Moorea --First Visit

July 23 to July 28, 2009
Yellow lizard; Hop over from Tahiti; Drive around the island; Marae and Belvedere lookout; Moorea Pearl resort

Yellow lizard

MOE-oh-ray-ah. Moorea. It means Yellow Lizard, a name taken from a family of Moorean chiefs that joined the Pomare dynasty of Tahiti around the year 1805. The island then became a mere province of Tahiti.

It is my favourite French Polynesian island with high, jaggered volcanic peaks that pierce the skies, steep valleys encircled by a translucent green-blue lagoon, and topped by two deep bays: Opunohu and Cook. I think of films Bali Hai and Mutiny on the Bounty. Moorea is a film setting.

In my mind’s eye I visualize the island as heart shaped, with Mt. Rotui rising from the heart’s V (top center)—the two bays on either side forming the V center. I spell out the names of the mountain peaks for you, because the names translate into the sound of music for me and into imaginary voices of the people chanting: Rotui (2948’), Tautuapae (2522’), Matotea (2342), Mouaroa (2886’), Tearai (2525’), Mouaputa (2722’), Tohivea (3958’), Ahutaa (1574’). Try pronouncing these names out loud, enunciating each vowel at a time, as if chanting. Smile.

Can you imagine the Tahitian alphabet only includes 13 letters? 5 vowels (a, e, i, o, u); and 8 consonants (f, h, m, n, p, r, t, v). Try to put these letters into a language and pronounce as in French, except pronounce: e as in say; u as in oo; r is rolled; and h is never silent.

I’ll stick with the basic greeting: Ia ora! Let there be life. And then you respond with: Ia ora na! Let your life be. A greeting more beautiful, I have not found.

Hop over from Tahiti

There is either a lot of wind or no wind in the hop over from Tahiti. We motor sail up along the northeast side, past Cooks bay toward Opunohu bay. At last we are out of the chop and Dannel can slowly emerge from the dark and dizzy depths of ‘le mal de mer’.

The dramatic beauty snaps one into focus. Out come the cameras. Take Moorea’s profile as we approach Opunohu bay. Take one of Sarah in her shocking pink costume wearing Dannel’s hat—happy to have arrived. Take one of the Sheraton Hotel’s bungalows over turquoise waters. Take one of the spot where we will drop our hook.


Approaching Opunohu bay, Moorea.


Sarah is happy to arrive.


The Sheraton Hotel’s over-the-water bungalows. Is the water beautiful enough?


Here is the spot where we drop the hook.

Sarah and Dannel jump off the boat and into the cool, clear pale turquoise waters. HEAVEN. They rent bikes and do a little reconnaissance work. Ride with the wind through their hair to Cook’s bay and back. Stretch those legs from confined boat life! After all this is vacation time!

The island is small and covers an area of 80 square miles with a population of about 12,000 people tucked into nooks and crannies alongside the road that circles the island perimeter. There is one other road that cuts up through the Opunohu valley and across to Vaiare Bay, where the ferries come in from Papeete.

Drive around the island

Dannel rents a car from Albert and we are off on a drive-by of the island. First stop is Maharepa past Cooks bay--a small, concentrated area of shops. We find the bakery, what else? And enjoy a spinach salmon quiche and other morsels that please the body for petite dejuener (breakfast).

“I really would like a Tahitian pearl.” I think out loud as I let the last savoury bite melt in my mouth. It goes right past Russ. Dannel comes back after awhile to tell me he has found some pearls. Yay! Just a preview. Nothing really that catches my fancy. I tentatively put one on hold though. Dream on. Tahitian pearls in Moorea are priced mega times up from the Tuamotus, where they are farmed.

There is a guide to buying and the sales ladies are all very, very well mannered. A Tiare behind their ear, charming. I would be, too, if I stood the chance of a good return. I just use my eye as a guide, though, and of course pick the most expensive, and then move on to reality. The saleslady explains: luster (excellent, very good, good, medium, poor); surface smoothness (top gem, A quality, B quality, C quality, D quality); size (8 mm, 10 mm, 12 mm, 14 mm); shape (round, drop, button, baroque); color (cherry, peacock, pistachio, golden, gray, or white).

