This time last year I was onboard the Lady Naomi bound for Tokelau. We left Apia, in Western Samoa full of enthusiasm, excited, with slight trepidation. Only one person in our group of hearty travellers had been to the island nation before - and we tried not to bog him down with perpetual questions.
It is a wondrous experience, to be at sea for days - and then suddenly hear the call, you know the call, 'Land Ho'! Well - even though I had been sidelined to the bunks with incapacitating seasickness, it still had the same effect - arousing hope that the destination and future possibilities had been reached - and I dragged myself up on deck to see what had been seen.
Atolls do not make a grand entrance on the horizon. They belong to the quiet and beautiful category, and appear hesitantly - imparting slight colour changes to the sky above them, which only a seasoned and observant eye will detect. Remaining on the surface as a quasi-permanent nod to what lies beneath, atolls are an ancient coralline deposit built upon the volcanic foundations from the earth's crust. Analogous with an iceberg, their underwater structure is equally as fascinating as the tiny landmass they create above.
Tokelau consists of three atolls, dotted across the South Pacific between Samoa and Kiribas. I was fortunate enough to be a team member with a collaborative research group, whose main focus was to investigate the archaeology of the atolls. See the summary video HERE.
Landing on a atoll is no mean feat. With only a small concrete quay that acts as a harbouring structure for fishing boats, the villagers make do with a wide barge-like motor boat to collect supplies and visitors from any visiting vessel. The swell never subsides in the middle of the Pacific, and ferrying people and goods back and forth between an off-shore boat and the shoreline is not easy. Mastering the current and the waves requires practice and patience, on behalf of the helmsman and his cargo - heated words are frequently exchanged as tensions mount between those onboard and those who decide what goes where on the barge etc. I was hoisted by strong hands on to the barge from the Lady Naomi and found a semi-secure spot atop a pallet of tinned meat.
We spent an action packed, at times exhausting, six weeks on the atoll of Nukunonu. The isolation didn't worry me at all, amazingly - my energy was more taken up by just figuring out how best to survive another day. An unfortunate allergy to fish from inside the atoll's lagoon rendered some meals inedible to me, and bowls of white rice were the replacement. Coconuts were literally a true bounty of goodness - we ate our fill whenever they appeared.
The people of Tokelau are extremely resourceful and friendly, with a certain sense of fatality that is balanced with humour and an almost contradictory attitude. There were many unspoken customs and cultural nuances that we just had to learn and pick up on, which took some visitors longer than others but overall we were accommodated amazingly. A few were particularly adept at working it out, and slotted right in to village life. When the time came to leave - we knew they were going to be missed.
The time I spent on Nukunonu taught me the necessity of reaching out, having fun and thinking creatively every minute. Most of all it taught me that we are all essentially the same. We can be proud and indifferent, or generous and kind of spirit - it is an individual choice - we must try to remember, and should act to inspire the latter at all times.
Travelling in the Pacific reminds me that we are an ingenious and talented bunch of people. I can't wait to travel again.
Thank you Nukunonu!
It is a wondrous experience, to be at sea for days - and then suddenly hear the call, you know the call, 'Land Ho'! Well - even though I had been sidelined to the bunks with incapacitating seasickness, it still had the same effect - arousing hope that the destination and future possibilities had been reached - and I dragged myself up on deck to see what had been seen.
Atolls do not make a grand entrance on the horizon. They belong to the quiet and beautiful category, and appear hesitantly - imparting slight colour changes to the sky above them, which only a seasoned and observant eye will detect. Remaining on the surface as a quasi-permanent nod to what lies beneath, atolls are an ancient coralline deposit built upon the volcanic foundations from the earth's crust. Analogous with an iceberg, their underwater structure is equally as fascinating as the tiny landmass they create above.
Tokelau consists of three atolls, dotted across the South Pacific between Samoa and Kiribas. I was fortunate enough to be a team member with a collaborative research group, whose main focus was to investigate the archaeology of the atolls. See the summary video HERE.
Landing on a atoll is no mean feat. With only a small concrete quay that acts as a harbouring structure for fishing boats, the villagers make do with a wide barge-like motor boat to collect supplies and visitors from any visiting vessel. The swell never subsides in the middle of the Pacific, and ferrying people and goods back and forth between an off-shore boat and the shoreline is not easy. Mastering the current and the waves requires practice and patience, on behalf of the helmsman and his cargo - heated words are frequently exchanged as tensions mount between those onboard and those who decide what goes where on the barge etc. I was hoisted by strong hands on to the barge from the Lady Naomi and found a semi-secure spot atop a pallet of tinned meat.
We spent an action packed, at times exhausting, six weeks on the atoll of Nukunonu. The isolation didn't worry me at all, amazingly - my energy was more taken up by just figuring out how best to survive another day. An unfortunate allergy to fish from inside the atoll's lagoon rendered some meals inedible to me, and bowls of white rice were the replacement. Coconuts were literally a true bounty of goodness - we ate our fill whenever they appeared.
The people of Tokelau are extremely resourceful and friendly, with a certain sense of fatality that is balanced with humour and an almost contradictory attitude. There were many unspoken customs and cultural nuances that we just had to learn and pick up on, which took some visitors longer than others but overall we were accommodated amazingly. A few were particularly adept at working it out, and slotted right in to village life. When the time came to leave - we knew they were going to be missed.
The time I spent on Nukunonu taught me the necessity of reaching out, having fun and thinking creatively every minute. Most of all it taught me that we are all essentially the same. We can be proud and indifferent, or generous and kind of spirit - it is an individual choice - we must try to remember, and should act to inspire the latter at all times.
Travelling in the Pacific reminds me that we are an ingenious and talented bunch of people. I can't wait to travel again.
Thank you Nukunonu!
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