoy, no Wi-Fi until we arrive now. So, it’s back to staring at a vast stretch of choppy ocean. Nothing in sight, except the crests of the waves. It’s sunny, but it’s too windy to repose up top. The water is slopping out of the swimming pool, creating a subsidiary paddling area, several centimetres deep, complete with wave effect.

The Sea Legs are both protecting me and wiping me out. I spend a great part of the day dozing on the veranda deck, or the sun deck (up top) and in my room and eventually have to be rescued by Coca-Cola. The constant but balmy wind doesn’t help. It’s strong enough to lift my dress, as I cautiously clamber up and down the exterior staircases. At least I have my swimming costume on underneath.

There's an entertainment team, on board, of course: musicians and the fashionable animators. Though I still haven't worked out what that actually means. It sounds a little scary. On offer, on board today, as we have a whole day at sea:
A coconut demonstration, a palm weaving workshop, a meet the crew session, a documentary on 15 fishing techniques in French Polynesia and music in the bar. Live music with ukuleles, drums and guitars pops up everywhere. We’re always melodically serenaded on and off board and into meals.

The Internet is still down, even when we’ve arrived at Nuku Hiva, our first point of call in the Marquesas Islands. It seems there’s a problem with the satellite and they were flying a guy out from Papeete to deal with it, when we arrived here. (Most of the islands have tiny airports.) But the Air Tahiti firefighters have gone on indefinite strike. (Well, this is France.) It’s not looking good for future communications.

At the Marquesas - Unloading the Cargo

Like the Pitcairn Silver Supporter, the Aranui is part cargo ship, part passenger cruiser. It’s designed only to take cargo to the Marquesas Islands and the crew leap into action before we’ve even moored at the quay. The huge cranes on board swing into action, depositing manned skiffs into the ocean, ready to assist with loading and unloading. There are two small launches and two motor driven pontoons to this end. And a whole flotilla of fork lift trucks. On the outer edges of the cargo section, two larger rectangular boats, with wooden benches to seat 40 and two mighty 200 HP engines. Those are the launches they use to take us ashore when we can’t dock. The French call them barges.

And they’re unloading all manner of surprising goods, aside from the dual food supplies. There are several cars and pick-ups (the French government subsidises them), stacks of washing machines and a helicopter being released from their containers today. Lined up alongside: a racing canoe, cement, sugar and a series of freezer and cooling containers. They’re also taking on board copra and fruit. Fascinating.

The Marquesas Islands - in a Nutshell

• The Marquesas Islands group is one of the most remote in the world. It lies about 850 miles northeast of Tahiti and 3,000 miles southwest of Mexico (the nearest continental land mass).
• The islands in the group fall naturally into two geographical divisions. One is the northern group, consisting of Eiao, Hatutu (Hatutaa), Motu One, and the islands surrounding the large island of Nuku Hiva: Motu Iti, also called Hatu Iti; Ua Pou; Motu Oa; and Ua Huka . The other is the southern group, consisting of Fatu Uku, Tahuata, Moho Tani (Motane), Terihi, Fatu Hiva, and Motu Nao (also called Thomasset Rock), which are clustered around the main island of Hiva 'Oa.
• With the exception of Motu One, all the islands of the Marquesas are of volcanic origin - a centre of upwelling magma, called the Marquesas Hotspot.
• Alternatively, legend has it that 'Ono, the god of creation, promised his wife to build a house in one day, so he gathered together land and created the Marquesas Islands, which are all named after parts of the house, Nuku Hiva being the roof. Everything he had left over, he threw to one side and created a dump, which is called 'Ua Huka’.
• Latest studies indicate that the first people to arrive here came from West Polynesia, around 2000 years ago, only later colonizing Tahiti, Hawai'i, The Cook Islands and New Zealand.
• The peoples, of the Marquesas Islands, 2000 years ago, were tall and stocky and believed they were the sole inhabitants on earth. They were once great navigators, but lost the ability until the skill was rediscovered when Hawaiians visited. Just like Moana.
• On 21 July 1595, Spaniard Álvaro de Mendaña de Neira stopped at Fatu Iva and called the islands Los Marquesas, after the Viceroy of Peru.
• The population at of the Marquesas Islands, at one stage, was much larger, in the hundreds of thousands, but the peoples were decimated by disease, brought by whaling ships, as well as the introduction of alcohol.
• There have been ongoing discussions about separation of the Marquesas Islands, from the rest of French Polynesia. The main impetus seems to be a desire to remain a part of France, should the rest of French Polynesia attain independence.

