Ecola Ecola we all joyfully called. The ecola chorus came from 4 Italians , 2 Americans and 2 Tuamotans hanging onto the aluminum framing of the 30 foot motorboat sliding up and down in 8-10 foot waves. Only half of us knew Ecola’s exact meaning and spelling but it was our shared word for look there is a dolphin leaping. The surprise on this totally tourist day was a boat ride out the pass to the open ocean seeking the Rangiroa leaping dolphins. Naturally the Italians from Tuscany were excited but so were Opura and Mura the boat crew and Karl and Robin. Dolphins have a way of bringing smiles..

The colors of the Blue Lagoon was one of the main reasons why we selected this atoll over x the other 77 Tuamoto islands. Friends emailing from the Norhwest Passage and the Upper West Side had sail we must visit. To travel there by sailboat requires winds 15 knots or less. With the winds routinely at 20-30 knots taking the Mabel Rose across a large atoll with rough seas and unseen coral head and anchor on a lee shore (a place where the wind will blow you onto the rocks if you make a minor mistake) seemed stupid. Yesterday we committed to a tour. They would pick us up at the boat to cross the vast sky of this large atoll.

At 845 with our snorkeling gear packed we watched a red tour boat drive through the anchorage looking at the boat names until it pulled up alongside. Opura our Va’a instructor was the captain and his friend Muro was the lineman. Their enthusiasm for beauty of the blue lagoon mirrored the message from our far flung friends. The ride out went quickly with Muro and I chatting about my rainbow blanket knitting project. We arrived before most of the other groups and Opura nudged Karl and I take a walk to the other island before others arrived. Perfect. I have been yearning to find a relatively undeveloped island to see something other than roosters. The beach where we will have lunch has lots of juvenile noddies so I am hopeful. Alternating walking along the beach and through waist high water we reach an isolated island. Instead of the plantations with of neat lines of palm trees, here the palms are sterwn every which way as if they were thrown up by a series of storms. Other trees have spouted between the palms making a dense forest. . . The trees are alive with bird sounds other than roosters. I walk till the bird sounds are really loud. We are in the middle of black noddy rookery. At the base of each branch of the tree I am facing a noddy sits on a nest and is talking all about my arrival. These are the homebody birds who are a sign a sailor is close to land.

Wishing we had brought our snorkeling gear so we could swim back to tromp back to our Blue Lagoon home base. Snorkeling and lunch follow. Muro climbs a palm tree with a knife in his teeth to collect a palm frond and a coconut. Opura makes a hat from the frond. We had heard there was palm weaving. In my gendered assumption I pictured women making has and bags. I have been eyeing the palm hats worn by many men since the Marquesas but have been unable to find any for sale. I saw an abandoned one one in the middle of the road the other day in front of the airport but did not want to give Karl a road kill hat. Opura’s hat, a weaving of yellow and green palms is now sitting in the cockpit. Unable to stay out of the blue lagoon water I swam to the middle then chased baby sharks with the underwater camera.

The ride upwind was soggy wet and noisy but a quick dive at the aquarium and a visit to the dolphins cured the noisy pounding echoing in our The Italians wishes us good wind and we return to the boat tired from lots of swimming but happy to have seen the Blue Lagoon.