!!Caroline Atoll. Kiribati
Photos and text by Ádám Plézer,
member of the [AirPano Team|Geography/About/Consortium/AirPano,_Team] that is a member of the [global-geography Consortium|Geography/About/Consortium]. \\
2 July 2020
with kind permission of [AirPano|http://www.AirPano.com]
Caroline atoll was the absolute highlight and the main destination of my
2019 catamaran expedition in the Pacific Ocean.
This atoll lies around 837 km to the North of Tahiti, but it's 24 hours
ahead in time. So if it is Monday on Tahiti, it is already Tuesday on
Caroline — and technically, those who are on this atoll are in front of
everyone else on Earth in time. This cruise had only two participants:
my talented Polynesian captain, Teahui, and myself, the crazy man who in
2018 came up with the idea of contacting a Tahitian catamaran charter
company, Poe Charters, to go to this remote atoll. Among the captains of
this company nobody has ever been to Caroline atoll, so when this
project emerged, all the captains were competing to get the job. No
wonder the job was given to the best, the craziest, most daring captain.
Teahui said this was a once in a lifetime opportunity for him!
[{Image src='01_Kiribati.jpg' caption='Капитан Тэаху\\© [AirPano|https://www.AirPano.com]' alt='' width='900' popup='false' height='506'}]
Our trip started in Tahiti. We haven't even left the outer limit of
Papeete's harbour — and we already got visit from playful dolphins at
the bow of the catamaran (the boat's name was Poe Reva).
[{Image src='02_Kiribati.jpg' caption='Дельфины\\© [AirPano|https://www.AirPano.com]' alt='' width='900' popup='false' height='507'}]
After a few hours of sailing in good wind we reached Tetiaroa, Marlon
Brando's private island. You might have already seen my tour about this
beautiful royal island here on AirPano. I spent a few hours flying over
the lagoon of Tetiaroa, then we headed directly in the direction of
Caroline atoll.
[{Image src='03_Kiribati.jpg' caption='Тетиароа, остров Марлона Брандо\\© [AirPano|https://www.AirPano.com]' alt='' width='900' popup='false' height='507'}]
As we passed in front of the Brando resort, to the West of the island,
the horizon was ablaze with orange colours of the setting sun, and the
ocean was relatively calm.
[{Image src='04_Kiribati.jpg' caption='Закат над океаном\\© [AirPano|https://www.AirPano.com]' alt='' width='900' popup='false' height='507'}]
Night came abruptly as it always does in the tropics, within minutes you
are in pitch dark if there is no moon. During the night we quickly
realised that the wind will not be sufficient for us to give enough
force to reach Caroline atoll solely by sailing. Our speed dropped
drastically. So we decided the next morning to modify the route, and we
headed for Rangiroa atoll's Avatoru pass. Teahui navigated the catamaran
skilfully in the crazy waters of the pass (which is subject to
tremendous waves, vortexes and turbulences of water during high and low
tides). In Avatoru we parked the catamaran and I went by taxi to buy up
all the canisters available on the island. It was nice to see this
island again, since two years before I stayed here a week. I spent more
than 600 euros just on the plastic canisters for the extra fuel we
needed. We replenished the tanks and the "bidons" too (as they are
called in French). I made a few panoramas of Avatoru Pass, and then we
continued forward to Caroline atoll.
[{Image src='05__Kiribati.jpg' caption='Волны\\© [AirPano|https://www.AirPano.com]' alt='' width='900' popup='false' height='507'}]
During the long crossing of the open ocean, we had to stay on guard duty
during night-time — each of us did 3 hours, and then we switched.
Imagine to be woken up at one o'clock in the morning, go to the decks,
and check the horizon every 20 minutes for possible presence of other
boats or for upcoming weather events. I also had to check the
navigational parameters of the autopilot, to make sure our heading is
still correct. We never encountered any other ship. Not a single one in
our 18-day, 2400 km long expedition. A ghost part of the Pacific Ocean!
During night, you had to be extremely vigilant on the deck: if you fall
into the sea, your life is over. Teahui would never hear my screams
because of the noise of the engine, and in the dark, it would be very
hard to locate me among the waves. It would be game over! Therefore we
had a strict rule of not drinking alcohol at all. We also had to check
for weather. Rain clouds usually mean two things: either the total
stopping of wind, or extreme harsh wind suddenly,
so in such a case we had to lower the sails to avoid the possibility of
damage.
