Since Fakarava is the big, popular atoll with all the dive shops, tour operators, and a reasonable-sized village, we were expecting Toau, with hardly any infrastructure whatsoever, to be relatively deserted. That turned out not to be so. After entering the pass and then finding our way through the bommies to the eastern corner, we were surprised to be the thirteenth boat in the anchorage. With Rotoava's anchorage overflowing back at Fakarava, lots of boats had come here to escape the unusually strong trades of the last week or so.
From the boat, the nearby Otohorau motu (in the far eastern corner of the atoll) is fairly large and is home to part-time pearl farmers, who did not appear to be in attendance. In the morning, we swam to shore with the intent of having a look around.
The coral at Toau seems to be mostly dead, although it still provides plenty of nooks and crannies for the various reef fishes that remain.
Snorkelling about in the shallows; not the healthiest of corals, but plenty of discoveries to be made
Ashore, we traded fins for shoes and traversed a disused coconut plantation to the other, seaward side of the motu. Our plan was to walk the beach for a bit, and then make a loop out of it by finding another trail back to the lagoon side further on. We found a few, but they all ended up in dead ends further in. Eventually, we realized the only way we were getting back, besides the way we came, was to continue all the way around the perimeter of the motu.
The beach wasn't great for walking. This side of the motu takes a pretty good pounding from the sea. The sand had been washed away, leaving lots of stone-sized chunks of coral. It was pretty hard going.
Then a very dark and dense cloud appeared on the horizon and quickly passed over us. Our sunny day turned into one of those stinging rains that you can't look into. We leaned into it and, shielding our faces with our hands, trudged onwards.
Exploring the nearby motu on foot
At the far end of the motu, the rain finally started to abate. We turned downwind to cross the tip, then into the lee of the trees. Suddenly, everything was calm, peaceful and protected again. We resumed our pleasant amble along the beach, stepping over palm fronds along the way.
At the far end, we encountered a couple sitting on the beach, reading a book each. They had come ashore looking for a quiet spot. It was a big mistake. Now we were there, interrupting them. During our chat, we learned that they had just come in. They sailed right past us in that big rain shower and we never saw a thing. They also said the gusts where they were got up to 46 knots. That explains why the rain was so stingy.
Someone must have spotted the four of us and it wasn't long before our group had gathered to a dozen or so. Most boats had come from the west coast of North America, a couple of them started in the Caribbean and the one anchored nearest us had started way back in The Netherlands. With the day starting to wane, we left them to their conversations and snorkeled back home via lots of interesting ledges and little caves.
The next day, we swam back ashore for two things. First was a loop around the opposite end of the motu from the day before. This turned out to be much more pleasant. The weather stayed nice, and it was not long before we came to a deep channel, beyond which lay the next motu. We decided to content ourselves with a short, easy day and slowly picked our way back.
At the beach, before switching back to our fins, we did the other thing on our list and foraged for a few coconuts at the perfect stage of ripeness to take home. Then came the real exercise: opening the damn things. Coconuts are a tasty tropical snack, but they make you work hard for every bite. Fortunately, when I was done with my half of the job, which is de-husking them (Maryanne cracks them open and pries out the meat), all I had to do was fall over into the lagoon. That took care of my covering of coconut dust and got rid of the excess heat from the operation. It is good to have a pool.
Anchorage location >> On google maps
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