Bora Bora’s real-life beauty exceeds postcard images on the Paul Gauguin cruise. Photo / Suplied
Manta rays, viewed from above, look like stealth jets cruising over the ocean floor. Painted elegantly in grey, white and black, their grace is mesmerising. Especially when contrasted with our tangle of gangly snorkellers on the sea’s surface.
We see six giants in total, each 5-6 metres wide. I ask guide William, who speaks like the turtle Crush from Finding Nemo – but in French – if finding this many is normal. “Noooooon!” he cries. “C’est extraordinaaaaaaiiiiire!”
Later that same morning I’m in Bora Bora’s see-through lagoon tailing 10 eagle rays for what feels like ages. Occasionally one breaks from the pack to check me out and reveals its big, curious face, like a cross between a dolphin and a flying fox. Gorgeous things. So handsomely patterned.
And that afternoon I swim through some of the most extraordinary coral gardens of my long and colourful snorkelling career. The coral is crystallised into fantastic forms creating avenues lined with fishy apartment blocks that I navigate alongside a great flurry of yellow strumpets. Or whatever they’re called. Magical.
It’s this stellar day at sea, my second aboard the Paul Gauguin, that convinces me I’ve found the happiest medium – the Goldilocks option – between traditional and expedition cruising.
“Yachting cruising,” as Captain Michel Quioc calls it. All the perks (dining, drinking, service, entertainment) of a mid-sized liner, coupled with an adrenalin-packed activities schedule.
I’m cruising with 280 other people in French Polynesia for 10 nights, from Tahiti around the Society Islands and Tuamotus. Life at sea is equal parts indulgence and adventure, which suits me so fine.
The ship, named for the French painter who migrated to this idyllic spot last century, was built in France in 1997 and American-owned until 2019 when it was bought by Ponant, owned by billionaire Francois Pinault.
Monsieur Pinault gives the old girl a makeover every year. Teal-toned and honey-timbered, she looks fresh, contemporary, oceanic. There’s none of the garish tackiness of some cruise lines.
Accommodation ranges from porthole and window cabins on decks three and four to balcony cabins everywhere else, culminating in two spacious owners’ suites equipped with binoculars, Bose speakers and butlers. All come with constantly scrolling South Pacific views to calm the soul.
On board there are three restaurants, three bars and 24-hour room service; a marina with full dive team to maximise submarine encounters (anyone from age 10 can learn to dive); a five-room spa; a well-equipped gym (a godsend given my indulgences). It’s also bilingual, which adds a certain je ne sais quoi to shipboard life.
Free-flowing Champagne aside, travelling by ship is the obvious and smart way to navigate this ravishing but far-flung archipelago, especially when itineraries offer the chance to see the islands from every angle, using every imaginable mode of transport.
At our first stop, Huahine, there are almost a dozen excursions offered, by quad bike, e-bike, outrigger, 4x4, jetski and “le truck”.
Bora Bora, far more breathtaking in real life than in brochures, can be explored by all of the above plus aqua-bike, catamaran and helicopter.
In the Tuamotus I catch a speedboat across the lagoon to Tetamanu, a tiny village of five houses and a church but no Wi-Fi or 3G. Blissfully remote, it’s a magnet for divers who come to witness its famous “wall” of hundreds of sharks.
I get a tamer taste of its submarine wonders during a drift snorkel where I’m mobbed by reef sharks, huge schools of snapper and a unicorn fish.
Traditional cruise itineraries tend to be set-piece affairs where everything is controlled to a T, but spending so much time in nature means there are daily surprises and thrills aboard the Paul Gauguin that could never be factored into a spreadsheet.
For example, on day four Captain Quioc assembles everyone in the grand salon to explain, with the aid of isobar charts, why we won’t be going to Rangiroa as planned. A huge storm is brewing and all maritime activities are strictly forbidden tomorrow on the Tuamotu archipelago.
“Nature is stronger here,” he adds, to counter any disappointments.
Instead we detour to Raiatea for a beautiful sunset navigation into the lagoon to arrive at yet another voluptuous volcanic island. The next day, Sunday, is election day but also church, so the little town is buzzing.
Even set-piece itinerary stops can be crowd-pleasers. Ponant owns a motu (islet) off Taha’a called Mahana and most cruises stop there for a beach party.
