Cook Islands Part 2

Cook Islands - Part 2

So it's been a while since our last entry. It's only really been a few days but theres been so much going on it feels like forever!

After we'd finished typing the entry on Thursday morning, Charlotte threw in the towel and went back to bed at about 8.30am, so I headed off down to the beach to take some pictures. It was a nice morning and the sea was getting much bigger, slamming some really big waves out on the reef. I got bored pretty soon though and went inside and read the Lonely Planet guidebook for a bit.

While I was sitting around, a guy turned up to visit Mama Turi. I greeted him as you do, asked if he was OK, to which he replied 'I live in paradise man, I'm always OK!'. This seemed to sum the island up a bit. The place doesn't have much money, according to the guidebook they spend double what they earn as a country, but everyone is constantly happy and upbeat, remarkably so in fact.

Charlotte woke up when I was routing around for my penknife to try and fashion some thread from palm leaves to make her a necklace with some shells and coral we'd found; we decided to get some shopping in (beer and vodka...). That day was particularly hot and after a mere 40 minutes of going to the shops and back we were exhausted. Jet-Lag was also kicking in more and more, hence being up since 4am. The jet-lag is weird, we seem to be feeling it more as time goes on rather than less. Perhaps it's just more profound because we're expecting to have evened out by now? Anyway, after the shopping we had a bit of a snorkel to cool off and then, hardcore as we are; went back to bed.

We awoke with less than an hour to spare before the bus we had to catch for the island night in town and were flung into a frenzy of showering, changing, drinking, cooking, eating and generally flapping. Luckily we got out in time and as the bus drivers are so easy going, Phil just flagged it down right outside the house by shining a torch at the driver... The bus was full of tourist types heading out into town, not that town is that big..

We had a few drinks in a bar called the Hideaway, Phil's daytime hangout and we could see why, lots of drunk locals all clapping and gleefully singing along to local Mauri music. We had a couple of Stein lagers before heading up to the Staircase just in time for the start of the island night festivities. The night itself was pretty interesting, the music was all done on traditional drums, which wouldn't have sounded out of place in a rave to be honest! The dancers were really talented, I've never seen anyone move so fast, and they were all under 17, though some of them looked about 25! The girls were all in colourful costumes, with extra flared skirt bits round their waists that exaggerated their washing-machine-like hips; and coconuts to cover their modesty. The guys were in grass skirts and head-dresses, apparently traditional warrior dress. They moved just as fast as the girls, with some record breaking knee-knocking going on. After the main show they grabbed various members of the crowd to come up and dance in their style with no training at all. We were sat quite far back and were spared this 'experience'... For us, the best bit of the night came after we left the Staircase and returned to the Hideaway. The place was now rammed with a strange party going on. The place was a nightclub, however was about as big as your average living room, with a small yard tacked on to the side and the DJ shack out there. Despite this, the place seemed buzzing and the atmosphere was great. As far as I could tell, we were the only foreigners in there, but we were really well welcomed. Charlotte was soon off shaking it with a random local guy; after having to rebut a few advances from a sleezy 40-odd year old looking chap. Phil nicknamed him octopus man because of his arms around Charlotte as she tried to escape, before making a well-timed rescue. It was pretty funny :) I'm not sure quite what Phil was doing after this point to be honest. I got talking to some local guys, both about 7ft square who in fact turned out to be 15 and 16 years old and couldn't really believe that I was 23. One guy had his 11 year old sister with him, she was about 6'2" also... The party music here was a talking point. We walked in to hear the Vengaboys on their way to Ibiza and it got no better all night! Sometime in fact we found ourselves stopping what we were doing and just laughing at what was being played; and I don't think the 'DJ' had ever seen a mixer before!

We were all astounded at how welcoming the locals had been, even when a bit bladdered; I think that night was more of a culture shock than anything so far, pretty much a polar opposite of English nightlife. As expected, as we left , everyone was beginning to stumble out; right onto their scooters, two or three on one at times, and buzzing off into the darkness. We somehow missed the last bus (we'd been waiting for 15 mins before it should have arrived) and had to get an extortionate taxi home at 60 bucks. We only had $25 on us at this point and as such we still owe Phil some drinks towards our share!