[{Image src='06_Kiribati.jpg' caption='Тропические облака\\© [AirPano|https://www.AirPano.com]' alt='' width='900' popup='false' height='507'}]
One evening, at around 10, we were sitting on the top of catamaran
talking, when almost in the same moment we both realised that something
is fooling our senses: I have been looking at the horizon, to the East.
It was a clean night, a few clouds only, the moon already well above the
horizon, hovering between clouds as if framed like an old painting. Then
it seemed to me that the moon — as if being a solid piece of ball — was
jumping up and down, and also jittering sideways. This could not have
been atmospheric shimmer, since the image of the moon was crisp, clear,
its perimeter neat, razor-sharp. It moved as a whole, as one single
block. Then I tried to fix with my eyes one of the close lying clouds as
a reference: it was obvious to me that the moon's apparent distance to
the cloud is frenetically changing. While I was thinking about this, we
both asked the same question at almost the same time, after a long
silence of observing the scene: What the heck is wrong with the moon???
My assumption is that this is
a new type of optic illusion, generated by our brains. Since we were
sitting on the top of a shaking vessel, our brain tried to stabilise the
image in our heads, and this might have caused this strange phenomenon
(I have only found one mention of this in the internet).
At a cruising speed of around 6 knots (roughly 12 km/h), it took us
around 50 hours to arrive at Caroline atoll. How excited we were among
the rolling waves when we first caught glimpse of the slim slice of land
of South island! The presence of an island was already announced by the
numerous seabirds who were out on their daily food hunting mission. They
were very curious and already in a distance of 40 km from the atoll they
approached us very closely. They were especially mesmerised by our
fishing bait which was trailing 30 meters behind us in the water (we
never caught any fish during our trip!).
[{Image src='07_Kiribati.jpg' caption='Птицы\\© [AirPano|https://www.AirPano.com]' alt='' width='900' popup='false' height='507'}]
The timing of our arrival was really great: it was still before noon, so
we had the sun behind our back. This is crucial if you want to attempt
entering the Blind Channel of Caroline atoll. It is called "blind" for a
reason. It actually does not lead into the lagoon, but to a sand-shoal
of South island. As no-one ever from Poe Charter came here, I did some
research myself prior to the trip. I have read the book of Ron Falconer:
Together alone, describing the years he spent here together with his
wife and two kids. He also gave hints as to how to enter the Blind
channel. I also managed to find him on facebook, so we had lots of
conversation prior to the trip.
[{Image src='08_Kiribati.jpg' caption='Caroline Atoll. Kiribati\\© [AirPano|https://www.AirPano.com]' alt='' width='900' popup='false' height='513'}]
When we arrived at the Blind channel, our GPS showed that it lies right
in front of us, yet it was very difficult to see it with waves rolling
and breaking everywhere. We were really surprised to see how narrow it
is. Is this really the Blind channel? That's all?! The usable part was
maybe 16 meters wide! The first thing you see is some shipwreck at the
entrance — this is the welcome sign of Caroline! :) We also knew that
this channel had some rusting iron bars protruding from under the water.
These are remains from some leftover fishing cages from around 20 years
ago.
[{Image src='09_Kiribati.jpg' caption='Железные прутья\\© [AirPano|https://www.AirPano.com]' alt='' width='900' popup='false' height='507'}]
I only dared to show the report about this to Teahui two days before our
arrival. I told him: "I think you should read this." I was nervous to
see him read it, for I knew it made him uneasy. The plan was that I stay
standby with the catamaran out in the ocean while Teahui goes with the
dingy (we also called it zodiac) to check the passage and see the iron
bars. However, the pressure and the stress on us was such that upon
arrival he just immediately went for the entry.
[{Image src='10_Kiribati.jpg' caption='Blind Channel. Caroline Atoll. Kiribati\\© [AirPano|https://www.AirPano.com]' alt='' width='900' popup='false' height='516'}]
I prepared all my essential stuff ready for evacuation in case something
hits the hull and we start to sink. Teahui made a fantastic entry
manoeuvre. He called it a kind of suicide: no seasoned captain would
ever risk getting inside with a catamaran this size. It is just too much
risk! Right after reaching the gorge of the channel the catamaran had to
be turned to stay clear of the coral walls of this passage. When we
stopped and dropped three (!) anchors, the welcome committee has
arrived. Loads of sharks! Not the very kind natured ones, since this
place is so remote that even the black-tips are very aggressive, they
are simply not used to see humans. When checking one of the anchors,
Teahui had to kick away one grey shark with his fins. He is a native
Polynesian from Tahiti, grew up with sharks and riding up to 5-meter
high waves, and yet these sharks here were unsettling for him too.
