Biking Around Bora Bora

There’s nothing worse that waking up early in the morning with a massive headache. Ok, well maybe there are a few things that are worse, but the point is that it sucks. You know you totally over did it the night before, you know you should of maybe taken a few Tylenol and drank some water before bed, but you totally didn’t.  Now you feel like a stiff, dried up sponge at the bottom of a crusty, dirty sink and all you can think about is getting as much water into you as soon as possible. The last thing running through you mind is “Hey, let’s go on a 20 mile bike ride around Bora Bora”. Some how though this is exactly what was about to happen.

            After hydrating in the crew mess and having a light breakfast of mostly bacon, I ring up the pianist in orchestra A.J., and remind him that we made plans last night in our inebriated state to bike around Bora Bora (It sounded like a better idea last night than it did this morning). We go down to the deck of the ship where they keep the bikes that they rent out for crew for $3 and wheeled them out the gangway and into a tender, a small boat that they transport passengers from the ship to the dock that is too small to dock the massive ships. On the way to the dock, a friendly passenger makes small talk with us and we explain that we plan to bike around the island. She mentions she went on the tour yesterday that went around the island and said it was mostly flat with the exception of one hill. “Awesome” I reply, as I don’t think I could possibly handle any hills in this ride I’m starting to have second thoughts about. We reach the dock, and unload our bikes and get our feet on the pedals.

            A.J. spots a tourist visiting center and I suggest we go there to pick up a map of the island as a reference and also to locate any special sights or landmarks. We pick one up and get on our bikes start our journey onward. Getting out of the small town was rough only because of the cars on the road kicking dust and gravel up and it getting into our eyes. The roads were barely paved and full of potholes, so your eyesight need to be functioning at 100% or you may end up head over handlebars onto the rocky pavement.

            Once you get out of the little town, it breaks away into tropical suburbia. Houses that looked like huts, or huts that looked like houses, with large, green lots that surround them. Curvy coconut, massive mango, and beautiful breadfruit trees consume their real estate as we ride by the houses. Just beyond the houses on our right side, we can see the ocean. Turquoise blue water that extends all the way to the outer edges of the lagoon, powder like white sands that meets the waters edge and slips beneath it. Its seriously like something out of a Corona commercial. Every bend in the road seriously reveals a new stretch of beach that was more gorgeous than the last. All the houses on the waterfront had some kind of boating or outrigger canoe equipment in the water or on their front lawn. Its obvious that the water is the Tahitian peoples main source for everything in their everyday life: food, sport, recreation, business ventures… everything. Their lives revolve around the water.

            We continued on and we lucked out with the weather this day as the last time we were here, it was pouring rain. Today, luckily, it was sunny, warm and humid. Quickly though, I realize two important things. First, I brought no water on this trip, and second, I didn’t have any sunscreen. I’m not sure which one was worse to be honest. In my dizzying state getting off the ship, I forgot those two, what seem now essential, materials. The bike helmet had a small, plastic bill in the front, which was able to cover maybe 30% of my face, but my forearms and legs were going to have to suffer until find a small store along the way. We agree to keep an eye out for one and we pressed on.

We keep pedaling at a fairly quick pace as we take the scenery in. In the distance we can see Mt Otemanu: the largest point in Bora Bora that overlooks everything in the lagoon. It sits at 2,385 feet and can be seen from almost anywhere on the island. Its slops, green with coconut trees and other vegetation until the very top, which gives away to cold, jagged grey rock. The summit on this day was surrounded by a thick, white cloud, which gave it an eerie, yet mystic look. Somebody had mentioned to me that it’s fairly quick to climb as it only takes a few hours and can easily be done in a day. I think that I will eventually try to make the climb, but not on this day. I have enough issues at the moment.

