Bora Bora, French Polynesia
We sailed out of Pape’ete, Tahiti under cover of darkness on a northerly course towards the island of Bora Bora, pearl of the South Pacific. At approximately 6:00am the National Geographic Endeavour, her motion eased by a following sea, was astride the eastern shores of the island of Huahine, an emerald-isle throwback entrenched in a more traditionally-paced French Polynesian lifestyle. In prehistoric times, ancestors of this island had successfully managed to resist the fierce warriors of Bora Bora during their most expansive period. By mid-morning the rugged, verdant topography of the twin islands of Ra’iatea and Taha’a, which share a common lagoon system, were squarely of our vessel’s port side. In the northern distance lay Bora Bora, hazily defined under a misty, cloud-covered sky. Perhaps Captain James Cook, who sighted Bora Bora in 1769 on his first voyage, had a similar vision.
As this day marked the first full day of our voyage, requisite introductions, briefings, and a mandatory lifeboat muster required for all passenger vessels worldwide, were the order of the morning. Not only was such a diet of information necessary in preparation for our forthcoming voyage, but it allowed us all time to decompress from the wary hours of airline travel that had preceded our embarkation.
Shortly after lunch, the National Geographic Endeavour entered Teavanui Pass, the only natural passage into Bora Bora’s lagoon, on the island’s west side, and dropped anchor a few cables off the main settlement of Vaitape. The jaw-droppingly beautiful peaks of Bora Bora’s central island, Mt. Hue and Mt. Otemanu, stood out like sentinels, dominating the scenery. A short Zodiac ride brought us to a small harbor, where we disembarked for a series of island options. The bulk of our contingent, first-timers in these parts, chose the requisite circle-island tour. During WWII, a U.S. supply base was established on Bora Bora, prompted by the bombing of Pearl Harbor in 1941. From 1942 to mid-1946 Operation Bobcat transformed the island and, at its peak, up to 6000 servicemen were stationed on the island. Today, the runway on Motu Mute and the 32km coast road are the clearest (and most useful) reminders of those frenetic days.
The circle–island tour rode the still-fertile fruits of American military labor, taking in a series of sights that exploited numerous different aspects of the island’s great volcanic peaks and their surrounding waters. Bora Bora is an island of contrasts – impressive tropical landscapes, aqua-lagoon waters, and pearl-white sandy beaches juxtaposed with the toys of the wealthy and seemingly-perpetual five-star development. The 4x4 tour gave some of us much of the same perspective on Bora Bora’s history and development, albeit with the addition of some higher off-road vantage points. And for those repeating guests, for whom this landing was their third this season, a helicopter tour around the island and lagoon offered a perspective unique to land and seabirds.
Following the tours, all of us marshaled at Motu Tapu, a small sandy islet on the south side of Teavanui Pass covered in coconut and Cassurina trees. This was the ideal location to take our first snorkel or repose on the beach with a burger and beer prepared by our vessel’s hotel staff.
In 2001 reports of a discolored lagoon and bleached coral, the result of El Niño, spread like wildfire. Although the entire Pacific was affected, Bora Bora was particularly vulnerable as it has only one pass into its lagoon. The water is once again a sparkling aqua, but the damage to the coral was significant. That coupled with heavy rainfall the last few years, recent storms, and increasing development has spawned a most fragile situation: an island dependent on tourism but at risk of deterring visitors as a result of overdevelopment, while at the same time the island’s major drawcard – marine life – is seriously under threat. Our first snorkel of the voyage confirmed such fears; the lagoon life showed undeniable signs of failing – a sandy bottom strewn with the wreckage of delicate branching corals, a paucity of reef fish, and overall lack of even hardy low-profile massive corals. Perhaps disenchanting and disheartening, it was still a noteworthy experience, and told an important and timely tale – one that demanded as much of our concern and attention as any slice of pristine reef, if not more so.
As the day waned, the winds whipped across the lagoon with a fresh charge. By dusk, dark and ominous clouds breathed a portent of fouler weather moving from east to west. The cragged and broken central peaks of Bora Bora, cloaked in gray, took on a brooding appearance. A light rain began to fall. The National Geographic Endeavour weighed anchor and sailed east into the night and the great conveyor belt of the Southeast Trades.