I arrive by tender after a morning tour of Taha’a’s vanilla plantations, pearl farm and rum distillery to find the fiesta in full swing. Mervin the barman is knee-deep in the shallows shaking cocktails at the floating “pool bar”. Music pumps out from the shore; Footloose segues into Bohemian Rhapsody. Anything goes.
There are two large thatched huts, one housing a groaning buffet with seafood, salads and DIY burgers; the other the bar (Champagne, mojitos, G&Ts, rum-spiked coconuts). Both are rammed with passengers.
The staff, as always, are amazing. If anything their energy levels are even higher on this tropical island, turbocharged by the good-time vibes.
The main downside of shipboard life is the catering, which is copious, good quality and constant. From 6am croissants and coffee in La Palette lounge to full breakfasts in the main restaurant, L’Etoile, or al fresco on the deck at The Grill ... Then themed lunches – Italian, American, barbecue, Spanish etc – afternoon teas, and dinners that run to such urbane offerings as foie gras, yellowfin tuna and truffles, served with Bordeaux and Burgundy wines and boundless enthusiasm by the mainly Filipino floor staff.
Of course almost everything’s included so for 10 hedonistic days there’s no need to deny yourself anything. If that doesn’t scream ‘holiday!’, I don’t know what does.
My fellow fun-seekers are mostly American and French but also Australian, Canadian, Spanish – and one Kiwi. Drinking and feasting together is the great socialiser but in case anyone needs a nudge there’s a non-stop roster of events.
Cruise director Maria Paz Garcia Pintado ensures no dull moments aboard with enlightening lectures by guest naturalist Laura Jourdan, magic shows by a Spanish illusionist, tango concerts with entertainers Pascal Guertin and Juan Jose Hermida. Other diversions include Zumba classes, a ship-building competition culminating in riotous seaworthiness trials in the rooftop pool, and karaoke and nightly dancing in La Palette bar.
At Moorea, our last stop, there’s the usual dilemma of choosing from the activities on offer, including scenic Cessna flights where passengers can pilot their own plane. But it’s an innocent-sounding “ocean and lagoon tour” led by Quebecois expat and guide Genevieve Metayer that makes my day.
I’m one of just six guests aboard a speedboat with Metayer and skipper Christopher when she announces a special treat. There’s a whale shark feeding out in the ocean; we can try to find her if we like. Cruise director Maria Paz, who’s among our six, clutches her heart and cries, “That is my dream!”
So we race across galloping seas, bursting with excitement, to where three fishing boats are caught in a feeding frenzy of dive-bombing boobies and noddies. Very Hitchcockian. We can see fat tuna barrelling towards us in oncoming waves then disappearing beneath the side of our speedboat. But no whale shark.
Metayer dives in for a look but comes up empty-handed. She knows from the local fishermen that it’s a female, about seven metres long, and it’s been in the area for a few days. Whale shark sightings are so rare in Moorea that her colleague has been here 10 years and never seen one – until this morning.
Half his luck. Still, I couldn’t have wished for a more exhilarating chase. Plus we see some consolation dolphins and afterwards swim with reef sharks and rays then snorkel a channel littered with so many green turtles I lose count. And I find myself, not for the first time, thinking this is one of the most fun cruises I’ve been on.
The Paul Gauguin immerses passengers in French Polynesia via displays of historic artefacts – tiki figures, carved wooden fly-swatters, ironwood shark hooks – lectures and docos, and the “Gauguins” and “Gauguines”, the ship’s local hosts led by Mihimana Tetuaiteraihorohoronarupaeaitepiripaitoteepooniitima, a former national kickboxing champion turned cultural ambassador.
He and his pareo-clad Polynesians build cultural connections through craft and arts classes, performances and conversations. At the motu beach picnic, they steal the show by blowing conches, strumming ukuleles, and marshalling folks for coconut demos and petanque games.
Their welcome presence ensures cruisers always know where they are in the world. If in any doubt, simply stand on your balcony and gaze out at the Jurassic islands and endless ocean.
Checklist
PAUL GAUGUIN
DETAILS
The Paul Gauguin’s 10-night Society Islands and Tuamotus itinerary starts from $12,845pp for a balcony suite ($8370 for a porthole cabin). Seven-night itineraries start from $7522pp in a balcony cabin. ponant.com/paul-gauguin