Better not to risk injuries so far from civilisation! Being this remote
gives one a special feeling: it is amazing to see a
place of great beauty largely untouched, but the further away you are
from mankind, the more nervous you get. You realise even more how small
we are, especially right in the middle of the vastest ocean on Earth,
the Pacific! Actually, our planet should be called Water and not Earth,
since more than two thirds of it are covered with water.
[{Image src='11_Kiribati.jpg' caption='Caroline Atoll. Kiribati\\© [AirPano|https://www.AirPano.com]' alt='' width='900' popup='false' height='513'}]
Once safely anchored (at least this was what we assumed), we had lunch,
and then immediately started the aerial photography work. If you look at
these panoramas you will see that the lagoon looks like a labyrinth. At
some points the water is so shallow that even with our rubber dingy
(which has close to zero draft in the water) it was not possible to
pass. At some place we had to get out and push the boat and walk —
watching out for sharks, for when you are wading in shallow water they
think the splashes of your feet are made by fish in trouble, and that
means lunchtime for them. Sometimes we had to jump on the boat if they
came too close.
[{Image src='12_Kiribati.jpg' caption='Caroline Atoll. Kiribati\\© [AirPano|https://www.AirPano.com]' alt='' width='900' popup='false' height='513'}]
Normally we are not afraid of these types of sharks, I regularly swim
and dive with them elsewhere in Polynesia or in West-Papua's Raja Ampat
archipelago: with black-tip sharks, lemon sharks (which are quite huge),
reef sharks, white tips (but of course not with the oceanic whitetip,
which is one of the most aggressive shark breeds). But Caroline is a
crazy, wild place regarding sharks. Your only chance of snorkelling here
is by being immersed in water with full body, so the sharks can see you
actually and measure your size. And then you just kick them if they get
too close. In the media sharks are still demonized and people are very
scared of them. For me, sharks are like dogs: most of the shark breeds
pose no danger to humans, but there are a few breeds which have a
natural tendency to be overly aggressive, and with those you have to be
careful.
In the evening we went to Motu Ana-Ana (motu means small islet in
Polynesian), I wanted to see the remnants of the small settlement that
the Falconers built. I could still see the oven with the built in
bottles. I wanted to make a land-based panorama there, but then I was
attacked by an army of ants. So I gave up on that plan!
Back on the catamaran, I gave a call to my parents in Hungary with our
onboard satellite phone, waking them at 5h30 in the morning. Later in
the evening Teahui and me were discussing the next day. We would get up
very early. Teahui recommended to go to the very North of the atoll
first, and start panoramas there, and then gradually descend back to the
South. I had a very detailed flight plan for my two drones for the 6
days we planned to stay here on Caroline. I was suggesting instead that
we spend the first full day around the middle section of the atoll,
since this is the most exquisite, most beautiful part of the island, and
I wanted to make sure that I do the most beautiful panoramas as soon as
possible. After all, you do not know what will happen, maybe bad weather
or other problems. Who knows?
[{Image src='13_Kiribati.jpg' caption='Caroline Atoll. Kiribati\\© [AirPano|https://www.AirPano.com]' alt='' width='900' popup='false' height='516'}]
After an early rise, we had our breakfast and already at 6h20 the sun
was pounding on us with an extreme force. We clothed in full white,
long-sleeves only. We also used colourful sunblock on the cheek and
under the eyes, this product is physically covering the skin and thereby
shielding it from the burning sunshine. We started our slalom in the
lagoon, for Teahui had to learn the twists and turns and discover the
secret inner ways of this lagoon. We enjoyed very much the manoeuvres —
we burnt also a lot of fuel for it is very difficult to go around. Let
us not forget that our dingy is made of rubber, and the atoll is made of
razor sharp corals. I leave it up to you to make the connection! :) This
is an incredible place: though the vegetation can be rather lush, often
times it is composed of shrubs which provide little shade! So I had to
crouch like a rat under some bushes which gave not much relief from the
sun and it was very difficult to see what is going on the screen while
flying the drone. At least I
experienced how life is for birds on these motus. The atoll is home to
at least one and a half million birds. Some chicken are just waiting in
the blazing sun all day while their parents are out in the ocean
fishing. They are also very tame, you can get very close. By the end of
the day I made 36 panoramas, including those I shot the day before so I
was really satisfied. When we were heading back to the catamaran we
really hoped the catamaran would still be there and not washed out into
the open ocean.
