Time to complete the Bucket List

When we visited Easter Island I didn’t dream that I would be taking to the stage again, and this time as a sole guest dancer with the leading cultural dance group, the Polynesian Kari Kari.

Warning, if there is a dance group performing, don’t sit in the front row! I did, and when a hand headed my way from a rather sumptuous half-naked male professional dancer-cum-warrior with rippling pecs I didn’t have the heart to refuse. Well it would be rude to.

What I didn’t realise was that I was the only one invited and with a short introduction to the hip and arm waggling moves of the female dancers I was on my way to a five-minute performance of Easter Island cultural dance. I waggled and swerved as my partner gyrated every part of his tattooed, glistening, brown body. All rather distracting as I tried to concentrate on my important role amongst the team.

They were obviously impressed with the dancing of this on-board guest and, once my performance had finished, invited other non-suspecting soon-to-be dancing recruits to the stage, including John who too enjoyed putting his limbs to work on the dance floor.

This cultural group’s main objective is to bring back and keep alive the traditional dances and songs of their ancestors including war dances which they carried out with gusto, enthusiasm and entertainment with the women smiling throughout and the men showing us their warrior faces. It was a great evening, quite unexpected and enjoyed by all.

Needless to say, I am now part of a famous South Pacific traditional dance group. Touring starts next year!

Copyright: Words and photos Sue Barnard 2022

As I write this, we are drenched. There were lots of warnings this morning about the difficulties of getting onto our next destination – Ducie Island. One piece of information I read said this uninhabited island is ‘sufficiently off the beaten track to avoid the interest of all but the very determined!’ The more we travel along this mammoth trip from Tahiti to Valparaiso the more determined we are to get onto all our proposed destinations. 

The warnings given today included: wear tough shoes because this would be a very wet landing from the Zodiac inflatable boats into knee-deep water, prior to walking some yards over rocks. Oh – and did we mention – there will be some swell. A bit nerve-wracking as such warnings do not come lightly from the highly experienced Expedition Team. For once I thought: shall I/shan’t I go? I nearly chose the latter but with thoughts that I shall only have this once-in-a-lifetime chance to get onto this remote land, that had the Expedition Team so excited, I just had to attempt it. And while we waited it started to rain… and rain, and rain. 

The fewer numbers than usual who did brave it, managed to land. Particularly helpful was the assistance given by two team members each grabbing one of my arms to ensure I did not fall face first into the ocean. Whoosh, before I knew it, I was off the Zodiac and into knee-deep water – just how those team members keep their balance while trying to stabilise ours, I’ll never know.

Once landed, we removed our rather heavy and wet life jackets and admired the beaches that welcomed us – but not for long. Led by an enthusiastic Expedition Team leader we headed across land to a central lagoon.

But to fill in some detail about Ducie. This is an atoll comprising four islets forming a circle with a lagoon in the centre. The largest (of these very small islets) is Acadia, upon which we landed. The land is impoverished comprising coral rubble and sea shells. Knowing this, one might think that nothing grows, but remarkably it does. Just two plant species survive: the Beach Heliotrope (also known as the octopus bush, photo below) and the Pemphis acidula. There is no soil on this island, the plant roots instead are supported by the dead coral and shell, but fed by water in a similar way to hydroponics. 

Ducie has quite some history, being discovered by a Spanish expedition in 1606 who named it Luna Puesta. It was later visited in 1791 by the HMS Pandora, captained by Edward Edwards, who had been sent from Britain to arrest the Bounty mutineers. He named the island in honour of the 3rd Baron Ducie, Francis Reynolds-Moreton, under whom he had served. It has a chequered history of governance, but in 2010 a new constitution was established that Ducie and the remainder of the Pitcairn Islands would be ruled by a governor designated by the British monarch, hence it is a British Overseas Territory.

Also part of its history is the wreck of the ship Acadia which ran aground in 1881, fortunately without the loss of lives. It is said that on occasions parts of the wreck can still be seen.

In 1989 divers discovered the wreckage and the following year a major expedition to recover its huge anchor took place involving the leading bird man on our ship, Peter Harrison. This turned out to be a major undertaking. The anchor was originally in 20 metres of water, but dragging the mighty beast to its destination on Pitcairn Island resulted in the anchor being dropped, by that stage in 120 metres of water. It eventually got to its resting place, now overlooking the harbour on Pitcairn Island. Moving it up to its very steep final destination on Pitcairn was a feat in itself and took much manpower to achieve.

So back to our activities. Our walk took us from the shore to the central lagoon. This involved walking through vegetation, ducking from the overhead octopus bush branches, while continually watching where we trod. This was not only because underfoot was extremely uneven and loose, but because there are an estimated minimum 500,000 ground nesting seabirds here which are so well camouflaged that it is easy to step on them.

We tip-toed across the land, with all trekkers saying to one another frequently words to the effect of: “Oops, don’t step back, there is a chick behind you,” or “Ooh, look at that little one, it can hardly be seen”. Camouflage at its finest!

Most of the birds we saw nesting were the Murphy’s petrel, of which we must have seen hundreds, many drenched in the rain. This is considered one of the largest colonies of the bird in the world. This Petrel (Pterodroma Ultima) has a wingspan of 35 inches and was described by ornithologist Robert Cushman Murphy in 1949, from which the seabird gained its name.

There was also the beautiful red-tailed tropicbird with its eye-catching bright white body with black flecks when young (pictured below), the masked booby, white terns and great frigatebirds.

Ducie Island is one of the bird breeding success sites. In 1997 a rat eradication programme was undertaken resulting in the elimination of all the rats. Until that time the bird eggs were eaten, and any chicks that did survive did not live more than five days. If this low lying island becomes submerged, as it is predicted to do as water levels rise, the only nearby land for the nesting birds will be Henderson Island, currently rat infested which is why there is a fundraising programme to undertake further rat baiting in 2023/2024.

Studies on the island in the 1990s found a variety of crustaceans including hermit crabs, some of which had not been identified at the time; more than 80 species of molluscs; starfishes, sea urchins and sea cucumbers; and 127 species of reef fishes.

