Raroia Atoll, The Tuamotu Islands, French Polynesia
The Tuamotu group of islands consists of 77 low coral atolls spread over 270,000 square miles of the South Pacific. Long ago in geological time these were young volcanic islands, each of them developing a fringing reef around its shoreline. Gradually the islands moved to the north and west, pushed by tectonic forces. The ocean became deeper; the volcanoes settled into the earth’s crust and eventually disappeared below the sea. The corals, however, continued to grow upward as their basement sank, thereby keeping the live coral near the surface of the ocean where there is the light that they need to grow. Thus, gradually, volcanic islands became atolls, each perched atop a huge accumulation of coral limestone rising from the remnant of a volcano far below.
We headed due east from yesterday’s landing at Fakarava Atoll to arrive at Raroia Atoll just after noon. Here, we explored the underwater world of the outer reef – some by SCUBA, many with mask and snorkel, and some aboard our ship’s glass bottom boat. Floating effortlessly at the surface we could look down at gray reef sharks cruising in the canyons that incise the outer reef, and the glass bottom boat stopped above a large nurse shark lying motionless just above the bottom.
We returned to the ship to exchange mask and snorkels for binoculars and cameras. Our Zodiacs then took us through the shallow entrance into the lagoon for a landing on the wonderfully named motu of Tenukuhaupapatea (it was quickly renamed “Bird Island”) to explore its plant and bird life. We found black noddies sitting tight on their nests in the trees above, and white terns attending a single egg that perched precariously on a flat branch, or pledging their eternal troth to their mates with graceful mating flights. Handsome brown noddies, larger than the black ones, noisily announced their claim to their nesting trees. We completed a grand-slam of tern species when Richard pointed out passing blue-gray noddies, sooty and crested terns. Surprisingly, we found that the small motu was inhabited. A well-tended path of white coral led to a small but neat and well-appointed dwelling. Edmundo Edwards told us that the occupants, his friends, spend nine months of the year on this small, isolated island and divide the rest of the year between Papeete and Paris. Paris, Papeete, and Tenukuhaupapatea; that is quite a lifestyle! Finally, returning to the ship as the light faded, some of the Zodiacs had a fortunate encounter with a group of bottlenose dolphins in the swift tidal flow rushing into the lagoon.
The Tuamotu group of islands consists of 77 low coral atolls spread over 270,000 square miles of the South Pacific. Long ago in geological time these were young volcanic islands, each of them developing a fringing reef around its shoreline. Gradually the islands moved to the north and west, pushed by tectonic forces. The ocean became deeper; the volcanoes settled into the earth’s crust and eventually disappeared below the sea. The corals, however, continued to grow upward as their basement sank, thereby keeping the live coral near the surface of the ocean where there is the light that they need to grow. Thus, gradually, volcanic islands became atolls, each perched atop a huge accumulation of coral limestone rising from the remnant of a volcano far below.
We headed due east from yesterday’s landing at Fakarava Atoll to arrive at Raroia Atoll just after noon. Here, we explored the underwater world of the outer reef – some by SCUBA, many with mask and snorkel, and some aboard our ship’s glass bottom boat. Floating effortlessly at the surface we could look down at gray reef sharks cruising in the canyons that incise the outer reef, and the glass bottom boat stopped above a large nurse shark lying motionless just above the bottom.
We returned to the ship to exchange mask and snorkels for binoculars and cameras. Our Zodiacs then took us through the shallow entrance into the lagoon for a landing on the wonderfully named motu of Tenukuhaupapatea (it was quickly renamed “Bird Island”) to explore its plant and bird life. We found black noddies sitting tight on their nests in the trees above, and white terns attending a single egg that perched precariously on a flat branch, or pledging their eternal troth to their mates with graceful mating flights. Handsome brown noddies, larger than the black ones, noisily announced their claim to their nesting trees. We completed a grand-slam of tern species when Richard pointed out passing blue-gray noddies, sooty and crested terns. Surprisingly, we found that the small motu was inhabited. A well-tended path of white coral led to a small but neat and well-appointed dwelling. Edmundo Edwards told us that the occupants, his friends, spend nine months of the year on this small, isolated island and divide the rest of the year between Papeete and Paris. Paris, Papeete, and Tenukuhaupapatea; that is quite a lifestyle! Finally, returning to the ship as the light faded, some of the Zodiacs had a fortunate encounter with a group of bottlenose dolphins in the swift tidal flow rushing into the lagoon.