Nuku Hiva

So, here I am once more, in The Middle of Nowhere. Nuku Hiva is the largest island in the Marquesas group. In fact, it’s the second largest island in French Polynesia, after Tahiti, with over 3,000 inhabitants. It’s volcanic, velvety and lofty, rising to 1223 metres in Mount Tekao, and stunning. Further swathes of acacia, topped by other vegetation. For the most part, the mountain sides drop straight into the sea. There’s unexpectedly a central plateau, with horses, introduced in the nineteenth century, by the French colonists.

We are organised into a motley, but gleaming, fleet of four-by-fours to see all three main municipalities. Mostly pick-up trucks, but some properly fitted out for excursions, with covered benches on the back. The drivers are all beautifully dressed, in different versions of the same pink floral material. They’re nearly all women. Our driver, Eti, sports a pink top and jeans and a matching head garland.

The first, harbour village, is Taiohae, by far the largest settlement and the administrative capital of the Marquesas. Hence, various Tiki statues and the town hall (mairie). Looming over the little harbour, Tiki Tuhiva at 40-foot-tall, is the highest contemporary sculpture in the Pacific. It shows a female Tiki being protected by a male warrior.

Before we can set off from here it’s obligatory to see a craft market. Trestle tables laden with jewellery and expectant stallholders. Cruise ship day is very important for the economy. I’m more interested in watching the locals gutting fish by the quay. They throw the entrails into the water, where a shoal of sharks circles and battles to reach them first. But I do hope somebody else makes some purchases.

Next stop, is the municipality’s Cathedral of Notre Dame. The majority of the population, converted by missionaries, in the nineteenth century, worship here. The inside of the wooden building isn’t terribly exciting, except that Baby Jesus has a lot of hair and is clutching breadfruit. (Breadfruit is very spirituality significant in Polynesia, symbolising the ancestors' struggles to get here as well as links with nature.) But it has an endearing twin towered entrance gate.

Then, over the first of the jaw-dropping valleys, past plunging waterfalls, to another craft centre, at Taipivai. The roads are traumatic and dramatic; thank god I’m not driving. Hairpin, after hairpin, winding over the steep valleys. Wild pigs saunter across the bends, munching.

The best views of all are back to the rock formations, edging the beautifully circular bay. The market at Taipivai specialises in bijouterie, made of seeds. Outside the oval building, there’s a stone commemorating the visit of American author, Herman Melville, who abandoned his whaling ship (aged 23), on this island, with Tobias Greene, and lived in the village, in 1842. His book The Taipi describes his time here. He’s not the only literary connection who the island boasts. Robert Louis Stevenson also landed here.

Another spectacular valley, with more sea views, over the far side of the island, to a soaring jaggedly peak framed bay, Hatiheu-Aakapa. It’s a giant volcanic amphitheatre. Here, there’s Tohua Kamuihei, an archaeological site of some 600 years. The visit begins with a display of shell blowing and Marquesan dancing, to drums, under a magic banyan tree which was once, apparently, surrounded by skulls. The dance is very reminiscent of the haka, done by men in grass skirts. The culture on these islands had all but disappeared after the arrival of the missionaries, but is being resuscitated.

There are three levels to the Tohua Kamuihei site, which might even be three different sites. No-one is quite sure. In front of the banyan tree was a pit, used for the bodies after human sacrifice, and there are also dug chambers, where the breadfruit skin was fermented. Also, moss covered petroglyphs, alongside stick figure motifs and fish carvings on two dolmen. Commoners lived below, the priest up top. Along with thousands of mosquitoes, sand flies called no-nos and ants. We’ve all been warned to slather on the repellent.

The guides’ talks are very slow and soft, the English broken. It's a struggle to listen and I'm worrying I’m getting bitten to boot, as I perch on the hard stone wall. I can already see huge pink welts rising on the pasty calves of the shorts wearers.

