Honeymoon in Moorea 2

When I came to Moorea for all those months last year I did many amazing things and I saw constant beauty all around me. I saw it each day in the sun-sets that were ever changing every evening, each one I witnessed was personally unique as the colours and clouds passed by. I saw beauty in the waters of the lagoon, from the dark rich blues, the clear aqua marine, to the reflected shimmering and moving waves as they worked their way through the pass and onto my shore.




I lived in a magnificent house with a huge garden that was full of hues of green and plants that are only available as tiny pot plants back home. Giant bushes of jasmine trailed along my wall, palms full of coconuts of green, orange and brown filled my garden, Guava trees poured fruit onto the grass as did the Bread fruit tree and the other edible bushes that surrounded me.




For one month I shared all this with Lisa. She too bared witness as the colours of the world accumulated on the horizon but most of the time I was a solitary witness, my writings and photos tried vainly to catch the magic, a little was spread through the Blog but most died each day as I slept clearing from the mind, leaving it ready to witness wonders reborn anew in the morning.





This time however my time in Moorea has been different, this time I have had the joy of companionship to witness the wonders of the Island. This time I had Peter with me!!







We moved into Micheles house just as the rains stopped!


Together we walked the gardens assessing the Tupa holes and changes over the past 6 months that I had been away. The gardeners had cut the grass and cleared the lawn the day before we arrived giving me a blank canvas to work with.




The beach had changed shape, gone was the large soft rolling beach, as a huge coral cliff complete with a load of sea debris now dominated the once smooth sandy slope.






Sea weed and leaves were piled up in lines along the shore and the rocks at the point were once again full of trapped coconuts.






The bags were unpacked, the curtains were thrown back in the Master Bedroom and the wheel barrow was unlocked.



Tools that I had left were rediscovered, herbs and spices from my past were still on my shelves, it felt like coming home and there was much work to be done!





Work began on the beach that afternoon.


Debris was cleared and marched down to the burning pile at the end of the 200m garden.


Coconuts were gathered, wood was stacked and the huge job of reshaping the beach began.







I watched the waves as they pushed even more coral onto the beach. When I had been here before I had observed that the 2 inch waves broke upon the shore in a straight line pushing sand and coral evenly onto the shore.





Now as I watched I noticed that two distinct waves converged to form the coral cliff that dominated the centre.


When I examined the shape of the bay beyond the tiny breaking waves this too had divided and I came up with a theory.


IF I could get the bay beyond the waves even, then the waves should become even.

If the waves became even, then the coral deposits would become even.

If the coral deposits became even then I could rebuild my gentle slope and the soft powdered coral sand would return giving me back my golden beach.





We began in earnest the next day. Coral was pulled and pushed into the sea, the dip that formed the two disjointed waves was filled.


Each hour the waves continued to separate and pushed the coral back onto the beach, each hour either I or Peter pushed it back.





Blisters formed upon my hands, callouses began to reform but each day a little more was pushed back into the sea than the sea could push back onto my shore.




By the end of a whole week of hourly redistribution we had won! The waves now swept the beach in a uniform line, the dip that had once divided them was no more and sand was indeed beginning to form a layer over the coral deposits.

For another week we took turns to push and drag the coral and sand into the sea forming the gentle slope until the day came that the entire beach was filled with sand!



That day as Peter watched fascinated, I dragged mountains of sand back up the depleted beach until a good 4 inched covered what had once been coral filled areas. The soft sandy beach was back.

Two weeks of daily work had rewarded me with a beach of dreams, now all I had to do was maintain it.





The garden too had taken a battering during my absence. Each day while Peter and I took turns at raking the coral and the sand, the other one had collected the leaves and raked the Tupa holes level.




On our first night I introduced Peter to the joys of Tupa Hunting.





As we strolled around the garden as quietly as two grown adults carrying a large bucket, two rakes and wearing head torches accompanied by an excited dog could manage, we caught am amazing 29 large Tupas with our rattly rakes and bucket.





These we then released 200m beyond the end of the garden, on the far side of the road well beyond the storm drain bridge.

My theory was that even if they headed back towards the garden and their familiar territory, they just might get distracted, find new holes, fall in love (or get squished on the road) before they got back to the garden.


This time away from home, allowed me time to fill in their existing holes and re-level the garden!




It was not all work either. The sun shone down as we drifted over the coral drop off 20m from the sandy beach, fish of many colours, shapes and sizes gazed as us as we passed over , gazing at them. A turtle was spotted just off shore and the day came when Peter found himself in the exact same location as the turtle as she swam the wall looking for food and exploring her territory. For a brief moment the y were alone in the sea, each aware of the other, both at ease. When Peter lifted his head to call me however, she sank into the depths and from that day onwards she always remained just out of sight although we saw her break water daily.










Coconut hunting became another enjoyable pass time as Peter began to attacked the trees with his hunting stick in search of ripe prey.





Having been successful with his hunt he would then return to the house with his stunned prey in his hands in preparation for the final kill!





Pepsi became a constant companion during these forays into the jungle (garden) reaping the rewards of her diligent comradeship each time the mighty hunter eventually slew the evil coconut and spilt its intestinal milk all over the sacrificial stone.






The sweat blood and occasional screams (usually of profanity) would not have been suitable for the younger persons around us but we were alone in our jungle paradise and save for Pepsi – who has been sworn to secrecy – no on will ever know of the
hours it took the mighty hunter to crack open each coconut!



He quit on the 3rd day claiming a dislike for the succulent flesh of his prey and the trees remained in tact for the rest of our stay!!