THIS IS THE FIRST DAY I’VE FELT WE WERE REALLY in Polynesia. Rangiroa is an atoll, a lagoon encircled by coral reefs. But not just any atoll — Rangiroa is one of the largest atolls in the world. The sun is shining, the palms are swaying and gentle breeze barely ripples the turquoise lagoon while outside the Pacific is splashing and crashing on the reef.
Inlet from the air (internet photo)
I came upon a 1992 Lonely Planet for French Polynesia in the library that put the population of Rangiroa at less than 300. Today it boasts 2500 — plus half that again if you count the mob from the Maasdam — so it’s understandable that there isn’t much to do on shore. And except for tourism, I wonder how the inhabitants occupy themselves.
Inlet at Rangiroa from the beach
Not having arranged anything in advance, we tendered ashore early and toddled along the coral beach. I may have spotted a strange footprint à la Robinson Crusoe. It is Friday, don’t you know?
Sailboat breaching the inlet
We were broiling despite the breeze and five miles was more than enough in the bright sun. We saw dozens of hermit crabs, a few birds, some locals and a few passengers that we recognized.
Church on Rangiroa
Back on board I spent the afternoon poolside reading. I couldn’t help but notice the number of pendulous breasts around the pool. Unfortunately they were on men, men wearing Speedos! There ought to be a law — or at least an age limit — about who can wear Speedos.