Polynesian lunch at Chez Yvonne, close to the gorgeous sandy beach at Hatiheu. With more Polynesian music. Everything on the menu comes with coconut milk. Delicious poisson cru (like ceviche), goat (bony and fatty) and banana pudding.

The last stop, yet another craft centre, at Taiohae. After we’ve wandered all the stalls, we’re allowed to return to the boat.
We’ve got a Polynesian buffet, by the pool tonight, with Polynesian entertainment. More drums and ukuleles. We’ve been invited to order head garlands to wear, at 25 USD per pop. There’s talk on how to wear a pareo too. It’s possibly Polynesian overkill, today.

The Internet has come and gone, making more false starts than Keir Starmer. And I’ve just been brought a special present by one of the crew. It’s a presentation box, containing a clear paperweight, demonstrating the inauguration of the Aranu, in 2015 , with a model of the boat inside. I don’t know whether to be pleased or offended. I think it might be an incentive to give the cruise a good write up. But it weighs a ton. I will need to dispose of it before I get on my next flight.

Ua Pou (WaPoo)

I’m going to have to be careful how often I use the word stunning. Ua Pou is the third largest island in the Marquesas Archipelago, population over 2,000. But the melange of incredible basalt spires, peaks and pillars which greets us, as we sail into capital, Hakahau, is astonishing, easily giving Mervyn Peake a run for his money. The cloud capping them just low enough to be equally annoying and mysterious. The highest mountain here is Mount Oave, topping Nuku Hiva’s tallest by 7 metres. Ua Po means two pillars. Which two I’m not sure. Wikipedia says there are twelve of them altogether.

Each island has its speciality. Ua Po is famous for tattoos and sculptors, as well as garnet phonolite, known locally as flower stone, and only otherwise found in Brazil. So, today’s activities focus on the craft centre, in Hakahau.

It seems that all the large villages boast a hill top cross. Some of the passengers climbed up the path to the one here and accompanying views across the bay, just after breakfast. I wasn’t going to try it, but excellent sightings are reported, so I set off later in the morning. There’s a stream of people going in the opposite direction. ‘You thought you’d wait for the heat,’ they mock.’ It’s thirty Celsius, which isn’t too awful, but the humidity is high, the air weighing heavily on my shoulders.

Too late, I discover an enticing little strip of sand complete with bendy palms, leading to the village centre. The sound of singing directs me to the craft centre, tropical fruit tasting (on banana leaves) and more Polynesian dancing. Apparently, the performance here is the best one, including the famous local ‘Bird Dance’. I will have to take their word for it. It just looked like a more energetic haka to me. More Polynesian food: banana, sweet potato, taro. The pork, in sweetish brown sauce, is exceptionally good.

Another four-wheel drive tour, this time to Hakahetua, a small village, in the north. There are stops at various scenic viewpoints, mainly to admire the basalt pillars. Then there’s the diminutive airport strip and several more beautiful beaches. Though one is named Shark Bay, which suggests that swimming may not be an option. Many of the thousands of trees dotting the lower slopes have not sprouted yet this year. There has been a drought.

Tiny Hakahetua has more great peak panoramas, some sandstone cliffs and the only non-seasonal river on the island. Frigate birds wheel overhead. We congregate in another craft centre; there are coconuts to drink and another singing performance, this time by the drivers, who are mostly male today. It’s joyful and passionate, so I forgive them.

Hiva Oa (Long Roof)

Heading south east, in the boat now, we dock at Atuona on Hiva Oa at 3 a.m. and the cargo shifting vehicles are busy at work, beneath my window, long before it’s light. Hiva Oa is the second largest of the Marquesas Islands, the peak here, Mount Temetiu reaching 1276 metres and towering behind the bay. (They’re pretty consistent in height, across these volcanic islands.) Atuona has another port on a river. More frigate birds aloft, watching for smaller birds to rob. Spectacular ridges and dots of islands.

Paul Gauguin

The highlight of Hiva Oa, according to the tourist board, is Paul Gauguin’s grave, close to that of Belgian singer Jacques Brel, in a cemetery, up the slopes. A hike to see it is offered. I opt for the bus. Then, a ten minute drop-down walk, to the main town centre, around a headland from the port. Here there’s a Paul Gauguin Museum (life story told with reproductions and no originals at all) and a Jacques Brel Museum (a suspended plane and a few artefacts), set in some pretty tiki decorated gardens. However, given Paul Gauguin’s history it’s all a little uncomfortable. I’m unsure if I wish to celebrate his life and his paintings have never really attracted me anyway.