[{Image src='14_Kiribati.jpg' caption='Caroline Atoll. Kiribati\\© [AirPano|https://www.AirPano.com]' alt='' width='900' popup='false' height='573'}]
We were relieved to find it there neatly tucked into the Blind channel.
A fish caught by Teahui from the lagoon at the Blind channel (sharks
were slow and we managed to keep it for us!) was cooking in our onboard
oven. We were looking forward to a delicious meal, but then we saw that
the fish started to foam. Well, not a really good omen, so we decided we
would not eat it. It could have had ciguatera. Ciguatera fish poisoning
(CFP) is a food-borne illness caused by eating reef fish whose flesh is
contaminated with certain toxins. So after all the sharks still ended up
with our fish.
[{Image src='15_Kiribati.jpg' caption='Caroline Atoll. Kiribati\\© [AirPano|https://www.AirPano.com]' alt='' width='900' popup='false' height='516'}]
We were having a relaxed evening talk and each of us went to do some
reading, before sleeping. It was pleasant to be able sleep in a more or
less steady boat, since now we were quite well protected, not out in the
open ocean. Well, our peace was not long lasting.
Around 2 in the night I was woken up by some terrifying noises: metal
scratching on metal, scraping sounds. This sounded really-really
menacing. Of course I knew immediately what it means: our anchoring was
drifting, our position became unstable. The leftovers from the fishing
cages, the iron bars in the water were helpful for us in the beginning,
since one of the anchors got stuck in them, but after one and a half
days they could not bear our weight, not even together with the other
two anchors. I went up, but could not see anything, there was no moon
and it was totally dark. I could not see Teahui. Later it turned out
that we went up to the deck to check the situation at different times.
But since in pitch dark it is impossible to do anything, we just had to
wait this out. At one point I could also hear a frightening sound
consistent with plastic scratching on rock — which means that our
catamaran was also touching the sides of the channel, where the water is
barely half a meter deep at low tide. At first
light we evaluated the situation and Teahui tried to stabilise the boats
anchorage. Unfortunately the currents did not allow this, and while
trying, we also lost one of the anchors along with the rope. So finally
we decided that instead of sinking our catamaran we would now decamp.
After just 2 nights! But I was not too frustrated — I already had the
most beautiful set of panoramas I ever did, and I covered the key
locations of the atoll.
[{Image src='16_Kiribati.jpg' caption='Caroline Atoll. Kiribati\\© [AirPano|https://www.AirPano.com]' alt='' width='900' popup='false' height='572'}]
And safety lies above all! But I am not someone who easily gives up: we
immediately decided that we shall return to Caroline (or Carolina as
Teahui cheerfully called the island). Anyway, we need to recover the
lost anchor, we know exactly where it lies, it is just at 4-5 meter
depth. But for the next trip we will be three on board: there will be
one more crew, so somebody will always stay on the catamaran to keep
full control and supervise our floating home. If the swell won't permit
an entry to the Blind Channel, the catamaran can still stay out in the
ocean at standby, sailing up and down without stopping. You have to
understand that it is impossible to anchor the vessel outside the atoll:
the reef falls too abruptly to huge depths (during most of our odyssey
the ocean's depth was 4.5 km!). If you approach the relatively shallow
side of the atoll and drop the anchor, then you will be too close to the
shoreline where the waves break. You do not want to lose your anchor and
end up rolling and breaking on the
coral reef — just as Marlon Brando did with his fisherman when he first
crash-landed on his beloved Tetiaroa atoll. Our next trip will take
place in April/May 2021, dates are already set, we shall visit of course
Caroline, but also many other atolls in the Tuamotu archipelago!
Leaving the Blind channel was just as challenging as entering it. It was
heavily turbulent, the amplitude of the waves was very high, and at the
trough of one of them we almost hit one of the coral heads at the side
of the channel, we were roughly 40 cm short of it. Good that we wore our
brown trousers (just kidding)!
