Makatea
Sunrise came in an explosion of thermal glory – abrupt, luminous, and magnificent. A ruler-straight line, sharply delineated, separated water and sky. The sea was millpond calm, its surface taking on the sheen of mercury in the low-angled, early-morning light. The sky was strikingly clear and the winds still. It was sizing up to be the type of day most envision when conjuring images of South Pacific seas. By mid-morning Makatea Island still lay some 50 nautical miles to the east. The morning was perfectly fit for leisure and natural history dissemination.
By noon a series of low-hanging cumulus clouds had crowded the horizons. They did not threaten. They simply added depth to an otherwise featureless sky. The sea took on a royal tone, one of the richest and clearest hues of blue. During lunchtime Makatea loomed large in front of the National Geographic Endeavour’s bow, dramatically showcasing the twin effects of height and contrasting color. The deep green of its foliage, juxtaposed with the black and cream amalgam of its mighty limestone cliffs, set off the island like a stage show backdrop.
Makatea’s height makes it one of the most unique islands in the Tuamotu Archipelago, an island group dominated almost exclusively by atolls. Makatea is a bean-shaped plateau with 80m-high cliffs forming its outer edge. These cliffs used to be a barrier reef and the plateau was once the basin of a lagoon, where vast amounts of phosphate accumulated. The atoll may have emerged as an indirect consequence of the uplifting of Tahiti.
Our activity choices were varied. Our vessel’s uniquely-constructed snorkel platform was dispatched to a prime location, and anchored just off the reef’s outer edge in approx. 15m of water. The reef here was alive with an abundant coverage of Acropora colonies. Numerous species of reef fish swam in the shallows, many of them we had not encountered in the Society Islands. Reef fish species distribution always changes as one moves significantly eastwards or westwards, even along the same line of latitude. This was a trend sure to continue as our voyage took us farther eastwards. Every dive, every snorkel would offer up new and different encounters with denizens of the coral reef.
In the early and later afternoon, guided walks into the island’s interior were offered. The most intrepid seized the opportunity to complete an approx. 6km round-trip trek across an old dirt road to the other side of the island. Crossing the island it was difficult to envision anyone exploiting the island’s interior. Weathered limestone presents a substrate as nonnegotiable and forbidding as any on Earth – dangerously jagged, broken, and sharp enough to carve up the toughest pair of Vibram soles. The plants that live here carve out a tough living, sinking their roots into and drawing nutrients from whatever soils the island had amassed over the eons. Successions of decay from previous plant communities have added to the weak, shallow nutrient base. The walk terminated at a limestone grotto, which descended to a crystal-clear freshwater pool. The pool’s water was sweet, having been slowly filtered through many meters of ancient coralline rock.
Walking atop this lonely, isolated island, it was difficult to imagine that it was once covered in mining installations with more than a 1000 workers, but for 50 years Makatea made French Polynesia an industrial center. The presence of phosphate was noted at the end of the 19th century, and a company was created in 1908 to exploit the deposit. Infrastructure appeared seemingly from nowhere almost overnight. It included industrial equipment (including a rail network), houses, schools, a cinema, places of worship, and shops. Vestiges of that bygone era were much in evidence. An old railroad engine, twisted yards of track, dilapidated buildings, and structures for the conveyance of product all recalled the spirits of this former, unique South Pacific industry.
Until the 1950s labor came largely from Asia. In 1962 the island boasted a population of 3071, making it the most populated island in the Tuamotus. The main town, Vaitepaua, mushroomed like a boomtown in a gold rush. By 1966, when the reserves were depleted, nearly 11 million tons of phosphate had been torn from the island. In the space of a few weeks, the workers packed everything up and Vaitepaua became a ghost town. These days only a few people live in the village of Moumu, making their living from copra production and the sale of coconut crabs to passing tuna boats. Today they hung by the roadsides or sat on their stoops regarding us through pleasant but guarded stares, for this island sees so few tourists. Our introduction to the Tuamotus on the stage of Makatea had been a rare showing indeed. Boarding Zodiacs from the impressive remains of the island’s former lifeblood pier, we were treated to a final curtain call by that which sustains all life. The sun’s departure to the west was as dramatic and colorful as its arrival in the east.