Friday

Friday morning we were less hungover than we'd expected and managed to set out pretty early. We went to Black Rock, on the west side of the island for some snorkeling. The marine life here was really cool, lots of the same fish as our stretch of lagoon, but with a few additions and all a lot bigger. They were however a lot more timid so we couldn't get quite as close as we were hoping. The beach must get a lot less traffic. Black rock beach is also covered in exotic shells and corals, of which we'd made a nice collection by lunch time. When a police car sat on the road above just watching us though something twigged; after checking the map it turned out that Black Rock is indeed a conservation zone and it's VERY illegal to remove anything at all from the beach. We slipped everything under the sand as shiftily as possible before ambling around looking equally guilty. Figuring we had enough sunscreen left on from the morning, we set about a wander to the other end of the beach; and then back up the road to the bus stop. The bus came every hour and it was at this point we realised we had no clock with us.

After about 10 mins sitting at the bus stop (or however long it really was) we got bored and decided to walk into town. We had no map either but from memory figured it would take about 30 minutes or so. An hour or so later we were by the airport and feeling a little lobbish (red and hot like a boiled lobster..) so into the sea again we went, before giving ourselves a good smattering of sun cream.

It was too late.

Soreness.

About an hour later again, we arrived at the first bus stop in town. Having had no hats and now pretty bad sunburn we both had headaches and very sore feet (flip flops are pretty unforgiving for long distance treks..) we decided to seek refuge in the bus stop hut. An enquiry in the store nearby revealed we had 30 minutes to the next bus. Whilst I was making this enquiry, something dropped a present in Charlotte's lap before evacuating the bus stop and leaving it to us. Cue charlotte emptying the rest of our water out in a frantic scrubbing session on the roadside. Luckily, the bottomless bag on my back also had a fresh outfit for Charlotte in there, so the panic was eased.

That night Charlotte twice baked some spuds each and we enjoyed some leftover curry from Thursday nights korma, before heading down the road to the Palm Grove for drinks. I bet Phil wished he hadn't bothered as we were surely the worst company in the world, pretty much falling asleep at the table as soon as we arrived. Also the place was entirely tourists and no one was mingling. Add that to the expensive drinks and our sleepiness and you can see why we were soon in bed.

Saturday

Saturday was market day, Charlotte was up like a kid on Christmas day, knowing you could get all manner of pearl jewelery for great prices. She'd been touring the shops all week deciding what she was going to buy when Saturday arrived! We arrived at the market shortly after opening and it was already pretty heaving. The first thing we saw was a local chap, berating all who entered for not accepting Jesus into their lives and the other usual crazy religious rantings. We figured we'd do a lap of the market and price up what we wanted, then another lap getting stuff. The place was mostly local food and pearls; black pearls are the major export, produced uniquely in the northern group of islands and are really sought after, but also as they are produced there, you can also pick them up really cheap. We found some really cool things, all the while getting increasingly hungry, owing to the constant aroma of barbecuing food of all manner. We eventually gave in to this and grabbed ourselves a couple of lovely beef and chicken kebabs; cooked to perfection, pretty big and only 78p each. We also had a can of Fanta that should have been apple flavoured, but tasted like the fake bubblegum you get in the UK. Charlotte got herself some lovely jewelery; a carved mother of pearl necklace, done like a hibiscus flower, some black pearl earrings and a floating black pearl necklace. I got myself a seed bracelet, and the guy on the stall gave me another for free which was nice of him. I've since snapped one so it was also pretty lucky. We found a stall belonging to a local artist who had some incredible works. On the spot we both spotted paintings we liked and made the decision they'd be worth getting and sending home from Rarotonga. They were both already sold that morning, which was a shame, but did save us some dollars, so we got over it. We picked up some of the local veg (Taro) for dinner and then left the market in search of the nearby perfume factory.

The perfume factory wasn't actually that nearby and when we arrived turned out to be a bit of a none-event. It did have a pretty impressive statue of the excessively well-endowed god of fertility and the sea; Tangaroa. Charlotte also got some nice coconut oil soap for about 39p. Then it was back into town, but we must have missed a turn somewhere as we managed to clock up another couple of miles on the way back, past a very lively seventh-day-adventist church in the middle of it's Saturday service. There was also a billy-goat in the middle of utter frustration. Tied to a tree as a female goat bent down, minding her own business munching away at the grass, his tether left him ever so slightly shy of the prize; it was really quite funny watching him try and try with such sheer grit and determination, having no chance of ever making any ground.

