INDULGENCE theaustralian.com.au/travel JANUARY 19-20, 2019 ... · 12 TRAVEL + INDULGENCE THE...
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12 TRAVEL + INDULGENCE THE WEEKEND AUSTRALIAN, JANUARY 19-20, 2019 theaustralian.com.au/travel AUSE01Z01TR - V1 T he residents of Huahine’s coral gardens are dolled up as though awaiting my arrival. Lemon peel angelfish have drawn rings of bright blue around their pro- tuberant eyes; giant clams have painted their curly lips purple and turquoise; and sea stars have lacquered their talons in- digo. Parrotfish seem to have run amok with pots of rouge and the violet of their cheeks has spread like a rash across their luminous, jade-green bodies. But not everyone in this subaquatic won- derland has adorned themselves so garishly. A plain black fish looks up at me imploringly as I glide above. “I’m beautiful too!” it seems to be saying. And yes it is, in its own mono- chromatic way, as its eyes are bright and at- tentive and its translucent fins flap hypnotically, like slow-motion butterfly wings. Further along, a school of elongated fish manifest like ghosts upon the seabed, their snouts communally unearthing some in- visible prey. Their scales are so white I can barely discern them from the ashen carpet of sand undergirding the seascape. This coexistence of colour and colourless- ness is mirrored above the surface of French Polynesia’s waters. On the island of Tahiti, from where we’ve sailed aboard Ponant’s Le Boreal, there is a volcanic beach where glassy waters are turned to ink by the black seabed. Here in Huahine, the beaches are like just- fallen snow. Above the shoreline, the islands rise not as solid landmasses so much as a gen- tle feathering of emerald falcata trees. “They’re acacias, brought here for their medical use and distributed by hurricanes,” explains guide Dolores Colombani. In the old days, she says, the islanders would whittle canoes from their elegant, fast- growing trunks. “But they’re too bent now,” she says, “too terrorised by hurricanes. Plus, we’ve got fibreglass these days.” Much like the marine gardens swaying below, these spontaneous plantations are studded with luminous gems — pink papayas, orange-red mangoes and bright yellow ba- nanas; hibiscuses, bougainvillea and frangi- pani in kaleidoscopic hues. But the most valuable jewel here is leached of all colour. It’s the coconut, products of which, such as oil and milk, comprise a large proportion of French Polynesia’s exports. The fruit prolifer- ates beneath the crowns of the coconut palms posing along beaches like a cliched advertise- ment for paradise. “Coconuts fall on the ground and you scoop them up,” Colombani smiles. “You make your money and you don’t need any- body to be your boss.” And when the day’s work is done, she adds, you lop the top off a spare coconut, pour a tot of your favourite spirit into its watery cavity and toast your heavenly existence with a refreshing “coco- nut soda”. The cheers are rising and the champagne flutes are clinking back onboard Le Boreal, moored in Huahine’s Maro’e Bay, as Captain Mickael Debien hosts a welcome dinner for passengers. Much like those black and white fish I have spied this afternoon, the ship All things bright and beautiful in French Polynesia CATHERINE MARSHALL IN THE KNOW A 10-day, nine-night Treasures of Polynesia round-trip aboard Le Boreal departs from Papeete this year on October 25 in a northwest loop to the Tuamoto and Society Islands. From $8300 a person twin-share. Bonus deals apply to early bookings; 1300 737 178. ■ au.ponant.com seem conjured entirely from colourless ele- ments. But grey clouds are gathering now and turning the lagoon a dull shade of green as we continue our loop of the island. Boats dangle above the water, supported by rudimentary scaffolding, which is an inexpensive way of protecting them from saltwater, Montaron tells us. Military bunkers, built by the Ameri- cans when they established a base here during World War II, vainly resist suffocation by the vines curling around their foundations. Marlon Brando’s one-time overwater bungalow looks forlorn in this context as the clouds hang heavy over its pandanus- thatched roof, the tropical jungle breathes hot at its back. Down the road, teenagers loiter on a concrete structure jutting out into the la- goon as part of a hotel construction project aborted after a hurricane swept through. The gloom has lifted by the afternoon, and we’re skating along bright waters from Fa’anui Bay around the islet of To’opua and out towards the reef. The seascape is striped in sailor blues, from the cobalt lagoon where we stop to snorkel above manta