Yes, Gauguin (1848-1903) is a hugely significant figure in European art. His paintings at auction realise staggering sums of money: in 2022 one changed hands for over US$105 million. But Gauguin is described as ‘a violent, fist-swinging thug, a paedophile and a serial rapist.’ He dumped his wife and five children in Europe, to escape debt, leaving them in poverty and went to live in Hiva Oa, where he married three native children, the youngest 13, the others 14. He used them as models for his paintings, depicting erotic fantasies, had numerous children with them and infected some of them with syphilis, before he died, aged 54. The museum even features his ‘House of Pleasure’.

Jacques Brel

I’ve never heard of Jacques Brel before and I’m not much wiser after my visit, as all the signage is in French. Wikipedia tells me that he is the third most bought recording artist from Belgium. He suffered from ill health and lung tumours and came to live in the Marquesas with his wife, against the advice of his doctors, who thought the climate bad for his condition. He actually died in Paris, but his body was flown back here. The grave is marked by numerous decorated pebbles.

Although Gauguin and Brel are both synonymous with Hiva Oa and lie close to each other here they never actually met, living in different centuries.

Atuona and Back Again

The cultural centre, opposite the museums, is a sprawling affair, with several craft areas, behind a tiki decorated green. Ongoing guitar music goes without question. The bus back isn’t for some time, so I make another rash decision and decide to walk back to the ship. The route looks flat on the map. It isn’t. And it’s moving into heat of the day time. There are beautiful views of the lofty Hanakee Motu, in the bay and the frigate birds are performing. But, I’m so relieved to get back on board that I trip on the steps, bang my camera and stub my toe. My toe seems to have come off worst. I think that’s probably the right way round.

Tahuata (Dawn)

Tahuata, the smallest of the Marquesas Islands is just four kilometres and half an hour’s sail away. More towering mountains and ridges, no space for an airstrip here, but some gorgeous sandy bays, perfect for yachties and more coral than anywhere else in the archipelago. The only real settlement is Vaitahu, where we land.

No pier at Vaitahu. We come ashore in the launches. The cargo is landed from outboard driven pontoons, also carried on the ship. The fork lift trucks zip around manoeuvring the cargo up the narrow quay to the eager islanders. It’s like Christmas for them.

This is the site of the first French settlement in the Marquesas. The oversized church, was built by the Vatican and has a massive stained glass window. Another craft market and still more guitars. The speciality here is bone and some of the earrings are pretty enough to buy.

Fatu Hiva (Finish the Roof)

Lush, Fatu Hiva is crescent shaped, the southernmost and most isolated of the Marquesas. You can only get here by boat; the closest land is Hiva Oa. This is a double volcano island, its only two villages nestle in the hollows of their calderas.

The specialty craft on Fatu Hiva is tapa, where the women weave plant fibres into fabrics, with designs based on traditional tattoos. Capital Omoa is surmounted by yet more breath-taking pillars, and a rocky peak they claim has a profile like one of the moai on Easter Island. There are frigate birds overhead. You know the rest.

Further up the west coast, the only other village is Hanavave, set on The Bay of Virgins. (It was originally called Bay of Penises, after all the pillars, but the missionaries deemed this unsuitable.) A ten-mile hike is offered between the two, but I’ve declined this tempting offer and I’m taking a 4WD trip to soak up the scenery instead. It’s an exceptionally rewarding trip. We wind high into the mountains, parallel with dinosaur backs and snake ridges, as the slopes tumble into the sea beneath.

Then, a launch trip back to meet the ship at Hanavave, where we started our adventure. We get a close-up view of the increasingly majestic basalt formations. Baroque cathedrals, with folds of flying buttresses wandering into the sea. Small caves peek at the waterline and a limestone door shows us the way to the ship’s anchorage.

