Here’s something worse than a mere blank page. A blank blog. And very little idea of where to start the narrative. I’m writing this sitting in a plane over the snowy Midwest, having just started a journey that I hope will take me to far corners of the distant archipelago of French Polynesia. Relating how that journey goes is what this blog is all about.
I do have a more specific mission for these travels than just sight seeing. Through the generous support of a pretty remarkable foundation, I’m setting out to take a look at the relationship between the people of the islands and the sea. Specifically how, and to what extent, they still extract a living from the ocean.
My motivation to do this? I have been lucky enough to be able to visit some of these islands in the past five years, on board the Sea Education Association (SEA) sailing research vessel Robert C. Seamans. Approaching the islands as we do after a passage of some three thousand miles of naught but blue water, they present a startling contrast to the surrounding tropical ocean. Contrast in both the abundance and diversity of life familiar to everybody who has dived or snorkeled on a coral reef. The surrounding ocean, though, is among the least productive waters in the world – described by some as an ocean desert.
Nowhere else in the world I’ve visited have I experienced such a palpable sense of remoteness than on a Pacific ocean atoll island. On the big ones the lagoon that forms the center of the island is big enough to visually project just a horizon – the other side somewhere beyond it. So you realize that you are essentially standing on this pile of coral rock and sand with some palm trees and low shrubs offering a vivid green contrast to all the hues of blues from the sea and the sky.
It is beautiful, but you quickly realize just how hostile of a place it is all the same. With the high points maybe 8 feet above water, there isn’t much of a fresh water table. With all the sand, the soil is not really suited for agriculture. So you quickly realize that the people of these islands really had to understand how to extract a living out of the sea. Because in the final analysis that is all there is.
Today many of these islands are starting to sprout a tourist economy and the realities of life have changed rapidly in the past 50 or so years. All of these islands suffered horrible losses from disease in the wake of the contact with Europeans. The population today is a fraction of what it was when Wallis, Cook and Bougainville first visited Tahiti in 1767 and 1768. Today, the outer islands are still slowly emptying as young people seek the opportunities that Papeete offers. My mission for the next three months is to visit a few of these islands, talk to the fishermen and try to document what of the traditional fishing techniques that are still around.
So much for the introduction. During the next three months I’ll be writing more about the islands themselves, their culture, the politics, the fishing and natural history - essentially anything interesting I can get my hands on. I hope you tag along!
I do have a more specific mission for these travels than just sight seeing. Through the generous support of a pretty remarkable foundation, I’m setting out to take a look at the relationship between the people of the islands and the sea. Specifically how, and to what extent, they still extract a living from the ocean.
My motivation to do this? I have been lucky enough to be able to visit some of these islands in the past five years, on board the Sea Education Association (SEA) sailing research vessel Robert C. Seamans. Approaching the islands as we do after a passage of some three thousand miles of naught but blue water, they present a startling contrast to the surrounding tropical ocean. Contrast in both the abundance and diversity of life familiar to everybody who has dived or snorkeled on a coral reef. The surrounding ocean, though, is among the least productive waters in the world – described by some as an ocean desert.
Nowhere else in the world I’ve visited have I experienced such a palpable sense of remoteness than on a Pacific ocean atoll island. On the big ones the lagoon that forms the center of the island is big enough to visually project just a horizon – the other side somewhere beyond it. So you realize that you are essentially standing on this pile of coral rock and sand with some palm trees and low shrubs offering a vivid green contrast to all the hues of blues from the sea and the sky.
It is beautiful, but you quickly realize just how hostile of a place it is all the same. With the high points maybe 8 feet above water, there isn’t much of a fresh water table. With all the sand, the soil is not really suited for agriculture. So you quickly realize that the people of these islands really had to understand how to extract a living out of the sea. Because in the final analysis that is all there is.
Today many of these islands are starting to sprout a tourist economy and the realities of life have changed rapidly in the past 50 or so years. All of these islands suffered horrible losses from disease in the wake of the contact with Europeans. The population today is a fraction of what it was when Wallis, Cook and Bougainville first visited Tahiti in 1767 and 1768. Today, the outer islands are still slowly emptying as young people seek the opportunities that Papeete offers. My mission for the next three months is to visit a few of these islands, talk to the fishermen and try to document what of the traditional fishing techniques that are still around.
So much for the introduction. During the next three months I’ll be writing more about the islands themselves, their culture, the politics, the fishing and natural history - essentially anything interesting I can get my hands on. I hope you tag along!
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