During our walk I spotted a beetle. I asked how that might have arrived at this remote island. One plausible suggestion was that it could have travelled on a piece of drifting wood. To my upset I did not get a photo, although I tried. The beetle scrambled into a shell which I picked up so as to photograph for identification. But the little critter managed to find a shell with a broken base. When I got it to a clearing to take the photograph, it had escaped. To think, it might have been a species that had not be recorded before!

During our voyage we had many discussions of an ecological nature and with it the perils of plastic waste. This island did not have too much plastic (although any is too much, of course). It is not dropped by visitors to the island, but drifts in the sea and is washed ashore. Particularly evident was plastic from fishing sources. Of concern is that some birds gather brightly-coloured pieces for their nests. One piece we found on the shoreline was a clear-coloured straw. Our bird man Peter explained that items such as this are pecked by the birds and then fed to their young who cannot, of course, digest them. Seeing this close up brings to life the dreadful problem of plastic litter. People do occasionally visit these islands to litter-pick.

We then headed back to our inflatable crafts and our awaiting small ship, but not before another soaking! It was worth it, however. Ducie is described as an exceptionally undisturbed atoll and ‘sufficiently off the beaten track to avoid the interest of all bar the very determined’. That’s us!

Copyright: Words and photographs Sue Barnard 2022

Henderson Island really is a gem. Not in the sense of its beauty and lush golden sandy beaches, although it does have these, but because it is so remote and uninhabited that UNESCO considers it of ‘Outstanding Universal Value’. 

It’s the largest of the four Pitcairn Islands (which include Pitcairn, Ducie and Oeno) and lies 125 miles northeast of Pitcairn. The dimensions are 6 miles long by 3.2 miles wide and its centre comprises a plateau up to 30 metres high (almost 100 feet), covered in dense bush and rough coral.

Henderson has very little fresh water, is not suitable for agriculture and has no major landmass. Why then is it a gem in UNESCO’s eyes?

Despite its unfavourable conditions for humans, this island is considered one of the best raised and forested coral atoll ecosystems in the world. Although it is small it has a wide biological diversity, including four endemic species of land birds, large breeding seabird colonies and endemic plants. Its limited amount of human disturbance has provided researchers ideal conditions to study island evolution and natural selection.

Not that it has always been uninhabited. This remarkable British Overseas Territory (as part of the Pitcairn group), is considered to have been discovered by Spanish captain Pedro Fernandez de Quiros in 1606, naming it San Juan Bautista island. However, some sources consider there might have been occupation by the Polynesians as early as AD 800.

In 1819 it was the British East India Company ship, Hercules, that visited and named the island after its Captain Henderson. It was also known for a while as Elizabeth Island after a visit also in 1819 by Captain Henry King of the ship Elizabeth. Today, however, it is known as Henderson Island.

There have been reports of a cave on the island containing evidence of past life including a trough to catch running water, and a fan-shaped shell perhaps used as a utensil, plus ovens and charcoal nearby. Skeletons were also discovered, thought to be the remains of mariners shipwrecked in the area in the 1800s.

Although we disembarked our ship with extremely high hopes as we always did regarding our potential landing, on this occasion it was not to be. We had been warned that landing on the island is ‘extremely difficult’ and required guests to ‘have a good hold, good balance, and to get off the Zodiacs in a swift manner!’.

Despite our willingness, Mother Nature cast her spell. Rough sea around the island made it far too difficult to land. What’s more, the heavens opened leaving us all like drowned rats (a little more about rats later!).

Not to be disappointed, the Expedition Team took us for a Zodiac trip around the island for an hour or so in the pouring rain, during which time we managed to peer from under our jacket hoods at a few surfacing humpback whales.

Nobody complains about the weather on these trips. Those brave enough to venture out on the Zodiacs are keen to see every little bit possible of the planned itinerary!

So now for a little bit of what we might have seen. Apart from enjoying the sandy beaches and the clear seawater with its abundance of fish, crabs and other molluscs, to have ventured into the centre of the island would have been extremely tricky underfoot with its sharp, craggy, coral. But trees and plants have managed to grow, including the beautifully-coloured hardwoods Miro and Tou still used today by the Pitcairn Islanders to make their curios for the tourists. The vegetation from such trees provide good compost for other plants to survive. A survey in 2004 found 71 species of plants, some of which were endemic. Amongst these were ferns and lichen. 

Different areas of this small island contained different plants, depending on whether they were inland or beside particular coastal areas. Although some non-endemics had been introduced by humans, many may have reached Henderson by floating on the sea, or perhaps via birdlife. Bear in mind also that some of these plants have adapted to survive seawater spray and strong winds.

According to the RSPB (the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds), this island has more than 55 species not found anywhere else on earth, including four species of land birds: (all pre-fixed Henderson) being the lorikeet, rail, reed-warbler and fruit dove (to have got to see another of these beautiful birds would have been a treat – oops, slipping into birding mode now).

In 2004 it was estimated there were up to 80,000 pairs of breeding seabirds on this small island. These include the Henderson, Murphy’s and Kermadec petrels, but also an abundance of other birds we have become familiar with – if not always by sight, certainly by name. These include the masked booby, great frigatebird, red-tailed tropicbird and the brown noddy. Butterflies, land snails and insects (how did they get there?), and crabs are also on the land, along with nesting habitats for endangered marine turtles. 

The abundance of birds today has much to do with the eradication attempts of the birding community to kill off the rats which will eat each and every bird egg laid. Our bird expert Peter Harrison told us much about this. On some islands this expensive work had been a total success, but on Henderson it was not. Every rat has to be eradicated, otherwise an island will soon be back with large numbers.

Henderson was not easy for dropping bait. An airdrop could not succeed as bait can land on trees, get wet and then be ineffective. Instead, bait has to be hand dropped by individuals. At the time of our sailing, funds were being sought and it is hoped that another attempt can be carried out in the years to come. Such activities in this remote region cost millions of pounds to achieve.

Despite being absolutely drenched, and right through in John’s case as his new waterproof jacket proved not to be waterproof, we returned invigorated. At least we had tried to get onto Henderson, and like many others before us, did not succeed, but we did see a few whales in the murky distance.

