More Water Than Land
Photo credit: Landon Smith
Protecting the inner lagoon from the open ocean, a ring of jagged coral coastline creates a halo-shaped atoll that’s home to tough-skinned renegades, ancient tradition and pearls of wisdom. Here, in a place where there’s more water than land and more coconuts than people, life requires every ounce of energy to survive.
Thankfully, coconuts are plenty and fish are abundant. Ulu (breadfruit), noni, and other Polynesian panaceas fill nutrient gaps made by the spars staples. These primal botanical allies have adapted to an environment of liminal top soil and scanty squall rainfall. Leafy greens, vegetables, and sumptuous fruits are a rarity. Superfoods are an absolute luxury.
Arriving by way of sailboat, we traveled at an atavistic speed, assuming a pace of life akin to this romantic realm. Slowly, we integrated our ocean-driven existence into a whole new world. The demands of open-ocean sailing were rewarded by an aquatic playground, not for the faint of heart. Unadulterated diving conditions, crystalline coral reef, flourishing sea life, and radically pristine surf comprise our backyard.
Today was no exception. In fact, today was exceptional. I woke up to a rainbow arching across the western sky. Soft waves whispered across the lagoon’s surface. Palm fronds fluttered on the horizon. And a silky salty breeze caressed my skin as I poked my head out of the port aft hatch. My fellow crusading crew mates joined in the cockpit for the spectacle. One of them peacefully proclaimed, “today is the day.”
Hot water was already on. My Lando had our ritual coffee awaiting. Twenty minutes later the first dive of the day was executed to secure a stern line for the boat. Forty minutes later and we were all in the skiff, skirting across the lagoon towards a stilted farmhouse built atop a shallow coral head.
We worked for five hours, replacing rotten floorboards, repairing tattered roofing, watering the thirsty garden and communing in a collage of broken English, French, German and Tahitian. As soon as hunger struck, our cue for high noon, we zipped back to the boat for a quick refuel and gear swoop. Surf was pumping and conditions were ideal. We loaded the boards, jumped back in the skiff, and slid into our next elevating activity.
Countless waves peeled over a coral-studded liquid lens. Backside barrels, glassy face time and airborne exits kept us catching the current conveyor belt out for more. It wasn’t hunger or fatigue that brought our session to an end— it was the uncontrollable turning of the tides. So, back to the boat home base we went, full of gratitude and still running on stoke.
Today was, indeed, the day— to be repeated, revised and amplified tomorrow. However the sun decides to rise, rainbow or not, we’ll be primed for the raw reality of this rugged dreamscape.
