The crossing from Tahiti to Moorea was short. After only a few hours of sailing, we reached the northern side of the island and dropped anchor in Opunohu Bay.
The approach itself was unforgettable.
As we came closer, steep green peaks rose dramatically above the sea, as if the whole island had been carved from a single block of stone. The closer we got to shore, the more the colour of the water changed. Deep ocean blue slowly gave way to bright turquoise where the coral reef appeared beneath the surface.
I already knew Moorea was going to be something special.
The northern coast of the island is cut by two large bays — Opunohu Bay and, a few kilometres farther east, the much better-known Cook’s Bay. Between them rises Mount Rotui, one of Moorea’s most distinctive mountains.
Our original plan had actually been to go to Cook’s Bay. We knew it was connected with James Cook and assumed that this was naturally where we should anchor.
Instead, we ended up in Opunohu Bay.
At the time, we did not think much of it.
Only the next day, while reading about Cook’s voyages and his visit to Moorea, did I realise the small historical irony.
James Cook did not actually anchor in the bay that now bears his name.
During his third voyage through the Pacific in 1777, Cook entered Opunohu Bay with HMS Resolution and HMS Discovery.
In other words, we had gone looking for Cook’s Bay and had unknowingly anchored in the place where Cook himself had actually stayed.
Suddenly, our anchorage felt very different.
More than two centuries before us, Cook’s ships had been lying in the same bay.
The rest of the day required no special plans.
Swimming, snorkelling, diving around the boat, exploring the reef and simply looking at the mountains rising almost vertically from the sea were more than enough.
Moorea has a way of making you stop asking what else there is to do.
Sometimes, simply being there is enough.
The Island of Pearls
The next day, we went for a walk and explored more of the northern part of the island.
Not far from where we were staying was the InterContinental Moorea Resort & Spa, one of the island’s best-known hotels at the time.
Inside the resort there was also a Robert Wan pearl shop, a name that is almost impossible to avoid in French Polynesia when talking about the famous Tahitian black pearl.
Robert Wan played a major role in turning the Tahitian pearl into an internationally recognised luxury product.
The name “Tahitian pearl”, however, can be slightly misleading.
It does not mean that all of these pearls are grown on the island of Tahiti itself.
Tahiti became the commercial and cultural name under which the pearls of French Polynesia became known around the world, while much of the actual production takes place in the lagoons of other islands and atolls, especially in the Tuamotu and Gambier archipelagos.
The Tahitian pearl grows inside the black-lipped oyster, Pinctada margaritifera.
Although they are commonly called black pearls, their colours are far more complex than simple black. They can appear dark grey, silver, green, blue, bronze, or even display peacock-like shades.
That range of natural colours and their deep lustre are what make them so distinctive.
Producing a high-quality pearl is neither quick nor simple.
The oysters are raised in clean lagoons, carefully grafted, and then left for months while they slowly build layers of nacre around the inserted nucleus.
And, as with so many things in nature, the result is never completely predictable.
Colour, shape, lustre, surface quality and nacre thickness all determine the value of the final pearl.
Perhaps that is why the pearl feels like such a fitting symbol for Polynesia.
Something that appears simple and perfect in the end is actually created very slowly — by the sea, by time and by patience.
Moorea
But pearls, hotels and history are not what I remember most about Moorea.
Moorea was exactly what I had hoped Moorea would be.
Maybe even more.
Of all the places we had visited up to that point, this island became one of the most beautiful experiences of the entire journey for me.
There is just enough civilisation.
There is a road around the island, a few villages, shops, small restaurants and hotels, but only a few hundred metres away nature begins to take over again.
Above the coast rise high, almost vertical cliffs covered in thick tropical vegetation. Between them lie deep valleys, pineapple plantations and walking trails leading into the interior.
The trails are close, accessible and easy enough to follow, yet after only a short walk you can feel as though you have left civilisation completely behind.
One of the best-known routes leads through Opunohu Valley towards the Belvedere viewpoint, from where both Opunohu Bay and Cook’s Bay can be seen at the same time, with Mount Rotui standing between them.
On the other side is the lagoon.
Calm, shallow and protected by the coral reef, its colour changes from almost transparent water near the shore to deep turquoise farther out.
In the lagoon, it is possible to see rays, reef sharks, turtles and countless tropical fish.
And above all of it stand the mountains.
Moorea is a volcanic island, shaped over millions of years by erosion into the sharp peaks and steep cliffs that make its landscape so dramatic.
Within a relatively small area, you have coral reefs, a lagoon, beaches, tropical forest, plantations, deep valleys and almost vertical mountains.
And nowhere do you get the feeling that people have completely taken over the island.
For me, that was its greatest value.
Tahiti and Moorea
While we were staying on Moorea, I increasingly realised how perfectly it complements Tahiti.
Tahiti is only a few hours away by boat.
There you have Papeete, the airport, large shops, marinas, services, restaurants, hospitals and practically everything you may need.
Then you cross a relatively short stretch of sea and arrive on Moorea, where almost immediately it feels as if you have travelled much farther.
In my opinion, Tahiti and Moorea together form an almost perfect combination.
Tahiti gives you the amount of civilisation you need.
Moorea gives you the chance to forget it.
And when you need it again, it is just across the water.
Perhaps that is why Moorea remains one of the most beautiful islands I have ever visited.
It is not completely wild.
It is not completely touristy.
It is not so isolated that everyday life becomes difficult.
And yet it is wild enough that every morning, when you look towards the mountains above Opunohu Bay, you feel as though you have travelled a very long way from the world you left behind.
Onward to Huahine
But eventually, it was time to continue.
Our next destination was Huahine, roughly eighty nautical miles from Moorea.
This was no longer the short crossing we had made between Tahiti and Moorea.
This time, we were heading out for a proper open-sea passage.
The plan was to leave in the evening, sail through the night and reach Huahine the following day.
We slowly prepared the boat, checked the equipment and took one more look at the steep green mountains above the bay.
I was a little sorry to leave.
But that is one of the strange things about travelling this way.
Just when you begin to feel that you could stay somewhere much longer, it is time to raise the anchor.
And move on.