Copyright: Words and photos (unless otherwise stated) Sue Barnard 2022

It was noticeable that Pitcairn was quite different to the previous islands we had visited. There were none of the celebrations, garlands or music to welcome us that we had experienced in the French Polynesian islands. Instead, there were just a few islanders by the quayside, and mostly it was all rather ‘British’.

Perhaps that was not surprising as Pitcairn is a British Overseas Territory. What was different to the other islands was our quayside welcome by Pirate Pawl, a jovial character who cannot be mistaken – each ear contains at least 11 heavy metal rings, and he would certainly not be out of place in a heavy metal band. His enthusiastic welcome ensured everybody was put in the right spirits for a good time. In fact, the spirits did come out later as one crew member managed to recall the next day via a rather hazy memory.

Once ashore, our first step was to hire a taxi. This was a quad bike for three people, including the driver. Although the island is fairly small (2 miles long by 1 mile wide) a taxi was recommended as most walks were steep – either uphill or down. 

There were many facets to Pitcairn for the visitor. Its history is paramount. The places we visited were, mostly, unique. And then there was island life, which had similarities to our own, but in so many ways, very different.

A discussion about Pitcairn cannot avoid its history. Many people will know some of its roots in the stories of the Mutiny on the Bounty. If one wants to delve more into this I recommend the books of Glynn Christian I mentioned in my previous posting. 

Rather briefly, the first recorded sighting of the island was in 1767 when Captain Philip Carteret on the HMS Swallow named it Pitcairn’s Island. In later times Pitcairn became famous as the refuge for the mutineers of the HMAV Bounty, a ship that departed England in 1787 to collect breadfruit trees from Tahiti in order to take them to the Caribbean to be grown to supplement the diet of the slaves. 

The breadfruit seedlings took five months to grow, meanwhile some of the Bounty crew got quite used to the life and the women of Tahiti. When it was time to sail some did not want to leave. This eventually resulted in a mutiny, led by Fletcher Christian. Captain Bligh and some of his men were cast off in a 23 foot heavily-laden launch. They managed to sail more than 4,000 miles to Timor and later to the port of (what is now known as) Jakarta, from which Bligh and his men were transported to Britain.

Meanwhile, the mutineers, along with some Polynesian men and quite a number of Polynesian women, set sail aboard the Bounty to find life elsewhere where the British Navy could not find them. Attempts were made to land on some habited islands, where they were not welcomed and they eventually made it to the uninhabited Pitcairn Island, which was ideally positioned with its huge rocks and difficult landing. The height of the rocks enabled good viewing should invaders attempt to approach. The mutineers made Pitcairn their home, burning the Bounty so that it could not be seen by those searching for them. Remains of the ship can still be seen at the bottom of the ocean, and in the museum.

A sad scenario is that there was a massacre in 1793, four years after the mutiny, when nine of the mutineers and Polynesian men were killed. Four European men remained, with 10 women and their children, all but one born on the island. Life was not particularly in harmony and 10 years after arriving in Pitcairn there was just one of the mutineers remaining, John Adams.

The population in more recent times has varied, but today stands at 35. Unfortunately, Pitcairn still faces difficulties. The older generation is dwindling which causes quite a problem when the supply ships need the manpower to unload their cargoes; and the younger generations leave for further education in places such as New Zealand or Tahiti and don’t come back, sometimes because their prospective partners do not want to live their lives out on Pitcairn. On our trip around the island we visited the school, which had just three pupils. These will soon be leaving for New Zealand and the school will close.

Attempts have been made to encourage families from abroad to permanently move to the island, but this has not been successful. It requires a big culture change. There will be a need to fend for oneself in terms of growing plants for food and catching fish to fill in between the supply ship deliveries. Employment too is restricted to just 40 hours a month, giving a fair share amongst those who desire it. Income is mainly through tourism, selling (some rather nice) crafts, and postage stamps. There is nothing like sending oneself or friends a postcard from Pitcairn, as long as the message is not urgent. Mail, via the supply ships and New Zealand, can take more than four months! For a quicker message Internet is available, but this is limited.

Once on the island we were free to walk around. First stop en route, of course, was the obligatory craft stalls with nicely carved images.

It was interesting to take a look at a map before setting off further afield. This showed some simple, but thought-provoking, place names. These included: John-Catch-A-Cow; Matt’s Fever; Timiti’s Crack; Down The Hole; Big Belly; Break Im Hip; Where Martin Fell; Hill Of Difficulty; Down Rope; Breadfruit Valley, and many more.

Our first choice was to head to St Paul’s Pool – a treacherous-looking sea-fed pool which some people have admitted to swimming in. To reach this point on the island required a 4.5 mile walk down an earthen road. Trouble is, it required a long walk back up (what seemed to be) an even steeper uphill road. A passing quad bike taxi was the order of the day, although John bravely declined. The walk had been worth it as from here we saw a humpback whale breaching the water on several occasions.

We then headed to the museum to see pre-historic flints; items used by ancestors of the mutineers, such as coconut graters; and artefacts from The Bounty including nails and uniform buttons. The ship’s anchor is proudly displayed at the centre of Adamstown, the main area of the island.

Moving north we visited John Adams’s grave. He was the last remaining mutineer and the only one of whom had a recognised grave on the island. He was born in Middlesex, England in 1767 and died on the island in 1829. He was taught to read and write while on the island by a fellow mutineer, using the Bounty’s Bible. In later years he taught the younger people to read and write – all using the same Bible – and also how to tend the land to ensure their future.

From here, in the distance, we could see Christian’s Cave. It is possible to visit close up, but involves a tricky, arduous and steep climb – it is high up on the rock face. It is said that Christian spent a lot of his time here, maybe in contemplation, but also he had a good view of any oncoming ships.

Island life, for some, may seem idyllic, and we certainly had an interesting time. However, as a long term venture on a small island, where everybody actually does know everyone else, life can be more difficult. The Internet and visitors enable the younger generations to see there is a big world off the island. And as one person told me, “There really is no spare time”, whether that needs to be spent on running the community, repairing a building, or ensuring plants for the following months are growing. As we left, that person was off to get food for the evening meal – not from the shop, but by catching fish from the sea.