            We make a few pit stops to take some snapshots and also catch our breath. All the islands, and including Bora Bora, seem to have a large abundance of stray dogs. They roam the streets in three’s and two’s and one’s and are now what I have delegated them: “The Street Gangs of French Polynesia”. Some of them look nice enough to go over and pet, but only a fool would actually do it. Rabies, fleas, ticks and who knows what else comes to mind…

            After pedaling for about 45 minutes in seemingly flat terrain, we reach the one hill in the road. We pull into lower gears on our bikes and give it our best. At this point, im already really exhausted. I’m cover in sweat from the humidity and constant pedaling and by the looks of this hill; this could very well be my final resting place. We make in up halfway before I finally drop the bike into its lowest gear. Even the lowest gear was too much for me at this point. Huffing and puffing, trying not to give in to my instinct to quit and walk the bike up the hill. Every pedal I drop all of my weight into, trying to use all the leverage I have to keep it up. Finally, my legs give out. They have had about enough of this shit. I was about 40 yards from the top when I got off the bike and walked the rest of the way. I reached the top where some dude was blasting Bob Marley and burning something fragrant that I couldn’t figure out. I throw my bike down at the top in exhaustion and remove my helmet. Instantly, in the pit of my stomach, it starts convulsing. This feeling is all too familiar. It means a vomit is a brewing. I put my hands above my head and start walking around as I was taught in my high school track team. It seemed to help and after about 10 minutes, it looked like I was going to survive.

            We bumped into a few fellow bicyclists and we chatted with them. One older lady was from Montreal and she said she was enjoying her holiday in Tahiti. It turns out she was a passenger on the ship and she went on and on about the things she had done and seen on her cruise already. She seemed very cheerful and was pleasant to talk to. We told her we were musicians on the ship and she mentioned that she enjoyed our playing in the various shows on the ship. After a few minutes we said our goodbyes and parted ways.

            We coasted down the hill down to where I guess the have their dump. On the opposite side of the street they had a shack that had large, grey smoke coming out from it. Common sense suggested to me that the must be burning their trash. We biked through the smoke and the smell was really awful. I was almost ready to puke when we finally got out of it and made it to fresh air.

            A few miles down the road we finally see a small market. We pull off to the side of the road and walk inside. So exhausted, my eyes we larger than my actual thirst. I grabbed two large, 1.5 liter bottles and a can of Coke for some sugar. I walk to the counter, place my things on the counter, and she rings us up for 400 Francs. I ask her if they accept Visa cards. The woman, who obviously only spoke French and not a lick of English, called over another woman who explained that they only take Visa for purchases over 2,000 Francs. Luckily I had a 500-franc note and was able to pay with that. We paid and went outside to pretty much down our beverages as fast as possible. After I got my fill, I thought it might be a good Idea to get some Cashews or Almonds to munch on for energy. I go inside and find a can of Planters Cashew halves and also get some Macadamia nuts. I bring it to the counter and they ring me up for 1,650 Francs. I try to explain I only have a Visa card and I know that you have a 2,000 Franc minimum policy but I came in here and bought those drinks earlier and If they added it all up, it would have been over 2.000 Francs. It sounded like sound logic to me!... They weren’t having it. They refused me and I calmly placed the items back on the shelves. I walked out and may or may not have mumbled a few obscenities on my way out. A.J. and I looked at the map and gauged we were a little less than half way around the island. We took a breath, put on our helmets and pedaled on.

         The scenery never really changed through out the rest of the ride. Houses and small business along the side of the road the whole way. You would see some local people hanging out, smoking a joint, working on their house, crafting things out of wood or selling their local fruit from a make-shift food stand. The last 30 minutes of the trip the road became pretty rugged and bumpy which was not feeling great on my underside. When I thought we were about ¾ of the way around the Island, things started to look familiar and I realize, “Holy crap, we’re already back at the beginning!”. It somehow crept up on us and we finally made it. We stop at a small café, and have lunch in almost complete silence. A sign that both of us are just dead tired. We quietly paid our bill and made it back to the ship. A sense of accomplishment soon followed and as we got back into the tender boat. As we departed the dock, we noticed some locals in outrigger canoes and stand up paddle boards were riding in the wake of the boat. The passengers were thrilled by this and took photos of them (Ok, I may have taken a few shots as well!). We got to the ship and I returned the bike and stumbled into my cabin and passed out onto my bed until our Captains Circle Party set at 7:15pm. A day well spent.