In spite of how amazing everything was on the trip, from time to time I found myself getting really anxious. It didn’t inhibit my mood or my time, but something about being so remote can be scary.
For example, our third day in Moorea we rented a car to drive around the island. Along the way, we found a couple of spots to do some hiking. Places that had private property signs, but according to Moon Tahiti, the owners really didn’t mind a few hikers.
The funny thing is, Moorea is so remote, and everything is so undeveloped, that you get to these hikes by “taking the second left after the Mobile station." Basically, the second you turn off the one main road that goes around the island, you’re in no-man’s land.
The most popular of the hikes we read about was a walk through the jungle to a vista point where we could see Cook’s Bay. It’s a 2 mile walk to the point, but the path goes all the way across the island through the jungle if you’re an experienced hiker and have a guide.
The locals call the first part of the hike Anana (pineapple) road, and really, that’s all there is out there. Pineapple farms, mango, coconut and banana trees, and some hikers. And when I say “some hikers” I mean you see 1-2 hikers every 5-10 minute on the main road. (Again, this is one of the top recommended tourist activities on the island.)
At first we passed a few acre plots of land, and 1 or 2 houses with neighbors in the yard. But once we passed the look-out spot about 20 minutes into the walk, we didn’t see anyone. And the vegetation got a little denser, and the road got a little rougher, and there were a few more ominous looking “private property” signs.
After awhile, something about the shade and the silence and the isolation and the narrowness of the road made my heart start beating a little faster, and I started getting this wave of “we shouldn’t be here.” I get the same feeling when I’m snorkeling, and suddenly I realize I’ve drifted farther out than I meant to.
I’m sure it was fine, but when it comes to walking through private property in the middle of the jungle in a country where you don’t speak the language or know the culture, it’s hard not to wonder what would happen if we were on someone’s land who wasn’t super happy to see us, and we couldn’t explain ourselves in French or in Tahitian.
I thought I understood before I left, but I was wrong. There is no way to wrap your head around the remoteness of these islands until you go. I thought I could imagine it, but it wasn’t until a few days had gone by that I realized how different things actually are in a place that has so little people around, and is so disconnected from the rest of the world.