Copyright: Words and photos Sue Barnard 2022.

Today we were on a mission. We had wanted to visit the Pitcairn Islands for a very long time because of its maritime history and had managed to find one of the few ships that visited here. Our booking was suspended, however, due to Covid.

Now free to travel, we looked forward with excitement to reaching this distant and historic island, but had to wait until just minutes beforehand to ascertain if it was possible for our Zodiac crafts to land. Finally, it was!

Not only did we wait many years to travel, but this was to result in what became a mission. For some time I have known Glynn Christian, the great, great, great, great grandson of Fletcher Christian, the leader of the Mutiny on the Bounty. Some in the UK may recall him from his early days as the New Zealand TV chef, one of the few and early chefs demonstrating on UK television at the time.

He had told me of his association to Fletcher Christian and his research into his family history and the mutiny, and I had told him of our wish to travel to Pitcairn. He asked, if we ever make the trip, could we take some of the books he had written, with us. We willingly agreed.

So the time was excitingly approaching and we met with Glynn just before we left for this trip and he passed over some of his books. These we handled with great care, not wishing to damage them in transit, and most importantly not to lose them on the long journey. We had to change planes three times and go through security three times. We could not risk them going in the checked-in luggage, so put them in the carry-on baggage… prior weight training might have helped at this stage! Every step of the way we checked and checked we had them nearby.

After many days of arriving in Tahiti it was time to travel from our hotel to the dockside in Papeete to board the ship. Our bags were transported separately. “No hand baggage!” we were told. Can you imagine how I felt cutting myself away from these precious books!

A short ride and we were alongside the ship. I glanced down at the baggage lined up for our arrival. With relief I saw the hand baggage was still with us.

We climbed the very high steps onto the ship (not so good for those not liking heights, especially with a view of the sea down below), got on board and after check-in proceeded to our cabin. The luggage on the dockside would be with us soon. 

To my relief bag one arrived (looks promising). Then bag two (great). Then bag three (whoopee). These were all small bags I would add – we travel lightly. We awaited bag four… THE bag! It did not arrive. As panic started to set in I wondered where it was. It was no longer on the dockside, but it was not with us either! I asked for help in locating it.

With great relief it was then found and we could at last relax… well for the time being. For the next nine days we pondered if it would be possible to get onto the main Pitcairn island. Nothing is guaranteed as swell is not so swell at sea and can prevent any landing.

But the day finally came and we did land. Our first stop was to complete our mission – to find the Mayor, the first Lady Mayor in the island’s history. Having fewer than 40 inhabitants on the island it was not difficult to locate anybody. We hopped onto a quad bike taxi as recommended, as it would be all uphill from now on (at least until we were to go steeply downhill). Our driver was a gentleman named Steve, owner of Christian’s Bar and past Mayor himself. He told us he was a distant cousin of Glynn Christian. That is not really surprising. There are very many people with the surname Christian on the island.

Steve drove us straight to the Lady Mayor. She welcomed us and said: “You must be Sue and John. I have been expecting you.” 

Then, with great excitement, we handed over the books, and had detailed discussions as to where they would be placed. This was to involve a future meeting of the Councillors and it was likely the books would be heading to the museum so that they would become part of their archive about the people of the island. Amongst Glynn’s many books published were three written on the island’s history: ‘The Truth about the Mutiny on HMAV Bounty’; ‘Mrs Christian, Bounty Mutineer’; and ‘Fletcher Christian, Bounty Mutineer’. These were the books we delivered.

Mission accomplished? In part, yes. But there was one other important thing to do. When we boarded the ship in Tahiti, the first thing we asked of our Expedition Leader was whether he thought it would be possible to get onto the island and whether we would be able to locate the Lady Mayor. She was expecting us, but where might she be?

The Expedition Leader Gerard said the team would do everything possible to enable us to land and, as this was such a unique and unusual request, asked if I might give a presentation about the mission. I happily agreed.

After the successful landing and tour of Pitcairn Island (I will cover our visit in a future posting) the time came to give the presentation – the only presentation given by a passenger I might add. Having notes and microphone in hand, plus some quickly garnered supporting photos, I gave my speech, not realising how rocky these ships can be when standing on stage. Just how the lecturers maintain their stance for considerable times can only fill me with wonder having attempted this for just a short while. It sure is a balancing act.

I discussed the reasons for our long-awaited trip, the content and significance of the books, and how they will become part of the Island’s history being kept in the archives. The speech over, several people discussed this further with us and something I had not expected was one person’s comment that this report back on the ship had brought an historic story right up to date. “You are now part of Pitcairn’s history,” she said. I had not given that any thought. But what the feedback did show was that even after 233 years the 1789 Mutiny on the Bounty continues to intrigue and fascinate. 

Copyright: Words and photos Sue Barnard 2022

Oeno should be named Oh-no-oh. Our visit today was to the uninhabited island of Oeno, 80 miles from the famous Pitcairn Island and its capital Adamstown.

The plan was to get up early to see the masses of sea birds and then get onto the island to see what it had in store. The Expedition Team set off in the Zodiacs to test the waters. 

The small island is just 0.5 km squared and is encircled by a coral reef which causes big waves to be thrown up all around. There are just two breaks in the reef. One takes water into the shore, and the only way for that water to be expelled is through the other gap in the reef. This results in great rushes of seawater into and out from the shore line which, if not timed well, can be treacherous, lifting the small Zodiacs high above the water surface. 

The island is named after the whaling ship Oeno, whose captain George Worth discovered it in 1824. It is the most western of the Pitcairn Islands group. The excitement to visit is two-fold. 

Firstly, this low-lying island is rarely visited, certainly by other nations apart from the Pitcairn people who sometimes take a break on this remote land. Buildings do not exist. From the ship we can see that Oeno is surrounded by white sandy beaches, but this beauty disguises the fact that there has been at least four shipwrecks, including the Wild Wave in 1858; the Liverpool ship Khandeish heading home from San Francisco in 1875; and the Oregon in 1883. As I sit watching how difficult the Expedition Team is finding the landing, I am hoping we will not be the fifth wreck!

