We raised the anchor at Taha’a in the morning and finally set course for Bora Bora.
Less than twenty nautical miles separated us from the island, and after roughly three to four hours of sailing we reached one of the most famous lagoons in the world.
The weather had been unstable for several days. Out here, the sky can change within minutes. One side of an island can be perfectly bright while dark clouds gather over another mountain, a short tropical shower passes through, and then the sun returns as if nothing happened.
This day was no different.
As we approached Bora Bora, its silhouette became more and more dramatic.
The island’s central volcanic massif rose sharply above the lagoon, with the peaks of Otemanu and Pahia dominating the landscape. Their steep slopes were completely covered in dense green vegetation and seemed to fall almost directly into the sea.
But what makes Bora Bora different from most of the islands we had visited before is what surrounds that volcanic core.
The lagoon.
The island is almost completely enclosed by a coral reef and a chain of small motu. On the outside lies the open Pacific. Inside is a huge protected lagoon in almost every possible shade of blue and turquoise.
We entered through Teavanui Pass, the main navigable passage through the reef.
As soon as we crossed inside, everything changed.
The sea became calm.
The ocean swell stayed behind us, and ahead opened a wide turquoise lagoon filled with motu, sailboats and the famous overwater bungalows.
There was no doubt anymore.
We had arrived in Bora Bora.
Our First Anchorage
We found our first anchorage not far from one of the large resorts.
Rows of overwater bungalows stretched across the lagoon, with green motu behind them and the volcanic mountains of Bora Bora rising in the background.
It was almost ridiculous how closely the view resembled the photographs from travel brochures.
Except this time, we were anchored inside the photograph.
We waited for a short rain shower to pass and almost immediately jumped into the water.
The visibility was incredible.
In many places we could easily see several metres down, while in the shallower parts of the lagoon the water was so clear it almost seemed to disappear.
For the next few days, life became a simple cycle between the boat and the lagoon.
A little sailing.
A little swimming.
A little snorkelling.
A little exploring.
Then all over again.
We continued to watch the weather closely.
The rain itself was not really the problem. What mattered much more was what the wind was going to do and whether the weather might develop into something stronger.
Bora Bora is well protected by its barrier reef, so most of the ocean swell breaks before reaching the inner lagoon.
That does not, of course, make the island immune to serious weather.
Cyclones are a different story.
Luckily, we were there at the beginning of May, just after the main cyclone season.
Life Around the Lagoon
We spent the following days moving through different parts of Bora Bora.
The boat was our hotel, transport and base.
We would shift anchorage, explore another part of the lagoon, swim wherever the water looked inviting and then move on again.
Bora Bora is far more developed for tourism than most of the islands we had visited before.
Resorts are everywhere.
Overwater bungalows.
Private motu.
Hotel boats carrying guests.
Restaurants.
Organised excursions.
The images people have in their heads when someone says “tropical paradise” are almost normal scenery here.
And yes — it really is beautiful.
But I was still more of a Moorea person.
If someone had offered me ten days on Moorea or twenty on Bora Bora, I probably would have chosen Moorea.
Bora Bora is the perfect postcard.
Moorea, for me, had more character.
Thirty Centimetres of Water
One day we took the dinghy ashore to buy groceries.
We loaded everything into the boat and started climbing back in.
When I tried to get into the dinghy, it moved.
I lost my balance.
And fell straight into the water.
My first thought was coral.
Falling onto coral in shallow tropical water can easily end with cuts that become far more unpleasant than you would expect.
Then I stood up.
The water was maybe twenty or thirty centimetres deep.
I had somehow managed to completely soak myself in water barely above my ankles.
How I avoided cutting myself on the coral is still a mystery.
The worst consequence was that I was completely wet.
Naturally, the others laughed about it for days.
And, to be fair, they had every reason to.
There are not many people who can almost “drown” in thirty centimetres of water.
How Bora Bora Became a Symbol of Paradise
As we moved through the lagoon, I started wondering why Bora Bora had become one of those places almost everyone knows by name, even people who probably could not point to it on a map.
Nature had obviously done most of the work.
At the centre of the island rises a dramatic volcanic massif dominated by Mount Otemanu, while around it stretches a vast, almost completely enclosed lagoon. The outer coral reef breaks the Pacific swell, leaving calm water inside in countless shades of blue and turquoise. Along the edge of the lagoon sit small sandy and coral motu.
It is almost a perfect natural stage.
But Bora Bora was not always a luxury destination.
During the Second World War, the island had a completely different role. In 1942, the United States established a military base here as part of Operation Bobcat. At the time, Bora Bora had a population of only around 1,200 people, while roughly 3,500 American servicemen arrived on the island.