That afternoon the sea had got quite wild, the reef was taking a hammering and the lagoon waters were being pushed right up the beach, with a fair bit of force. Phil joined us for a coconut hunt down the beach (ie. trying to find a small enough tree to shimmy up without dying...). There was no shortage of coconuts on the ground, but they're much nicer before they get to the stage of dropping. The coconuts we get at home are actually well past it, the Cook Islanders were near disgusted when we started chopping up an old brown one; they wouldn't go near it, just as we wouldn't eat a soggy brown apple. The swelling waters caught Phil off guard as we walked, teaming up with a well placed tree to put him neatly on his arse in a torrent heading back up a stream that usually flowed out to sea.

The weather started to look grim so we headed home, coconuts in hand, getting back just as it started to rain. I've got quite good at husking the coconuts now (though it still took about half an hour) and Charlotte had herself a coconutty feast. Next door's dog turned up while she was munching the coconut and soon became Charlotte's friend, as she sat and shared the coco-goodness with her new chum. He didn't like me mind, and took a good hour to stop running off at the sight of me. Charlotte gave me a crash course in dog handling which worked a charm. He likes me now lol.

For dinner we roasted a bunch of veg, the Taro we'd got from the market, some Kumaru (local purple coloured sweet potato) and cooked up some lovely tuna steaks that Atua (the house owner) had left in the freezer for the guests from the weekend's catch. We tried to play some drinking games after dinner, but we'd been drinking pretty constantly since the rain started and didn't need much help. Bedtime was soon to follow.

Sunday - The cross island trek

Today was our last real day here, which was a pretty sad thought, such an idyllic place I think we could easily manage a month there!

Today was also our last chance to do the cross-island trek, so without really giving it a second thought, we packed our bags and legged it out for the bus. The buses are only once per hour on Sunday and as such we rushed a little too much.

The Cook Islands are deeply Christian (looks like the missionaries did a hell of a job) with apparently 28 different Christian faiths in place. This gave Sunday a very different feel. The sabbath day for everyone but the Seventh Day Adventists, everywhere was closed. The people around were even more jolly than usual, all waving at nearly everyone they saw as they made their way to the various morning services. There was also a free bus running anti-clockwise, dropping worshipers off at whatever church they liked. The place reminded me of how I remember Sunday's in England as a small child; be it a child's perspective or a fact, it seemed like the capitalist influence of modern life has really taken away even the 'holy' day of rest in England and left us with another day of working shopping and near stress. The feeling on the island that morning was lovely and although I'm not religious, I did appreciate seeing religion bringing people so close together for once, rather than causing violence and hate as it more than often seems to.

When we got off the bus and set off for the start of the trek we didn't have any idea what was in store. A good hour later, tramping down tarmac in flip flops, the terrain was getting a bit worse so we got out hiking boots on by the roadside. A little further up the road ended, giving way to a private track up the hillside. past a few houses the track became nothing more than a muddy path. It had been raining a lot the past two days and we knew from various sources that the trek was pretty ghastly when wet. Despite this we figured we'd have a go. we eventually came to a grassy clearing where all trace of human activity stopped. To every side was lush, rainforest covered hillsides, with towering palms along various ridges, spatterings of red flowers and all manner of tropical trees that we'd never seen in our lives. The noises were exactly as on TV also, it was really feeling almost surreal.

We sat for a drink and a rest and realised that in our haste to catch the bus we'd only packed one bottle of water which was two thirds gone already. The heat of the day was building and we realised that getting stuck without water would be a disaster. We decided to proceed with caution, resolving to turn back when we were thirsty enough to finish the water we had left.

Water rationing in tropical heat is rubbish.