Secondly, Oeno has been designated as an Important Bird Area by Birdlife International due to its colonies of Murphy’s Petrels (one of the largest areas for them in the world), Sooty Terns, Red Tailed Tropic Birds, Herald and Kermadec Petrels, Christmas Shearwaters, Bristled Thighed Curlews, Great Frigates, Spotless Crakes and Brown Noddies. This visit will be ecstasy for the birders on board, and the chance of getting up close and personal will be a thrill for others. 

Due to the importance of this breeding ground anything that may prevent the birds from successfully producing offspring has to be taken seriously. One of the major issues, on this and many of the islands, is rat and mice infestation. Rats will have come from passing ships over the centuries. Some may think this should not be a problem on a desert island… but what do the little critters eat? The answer is bird eggs. On many of the islands that have thousands of nesting birds, the entire eggs may, or usually will be, destroyed by hungry rats and mice.

Oeno is one of the lucky islands. In 1997 on Oeno and Ducie (both part of the Pitcairn Islands group) eradication efforts were carried out using ground-based baiting, ie the hand scattering of pellets. This proved successful and birds, which continue to return to these natural breeding grounds despite their previous egg destruction, have increased vastly in numbers. Our bird expert Peter Harrison tells us that there are estimated to be three million birds on the islands of Oeno and Ducie.

Other islands have not been so successful. On Pitcairn and Henderson eradication attempts have been made but without success. Aerial drops are difficult on islands with trees as by the time the bait has dropped it may be wet and ineffective. There could be crabs which may eat the bait, and on Henderson in 2011 an unusual rise in fruit growth due to a drought the previous year, led to the rats preferring to eat the fruit rather than the bait. There need be only two rats left for the population to increase again quickly. These efforts do not come cheaply. Fundraising amounts to millions of pounds each time baiting takes place.

But back to the Zodiac transportation. The passengers were looking on from afar and were waiting excitedly to hear if they would be able to make the landing. We waited and waited. There was no joy. Then, having had breakfast at 8am, it was suggested we had lunch at 11.30am. The morning trip had been cancelled. We turned back from the decks like sad schoolchildren dragging our feet as we headed to the restaurant to top up our stomachs barely empty from breakfast.

Then we were in luck. The Expedition Team, with the waves settling a little, had made it to the shore. Excitedly, we donned our multitude of clothing, wet weather gear and lifejackets and made our way to the Zodiacs.

Our time had come and our Zodiac driver advised us he was highly experienced at handling these small crafts. Hmmm, we had not had that sort of discussion previously. Why now? I was reassured (a bit), but somehow wondering what was in store. The sea looked fairly calm, but why was I now feeling uneasy? I gripped on tight to the rope that attaches to the side of the rubber Zodiac. As we reached the coral surrounding the island we were told that we were to await a wave to take us in through the gap to the shore. All of a sudden we were quite literally riding on the crest of a wave. Woosh. Before we knew it we were whisked by it to the shore. Phew, we had landed on this rarely trodden island.

And weren’t we in for a treat. As soon as we were on the soft golden sand the birds were flocking above our heads with their large wingspans. The birders were ecstatic. 

We headed along the shore. It was just like one might expect a desert island to be, but we didn’t have our eight records and a gramophone with us. (For those not familiar with this it relates to the BBC’s Desert Island Discs radio programme running in the UK since 1942). 

In the distance was our bird man Peter Harrison who started showing us how to correctly handle birdlife if it was ever necessary. While many may not choose to do so, there may be times when a bird is injured, or in distress. Peter had told us how rather too often a bird, with its plumage wet through by rain, might take time to recover on the deck of a passing ship. He has experienced this often and has taken the bird to dry out in his cabin’s shower room, which could be rather a shock for the cabin crew. Once dried, the birds were set to fly off, which would have been a welcomed rescue as many of these seabirds live their lives constantly in flight apart from when breeding. If their plumage is wet they just can’t fly on.

Peter then got us creeping about in the undergrowth. And it was worth it. There were Petrels nesting on the floor, or their fluffy young were waiting for their next meal. There was such an abundance of birds on the floor that visitors had to be very careful where they stepped.

Beautiful white terns with their clearly-defined dark black eyes and small, sharp, beaks were high in the trees. Oh gosh, I think this birding activity is rubbing off on me. “Look for the bird’s unique characteristics,” I have heard many times recently! The white tern was once known as the fairy tern.

The juvenile Red-tailed Tropicbird, with its white and black plumage, and nestled amongst the undergrowth, is adorable. Interestingly (well I found it so) their feet and beak grow rapidly and outpace the rest of their bodies. The chicks are born blind and until they are a week old their parents will stroke the bill encouraging the chick to feed. An adult’s wingspan can reach up to 47 inches wide and they can dive more than 160 feet to catch fish.

Up, nesting in the tree were Red-footed Boobies with their beautiful long blue beaks. Red-footed Boobies can travel up to 93 miles searching for food and can live for more than 20 years. They are adept at diving – their aerodynamic bodies and the ability to close their nostrils enable them to plunge-dive into the water for fish. Their red webbed feet then help them swim. This species has been known to dive up to 98 feet for a catch.

In masses were the Sooty Terns. These are black with bright white chests. They have a 37 inch wingspan, and inch long pointed black beaks which could give a peck or two. They can stay at sea for 3-10 years, only coming back to breed. Perhaps that is just as well as they are also known as the Wideawake Tern which refers to their loud piecing calls, sometimes referred to as a cacophony. Perhaps not the most considerate neighbours.

Amongst our other sitings were the adult and juvenile Masked Booby; Great Frigate Bird; the Brown Noddy and its eggs; and not to be missed on the shore were the Red Hermit Crabs which inhabit empty shells.

Today really was a birder’s paradise, and apologies for all those species I may have missed out, or didn’t include their photos… better luck next time.