[{Image src='17_Kiribati.jpg' caption='Caroline Atoll. Kiribati\\© [AirPano|https://www.AirPano.com]' alt='' width='900' popup='false' height='513'}]
After Caroline we suddenly found ourselves with loads of extra time, so
this permitted some spontaneous island visits. I decided that we first
head to Tikehau. One of the funniest moments out on the motues was when
our Zodiac was washed away by the waves and we only noticed it late, and
we were left stranded on a little islet with no boat and the catamaran
anchoring quite far from us inside the lagoon. That is when I saw Teahui
run and swim the fastest, at olympic speeds. But we got back our boat,
otherwise we would have asked a fisherman to help. After Tikehau we
cruised back to Rangiroa, and we went to the Blue Lagoon where I made a
quite extensive aerial and land based panorama survey of this
magnificent garden of Eden. I, Adam, first of his name, absolutely
approve this paradise. Inside the giant lagoon of Rangiroa (74kms
long!!!) we had some massive swell (rhythmic waves), so leaving the
catamaran with the Zodiac, boarding and disembarking was an extra
challenge, but Teahui at least could enjoy wave
surfing with our rubber Zodiac boat. So much fun it was! After Rangiora
we went to Mataiva atoll. We set the engine speed such that it matched
the rhythm of the swell coming from the East, so this was the best
cradle-like experience we had on the catamaran. One of the best nights!
Next day I had a visit of Mataviva atoll where the locals treated me
with outstanding hospitality and I received a sumptuous set of necklaces
made of seashells. (Mataiva impressed me so much that it will be the
first stop of my expedition in 2021.)
[{Image src='18_Kiribati.jpg' caption='Матаива\\© [AirPano|https://www.AirPano.com]' alt='' width='900' popup='false' height='507'}]
By the afternoon trouble was already looming on the horizon, massive
black clouds were emerging from the East. When I went back to the
catamaran the swell was already 2-3 meter high. Putting the drone (and
myself) back to the catamaran among the waves and in the rain was
already a nice challenge. At this point we were still on the Western
side of Mataiva, so relatively shielded from the Armageddon that was
lurking around the corner. The swell soon became enormous, 4-5 meter
waves, but with a nice wavelength, the period of the waves was quite
long. We were heading to Makatea now, but the moment we left Mataiva's
protecting landmass and darkness came down on us, all hell broke lose.
Extremely short wave periods, 4-5 meter waves coming right from
South-East, head on, 70 km/h winds, rain and darkness. It took us 9
hours to reach Makatea, but the forces to which we were exposed were
astounding. According to Teahui grown-up man cry in such situations.
Well at least I found out about myself that I do not, and under
this stress I remained stoic and calm (I was already on land in Tahiti
when the stress came out of me and I realised what we went through).
[{Image src='19_Kiribati.jpg' caption='Таити\\© [AirPano|https://www.AirPano.com]' alt='' width='900' popup='false' height='506'}]
We were of course afraid, one has to be really stupid not to be afraid.
The period of the 5 meter waves was just a few seconds. Since the
catamaran was only around 12 meter long, when we reached the top of the
5 meter waves, the hull of the boat turned over the peak like a seesaw,
the propellers, normally submerged in water, were out of the water and
you could hear them choking. And then you sharply turn downwards and
fall in a free fall and you hit with full force the trough of the waves,
only to be lifted up again to the crest, and then restart the cycle. For
9 hours non-stop! We found out later that in French Polynesia all boats
stayed safely sheltered in protected lagoons and basically few were out
in the open ocean. Only the crazy ones. Like us. These were the very
same weather conditions that on Tahiti's Teahupo generated one of the
greatest swells of the last decade. But let's stop my tale of the
journey right here and turn our attention back to Caroline.
After my own words I would like to introduce you Caroline atoll in a
more formal manner. For this, I will cite passages from a study of
Caroline atoll prepared by Angela K. Kepler and Cameron B. Kepler.
Caroline atoll, also known as Millennium Island and Beccisa Island is
the south-easternmost of the Southern Line Islands, a group of 3 islands
which also includes Vostok and Flint. Although archaeologically and
geographically within Polynesia, Caroline is owned by the Republic of
Kiribati (correct pronunciation: k?r?'bæs) formerly Gilbert islands.