We sailed out of Pape’ete, Tahiti under cover of darkness on a northerly course towards the island of Bora Bora, pearl of the South Pacific. At approximately 6:00am the National Geographic Endeavour, her motion eased by a following sea, was astride the eastern shores of the island of Huahine, an emerald-isle throwback entrenched in a more traditionally-paced French Polynesian lifestyle. In prehistoric times, ancestors of this island had successfully managed to resist the fierce warriors of Bora Bora during their most expansive period. By mid-morning the rugged, verdant topography of the twin islands of Ra’iatea and Taha’a, which share a common lagoon system, were squarely of our vessel’s port side. In the northern distance lay Bora Bora, hazily defined under a misty, cloud-covered sky. Perhaps Captain James Cook, who sighted Bora Bora in 1769 on his first voyage, had a similar vision.
As this day marked the first full day of our voyage, requisite introductions, briefings, and a mandatory lifeboat muster required for all passenger vessels worldwide, were the order of the morning. Not only was such a diet of information necessary in preparation for our forthcoming voyage, but it allowed us all time to decompress from the wary hours of airline travel that had preceded our embarkation.
Shortly after lunch, the National Geographic Endeavour entered Teavanui Pass, the only natural passage into Bora Bora’s lagoon, on the island’s west side, and dropped anchor a few cables off the main settlement of Vaitape. The jaw-droppingly beautiful peaks of Bora Bora’s central island, Mt. Hue and Mt. Otemanu, stood out like sentinels, dominating the scenery. A short Zodiac ride brought us to a small harbor, where we disembarked for a series of island options. The bulk of our contingent, first-timers in these parts, chose the requisite circle-island tour. During WWII, a U.S. supply base was established on Bora Bora, prompted by the bombing of Pearl Harbor in 1941. From 1942 to mid-1946 Operation Bobcat transformed the island and, at its peak, up to 6000 servicemen were stationed on the island. Today, the runway on Motu Mute and the 32km coast road are the clearest (and most useful) reminders of those frenetic days.
The circle–island tour rode the still-fertile fruits of American military labor, taking in a series of sights that exploited numerous different aspects of the island’s great volcanic peaks and their surrounding waters. Bora Bora is an island of contrasts – impressive tropical landscapes, aqua-lagoon waters, and pearl-white sandy beaches juxtaposed with the toys of the wealthy and seemingly-perpetual five-star development. The 4x4 tour gave some of us much of the same perspective on Bora Bora’s history and development, albeit with the addition of some higher off-road vantage points. And for those repeating guests, for whom this landing was their third this season, a helicopter tour around the island and lagoon offered a perspective unique to land and seabirds.
Following the tours, all of us marshaled at Motu Tapu, a small sandy islet on the south side of Teavanui Pass covered in coconut and Cassurina trees. This was the ideal location to take our first snorkel or repose on the beach with a burger and beer prepared by our vessel’s hotel staff.
In 2001 reports of a discolored lagoon and bleached coral, the result of El Niño, spread like wildfire. Although the entire Pacific was affected, Bora Bora was particularly vulnerable as it has only one pass into its lagoon. The water is once again a sparkling aqua, but the damage to the coral was significant. That coupled with heavy rainfall the last few years, recent storms, and increasing development has spawned a most fragile situation: an island dependent on tourism but at risk of deterring visitors as a result of overdevelopment, while at the same time the island’s major drawcard – marine life – is seriously under threat. Our first snorkel of the voyage confirmed such fears; the lagoon life showed undeniable signs of failing – a sandy bottom strewn with the wreckage of delicate branching corals, a paucity of reef fish, and overall lack of even hardy low-profile massive corals. Perhaps disenchanting and disheartening, it was still a noteworthy experience, and told an important and timely tale – one that demanded as much of our concern and attention as any slice of pristine reef, if not more so.
As the day waned, the winds whipped across the lagoon with a fresh charge. By dusk, dark and ominous clouds breathed a portent of fouler weather moving from east to west. The cragged and broken central peaks of Bora Bora, cloaked in gray, took on a brooding appearance. A light rain began to fall. The National Geographic Endeavour weighed anchor and sailed east into the night and the great conveyor belt of the Southeast Trades.