Then it was time to return to the ship, but not before our Zodiac had to battle its way back through the gap in the coral reef. This time the waves were even more forceful. Hanging on tightly with eyes closed (mine and not the driver’s hopefully) we were on the crest of a wave again. The cries from the passengers swiftly changed to sighs of relief. But the chance to see the bird colony even if not a birder, and the opportunity to walk where few had been before, left one speechless.

Copyright: Words Sue Barnard 2023; Photos Sue Barnard and John Cruse 2022

Following our visit to Mangareva we had time on our hands, so after lunch our captain directed the ship to another small island nearby. In truth, this was all timetabled and well-planned – unscheduled stops are not allowed by the marine authorities and appropriately so. 

Aukena is about five miles from Mangareva, and even nearer to that previously-mentioned Totegegie island which houses the airport. This was to be a short visit with none of the welcome celebrations. Today it is a private island (with a short hop to the airport), but access is given to the few tourists that manage to get to the Gambier Islands. It is approximately one mile long and about a fifth of a mile wide. 

Aukena has just a few residents now, but that has not always been so. Archaeological excavations, coupled with oral traditions, indicate the island was inhabited at least in the 14th century. By 1550 it had a district chief, Honu-a-Keroiti. It has also been recorded that the small island became a place where deposed leaders fled in exile. It was the first to house a Catholic church in the Gambier Islands.

The area where we landed was considerably overgrown, just as one might expect an uninhabited island to be. Seeds take root just where they fall, and weaving our way under, over and around the natural vegetation of the forest just added to the experience. Paths didn’t exist in this area and if they once did they were now densely covered. Amongst the many plants were the Pandanus tree with its visible roots above ground, and the flowering wild hibiscus.

Clambering through the undergrowth we came across the ruins of a two-storey seminary which was established to train boys to be priests. This is estimated to have been built in the 1850s and students were taught Greek and Latin for the priesthood. According to excavation reports the bodies of 29 missionary wrapped in white tapa (bark) cloth were discovered buried in a cave nearby.

Other ruins we saw near the seminary included an oven, a press for extracting oil from coconuts, a well and a kiln for producing coral lime which missionaries used in the construction of churches and other buildings. Still standing and in good condition is a watchtower which can be seen when approaching the island. 

As we started to retrace our steps we realised that a slightly easier route might be the shoreline. Even though we were wading knee-deep in water it gave us the opportunity to  appreciate the close-up view of the sea lapping against all the tree roots and the small fishes swimming around our legs, but it was all worthwhile for what we were able to experience.

Then it was time to move on to our next island stop, 300 miles away. 

Copyright: Words and photographs Sue Barnard 2023

The more I have read about Mangareva the more revealing it has become. Mangareva, which is part of the Gambier Islands in French Polynesia, was our next stop after circumnavigating the Marotiri rocks 546 nautical miles behind us (about 630 land miles).

The Gambier archipelago is located at the east side of French Polynesia and is formed of volcanic rock which was originally under water. Over millions of years, eruptions, collapses, erosions and changes in sea levels have led to the main part of the volcano disappearing leaving several peaks which have become small islands, the largest and most populated being Mangareva. It has 1,200 people, most of whom live in the town of Rikitea.

The other islands include Taravai, Akamaru, Aukena, Kamaka, and Togegegie. The latter long narrow strip of an island is ideally shaped for a runway. Today it houses an airport, which aids transportation to places such as Tahiti where there are larger hospitals and places of further education. However, getting to and from the airport on Togegegie requires a boat ride. And speaking of boat rides….

Our experiences of landing on French Polynesian soil had given us high expectations regarding our arrivals, and Mangareva did not disappoint. Even as we were travelling to the island from the ship in our zodiac inflatable boats we could hear the band playing. As soon as we landed there were the traditional floral garlands placed around our necks by smiling men, women and children all keen to be part of the activities.

Once we were all on land we were directed to seating placed around a performance area. Then the fun began. The music increased in intensity, aided by the banging of sticks on metal cooking trays. The sound was deafening, but the excitement was great amongst the island people and ourselves.

Mangareva has a unique form of dance known as pe-i. Each movement is said to tell a story about the island’s mythology and ancestry. The performers, who meet regularly at the local football field to practise their art, were in matching costumes made from long dried grasses and fresh green leaves. The dancing is taken seriously. It is performed to visitors and on occasional trips overseas where the islanders display their traditions. One performer told me: “It is important to keep our traditions alive, not only for the younger generations, but to be proud to display these further afield”.

On this occasion it was not only the people of Mangareva who performed. Towards the end of the display some of us (guess who) were asked to join in. Unfortunately I had not packed my grass skirt, but was happy to follow the moves demonstrated with such joy by the dancers. The interaction made for an entertaining morning.

But it wasn’t to stop there. We were then off for a walk… well hike actually. The islands all have something in common. They are volcanic, very steep and very craggy. We had a choice – a “short” (well I’ll pass judgement on that description) strenuous cultural/nature hike; or a long (very long) strenuous (very strenuous) hike. We opted for the former, but there were several choosing the latter, including an 90-year-old man. They had been warned! A previous attempt resulted in nobody reaching the intended rocky peak.

So we were off and soon walking up a steep hill towards some religious sites. First up was the cemetery and viewing of the tomb of Maputeoa Gregoire who was the king (or paramount chief) of Mangareva reigning from 1830 at the age of 16, to 1857. His time saw great changes for the populous, who followed native beliefs until the arrival of missionaries in 1834. Maputeoa initially refused the missionaries access to Mangareva, although they did land on other Gambian islands. Two years later, however, Maputeoa converted to Catholicism along with other islanders. Of great sadness, especially today, was that Maputeoa and other Gambian island chiefs gave permission for the maraes (those sacred places previously worshipped) to be destroyed along with statues and other artefacts. Some of the maraes were reused in the building of churches. 

We were to learn that there were greater tragedies to come. Amongst the missionaries was Honoré Laval, evidently a charismatic and talented but paranoid authoritarian man. To his credit he translated the bible into the Mangarevan language, thus preserving it for posterity, but also kept a diary of his reign of terror imposed on the congregation.

