POSTCARD PARADISE, RUM PUNCH, AND A LITTLE SEA SPRAY

It’s 4:30am. The kind of hour that should be illegal unless you’re catching a flight—or in our case, sailing to a postcard. The powers out sooo, no coffee, we stumble out of the villa in a semi-conscious state and manage to navigate the mysterious 5am Tahitian traffic jam. Apparently, everyone on the island really likes sitting in traffic before sunrise.

By some miracle (and blind luck), we find our car park in Papeete and shuffle to the meeting point. People start trickling in like they’ve all just remembered they booked this boat trip after a big night out. There are so many people that, for a moment it looks like we’re all going to have to spoon each other on deck, but good news: there are two boats! We’re on the smaller, slower one with fewer people—which turns out to be just perfect.

As the sun rises dramatically like a scene out of Moana, we’re served a dreamy breakfast of fresh local fruit (delicious), pastries (delicious but with more calories), and coffee (life-saving). Twenty minutes later, we hit open water—and by “hit” I mean slam, bounce, and wobble across it like a reality show challenge. The sea is… enthusiastic. A few brave souls lie on the netting between the hulls and get gloriously soaked every few minutes. They say it’s fun. Their faces say otherwise.

Despite the rocking and rolling, the vibe is blissful. We’re cruising through the big blue ocean, Polynesian music floating through the air, sun warming our salty faces, and everyone scanning the horizon for dolphins (who apparently decided to sleep in today). Honestly, I can’t blame them.

Eventually, we arrive at the Tetiaroa Atoll, jump into a rubber duck (that’s a boat, not a bath toy), and hang on as the skipper does his best Fast & Furious impression. He times the waves, guns it over the reef, and we surf into the lagoon like action movie extras. It’s both terrifying and awesome. Mostly awesome.

A short walk through the trees (pausing to watch crabs with homes on their backs—respect), and boom: paradise. Turquoise water so clear it looks fake, soft white sand, palm trees swaying like they’re doing yoga. We skip the optional bird island tour because we’re far too busy floating in the warm lagoon, watching colorful fish cruise by like it’s Finding Nemo live. We see a few (apparently harmless) baby sharks (now I can’t get that song out of my head, the grandkids love it!) Its picture postcard perfect and we have to pinch ourselves that we’re not in a dream. It’s time to head back to the boat but Suz just wants to stay in the perfect paradise. (I know she’ll be pretty quick to rejoin the boat when she realises the atoll is uninhabited and therefore has no champagne!

After another thrilling reef-crossing drench session, we’re back on the boat for lunch—grilled tuna with the skipper’s magical teriyaki sauce, local favourite poisson cru (aka Tahitian ceviche with a fancy name), salads, fruit, and probably more calories than we burned pretending to swim earlier. So good 🙂

Then it’s time for snorkelling—gliding along the reef and peering over the giant drop-off like we’ve just joined a David Attenborough special. Schools of fish dance in unison, lazy reef sharks pass by below, and we float, wide-eyed and weirdly proud of ourselves.

The return sail is smoother, possibly because everyone is too full and sun-kissed to care about the swell. As the sun begins to set, we’re sipping Tahitian rum punch (which should come with a warning label), and locals are surfing our bow wave in outrigger canoes like they’re auditioning for the next Disney film. It’s one of those moments where you look around and think, yep, this is definitely not home.

We somehow manage to find our car—just in time, because for reasons known only to the parking gods, this 24-hour car park closes at 6pm. We roll out at 5:57pm like seasoned pros… then promptly take a wrong turn and spend 90 minutes in traffic heading back to PK18. But here’s the magic of Tahiti: even in a traffic jam, there are no beeping horns, no rude gestures, no vehicular rage. Just a bunch of relaxed locals casually letting each other in, smiling like it’s a Sunday afternoon.

What a day. Incredible scenery, a dose of adventure, zero caffeine regrets (okay, maybe one), and enough memories to fill a postcard rack. Three hours each way? Worth it.

Tonight, we’ll sleep like sunburnt sea otters. 😴😴