I’ll come back I say. I’m dreaming a whole string. But dream on. How about 1 pearl?

“Mom.” Sarah touches my arm. “Look at that one. That’s what I like.” She points to two gorgeous pearls in the window display: white and gray that hang at different levels from a golden chain. How I wish I’d found the pot of gold and could buy them for her.

Through the little towns we drive, stopping at the Toatea lookout point: we see the Hotel Sofitel’s thatched bungalows over the lagoon. Tahiti now seems to call from afar, from beyond the lagoon and reefs of Moorea.

The Moorea distillery and fruit juice cannery is closed. We cannot sample the Eau de Vie (water of life)--another time another year?

Stop for a good crunchy ‘artisan’ baguette with more substance than the others, cheese (what else?), tomatoes, fruit and cool drinks. It is hot. Dannel finds a spot by the sea to enjoy more food for the body and soul. Quietly look out to the waters beyond. Nourishment.


Hotel Sofitel’s bungalows over the lagoon from the lookout point.


Tahiti now seems to call from afar from beyond the lagoon and reefs of Moorea.


Crunchy ‘artisan’ baguette for lunch.


A drink on the rocks.

Now on to the waterfall. It is hot. The air conditioner is on, but Russ wants the window down. Sailors don’t go for air conditioning. They want the real McCoy--wind.

Afareaitu waterfall. Dannel had read about it: 60 ft cascades that drop to a spectacular swimming pool. We look for it. Up a dirt road. Can’t find the Vanilla plantation that it is close to. Eventually we are told where it is. It is time to start walking. Past a group of youth campers who in unison say Ia Ora with smiling faces. Ia Ora Na we say and smile back. It is not far to the water fall, but alas it is only a trickle. Russ stands in the pool with water to his knees and looks up.

We start fast forwarding on the drive and reach the Intercontinental Moorea resort and spa. Pinch a swim in the pool, travelers that we are. Lie on a chez lounge at the edge of a manmade, groomed, immaculate beach. Vacationers waltz around with their blue towels and sip drinks with umbrella decorations that bounce off their noses as they take more sips. It’s nice, but I prefer the wilds of the anchorage.

Marae and Belvedere lookout

We drive through the Opunohu valley. The road winds up around hairpin curves, and just short of the ultimate of curves are the remnants of six marae (archaeological sites). Seven of these were reconstructed in 1967. We take time as the shadows lengthen to sit and ponder the cultures of ancient times.

The marae Titiroa have stones that protrude and angle back, used for backrests by chiefs as they watched the animal sacrifices. Hmmmmm. Glad that is not happening anymore. Too bloody for a vegetarian, but one up from human sacrifices.

A trail goes down past Pape trees—that give off a hollow sound if you knock on the trunks—to a three-tiered ahu (platform) called Marae ahu-o-Mahine.


Sarah listening to the hollow sound the Pape tree makes when you knock on its trunk.


Sarah sits on the Marae ahu-o-Mahine as Madre takes yet another picture.

Further on there are archery platforms—Marae Afareaitu—where the ancient archers aimed for distance rather than accuracy. On we walk across a stream over boulders and dank leaves. Where are we going? In a circle or further afield?

We find Russ and Dannel patiently waiting, silently drinking in the milieu as we emerge from the maraes. There are more than 500 ancient structures that have been identified in the Opunohu valley: to see another time and another day another year.

Now we take the extreme hairpin turn and head up to Belvedere, a sight to behold.
The wind blows hard here and we stand on the edge of the caldera looking out across the vistas to jaggered peaks; to the two bays--Opunohu and Cook--and out to Rotui, sacred mountain of ancient Polynesians. Clouds have gathered and the light is diminished. It is time to return to Zulu, at anchor faithfully bobbing in the bay.


Looking out across the vista of pinpoint peaks from the edge of the caldera of Belvedere.


Russ and Marilyn with Mt. Rotui and Cooks bay as backdrop.


Opunohu bay from high up Belvedere lookout.