As the decades went on his cruelty intensified for so-called misdemeanours resulting in men being exiled to an uninhabited island (think no readily-available food), women confined to a cell in a nunnery for the rest of their lives, and other atrocities. When Laval arrived it is estimated the population was around 9,000. When he was eventually removed to Tahiti in 1871 and tried for murder, at which time he was declared insane, the population had dropped to 2,000. However, these figures are disputed by some who consider that if 9,000 had lived on the island, many would have needed to live on the hillsides due to the lack of flat ground, but evidence of habitation in these hills is lacking.

Lavel died in 1880 from an infected cat scratch. In the next 20 years the population had decreased to 500 due to tuberculosis, smallpox and leprosy – with greater contact from overseas visitors throughout their history came an influx of infectious diseases.

During our walk we visited two buildings of Lavel’s time. The Cathedral of Saint Michel was completed in 1848 and seats 1,200 parishioners. Within it is a beautiful mother of pearl decorated altar. The other site comprised the ruins of the Rouru Convent which once had beds for 60 nuns, but housed 150 at its peak (think overcrowding).

Our return walk was no less interesting – just by chance. As we walked down the steep roads back to the village five cars passed us with each driver offering a lift. The local people were certainly hospitable. Upon the sixth car stopping I gave in and as we drove I talked with the female driver. She told me she had four children and when the youngest reached 12 years she was asked to adopt a 10-day-old baby. She agreed and the child is now 10. It seems this is common among the islands where young girls, if they become pregnant, are all too often deserted by their boyfriends. To be fair, that was not the same for all young men. A discussion I had with one of the pe-i dancers showed he was clearly smitten with his little 2-year-old daughter as she shyly observed the island visitors, which was a joy to see.

But our day was not done. Upon our return to Rikitea, some of the islanders were displaying their wares, which included black pearls. These are produced by the Pinctada margaritifera, or black-lipped, oyster and all around the island buoys tethering the pearl strings can be seen, which the zodiac boats must weave between.

The pearls are considered of such quality and size that the island’s economy is based on their production. It is said black pearls grow faster off the shores of Mangareva than elsewhere in the world because of the exceptional marine environment of cooler temperatures and nutrient-rich seas around this volcanic island. However, there are concerns about the effects of climate change on sea temperature which may reduce pearl growth rates and increase susceptibility to disease. Research is currently being carried out regarding this.  

The island also runs an oyster shell-carving school designed to help carry on such skills, especially via the younger generations, and to provide a further income source.

Before we departed there was one more thing. The islanders, without any of us knowing, had cooked food for us all to try… and what a feast it was. This included papaya, banana pudding (my favourite), coconut cake (also delicious) and manioc, otherwise known as cassava – a highly versatile and nutritious root which can be served in savoury and sweet dishes. Many of the items on display were nicely presented in coconut shells neatly surrounded with fresh leaves and flowers.

We experienced the very good of today and the not so good of yesteryear on this island just by taking the opportunity to engage in conversation. 

And what of that very strenuous hike? Despite previous attempts, all in today’s party made it to the great peak, including the 90-year-old!

Copyright: Words and photos Sue Barnard 2022

What did you do today? For us, we got up early to sail around some old rocks. Not exciting maybe and you could stop reading here, but these rocks are pretty special. 

Our Captain had been given special permission by the marine authorities to divert from our journey to Mangareva in the Gambier Islands to circumnavigate these old rocks, known by the Polynesians as the Marotiri Islands. Ships visiting the location are extremely rare. Well why would they visit, their craggy nature makes them uninhabitable?

The Marotiri rocks are located within the Austral Islands lying 75 kilometres (about 50 miles) south-east of Rapa Iti where we visited yesterday. These are Polynesia’s most remote islands and lay in the South Pacific Ocean which at this point is 1,500 metres (5,000 feet) deep. Sail south and the next landscape to be seen will be Antarctica.

The islands are also known as the Bass Group. Just why is a puzzle. Some sources consider they are named after George Bass (1771-1803). That seems plausible as Bass was a British naval surgeon and explorer. The Bass Strait between Tasmania and Australia, and other areas, are named after him.

However, I could not find any sources that confirmed his sailing near the Marotiri Islands. More plausible is that a visit could have been based on assumption rather than evidence. His final days are also shrouded in mystery. His last voyage was on the Venus in 1803, heading for Tahiti, but he and his crew were never seen again.

The Marotiri Islands comprise four uninhabited volcanic rocks without surrounding coral reefs. The lower levels of the rocks are without vegetation, but the higher ground does accommodate some grasses and other plant growth.

Just getting to these rocks caused great excitement among many of the naturalists and voyagers on the ship as they are so remote and off the usual shipping routes. Our chief seabird man, Peter Harrison MBE, who has devoted his life to studying seabirds of the world and has received many significant awards for doing so including a Royal Society Gold Medal, the UK’s highest award for conservation, is not unfamiliar with the rocks. 

Since the 1980s he has not only visited here but managed to get onto the rocks to research the bird life and breeding grounds. Just getting onto the rocks is a feat. There aren’t any landing points and such studies involved jumping into the treacherous ocean to then attempt to climb the steep, craggy, slippery volcanic rock, which he and a few others managed to achieve. A group of 56 people signed up to go on the trip at the time in an attempt to get onto the rocks. As an indication of the extreme nature of the climb, only eight managed to land.

The islands are the breeding grounds for many important seabirds including those seen today: the Murphey’s Petrel, Kermadec Petrel, the Christmas Sheerwater, the Red-tailed Tropicbird, Brown Booby and several varieties of the Noddy. Oh crikey I think birding is starting to rub off on me. But of particular note was our sightings of the critically endangered Rapa Sheerwater and the endangered Polynesian Storm Petrel. Rather a pity I didn’t get some good shots of these rare birds as I stared in awe of these ragged rocks and thought how fortunate we were to reach such an extreme area – an opportunity afforded us by the skills of our captain, crew and expedition team.

But then it was onward. Our hour’s circumnavigation had come to an end and we were off to Mangareva in the Gambier Islands. Our next destination was approximately 600 miles away and two days sailing with sightings of the occasional humpback whale blows as they surfaced way off in the distance. 