rays, and the aquamarine shallows where black-tipped reef sharks and stingrays gather around tourist boats for feeding (a common, if environment- ally questionable, activity), to the sapphire streak of ocean frothed with white as waves crash upon the reef. I slip into the water, scattering a shoal of convict surgeonfish; their jailbird stripes bend and sway in the sun- light. This coral garden is said to be more colourful than those closer to shore, thanks to infusions of fresh water from be- yond the reef, and French Polynesia has not escaped the conse- quences of coral bleaching. And indeed, it’s as though a great big pot of purple paint has been thrown across this lagoon and has sunk and settled upon the under- water shrubbery. It bubbles and blisters across skeletal bouquets, adheres to rockeries in jagged shales, and washes the tips of brilliant while corals in its aristocratic dye. In counterpoint, dull brown mounds of coral spread out below me like mountain ranges; the dark spines of sea urchins protrude from their valleys; black pearls bloom inside black-shelled oysters. High above the waterline, Captain Debien perceives this wonderland from a different perspective. His bridge aboard Le Boreal is the best office in the world, he says, for it pro- vides a fresh view of paradise every day. It’s just after sunrise and he’s guiding the ship into a tight space between Tahaa, producer of some of the world’s finest vanilla, and Motu seems anachronous in this setting, a capsule of muted French elegance set down upon a gaudily coloured lagoon in an outpost of France. The 264-passenger vessel is mostly filled with French passengers but Debien says more and more Australians are booking. “It’s a big market for us,” he says. “I think Australians appreciate the intimacy.” Le Boreal’s two restaurants serve predominantly French food; the nightly enter- tainment is provided by a Moulin Rouge-esque dance troupe straight from Paris. We might well be in France it- self, if not for the flamboyant vistas splashing themselves across the ship’s win- dows and reminding us we’re in the tropics. When the partying’s over I fall asleep to the gentle sway of the ship, now set sail, and find myself moored next morning just off that mythological isle, Bora Bora. Disbelieving, I reach out to touch it, assuming it will dissolve beneath my fingers. But its contours arise in two distinc- tive peaks, the remnants of an extinct vol- cano; framing it is a ribbon of water so luridly blue it has surely been artificially pigmented. “All these colours you see in the lagoon are natural, and not because we put dye in it, as some people will tell you,” says guide Mana Montaron, reading my mind as we drive along the island’s coastal rim. “The colour is made by water, sunlight, white sand and varying depths.” It’s like magic. Vividly shaded lagoons A warm Polynesian welcome, above; clownfish off Moorea, inset; Prestige Suite on Le Boreal, below COLOURS BY NUMBERS INSET: GETTY IMAGES
Transcript of INDULGENCE theaustralian.com.au/travel JANUARY 19-20, 2019 ... · 12 TRAVEL + INDULGENCE THE...
12 TRAVEL + INDULGENCE THE WEEKEND AUSTRALIAN, JANUARY 19-20, 2019theaustralian.com.au/travel
AUSE01Z01TR - V1
The residents of Huahine’s coralgardens are dolled up as thoughawaiting my arrival. Lemonpeel angelfish have drawn ringsof bright blue around their pro-tuberant eyes; giant clams have
painted their curly lips purple and turquoise;and sea stars have lacquered their talons in-digo. Parrotfish seem to have run amok withpots of rouge and the violet of their cheekshas spread like a rash across their luminous,jade-green bodies.
But not everyone in this subaquatic won-derland has adorned themselves so garishly.A plain black fish looks up at me imploringlyas I glide above. “I’m beautiful too!” it seemsto be saying. And yes it is, in its own mono-chromatic way, as its eyes are bright and at-tentive and its translucent fins flaphypnotically, like slow-motion butterflywings. Further along, a school of elongatedfish manifest like ghosts upon the seabed,their snouts communally unearthing some in-visible prey. Their scales are so white I canbarely discern them from the ashen carpet ofsand undergirding the seascape.
This coexistence of colour and colourless-ness is mirrored above the surface of FrenchPolynesia’s waters. On the island of Tahiti,from where we’ve sailed aboard Ponant’s LeBoreal, there is a volcanic beach where glassywaters are turned to ink by the black seabed.Here in Huahine, the beaches are like just-fallen snow. Above the shoreline, the islandsrise not as solid landmasses so much as a gen-tle feathering of emerald falcata trees.