Moorea Pearl resort

Dannel, being the hotel food manager at the Marriot in Portland , wants to try out a few nights of luxury and chooses the Moorea Pearl Resort.

But first: Happy Birthday captain Nason. Let’s drink a hot cup of Stumptown's French roast and enjoy a mix of almond, chocolate, plain pastries and fruit. And OK let’s go over the edge and have a slice of the chocolate birthday cake. Light the candles. Make a wish. Smile. Sweet treat for the sweet Capitan.

Time to start the outboard and dinghy through the reefs to Cooks bay and beyond.

“This way! Oops, no that way.” Sarah and I try to guide Russ through the shallow passages. Crunch! Reverse, zig zag, oar off. She has her pirate bandana on. Dannel quietly looks on. We’ve made it through the reefs and putter into deep waters. See the gorgeous schooner called Star Flyer anchored in Cooks bay.


Sarah has her bandana on for the dinghy crossing through the reefs to the Pearl resort.


The schooner, Star Flyer, anchored in the deep waters of Cooks Bay.

On across the deep waters we accelerate, wind in our hair, back into the shallow turquoise waters and tie up at the Pearl. How beautiful. How positively civilized! We are definitely one up from the maraes and ancient time with all due respect.

This was once the hotel Bali Hai, owned by Americans who came with the dream of creating vanilla plantations, before the tourist boom. Now years and years later Bali Hai is under new ownership and renamed most probably numerous time. It truly does resemble a pearl to me--small and beautiful in a perfect setting facing the Eau de Vie.

There are garden rooms and bungalows over the water that have glass bottom tables so you can see the reefs and fish swim by. Bon appetite.

Sarah gets us yellow and cream striped pool towels, signifying we belong there (smile) and we do the tourist thing and lounge around the swimming pool with cold drinks. Read. Swim. Contemplate the beauty. Walk through the gardens. It really is exquisite. I think I prefer this to the anchorage for awhile. Smile. Dannel puts Russ’ sparkling wine he bought in Tahiti on ice.


The Moorea Pearl Resort was once the Bali Hai owned by Americans from yesteryear.


Dannel and Sarah in the Pearl’s pool: a pool unto themselves.


Birthday boy relaxes.


Russ strikes a nonchalant pose at the Pearl’s poolside.


Sarah follows suit.


Red flamboyant catches my eye.


The path to the garden bungalows.


Marilyn makes friends with a Tiki.

Sarah and I slip out to Maharepa village with pearls on mind. The shop is closed. We wait. We return. We wait again. I said I would be back. I walk into the shop next door--Anne Simon Boutique—and ask if she knows the whereabouts of the salesperson next door.

“No, but you welcome to look at our pearls.” She cleverly invites in a very French accent, far from that of an Anne Simon.

I snap up a pearl while the going is good. It is truly beautiful. It is a 10 mm drop peacock colour of good quality. It hangs off a fine gold chain. It makes a simple, but gorgeous statement hanging around the neck. I wear it out. Greens and blacks and purples and blues seem to swim in the luster as the light catches the hues. I’m happy, even though I would have been happier buying it from the pearl farmer in the Tuamotus rather than Anne Simon boutique. I have a bounce to my gait as we return to its appropriate namesake--the Pearl resort.

It is time to shower. The water feels like a million years of soft wet warmth cleansing my bone apricot lizard-like parched skin. The steam moisturizes. The fluffy white towel absorbs the wet. I smooth on cooling body lotion. My skin drinks it in. Dab on astringent. It stings. Gently rub in some nourishing face cream. I am shiny clean. Add a little drop of perfume for a pampered finishing touch.

We are all refreshed and Dannel pours the ice-cold wine. “Cheers!" He makes a toast for Russ' day of birth. Thank you Dannel!

Dinner follows--another story another day. The sun sets on The Moorea Pearl and I take my perfect shot.


The sun sets on the Moorea Pearl resort and I take a perfect shot.

The time has come for Russ and I to dinghy back to Zulu in the dark of night closer to shore through a deeper channel, shining the spotlight searching for a clear way through. The stars peak out by the millions from holes in the clouds. The new moon adds a graceful arc of light. This perfect day is done.