Tahiti and Moorea: Manta Rays, Sharks, and the Lure of Distant Islands

The old man misled us about Tahiti, pretty much his entire life. 

I know my dad didn’t do it intentionally, but mislead he did, and guess what? I planned an entire cruise based on what I thought was true, when in fact things didn’t go that way at all. 

That said, I’m more than ok with how things turned out. We strolled Tahiti’s black sand beaches and snorkeled with lemon sharks off Moorea, and now we’ve added a few more tropical island destinations to the travel bucket list. Turns out that cruise ships do sometimes stop on Dad’s WWII islands – you know, the ones he actually visited. Turns out he never set foot on Tahiti, not even close. The rest of that story, and more on those other tropical islands, later – but first some background. 

Dad’s family and friends were all too familiar with his lifelong dream: He’d exclaim to anyone listening that ‘maybe I’ll just sail off to Tahiti one of these days!” when life pressed in. Dad had fallen in love with Tahiti (or so we thought) serving as a WWII Merchant Marine. The kids weren’t sure he wouldn’t sail off one day, even though he modified his dream destination to Juneau over the years (his nod to reality, such as it was). Dad never gave up hope that somehow, some way, he’d make things better. Loved that about the old man. Well into his 80’s in poor health, he still puttered down on the docks, prepping his sailboat for Tahiti or Juneau or wherever.

Our 30-day Sydney-to-Vancouver B.C. Princess cruise takes several days to cross the Pacific Ocean, with stops in New Zealand, French Polynesia, and Hawaii, to finally make a short stop in LA before coasting up to Vancouver for an end to it all. We loved last year’s northern transpacific cruise (Tokyo to Vancouver – Kamchacta  rocks!), and we loathe long plane rides. So this itinerary seemed perfect: See Padre’s Tasmania, Dad’s Tahiti, skip the long flight home, cross the international dateline from the south this time, and be pampered on a massive floating hotel for a month. What’s not to like?

And we adored Tahiti, especially Moorea, Tahiti’s close-by neighbor known for its enchanting over-the-water bungalows and amazing snorkeling in aquamarine, calm lagoon waters. Today, I doubt that Tahiti would live up to Dad’s fantasy idea of paradise, even though the natural landscape is absolutely gorgeous. Our wonderful guide Natalia shared fascinating tidbits of island culture and history as she expertly guided us to lush gardens, ancient burial sites, stunning waterfalls, and world-class black-sand surfing beaches. We feasted on grilled fish at a beachy over-the-water thatched restaurant with a sand floor, and saw fresh fish for sale hanging on long ropes all along the narrow coast road. Tahiti is definitely a foodie paradise, at least. 

But Tahiti’s largest town, Papeete, and its smaller communities show signs of endemic poverty, which is understandable considering the current 20% unemployment rate. Jobs are hard to come by. Tahitians tend to live in closeknit small family enclaves, where two employed family members might support 20 other people. In Tahitian family groups, it’s the norm that everyone takes care of everyone else, and that’s a type of paradise, in a way – better than having to go it alone, by far. Yet modern-day comforts we take for granted, such as electricity and a working car, are not givens. That said, according to Natalia the Tahitian people are some of the most generous and friendly anywhere, and I don’t doubt that one bit.

Our stop at the shuttered site of the Paul Gauguin Museum symbolizes for me the current state of things in Tahiti. So much potential, since people around the world visit Tahiti to see for themselves the stunning natural landscapes (and beautiful women) that inspired Gauguin’s famous paintings. Yet tall grass grows between cracks in the museum’s parking lot, and an old rusting chain drapes over the museum’s front door. Tahiti’s poverty and lack of infrastructure make it less than desirable as a tourist destination, despite its natural beauty.

We discovered one aspect of Dad’s Tahiti dream while there, though, in the life of our guide Natalia. Turns out she and her Russian partner took several years to sail from St. Petersburg to Tahiti, where they now live with their family on the sailboat. Now that’s the kind of real-life adventure my Dad longed to have, if only he hadn’t spent most of his adult life supporting three kids. He completed his officer’s training at the end of WWII, and when I asked him once why he didn’t become a sea captain he said he wanted a family, so he gave up his seagoing dream. I do appreciate that, but today women like Natalia are going to sea and raising families too; she gave birth to both of her daughters during their long sea voyage, in fact. Yet I suppose that just wasn’t done in the 1950’s, at least not in my Dad’s family anyway.

In terms of economic problems, the same situation seems to be in play on the nearby island of Moorea, based on what we heard secondhand from those who took driving tours there. We didn’t see for ourselves, since we headed out to the lagoon for some stellar snorkeling instead. I reserved Voil’a Moorea’s highly rated tour on the catamaran Taboo far in advance, and recruited three other delightful couples from our Cruise Critic Roll Call to join us. Captain Jerome, Taboo’s captain, sailed in to pluck us right off the tender dock, and within minutes I was face to face with a manta ray. And then a couple of honest-to-god pretty huge sharks. Whoa.

So to say the snorkeling was stellar is quite the understatement. Something even more thrilling than the incredible snorkeling occurred, though. I was nose-to-nose with sharks when I spotted Taboo’s anchor slipping, so I swam back to the boat to let Jerome know he had to reset the anchor. Padre always stays onboard, due to a frightening snorkeling experience in turbulent Florida seas a few years back. (…and he really doesn’t swim much. He sinks. So there’s that.) He does keep mentioning that he really should conquer his fear of snorkeling, even though I keep telling him it’s no big deal, because it isn’t, at least not to me. Lots of folks ride along on snorkeling tours, while their partners slip over the side to find the fish. It’s more than ok not to swim with the fishes.

