Tikehau (Kid Stuff)

Wednesday, April 19, 2006 – 8:16 A.M.  My desk calendar remains frozen on that date.  A wormhole between a former life lived within the halls of corporate America and a dimension of adventures unimagined.  It marks the moment my boss called to tell me that paperwork was being prepared to make my obsolescence official and is as close to a gold watch as anything I’ll ever get.    

Now, the layoff and a period of time following were dark hours for me to be sure.  But those are other stories for other times.  Suffice to say that Jamie discerned what was and what was to come, and the woman I love took control:

         

“We’re going to Tikehau.  You’ve been talking about it for years and it’s now or never.  Quit moping around – get planning.  We’re going.”

Well, not so fast.  I was about to put an end to this silly talk by simply overwhelming her with some elementary logic and a simple budget worksheet.  So, that evening we began working on logistics and before long we were gathering up airline miles and then swimsuits and before I knew it, off we went.

Tikehau is a coral atoll in the Tuamotu Archipelago of French Polynesia.  The atoll forms an oval shaped lagoon which is about 17 miles long and 12 miles wide.  The atoll itself is made up of two major islands, one large enough to support an airfield, and many-many, small, palm covered islets (motu) separated by equally numerous shallow channels (r’oa, pronounced hoas).  Surrounded by a coral reef, the ocean side of the islets is a moonscape of dead coral, cement-like in texture with sharp edges ready to bite.  On the other hand, the lagoon side of the islets is covered with soft, pink sand and much closer to the Hollywood version of a tropical paradise.

And it was just such a secluded Eden that had been at the top of my bucket list for years.  Well, not exactly.  What had truly captured my imagination was the thought of spending a few days alone on a deserted island.  Apparently, Robinson Crusoe made an impression during my formative years.  But whenever I’d start talking up a sequestered destination of that extent, Jamie just rolled her eyes.  And admittedly, that must be some kind of bizarre death wish because even I understand that Bear Grylls, I’m not.  So, a compromise was required – a small resort on a very sparsely populated atoll in the middle of the Pacific Ocean and accessible by plane.  Tikehau fit the bill.

Travel is amazing in this day and age.  We arrived after hop-scotching through the skies in a matter of hours - a journey that might have spanned weeks on the sailing vessels of the Robinson Crusoe era.  And after a final touchdown, a short boat ride ensued across the lagoon to a group of “huts” where we were welcomed by the traditional conch shell horn greeting.  The memory of that sound still stirs something innate deep within me and brings to mind the smiles of a most welcoming people.

   

Within minutes we were checked-in and minutes after that we were off on our first exploration.  Jamie went along on some hikes and kayak adventures, but mostly she stayed behind.  She said she wanted to read or nap or snorkel.  But I think she wanted to give me time to myself.  And so, with a bandana tucked under my ball cap and hanging down for protection from the sun, off I went.  A hundred yards from the resort, and the dreams of a boy magically materialized.  Smells of the sea.  The roar of giant waves.  The stillness of an isolated beach.  Blues and greens beyond imagination.  Wading from motu to motu for hours on end, each step ventured deeper into a fantasy world of shipwreck survival, castaway explorations, and pirates.  Speaking of which, a treasure chest or two were scouted out but to no avail.

The waters being crystal clear revealed countless creatures and organisms of incredible beauty in the knee high depths.  Schools of small fish reflected the sunlight with every hue of the rainbow as they darted in unison to and fro.  Shells in an untold variety of shapes and colored patterns nestled in the crevices.  Chihuly would be envious.  And there were sharks - tiny little dorsal fins about the size of my thumb would slice the surface and away as they were approached.  A couple measures of the “Jaws” theme always went off in mind.

Well, the days flew by and before we knew it, it was time to leave.  Our hosts that had so graciously cared for our every need came down to the dock and gave us hugs good-bye.  I’ve lost their names but the warmth in their faces is vivid.  And with one final glance back, the outboard roared to life, and my lifelong dream was superseded by lifelong memories.

Now, I’d like to say that those few days in Tikehau changed my life.   That epiphanies on the meaning of life or inspiration’s for career changes sprang into being.  But no.  Tikehau was simply the materialization of a lifelong dream – and then some.  A much needed timeout from the depths of depression.  A deep dive into that age before a boy becomes a man.  A once in a lifetime gift.  No gold watch could ever come close.