Sunrise came in an explosion of thermal glory – abrupt, luminous, and magnificent. A ruler-straight line, sharply delineated, separated water and sky. The sea was millpond calm, its surface taking on the sheen of mercury in the low-angled, early-morning light. The sky was strikingly clear and the winds still. It was sizing up to be the type of day most envision when conjuring images of South Pacific seas. By mid-morning Makatea Island still lay some 50 nautical miles to the east. The morning was perfectly fit for leisure and natural history dissemination.
By noon a series of low-hanging cumulus clouds had crowded the horizons. They did not threaten. They simply added depth to an otherwise featureless sky. The sea took on a royal tone, one of the richest and clearest hues of blue. During lunchtime Makatea loomed large in front of the National Geographic Endeavour’s bow, dramatically showcasing the twin effects of height and contrasting color. The deep green of its foliage, juxtaposed with the black and cream amalgam of its mighty limestone cliffs, set off the island like a stage show backdrop.
Makatea’s height makes it one of the most unique islands in the Tuamotu Archipelago, an island group dominated almost exclusively by atolls. Makatea is a bean-shaped plateau with 80m-high cliffs forming its outer edge. These cliffs used to be a barrier reef and the plateau was once the basin of a lagoon, where vast amounts of phosphate accumulated. The atoll may have emerged as an indirect consequence of the uplifting of Tahiti.
Our activity choices were varied. Our vessel’s uniquely-constructed snorkel platform was dispatched to a prime location, and anchored just off the reef’s outer edge in approx. 15m of water. The reef here was alive with an abundant coverage of Acropora colonies. Numerous species of reef fish swam in the shallows, many of them we had not encountered in the Society Islands. Reef fish species distribution always changes as one moves significantly eastwards or westwards, even along the same line of latitude. This was a trend sure to continue as our voyage took us farther eastwards. Every dive, every snorkel would offer up new and different encounters with denizens of the coral reef.
In the early and later afternoon, guided walks into the island’s interior were offered. The most intrepid seized the opportunity to complete an approx. 6km round-trip trek across an old dirt road to the other side of the island. Crossing the island it was difficult to envision anyone exploiting the island’s interior. Weathered limestone presents a substrate as nonnegotiable and forbidding as any on Earth – dangerously jagged, broken, and sharp enough to carve up the toughest pair of Vibram soles. The plants that live here carve out a tough living, sinking their roots into and drawing nutrients from whatever soils the island had amassed over the eons. Successions of decay from previous plant communities have added to the weak, shallow nutrient base. The walk terminated at a limestone grotto, which descended to a crystal-clear freshwater pool. The pool’s water was sweet, having been slowly filtered through many meters of ancient coralline rock.
Walking atop this lonely, isolated island, it was difficult to imagine that it was once covered in mining installations with more than a 1000 workers, but for 50 years Makatea made French Polynesia an industrial center. The presence of phosphate was noted at the end of the 19th century, and a company was created in 1908 to exploit the deposit. Infrastructure appeared seemingly from nowhere almost overnight. It included industrial equipment (including a rail network), houses, schools, a cinema, places of worship, and shops. Vestiges of that bygone era were much in evidence. An old railroad engine, twisted yards of track, dilapidated buildings, and structures for the conveyance of product all recalled the spirits of this former, unique South Pacific industry.
Until the 1950s labor came largely from Asia. In 1962 the island boasted a population of 3071, making it the most populated island in the Tuamotus. The main town, Vaitepaua, mushroomed like a boomtown in a gold rush. By 1966, when the reserves were depleted, nearly 11 million tons of phosphate had been torn from the island. In the space of a few weeks, the workers packed everything up and Vaitepaua became a ghost town. These days only a few people live in the village of Moumu, making their living from copra production and the sale of coconut crabs to passing tuna boats. Today they hung by the roadsides or sat on their stoops regarding us through pleasant but guarded stares, for this island sees so few tourists. Our introduction to the Tuamotus on the stage of Makatea had been a rare showing indeed. Boarding Zodiacs from the impressive remains of the island’s former lifeblood pier, we were treated to a final curtain call by that which sustains all life. The sun’s departure to the west was as dramatic and colorful as its arrival in the east.