Before I could tell him about it, Jerome noticed the anchor problem and sailed away from us in order to reset it. But as the catamaran moved away, I realize who’s NOT onboard: No sight of Padre anywhere. Where was he, anyway? And then I saw him, facedown in the water. 

No, not drowned – he was ogling the spectacular sharks and manta rays, same as I was. What the heck? Turns out Captain Jerome convinced him he could do it – the sparkling lagoon was shallow and calm, and he outfitted Padre with a snug life jacket. All those sharks and manta rays were just the impetus Padre needed – he wasn’t going to miss out on seeing THAT, no sir. So Padre conquered his fear, and the rest of the day he kept disappearing over the side to snorkel some more. Thank you, Captain Jerome, and yay Padre for showing us we should never let something like our lack of swimming skill keep us from making our dreams come true. Our friendly group congratulated Padre on his accomplishment with mai tais and a freshly cut tropical fruit plate, courtesy of Captain Jerome.  

Padre’s accomplishment takes me back to the old man, who never gave up on his sailing dream either. Since I thought I was finally going to be visiting Dad’s beloved Tahiti, I tucked his WWII journal in the luggage to make sure we visited the right locations. And yes, I had read it earlier, at least a couple times – it’s fascinating and we’ll make sure it finds a home in an appropriate WWII archive.  

But I read the journal 20 years ago, and back then, while I’d certainly heard of places like Tahiti, Fiji, New Guinea, and New Caledonia, I had them clumped together in my head under one heading: The South Pacific. Most of us tend to do that with far-off places, when they are just names on a map. Until we actually see for ourselves we don’t pinpoint things very well at all, unless we have some reason to do so. 

I now had a reason to do so, so I sat down with a map and his itinerary to see what ports he visited during the War. Dad starts out by writing that he kept ‘accurate, detailed records’, which I’m sure is true – he was nothing if not detail-oriented, that guy. So nowhere in his ‘Service at Sea’ itinerary does the island of Tahiti show up. Or Bora Bora, where 5,000 American troops were stationed, or Moorea, or Fiji. The closest he got to Tahiti, in fact, was New Caledonia, which is not very close at all. 

I know that now, since I’ve closely studied the map to figure out not only where Dad went, but where the Golden Princess IS. Turns out Dad spent most of his time on the island of New Guinea, north/northwest of the continent of Australia, where he was lucky he didn’t become cannibal dinner (true story) and he almost drowned due to a youthful misadventure. Oh, and of course WWII Liberty ships dodged torpedoes and kamikaze pilots constantly. Dad manned the engine room, a place other soldiers wouldn’t set foot due to fears they’d be trapped there when the ship sank. So yes, I am indeed fortunate that I exist. And no, the Golden Princess didn’t sail anywhere near New Guinea, although we weren’t that far from New Caledonia and the Solomon Islands, two of his actual port stops. 

All that map studying has done wonders for my cruise planning, though. And I found out that Princess and other cruise lines now offer itineraries to New Guinea, and to New Caledonia and the Solomon Islands. So guess who’s planning a Dad’s WWII Itinerary Cruise Part II? Hey, it’s as good of an excuse as any. I also have a new appreciation for why we love travel and cruising so much:  We both find maps fascinating. So what a delightful way to keep studying geography (with room service!) well into our advanced years.

I’ve puzzled over how Dad set his mind on Tahiti in the first place, and have a vague recollection that he told me once it was due to the movie South Pacific, which was actually filmed in Malaysia. The islands of Moorea and Bora Bora are rumored to have served as inspiration for James Michener’s Tales of the South Pacific, on which the movie was based, and I can see why. South Pacific’s Bali Hai was a dead ringer for Moorea – hovering off in the misty distance as we sailed toward her mountain peaks early one morning. I bet that if Dad had ever made it here, his ‘Tahiti’ dream would finally have been fulfilled. What a gorgeous place.

So there you have it. One of Dad’s kids finally made it to Tahiti for him, and turns out he was never here in the first place. But you know what? At least we tried. One of my favorite scenes in all moviedom (and in the brilliant Ken Kesey novel on which it was based) is when One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest’s J.P. McMurphy scams the mental war patients when he convinces them he can wrench a ceramic toilet out of the floor and toss it out the window. What a perfect metaphor for overcoming life’s barriers  – time to shed the garbage that’s holding you back, smash through, and off you go! 

But of course when McMurphy tries he can’t actually pull the thing out of the floor – reality sets in, just as it does in real life when we try to ‘sail off to Tahiti’. The part I like best is when McMurphy shouts at his buddies, ‘But at least I tried, damn it! At least I TRIED!” And you know what? Dad never quit trying and hoping either, not to his dying day. Quite a wonderful legacy for a dad to leave his kids, don’t you think?

(FYI: Someone finally wrenched that toilet off the floor, chucked it out a window, and began a new life. The book and the movie are both classics, so check ‘em out to find out who finally broke through if you don’t know already – great inspiration for breakthroughs!).

Next up: We head back to Hawaii, another one of the old man’s favorite haunts (and ours) to check out the misbehaving Kilauea Volcano as well as make port stops in Oahu and Hilo. Onboard we’ve turned into classical cello groupies, which is a story for a future post about all the adventures we’ve had as residents of this massive floating city (hint: it’s way fun). Never ever thought I’d turn into a cello groupie, but hey – who knows what might happen on The Love Boat, right?

Thanks, as always, for following along everyone!