Roads, docks, fuel storage facilities and an airstrip were built. That airstrip, located on a motu, later remained one of French Polynesia’s most important aviation links for years.
After the war, the island gradually became more accessible to travellers, while the romantic image of the South Seas as a distant tropical paradise was already deeply rooted in Western imagination.
Then came the hotels.
The first overwater bungalows in French Polynesia were not actually built on Bora Bora, but on Raiatea in 1967, by the group of American hotel pioneers known as the Bali Hai Boys.
But Bora Bora was the place that eventually transformed the overwater bungalow into a global symbol of tropical luxury.
A bungalow above the lagoon.
A private terrace.
Steps leading directly into the water.
Mount Otemanu in the background.
Turquoise water beneath your feet.
It is difficult to imagine a more effective travel advertisement.
Over time, luxury resorts appeared on the surrounding motu, and Bora Bora became closely associated with honeymoons, romance and the idea of a once-in-a-lifetime journey.
That image spread around the world.
And yet, arriving there on your own boat makes the whole place look slightly different.
You do not have a private pool.
Nobody delivers breakfast to you by canoe.
Nobody arranges your towel on a sun lounger.
But you have the same lagoon.
The same Otemanu.
The same sunset.
And perhaps a little more freedom to see the island beyond the carefully arranged image in a hotel brochure.
That was when I finally understood why Bora Bora had become what it was.
It was not only marketing.
Nature had given it an almost unbelievable starting point.
Marketing simply turned that image into one of the most recognisable symbols of tropical paradise in the world.
I would still choose Moorea.
But now I completely understood why so many people would choose Bora Bora.
A Night at the Resort
We visited several hotels and resorts, and one evening we stayed at an InterContinental.
If my memory is correct, it was the InterContinental on the southern side of Bora Bora.
That evening, the hotel organised a full Polynesian programme.
Dinner.
Dance.
Solo singing.
Group singing.
Drums.
Traditional costumes.
A full performance prepared for the hotel guests.
Of course, evenings like this are designed for tourists.
But that does not mean they are not worth seeing.
By this point in the journey, after Tahiti and Raiatea, we could already recognise some of the elements — the heavy percussion, the fast movements of ‘ori Tahiti, the gestures of the dancers and the way music and movement were used together to tell a story.
It was polished and theatrical.
But underneath the resort presentation was still a culture we had been encountering throughout the islands.
The Lagoonarium
One of the best days we spent on Bora Bora was at the Lagoonarium.
It was not an aquarium in the usual sense.
There were no glass walls separating visitors from the animals.
Instead, this was part of the natural lagoon, divided into enclosed marine areas, with guides and instructors taking visitors through different sections.
And among the animals were sharks.
We entered the water with masks and fins.
First came the tropical fish.
Rays.
Smaller reef sharks.
And then the larger ones appeared.
Lemon sharks.
Some of the biggest we saw were around two metres long.
A two-metre shark looks impressive in a photograph.
From a pontoon, it looks interesting.
But once you put your head underwater and realise that an animal almost your own length is swimming only a few metres away, the perspective changes very quickly.
Bora Bora is well known for encounters with blacktip reef sharks and larger lemon sharks, and swimming with them has long been one of the classic lagoon experiences.
We spent more than half the day there.
We swam among fish, watched rays glide across the bottom and followed the larger sharks as they moved past us.
What surprised me most was how quickly the feeling of fear changed.
For the first few minutes, you are constantly checking where every shark is.
Half an hour later, you are checking where your camera is.
That does not mean you forget what is swimming beside you.
But with an instructor and in controlled conditions, the experience felt completely different from what I had imagined.
The End of This Part of the Journey
We spent around five days on Bora Bora.
Then it was time for the group to change again.
Damjan’s father had a flight home.
His uncle Milan stayed with us, while we began preparing for the return towards Tahiti.
The plan was simple: if the weather and wind allowed, we would sail directly from Bora Bora to Tahiti.
That would be a much more serious passage than the short hops between Raiatea, Taha’a and Bora Bora.
We also had unfinished business waiting for us in Tahiti.
The biggest problem was still the watermaker, which had not been working properly.
The technician who was supposed to look at it was on holiday.
Of course he was.
We had crossed half the Pacific.
We had a boat.
We were surrounded by water.
And we still could not reliably make our own fresh water.
Completely unbelievable.
But before thinking about repairs, technicians and the return to Tahiti, there was time for one more look around.
Mount Otemanu stood in front of us.
Turquoise water beneath the boat.
And behind us were several weeks of sailing through some of the most beautiful islands I had ever seen.
Bora Bora may not have taken first place away from Moorea for me.
But I understand why the world is obsessed with it.