Excerpt from oceanographicmagazine.com
Initially formed by volcanic activity and battered by unrelenting waves for the next 12 million years, the island is a lush green mound of land similar in shape to the continent of Africa. Just over a million years ago, another geological occurrence led to the island being lifted 500 feet into the air, draining out rocky caverns carved out of coral and limestone. Sites which eventually became historical burial grounds for the cave-dwelling people of the island. While I hope I’m not succumbing to any clichés, according to our local guide, Paul, stories of cannibalism still abound. “This cave is called the oven,” he tells us. The name is self-explanatory.
I’m here to lead an expedition to swim with humpback whales. The waters are a clear, vivid blue, and the waves can be rough with no protection from the open sea, but the ocean is alive with the vocalisation of migrating cetaceans on their first stop on the way up from Antarctica. They’re here to mate, give birth, and nurse their young. There are playful juveniles, loud singers, escorts with mum and calf pairings, including some newborns barely a few days old that swim clumsily around as they learn to maintain buoyancy. On the verge of extinction earlier in the century, combined international efforts have led to a recovery in humpback numbers, a heart-warming sign of what is possible.
Each day, we launch the boat to circle the island on the lookout for the iconic blows that signal whales below the surface, led by locals Vai and Mali (names have been changed to protect anonymity), our captain and whale guide. By law, each vessel is required to have a guide from the island, something that helps make sure money circulates back into the community. There is very limited connectivity to the outside world. Polynesian culture still runs deep here, authentically, rather than on display for mass-tourism. So far, I’ve spotted a few French wanderers, the odd traveller who has washed up on these distant shores, and whale seekers, like us. The Wi-Fi is barely good enough for WhatsApp or a Google search, and cell signal is elusive. Surrounded by endless ocean, this is the most removed from the world I’ve ever felt.