Ua Huka (Sacred Silo or Leftovers)

The last Marquesas island to be visited, back in the north of the archipelago, Ua Huka, is one of the smallest. Here we’re at anchor, in the port of capital Vaipaiee. Well almost. There’s a very narrow sea passage to a shallow ‘Invisible Bay’. The ship enters and then executes a spectacular 180 degree turn (as they describe it) in the passage, sending out the pontoons with mooring ropes, so that they can attach to each side and make sure the ship doesn’t crash into the steep cliffs. There’s an impressive swell (What a swell party this is..) and getting into the launches involves timing and jumping. Mind the gap! There are some very tense faces.

Ua Huka has a very different landscape. Slightly more rolling, with plateaux and far less vegetation. The island’s emerald expanses are home to 700 people, numerous goats and over 1,500 wild horses, who greet us, standing proudly in silhouette, on the high land, at the edges of the pass. They are the descendants of those originally used for transport, by the colonists.

Ua Huka is also famous for its collection of tropical plants, in the arboretum. We’re taken there in the usual 4WDs. I’ve got too used to ignoring the ‘rare showers’ weather forecast, but today it manifests as heavy showers. And I haven’t come prepared. the stand out plant for me is the golden shower tree. That seems appropriate.

Then, down the coast to a communal island centre, very upmarket. Beautifully thatched buildings and open spaces, with tiki facing out to sea. The whole is perched above a bay, with rocky islets and wild horses, gathering in a gulley below. The airport strip beneath them reminds us that we’re living in the twenty-first century. This was the first airport in these islands. A very strong wind blows up. At least it dries my tee shirt.

Next up, Hokatu, yet another craft market, with live music and a petroglyph museum. The latter has a few two dimensional replicas, with some photos of the original sites. And regular readers of this column will know that I struggle to get excited about petroglyphs at the best of times.

Finally, back to Hane, a handicrafts centre, it goes without saying, a sea museum (canoes and shells) and some very welcome lunch.

Back, Across the Pacific

After six days in the Marquesas, we’re back again, ploughing over endless empty seas. Except for one enormous cargo ship, which fills the horizon for a very long time. Thankfully, the wind and tides are with us and there’s isn’t much of a roll today. No Sea Legs required. The Wi-Fi is working and all is well with the world. A day and a half sailing will bring us once again to the Tuamoto Islands. This time to Rangaroa, the largest atoll in French Polynesia.

Rangaroa - Paradise in the Tuamoto Islands

There’s a selection of excursions at Rangaroa. One, astonishingly, offers wine tasting. Apparently, the greatest challenge to be dealt with, when growing grapes on these islands, is land crabs. They bury under the vines. More understandably, there’s also rum available.

Anyway, I’ve chosen what has to be the best option. A motor boat trip to the Green Lagoon. First, an in-vain dolphin spotting expedition. Apparently they like leaping the waves at the entrance to the Tiputa Pass. But today, the waves are too high, and they’ve gone elsewhere for their thrills. Then, snorkelling in what they proudly dub The Aquarium.

I think this is taking things a bit far. There’s little living coral and medium sized fish, snappers and parrot fish, meandering on the reef. A couple of white tipped nurse sharks on the drop off. But it’s scrimmage snorkelling. A dozen of us instructed to keep together and follow the guide and his large rectangular buoy. Sadly, he doesn’t seem sure where he’s going and tells us all the things we should have seen, when we’re back on the boat.

Then, the motorboat heads off to the Green Lagoon, the other side of the main village. This is a little piece of paradise. Exquisite opalescent swirling blue water, lined with bendy palm trees and shimmering white sand. Small shoals of fish nibbling at the edges. It isn’t green, but I’m not going to make a thing of it. It might even make My Best Beaches in the World list.

Bora Bora

A final stop at Bora Bora. It was stunning (OMG) last time, but it's cloudy and drizzly and not shown at all to best effect today. Perhaps you should never return to somewhere when you've had a really special time? Read about my last visit here.

And so my cruise, in the far reaches of the world, comes to an end. There have been more adventures. I've seen some stunning sights, sweltered on mountain roads, been stalked by a Canadian Buddhist and spent some fun times with an Australian couple, Vicki and Michael. Vicki gives me plenty of advice, so we've dubbed her Mum (She's further up the page, with Steve and I.) But now it's back to Tahiti.