Caroline atoll is neither physically, geographically, nor politically
associated with the Caroline islands, now part of the Federated States
of Micronesia, more than 6000 km to the northwest. According to the path
of the International Date Line, Caroline Island is the easternmost point
of land on Earth.
[{Image src='20_Kiribati.jpg' caption='Caroline Atoll. Kiribati\\© [AirPano|https://www.AirPano.com]' alt='' width='900' popup='false' height='572'}]
Caroline Island is believed to have originated from a volcanic hotspot
which eroded and then became home to a coral reef which grew above the
ocean surface.
Caroline, 9.7 km long, 2.3 km wide at its widest point, is a crescentic
coral ring with 39 islets (motus) centred on a continuous reef enclosing
a relatively shallow lagoon. The closed lagoon, rich in marine life,
contains a maze of patch reefs and impeccably clear water.
[{Image src='21_Kiribati.jpg' caption='Рак отшельник\\© [AirPano|https://www.AirPano.com]' alt='' width='900' popup='false' height='507'}]
The atoll was "discovered" by de Quiros in 1606. It has been uninhabited
since the early 1930s (a factor contributing to its relatively
undisturbed ecology), except for the presence of Ron Falconer's family
from 1987 to 1991. In the past decade, a lone French sailor called
Lyderic set up camp on the shores of Motu Ana-Ana, but he was expelled
and imprisoned by the government of Kiribati for staying there several
years illegally.
Centuries before Europeans encountered Caroline, the atoll was inhabited
by Polynesians. In the 1870s 50 ancient Polynesian sites were unearthed
which were later identified as Tuamotuan marae (a communal sacred
place). Despite its remoteness, Caroline was encountered early in
Pacific history, long before Tahiti, Rarotonga and Hawaii.
As Caroline Island only extends six meters above sea level, it would be
in danger if sea levels rise. The Kiribati government estimates that the
island may be reclaimed by the sea as soon as 2025, and the United
Nations has rated Caroline Island as among those most in danger from sea
level rise.
Caroline Island is among the most remote islands on earth — 230 km from
the closest land at Flint Island, 1,500 km (930 mi) from Kiritimati,
4,200 km from the Kiribati capital of Tarawa, and 5,100 km from the
nearest continental land in North America.
Caroline Island is an important breeding site for a number of species of
seabirds, most notably the sooty tern, numbering around 500,000 — a
colony of sooty terns dominates the eastern islets — and the great
frigatebird, numbering over 10,000. Caroline Island and its neighbour,
Flint Island, also host some of the world's largest populations of the
coconut crab. Other native animals include the Tridacna clam, which is
abundant in the central lagoon, hermit crabs, and multiple species of
lizards.
!!Caroline Atoll - Ron Falconer and family
My connection with this incredible series of Caroline photos is because
Ádám Plézer the photographer, during his research and expedition
preparations, discovered that our small family had settled on this
remote island in the late 1980s. He needed information on the weather,
the "Blind Passage" and necessary permissions required to visit the
Atoll.
I admired his project and retain a strong affection for Caroline Atoll,
so answered all his questions. This qualified me to be one of the first
to receive these completed project photographs and the invitation to
share our experiences living on the Atoll.
On opening the photographs I was amazed by the colours, texture and
detail, truly impressive. This had been our island, laid out now as
never before using modern drone techniques and sophisticated cameras.
[{Image src='22_Kiribati.jpg' caption='Caroline Atoll. Kiribati\\© [AirPano|https://www.AirPano.com]' alt='' width='900' popup='false' height='516'}]
I quickly identified the dangerous blind passage where we had risked
everything to find a safe place for our sailboat "Fleur d'Ecosse" and
make possible the whole venture to live on the Atoll. The tension
entering the pass and the adrenaline rush were now peaceful memories,
but these clear photos brought back old feelings that were so real and
frightening at the time, plus the impulsive loud "yippee" we would yell
once safely through the entrance and into the calm pass. This still
brings a smile to my face.
In these photos the atoll looked like a piece of familiar jewellery. We
had beach-combed these attractive bleached beaches looking for building
materials, fished for our daily food in the turquoise lagoon waters
while being super conscious of the many lurking, and often attacking,
sharks. So often we had sailed our aluminium dinghy with great
difficulty through what is now shown as pretty decorative patterns of
live carol heads in the lagoon.
