As we wake this morning we hear the noises of winches and chains, crew issuing instructions. We peer out from our balcony and see Tender vessels being prepared for passengers today. We are also presented with the island of Moorea. Think Mutiny on the Bounty, the 1984 version (Mutiny) with Mel Gibson and Anthony Hopkins. Also watch Moana, because although it’s animated, the landscapes depicted are right in front of us now. From the tranquil shoreline the land juts into the air, jagged mountains rising to pointed peaks, lush green forest covering the island, surrounded by turquoise water and reefs. From the ship we hear roosters cock-a-doodle-doing. Perhaps in celebration.
It’s a warm day, with cloud clinging to the mountain tops. The cloud doesn’t move, it seems too afraid to leave the mountains for fear of being blown away on the wind. From time to time a light sprinkle of rain washes across us.
We have a tour booked at 1pm, so decide to leave around 10:30 to explore the island. One of the advantages of being in the Retreat is that we don’t need to queue for tender tickets. Today’s port is a tender port, which means going down to level 2 and using the Magic Carpet to board a tender vessel. The tenders hold around 100 to 120 passengers at a time, and there’s a long line of people waiting to get on. It’s a ticketed affair for everyone except people in the Retreat, so most passengers get up very early to grab their tickets so they can get across to the island, with those on shore excursions prioritised. All we need to do is meet one of the Retreat concierges, and they escort us to the head of the queue. Within 30 seconds we’re on a tender and on our way.
We’re greeted by Tahitian music, singers, the familiar sound of ukulele, and a market stretched along the waterfront selling just about everything: jewellery, shells, shirts, handmade handicraft items, bracelets and necklaces, prints and paintings of the islands, and a string of street food vendors working the crowd.
We set out to explore a little of the island. Suffice to say, there’s not too much to see. We leave the port and turn right, find a map laying out some walking tracks, and head off for a look around. There isn’t a lot to see, but we come across a little restaurant and decide to sit down and have something to eat. It’s almost midday, and with our tour starting at 1pm and running until 5pm, we figure we’d better fuel up. We sit down at Mo’z Pizza, a quaint little place offering a selection of traditional and typical meals, everything from poisson cru to burgers and pizza. Mardi has the poisson cru, raw fish in coconut sauce, and I opt for a burger.
As we finish lunch we continue our walk, come to a small village of about four houses, and decide to head back to the dock. Arriving back, it’s buzzing with tour operators, food stalls, and people offering to take you to their shop, black pearls are popular here. We take in the sights, have a paddle on a small beach, then go in search of our tour.
After a little guidance we spot our boat. Our ride for the day was a sleek, seven-metre sports boat, the kind built for towing wakeboarders but perfectly suited to skimming across a lagoon. The hull was black on top and white below the waterline, with the tour company’s name splashed down the side in big silver lettering, Tama Tours, each letter filled with Polynesian tattoo-style patterns. “Moorea” sat underneath in smaller script, and the same geometric motifs wrapped around the bow like the markings on a traditional canoe. Up top, a curved black tower arched over the cockpit, holding a wide canvas bimini that threw some very welcome shade. A wraparound glass windscreen sat low and raked, giving the whole thing a fast, sporty profile even sitting dead still at anchor.
The water under the hull was so clear and so shallow that the boat seemed to hover over the sand, sunlight rippling in bright ribbons across the bottom. Towels were slung over the bow rail, the anchor line dropped straight down into pale green water, and off in the distance a low, tree-covered motu sat on the horizon. As we board, Mardi gets to sit in the co-captain’s chair, she jokes she can drive fast if they want. I sit beside and behind her. Six other guests are with us, a family of four (mum, dad, and two boys) up the front, and a couple seated near us at the back.
We head off. A four-hour cruise. Rae, pronounced Ra-e, is our guide. A teenage boy, Aki, is our skipper. After a brief intro, no safety messages, we head off.
First stop is some dolphins. We see them after passing the disused InterContinental resort, lots of huts built over the water that look like they’re falling apart. Rae hopes it reopens one day. We see a school of spinner dolphins, so called for their aerial spins and flips, and stay and watch for a few minutes before heading to a shallow part of the lagoon. Rae wants to see how we swim and handle a snorkel before we head to deeper water. As we get used to our fins, mask, and snorkel, we feed some fish. There are dozens of Indo-Pacific sergeants, a type of damselfish often called a sergeant major, small and oval, silvery body with a yellow wash across the back and five bold black vertical bars. These are the ones that swarm around snorkellers in schools, especially once the guide starts feeding them. They take the food straight out of our hands as we hold little pieces of bread. I don’t know if this is their normal diet, but Rae assures me they love it.
We then move off to deeper water in search of turtles, jump in again. The water is warm, deep, and there’s a strong current. Rae tells us to just let the current take us, look down, and we’ll see turtles. I see a lot of dark round shapes. Are they turtles or coral clumps? Who knows. We ride the current for a while, it carries us about a kilometre.
Then it’s time for the highlight of the day. A swim with rays and blacktip reef sharks. You’ll have read a day or two ago about my love of sharks, and my fear. I hadn’t been in open water in 50 years. Today is, in a sense, conquering that fear.
We arrive at the spot and within seconds see large rays and sharks. Rae jumps in and everyone follows. Oh well, here goes nothing. I jump in. The water is chest deep. A ray comes up to me, wingspan about two metres. They’re curious. Its wings are smooth and shiny, the edges rough. It swims away. Then Mardi, from the boat, says “shark.” A moment of fear, then I see it swim past me, about a metre long, sleek, barely moving as it cuts through the water within a metre of me. It glides past, not showing any interest. I slip under the water and watch it drift away, and all of a sudden I’m looking for more. There are lots of them. I have my Insta360 camera with me, filming everything. I extend its stick and stand still. A shark sees the black camera and shows interest, and when it gets within 60cm it turns 90 degrees and heads off, its senses telling it this wasn’t food.
We spend about an hour in this magical place. Mardi hangs her feet over the side of the boat and feels a ray brush past. She spots sharks and rays for me as I move around in the water. Sadly, it’s time to leave. Everyone is amazed by what they’ve just experienced, including me.
We then head out to deeper water, there’s a humpback whale. Some of the group jump in, I’m not so confident, we’re really in open water now, outside the reef, 20 metres of ocean below us. The whale is hundreds of metres away, so we won’t actually see it. We turn for home. A really awesome four hours.
We get back to the dock, catch a tender, and are back on the ship. I’m exhausted and covered in sticky salt water. Mardi, who didn’t swim, is similarly salt-encrusted. We shower and freshen up, then order a sumptuous feast to our room: chicken, seafood, steak, apple pie, mille-feuille. We’re too tired to go anywhere, so we rest, read, and take it easy. Katarina brings us our food, and a little later a couple of cocktails. A great end to an awesome day.