“They’re acacias, brought here for theirmedical use and distributed by hurricanes,”explains guide Dolores Colombani.
In the old days, she says, the islanderswould whittle canoes from their elegant, fast-growing trunks. “But they’re too bent now,”she says, “too terrorised by hurricanes. Plus,we’ve got fibreglass these days.”
Much like the marine gardens swayingbelow, these spontaneous plantations arestudded with luminous gems — pink papayas,orange-red mangoes and bright yellow ba-nanas; hibiscuses, bougainvillea and frangi-pani in kaleidoscopic hues. But the mostvaluable jewel here is leached of all colour.It’s the coconut, products of which, such as oiland milk, comprise a large proportion ofFrench Polynesia’s exports. The fruit prolifer-ates beneath the crowns of the coconut palmsposing along beaches like a cliched advertise-ment for paradise.
“Coconuts fall on the ground and youscoop them up,” Colombani smiles. “Youmake your money and you don’t need any-body to be your boss.” And when the day’swork is done, she adds, you lop the top off aspare coconut, pour a tot of your favouritespirit into its watery cavity and toast yourheavenly existence with a refreshing “coco-nut soda”.
The cheers are rising and the champagneflutes are clinking back onboard Le Boreal,moored in Huahine’s Maro’e Bay, as CaptainMickael Debien hosts a welcome dinner forpassengers. Much like those black and whitefish I have spied this afternoon, the ship
All things bright and beautiful in French PolynesiaCATHERINE MARSHALL
IN THE KNOW
A 10-day, nine-night Treasures of Polynesia round-trip aboard Le Borealdeparts from Papeete this year on October 25 in a northwest loop to the Tuamoto and Society Islands. From $8300 a person twin-share. Bonus deals apply to early bookings; 1300 737 178.■ au.ponant.com
seem conjured entirely from colourless ele-ments. But grey clouds are gathering now andturning the lagoon a dull shade of green as wecontinue our loop of the island. Boats dangleabove the water, supported by rudimentaryscaffolding, which is an inexpensive way ofprotecting them from saltwater, Montarontells us. Military bunkers, built by the Ameri-cans when they established a base here duringWorld War II, vainly resist suffocation by thevines curling around their foundations.
Marlon Brando’s one-time overwaterbungalow looks forlorn in this context as theclouds hang heavy over its pandanus-thatched roof, the tropical jungle breathes hotat its back. Down the road, teenagers loiter ona concrete structure jutting out into the la-goon as part of a hotel construction projectaborted after a hurricane swept through.
The gloom has lifted by the afternoon, andwe’re skating along bright waters fromFa’anui Bay around the islet of To’opua andout towards the reef. The seascape is stripedin sailor blues, from the cobalt lagoon wherewe stop to snorkel above manta rays, and theaquamarine shallows where black-tipped reefsharks and stingrays gather around touristboats for feeding (a common, if environment-ally questionable, activity), to the sapphirestreak of ocean frothed with white as wavescrash upon the reef.
I slip into the water, scattering a shoal ofconvict surgeonfish; their jailbird
stripes bend and sway in the sun-light. This coral garden is said
to be more colourful thanthose closer to shore,
thanks to infusions offresh water from be-yond the reef, andFrench Polynesia hasnot escaped the conse-quences of coralbleaching. And indeed,
it’s as though a greatbig pot of purple paint
has been thrown acrossthis lagoon and has sunk
and settled upon the under-water shrubbery. It bubbles and
blisters across skeletal bouquets,adheres to rockeries in jagged shales,
and washes the tips of brilliant while corals inits aristocratic dye. In counterpoint, dullbrown mounds of coral spread out below melike mountain ranges; the dark spines of seaurchins protrude from their valleys; blackpearls bloom inside black-shelled oysters.
High above the waterline, Captain Debienperceives this wonderland from a differentperspective. His bridge aboard Le Boreal isthe best office in the world, he says, for it pro-vides a fresh view of paradise every day. It’sjust after sunrise and he’s guiding the shipinto a tight space between Tahaa, producer ofsome of the world’s finest vanilla, and Motu
seems anachronous in this setting, a capsuleof muted French elegance set down upon agaudily coloured lagoon in an outpost ofFrance.