Ana-Ana, our chosen motu for it's manageable size and relative freedom
from mosquitoes, now appeared alluring, peaceful and invitingly
attractive. Here we had sweated clearing bushes away before building our
framed sleeping hut and cookhouse, then weaving coconut leaves for
covering those frames. Also a hen house for our four laying young hens
and, of course, their cock.
Small rats daily raided our chopped-coconut hen food and, without
permission, cheekily built their nests in our roofs. Cockroaches came
by in the evenings to feast on the left overs. Beneath the attractive
tree coverings we had painstakingly formed compost-filled holes and
planted papayas, bananas, pumpkins, tomatoes and beans.
Tracing along these romanticized photos, I recall our productive and
important fish trap, our important voyages across the lagoon to collect
humus for the sustaining garden compost. Our leisurely cruises with two
small children plus the dog, up the full length of the lagoon, having to
constantly search for small passages through the maze of coral, while at
the same time trolling a fishing line to catch a jack to be barbecued in
the fire ashes for lunch. On these expeditions we brought back fishing
buoys of glass, important pieces of driftwood, and occasionally a few
eggs from the thousands of migrating terns.
The photos don't show the constant soaring frigates, the boobies
returning with their catch from the sea, the long-tailed tropic birds,
and the pure white, attentive fairy terns. Neither can you do see the
hermit crabs, coconut crabs, and thankfully not the presence of hungry
mosquitoes and biting ants. One positive value of a virtual world.
Settling on Caroline, for me was a progressive process: first step was
leaving Scotland, sailing around the world, and discovering the Pacific
Islands. As I was a bit of a wanderer, these islands suited well my
personality. They were quiet, warm, with free anchoring, steady
trade-winds, rich fishing, and friendly, welcoming Polynesian natives
... it all fitted. So much so that during our four years living in a
small Polynesian village, on Ahe Atoll in the Tuamotu islands where our
two children were born. The wanderlust had remained and I now wanted to
move to an island for ourselves, a new challenge, an adventure, a next
step ... I still wonder !
Caroline looked perfect, ten degrees south of the equator, more or less
free from cyclones, having regular showers, and covered with coconut
trees. The atoll's lease was held by an old schooner sea Captain who
had regularly passaged from Tahiti to Hawaii, which passed by the
island. After some persuasion he gave us permission to be Caroline's
caretakers.
With our boat loaded up with stores, and towing our aluminium sailing
dinghy, we set out to sail the 350 miles north to Caroline Atoll. It
took a further three days circling the island before finding the right
sea conditions and courage to attempt entering the risky blind passage.
What we found was a truly pristine atoll untouched by any humans for
many, many years. Nature ruled here, the daily routine laid down with
the interaction of the multitude of living creatures. Humbly and
hesitantly we prepared to take our place in the activity of this
community. We were determined to quietly integrate, and form our own
private corner with a policy of minimum interference to the existing
occupants, respectful of what existed and grateful to be given the
opportunity to observe the daily rhythms of nature in such a pure
environment.
Our own routine slowly developed, clearing our area for houses and
garden, the daily fishing expedition, initially using a hand line from
the dinghy, then eventually building a fish trap. Coconuts had to be
collected for the hens, and to produce oil for our kitchen. Brown,
mature coconut leaves had to be collected to be carefully woven into
roof coverings. Three fires per day had to be lit for our cooked meals
plus bread or coconut biscuits, made over the fire in a basic metal
oven. Tending the garden plants and setting out new seeds.
The children amused themselves with their swing, building huts, or
participating in the daily chores. They quickly learnt how to swim and
use a face mask, which opening up a whole new underwater world. We went
on many expeditions exploring almost all of Caroline's many motus, so
clearly shown in these photographs.
All in all it was an absorbing and fulfilling experience.
After a blissful four years we became victims of a Tahiti business man:
he had obtained a temporary lease and wanted to illegally kill the green
turtles, exploit all the fish, coconut crabs, and everything with
commercial potential on the island. Anyone watching over all his illegal
enterprises was a threat, so using his connections, and blatant lies, he
influenced the Kiribati Government to have us removed.
Years later, I wrote a book on our many experiences called "Together
Alone", published by Random House, Australia, it is also available as an
[e-book, on Amazon|https://www.amazon.com/Together-Alone-Ron-Falconer-ebook/dp/B00KR03QBS].
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[24 panoramas of Caroline Atoll - Kiribati|Geography/Australia/Kiribati/Pictures/Caroline_Atoll]
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