Exploring Tiaraunu, Tetiaroa: Beauty Meets Danger

I had imagined a peaceful day on Tiaraunu, one of the motus that make up Tetiaroa in French Polynesia. Just me, two baguettes and a generous supply of coconut palms. A very civilised arrangement, I thought. The coral underfoot, protective seabirds and reef sharks had apparently not received the same itinerary. This is the story of that walk during my visits to the old Tetiaroa hotel, before today’s resort opened.

Tiaraunu is part of Tetiaroa, the atoll often associated with Marlon Brando. For the history, the other motus and information about visiting today, start with my main guide to Tetiaroa. This particular chapter concerns my ability to turn a quiet outing into rather more exercise than expected.

A quiet day on Tiaraunu — that was the idea

Tiaraunu looked like the perfect place to be left alone for a while: palm trees, clear water and beaches that seemed to have no immediate need for other people. I was staying on Onetahi, another motu of Tetiaroa, and fancied a day away from the hotel. Solitude, a walk and lunch. It seemed a modest enough request.

The Journey Begins

A boatman took me across from Onetahi in a Zodiac. With the wind in my hair and the hotel getting smaller behind us, I was delighted with my plan. Tiaraunu looked beautiful. It also looked rather large, although at that stage I chose to regard that as a benefit.

A Not-So-Carefree Stroll

It did not take long to discover that walking around a motu and admiring one from a boat are two rather different activities. The ground was rough, the coral made every step worth considering, and Tiaraunu was showing no interest in becoming smaller for my convenience.

My feet began reviewing the itinerary

The heat added its opinion. I had imagined a leisurely outing, not a day spent watching where I put my feet. There were beautiful things in every direction, but enjoying the view and negotiating the ground were competing for my attention.

Two baguettes are a lovely lunch. They are a less convincing philosophy of survival.

A booby and its chick

A booby flew around me with considerable energy, and nearby was its white chick. I had come looking for solitude and managed to walk into somebody else’s family arrangements. The bird’s objections seemed entirely reasonable. I was the one who had arrived without an invitation.

Secrets of the Shallow Waters

I watched the bottom carefully for stonefish and anything else I would rather not stand on. I had reef shoes, but I was not keen to test their limits. Being alone in paradise is a lovely idea until you start considering how far away help might be.

The lagoon had residents of its own

Then a fin appeared. Seeing a reef shark nearby while I was already worrying about my footing did very little for my ability to relax. In my head, the walk was rapidly becoming a much more dramatic production than the one I had booked.

Quite a lot of walking remained

The island was still beautiful. It was simply requiring more work than I had expected. Dense vegetation and awkward sections of shore made progress slow, while the sun continued its entirely predictable contribution.

By then, I wanted a straightforward stretch of sand where I could finally sit down.

Finally, a beach

Eventually, I saw one. After all that effort, an ordinary sandy beach looked exceptionally welcoming. I had finally found the peaceful part of my peaceful day.

The final stretch felt much longer than it had any right to. Little reef sharks moved through the shallows, while I tried to concentrate on reaching the sand. In my head, this had become a survival programme. From their point of view, it may simply have been an unusually clumsy visitor passing through.

I reached the sand and rested beside a leaning coconut tree. I was exhausted and sunburnt, with considerably less confidence in my ability to assess an island walk from a distance.

A good story. A questionable plan.

I still treasure that day. Looking back, I can laugh at the gap between the plan and the experience. At the time, I mostly wanted somewhere to sit.

Looking back — and visiting today

This was my experience during the old hotel years, not a route recommendation for visitors today. Access to individual motus and wildlife areas should be checked locally, and I would follow an operator’s guidance rather than assume my old wandering arrangements still apply.

For the wider story of the atoll, return to Tetiaroa, Marlon Brando’s retreat and the place that kissed my soul. For another side of paradise, there is also my experience of a beach clean-up on Tetiaroa.

The book that helped inspire this idea deserves some of the blame: An Island to Oneself by Tom Neale. His island ambition was rather greater than mine. So, apparently, was his preparation.