Copyright: Words and photos Sue Barnard 2022

If you are going to start something, you might as well aim high. We are not ‘birders’, but have found ourselves on a ship full of them! The aim of our chief bird man on this voyage was to visit Rapa Iti to see one of the rarest birds in the world.  We have never seen the furore, as 60 people rushed for the opportunity to view a bird on a mulberry tree. 

But let’s hold on to that thought while I introduce the island. Rapa is the southernmost inhabited island of French Polynesia and is often referred to as Rapa ‘Iti’ (meaning small). This is to distinguish it from another Rapa island, being Rapa ‘Nui’ (meaning big), which is more familiarly known as Easter Island. To get here we sailed 300 nautical miles from yesterday’s Raivavae, and a total of 700 nautical miles from Tahiti  – the equivalent of about 800 land miles.

Just like Raivavae, the island is volcanic, fortunately now extinct. An aerial view shows the island is a ‘C’ shape and rather like a curled king prawn, caused by the right, or east, side of the volcano having been breached by the sea. The land comprises many peaks and precipitous cliffs, and inland travel is difficult which is why we stayed near the coastline, although that too involved a strenuous hill walk. There are just two villages, the small but main one being Ahurei, and the few roads that exist lay around that breached east side.

First reports of European sightings were in 1791 by George Vancouver of the Royal Navy – yes he who has today many areas named after him. Several reports followed of passing ships encountering mainly hostile residents and it was not until the 1800s that visitors seemed to land, namely the London Missionary Society.

At around that time the population was thought to be at least 2,000, but huge numbers died – with visitors, came disease including smallpox. Many of the people lived in fortresses, which some consider reflected feuding within the island and only diminished with the diminishing population. The remains of at least 28 fortresses can still be seen, although as they are on ridge tops we did not venture that high. Today the population is estimated to be 515 people living nearer the sea and its access to cultivated land. 

The indigenous Eastern Polynesian language of Old Rapa is no longer dominant, being largely spoken by the elders. Instead Reo Rapa is used, being a mix of Tahitian and Old Rapa. Some also speak English which brings us back nicely to our visit.

Upon arrival there was much jollity. At the quay side (this was a rare dry landing for us) island women were smiling and singing and placed hand-woven garlands around our necks. These were made of flowers and strong, shiny, slippery green leaves. Our ears began to ring with the extremely loud banging of drums from some of the island’s men.

We were then invited to sit while the master of ceremonies welcomed us to watch the islanders sing. They are known particularly for their religious singing. There was also a couple acting and shouting at each other in turn – it was just a pity we had no idea what they were saying!

Then came a speech from the Mayor who was passionate in his words, saying: “Thank you for coming to this horizon of ours. In the name of the population of Rapa we welcome you. It takes many days to reach our land, the furthest south of the French Polynesian Islands, and the first time your ship has ever visited. We want to make your visit as pleasurable as possible.”

And that is just what they did. As traditional dancing finished we were invited to take a nature walk. This pleased the ‘birders’ no end who had been eagerly anticipating an extremely rare visit to this island. 

They were on the lookout for just one bird, the endemic and critically endangered Rapa fruit dove, a colourful green, blue-grey, and rose-purple bird with a bright pink crown. There are estimated to be just 120-160 Rapa fruit doves on this one and only island, and their numbers are declining. 

But what were the chances of seeing some? We hiked a little inland as islanders told us of their lives and facilities. Unlike some other islands they did not have a runway for aeroplanes – the land was just not flat enough – and they told us they did not want one. We saw lots of fruit growing including guava and were invited to eat mulberries from the trees which were plump and tasty.

We all then veered off along a track and our leading land bird expert rush ahead. He ran back to us with hushed voice. The fruit dove had been seen. Sixty hushed ‘birders’ rushed into the bushes. Some scrambled hurriedly down a sharp decline to get a view of this little treasure. Being at the back of the scramble I stretched and weaved to get a glimpse, but had no idea what I should be looking for. 

The clicking of cameras was intense: still shots from super long camouflaged lenses, with ‘amateurs’ and the ill-prepared using their phones. And then the ‘scope’ came into play! If you are a true ‘birder’ there will be no time to mess with that lengthy word ‘telescope’. I retreated to the scope. Ah, that’s what I should be looking for. As the melee subsided I crept over to the mulberry tree, and there it was sitting bewildered looking at us and no doubt wonder what all the fuss was about.

It perched for a considerable time, and then disappeared. It had made many people happy. We walked back to the village speaking to our excited leading land bird man as we went. He told us this sighting had increased his lifetime bird sightings to 9,600. We were mighty pleased seeing what it meant to him and 60 others. We then told him of our count, explaining we had never been ‘birders’. “Ours is… umm one, unless you count some pigeons and sparrows,” we said. Well everybody has to start somewhere!

We then headed back, but the islanders had not finished with us. We viewed bread baking in a community-shared oven – they all lend a hand – and craft making. Then taro root came into play. The islanders had a huge wooden press in which they squeezed taro root to make a fermented drink from the juice. The press was so large and heavy that it took six men to manoeuvre it. “I think it’s possibly over-engineered,” I heard one guest say.

Then some of the women showed us how they prepare taro in a similar way to dough, which involved much kneading and hitting with a brick, yes, seriously. One needs strong wrists for this process, which are built up with this activity from the age of 11. Singing is carried out while doing this which sets the pace for the banging with the basalt rock bricks. This was once carried out at the river banks. We were also told that this dough was being prepared today (a Saturday) as everyone would be at church on Sunday.

All parts of the taro are used including the corm, stems and leaves. The corm is a nutritious, life-sustaining, staple on many of the islands and can be white, pink or purple inside. It is fast-growing, producing up to three crops a year and has a variety of uses, including a paste-like substance, and a dough. It can be rather bland so flavourings such as coconut milk may be added.

But it was then time to leave our new friends, who had clearly delighted in our visit as much as we had delighted in their efforts and company. Another brilliant day had come to an end.

Copyright: Words and photographs Sue Barnard 2022