As we exited the clearing via the only plausible route that wasn't backwards, we were plunged from lush open space to dense rainforest in an instant. It seemed tricky moving around at first but this was nothing to what was coming. We followed the guidebook's directions neatly to a huge misplaced boulder in the middle of the trees. With vines and roots all over, it was quite hard to pick up the trail again, though we eventually made our way up the tree root coated ridge; the only possible route upwards without a chainsaw. The terrain here changed dramatically. Underfoot was an abundance of slippery tree roots, slimy lizards and more slippery tree roots. Progress became very slow, although much less tiring under the shelter of the forest canopy, making the water issue much less pressing and allowing us more time to trek. Things began to get hairy as we ascended the ridge; the thick trees either side that would have stopped any fall straight away began to dissipate and the ground became increasingly steep, slippery and root strewn. Charlotte had a few scares and I decided we should head back, but she insisted not repeatedly so upwards we walked. After another steep section and another slip from Charlotte I decided we shouldn't carry on. Charlotte still said we should so I figured I'd go ahead and see what was in store if we did. I left my gear with Charlotte and tramped on up the ridge. I got a little carried away to be honest and probably made about a quarter of a mile before realising how far I'd got. I was on top of the ridge, almost at the mid-point we were now aiming for, but was alone and the track this point became very exposed and very muddy, to go on alone would have been daft so I headed back. I'd already decided we shouldn't come up as for most of this part I'd been hauling myself up vertical tree roots and lizard infested mud patches, it was really quite treacherous and as Charlotte was already concerned about getting back down from where she was, to come up here would remove any chance of escape back down. As I got back towards Charlotte I could hear her shouting me, I called back to her relief. I'd been longer than I thought and she'd started panicking a bit; 'I thought you'd died...' :S I didn't think it was that bad but I admit I'd got carried away and been longer than I thought and she'd been shouting a while before I came into earshot again. I told her what the terrain was like ahead and we agreed to turn back, deciding it was the lesser of two evils. Having ran around in woods and trees every day as a kid I was pretty confident and able to descend sideways, providing a human handrail for Charlotte down the horrible slippery ridge. There were times were we had to sledge down on our bums under low growing trees and other obstacles, but we eventually got back down to the big boulder. I don't think either of us have been so happy to see a rock before? It was n ice and calm from here, plenty of photos and general fooling about as we made our way back to the clearing at which we'd left daylight behind.

Stepping out of the rainforest into the midday sun was like jumping into a baking oven and was a bit of a shock. We soon adjusted to the heat and stood around for some more photos and to go over the morning we'd just had. Scary as it may have been, it was no doubt memorable and there was so much to say from the minute we were back down.

However, as we'd been on the ridge, we'd began to look at the clearing as being back down and essentially back safe. We'd both, I think myself even more so, slightly overlooked the fact that there was another good hour and a half tramp to be done to get back to town. We had about an inch of water left in our bottle and it was the hottest part of the day. The relief of being out in the open was soon overshadowed by being utterly tired and thirsty as sin. We knew we should save our water just in case anything happened, or to the point we couldn't go on without it, so we stopped regularly in the shade to conserve our energy. After what seemed like a day in itself, we found the shop we'd passed on our way out of town. The Cook Islands have their own coins, including a triangular $2 coin, one of which we'd been saving as a souvenier and was still in my pocket. Thankfully, this, combined with a generous shopkeeper, was enough to get us a big bottle of ice cold water. 5 minutes later another stroke of luck as a bus came right past us, stopped for us on the corner and let us stay on through to the next lap and dropped us off right by the door. When we got home we sat down and didn't really get up for about 2 hours, each knowing full well how badly the other must have been aching based on our own woes.

When we finally got some energy back we decided we should go for a last snorkel and popped over to the beach. After dipping our feet we wussed out, the warm water was colder than we could be bothered with after the day we'd had, so it was off indoors and on with showering, eating and the laborious task of packing to leave the following morning.\


We're Leaving

(We left yesterday, but I'm writing this as I should have done after the trek but couldn't be bothered. We're safe in NZ now but I'm going to start a new entry for here. Also I've been typing for over 2 hours already and Charlotte's almost asleep again, so it's time to call it a day lol)

We're leaving the Cook Islands tomorrow, even after a week we've come to love the place. If you're having trouble imaging the place, watch shipwrecked on Chanel 4, it's filmed on the small islands in the lagoon of Aitutaki, the next island along, where Mama Turi lives.

This place is so laid back and life is so simple. Food is plentiful and the people are the most welcoming we've ever met. I'd love to come back and visit the other islands, Maata tells us that this one is in fact the least friendly, as tourism has brought capitalism and people are now concerned about money. The other islands apparently just get on with life and are even more welcoming and friendly, paying no concern to the rigours of modern life and making money, simply living off the island and gathering just enough money for a roof and some clothes.

We'd wholeheartedly recommend this place to anyone heading to this end of the world, or even anyone not. Whilst living here would bring commitments like making money and whatnot, to anyone visiting this place, it really is paradise!


We'll update this again once we've settled into NZ.

Also if you want to be e-mailed when we do, click the subscribe button on this page.

Speak to you soon!

-Jamie and Charlotte

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