The 264-passenger vessel is mostly filledwith French passengers but Debien says moreand more Australians are booking. “It’s a bigmarket for us,” he says. “I think Australiansappreciate the intimacy.”
Le Boreal’s two restaurantsserve predominantly Frenchfood; the nightly enter-tainment is provided bya Moulin Rouge-esquedance troupe straightfrom Paris. We mightwell be in France it-self, if not for theflamboyant vistassplashing themselvesacross the ship’s win-dows and remindingus we’re in the tropics.
When the partying’sover I fall asleep to thegentle sway of the ship, nowset sail, and find myself moorednext morning just off that mythologicalisle, Bora Bora. Disbelieving, I reach out totouch it, assuming it will dissolve beneath myfingers. But its contours arise in two distinc-tive peaks, the remnants of an extinct vol-cano; framing it is a ribbon of water so luridlyblue it has surely been artificially pigmented.
“All these colours you see in the lagoon arenatural, and not because we put dye in it, assome people will tell you,” says guide ManaMontaron, reading my mind as we drive alongthe island’s coastal rim.
“The colour is made by water, sunlight,white sand and varying depths.”
It’s like magic. Vividly shaded lagoons
A warm Polynesian welcome, above; clownfish off Moorea, inset; Prestige Suite on Le Boreal, below
COLOURS BY NUMBERS
INSET: GETTY IMAGES
TRAVEL + INDULGENCE 13THE WEEKEND AUSTRALIAN, JANUARY 19-20, 2019theaustralian.com.au/travel
V1 - AUSE01Z01TR
stingray glides out from beneath our excur-sion boat, silken grey against a pallid lagoonfloor. A reef shark slips past, black tattoos de-lineating its pale body against the seabed.There’s no coral garden here, no flourishesdrawn on to fish faces, no colour at all exceptfor that azure water conjured improbablyfrom a cocktail of sunshine and depth andpure white sand.
Catherine Marshall was a guest of Ponant.
Santiago, then down through the Chileanfjords to Ushuaia. But for now it’s basking inparadise. The monumental peaks of Mooreaare veiled in mist next morning, renderedmurky and mysterious in the insipid dawnlight. Falcata trees frill the foothills; farmershack ripening pineapples from their spinybeds before the rats can get to them; dogsbark; smoke curls skywards.
Waves are detonating like explosives outalong the reef, but the lagoon is mirror-still. A
Ceran, a deserted islet where we’ll spend theday pretending we’re castaways.
From up here, you can perceive the neck-lace of turquoise garlanding Tahaa and itsneighbour, Raiatea, the mottled reefs puttingobstacles in our way. “It’s a beautiful navi-gation, but it’s not the most difficult,” Debiensays. “That’s Antarctica.”
Le Boreal will make its way to that icy con-tinent after we’ve returned to Tahiti, crossingto the Marquesas Islands, Easter Island and
MORE TO THE STORY
“French people can’t travel without cheese and wine,” says Captain Mickael Debien. “The bread? That’s OK,we can find a local bakery. But cheeseand wine …” He trails off, shaking his head.
It’s a philosophy borne out in the twoAlain Ducasse-inspired restaurants onLe Boreal. There’s the buffet-style La Boussole, with indoor and outdoor seating, and the more intimate, a la carte La Licorne.
While Ponant’s menus are createdin collaboration with Ducasse Conseil, a catering centre run byAlain Ducasse Enterprise, Debiensays, “The most important thing is not the menu, it’s to find a good supplier.”
Fruit and fish are naturally well-supplied in French Polynesia, so passengers can expect to feast on sweet pineapple, mangoes and papaya, and freshly caught mahi mahi,swordfish and tuna.
But other produce must be deliveredby container, such as lamb from New Zealand, beef from Argentina and cheese and wine from (of course) France.
While tables must be booked for dinner at the very popular La Boussole, I am happy to take my meals in La Licorne, where the elegantdecor and tableware, attentive serviceand exquisite French cooking leave mewith the glow (and heft) of someone who’s just spent a solid week dining in Paris.
Ponant’s Le Boreal in French Polynesia, main; exquisite turquoise waters of Bora Bora, above; pineapple harvest on Moorea, right
CATHERINE MARSHALL
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