A bit like teasing a dog with a biscuit you never intend on giving him, Ra’aitera lures you in with its pristine lagoons and neighbouring Motus, but they are inaccessible without a floatation device with a motor. The island itself, home to the first natives of French Polynesia and some of the oldest ruins in this realm of the world. Needless to say, we never managed to dig them out. A set of towering volcanic mounds, capped in luscious palms and deep green trees are the backdrop to almost every view on the island. Steep roads climb off the main highway, to small holdings and tourist stays. Meanwhile, the waterfront plays host to large convention halls and restaurants, where communities mingle and schools meet. Locals hang by the sandy pitches or tarmac parkways, booming regaton at every opportunity. From here, rocks provide the diving boards for youngsters to jump in, or for others to perch and read.
Without an authentic beach on the island, these guys have made do with wall space they have. Just north of Uturoa, a natural leisure centre exists. The sea walls drop into 6ft of clear water, the local authorities have drilled the pool steps into the wall, and makeshift dive boards have been moulded out of rock. As though a ritual, Sunday afternoon saw swarms of locals flocking to the walls. Pic Nic benches were buoyant with lively conversation and laughter, whilst beer bottles were being cheersed by the group of men, sat in the shade of the trees. Youngsters splashed about in the sea, racing from rock to rock, coral pillar to stairs in the wake of teens, flipping and diving in from their running starts. Along the wall, we sat and observed, occassioanly being completely swamped by the kids - oblivious to our existence. Boom boxes competed, drowning out each others tunes. There was something so authentic about this place. In the heart of the town, people, community and family was at the core - thriving and living the life every human should aspire to on a Sunday afternoon.
Before long, we got the taste for it and began jumping and diving in to the sound of the latest Polynesian remix. Once we had captured the best shot - we dried off and cycled back to our little mosquito infested pension, some 10 k down the coastal road. As we rolled back slowly, offerings of fruit were sold on the roadside, and food trucks began to assemble their daily offerings. The sun took on its nightly glow, before plunging this beautiful island into darkness once more.
Given our obsession for white sand and crystal waters and having exhausted the stony wall in the city centre, it was time to get on the water. We headed for the rental location. A jack of all trades, a master of none - this sweet agglomeration of Polynesian gents churned out plastic crap from scooters, fiat pandas to boats. With the Powerboat License a little dusty but ready to go, we opted for their 3meter aluminium rib, complete with two jerry cans of petroleum and a cooler. The trailer was hitched onto the back of the convertible Jeep Wrangler and we were off to the marina. As we raced along the coastal road, this was everything I had ever wished for. A monster jeep, boat on a trailer and a pretty blonde about to jump on the boat with me for the day. I think I might try and recreate it in Battersea, although it may not ooze the same appeal! The little boat was wheeled into the launch site, we were off and running.
A cruising speed of 12knots and a rather uncomfortable ride if there was any type of irregular wave pattern, the journey was not deluxe. However, as we streamed towards Taha, the neighbouring island, alone and in glorious sunshine - we both felt incredibly lucky. Sandy coves and palm filled hills provided our view, along with ornate churches clinging to the edge of the shore. After 30 minutes of cruising along the coast, we veered across a small open channel - the pacific breakers crawling in, in the distance. The diversion was to reach the beautiful Jarden de Coral, in the drift adjacent to the La Taha hotel. We approached slowly as the depth became shallower by each revolution of the prop. We evaded coral stumps and looked for the best patch of sand to drop our anchor. When the engine went idle, then off, we were in complete paradise.
Drowned in ridiculous coloured waters, backed by an isolated island with white sand beaches and leaning palms. We had struck gold. We jumped off to refresh ourselves - the water waist deep - but a good 600 metres off shore. Warm waters soaked our skin as we held back the laughter - so much for the Monday blues! We had a morning coffee and some pain au chocolat on the boat before inching a little closer to the shore. As we plotted our path between the coral fields, we anchored up to snorkel through the famed ‘coral garden’. Fish of every colour swam in swarms around us, whilst the sunlight bleached the corals a little more. An unbelievable little moment shared in paradise.
With a little way to go before our next stop, we decided to head on to find out next spot of magic. Headed south, we crossed the channel back towards La Taha island. Intercepting our path, a pontoon jutted into the sea, grounded at the base of a golden sand beach. We tied up and used the pontoon as a little jumping platform. The sea so deep we could not see the bottom - but so clear our legs hung in what looked like thin air.
Fish investigated our arrival, whilst the boat lapped against the pontoon. We could officially say we had visited this neighbour of Ra’aitera and had surely seen one of its most favourable beaches. Whats more, with not a sole there to share the experience.
After a good 5 hours of fizzing around the lagoon - our skin was beginning to question our sanity. The sun so hot, we were beginning to go a shade of molten…Zoe the shade of a rhubarb. We dived off course to a small island - the community Motu, where many people make day trips with families from the main island. Cowering under the trees, in blissful shade, a tour guide approached us. A mid to late 50s gent, grey long hair and leathery skin - he looked like he had a few stories within him. He introduced himself and was keen to share some facts about the island - most interstingly that French Polynesia is home to 280,000 people in a space the size of Western Europe. We chatted and laughed for a while, until it was time for him to leave. He gave us two bits of advice on parting - ‘why are you here, you have a boat - go head for the deep blue lagoon, get naked and swim free!’ And then ‘go to the point between the two islands (pointing), there you will see two black bottles in the water - it is where the sharks live. You can swim with them there!’. We heeded his advice, the latter in particular...., and made way for the black bottles. As we waded back to our boat, anchored a little off shore, a sting ray pulsed pass our feet, feeding on the sea bed.
On arrival at the black bottles, the sound of the engine attracted a swarm of the black tip reef sharks - he wasn’t lying. About 1 metre to 1.5metres in length and some nursing babies, they prowled around our boat. Small fish escaped their menace as they fed on the bits of food, dropping in the wake of our arrival. With that, Zoe wasted no time and jumped in, complete with a set of goggles. 10s of sharks swarmed around and peacefully went about their daily chores, whilst we goggled at them from afar.
Before long, I was persuaded to get in. I am so glad I did. These beautiful creatures are so mesmerising as they glide through the water. Their powerful bodies elegantly and effortlessly slide through the water, which captivated us for a good half hour, before it was time to head back.
With the sun setting, we just had time to nip to the marina for a little ice cream a board our vessel before the Jeep was back to drag her back to base. She wasn’t big, she wasn’t fancy but she was all that we needed. We went on a ‘swimming with sharks tour’ a ‘snorkelling tour’ and a ‘pic Nic on a Motu tour’ - the only difference was we did it alone. We did it our way. We did it the best way.
If you don’t want to heed our man’s advice - maybe take ors - spend a day on the island of Ra’aitera but - make sure you get to the La Taha hotel lagoon for an unforgettable and truly memorable day. You’ll thank me on your damp return!