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Gods and government, proud warriors and foreign invaders: discovering the landscapes and history of Atiu… South Pacific Adventure, part 8.

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(For new readers – if you’re just discovering this blog and you would like to read about my 2015 South Pacific travels from their beginning, you can click on this link to go to the first chapter:  Travels in the Cook Islands.)

Forest road on Atiu, the Cook Islands.

My second day on Atiu began with a gargantuan breakfast, fuel for the day’s explorations. Donna, Mark and I then jumped into Marshall’s truck and we picked up the three other tourists currently staying on the island, before heading out on a tour. First stop was the nearby village of Teenui, the closest thing that Atiu has to a busy metropolis.

Downtown Teenui village, Atiu (the Cook Islands).

On an island with a population of around 500 people, you’re unlikely to see much other traffic (apart from chickens). Marshall gave us a tour of Teenui’s sights, starting with the recently-created sports field, which had to be redone after the island was hit by five cyclones in a single season. Climate change is likely to lead to intensified cyclone activity in the South Pacific, so this doesn’t bode well for the people who live on islands such as Atiu.

Teenui sports field on Atiu, the Cook Islands.

We drove past the village store, which was originally the first school on the island (built by the London Mission Society). As elsewhere in the Cook Islands, imported (mostly Christian) religions have had a big impact on local society and culture. There are six churches on Atiu, including CICC (Cook Islands Christian Church), Catholic, Seventh Day Adventists and Jehovah’s Witnesses. Atiu people can and do marry folks from different churches, although this depends on each church’s policy: not every faith allows it.

Church in Teenui, Atiu (the Cook Islands).

Our next stop was the island police station (which also serves as Teenui’s bank and post office). Marshall explained that there are two police officers on Atiu, and the consensus is that no crime occurs after 3pm because that’s when they go off-duty… Or on Friday afternoons, because that’s the time for fishing. I quite liked the idea of limited hours for law-breaking. Presumably having the bank attached to the police station also discourages would-be bank robbers (unless of course they decide to carry out a bank raid after 3pm).

Police station, bank and post office in Teenui, Atiu (the Cook Islands).

The legacy of colonial occupation can be seen in government buildings, as well as in the ubiquitous churches. Atiu’s council chamber and tax filing office (Kavamani Enua, or Island Government) are based in what used to be the old British Foreign Office building, when B.F.O. staff were posted on the island. British colonial rule from the 1880s became New Zealand colonial rule in 1901: full independence and self-governance in the Cook Islands not being achieved until 1965.

Island government building in Teenui, Atiu (the Cook Islands).

Other important buildings we saw included the CICC hall, used for singing and dancing events; and the CICC church building itself, the largest church on the island. As on Aitutaki, there were very few graves beside the church, with local people choosing to bury their deceased family at home: only incomers or strangers usually find their resting place in the church cemetery.

Next to the church a limestone obelisk called te pito, ‘the navel’, marks what is said to be the exact centre point of the island. It carries the name of Paulo Ngamaru Ariki, the Atiuan chief who helped restore the CICC church in the 1950s; and Tamaivi Ngamaru Ariki, the chief who planned and built the original church in the 1860s. There are three ariki (chiefs) on Atiu: at the time of my visit only two lived on the island, while the third resided in New Zealand. Ariki descends in family lines, but not automatically to the eldest son of the family: local worthies meet to decide who will make the best successor, when the current ariki dies.

Monument to Atiuan chiefs Paulo Ngamaru Ariki and Tamaivi Ngamaru Ariki, at the centre of Atiu in the Cook islands.

As we travelled around Teenui it was quiet: we saw the occasional local driving a pick-up or moped; children strolling or playing; and of course chickens and dogs patrolling the mostly empty roads. With the population size having reduced by two-thirds in the late twentieth century (mostly due to the decline of exports of produce such as citrus fruits, coffee and copra), community life here is small-scale but still vibrant, with regular community meetings in each of the five villages.

Atiuan boy raking up leaves in Teenui, Atiu (the Cook Islands).

Heading out of Teenui our next stop was the island’s Enuamanu School, which bore a banner celebrating 50 years since the school – and Cook Islands self government – was established in 1965. All stages of education – infants, primary, secondary and college – are contained on the same site. Marshall told us that Cook Islands Maori is the first language taught in Enuamanu School and English second (unlike on Rarotonga). This prioritising of Cook Islands language seems positive, though unfortunately Atiu pupils are disadvantaged when they sit exams under the New Zealand exam system, as exams are set in English. Marshall said that for this reason he and Jéanne home-educated their children, to try to overcome this problem.

Enuamanu School, Atiu (in the Cook Islands).

After the school our next landmark was the village bakery, complete with cement bread oven! It reminded me of the cob oven (earth oven) at Wildwood Escot where I teach in Devon: basically a simple interior oven space enclosed in thick cement walls, heated by burning firewood inside. Should any cracks form in the oven’s walls (revealed by leaking smoke), this is mended by the simple expedient of plastering more cement on the outside… Hence the resulting huge oven structure, sheltering under its corrugated iron roof.

Bread oven in Atiu's bakery, the Cook Islands.

Once the wood has burned and the oven is heated, the ashes are swept out and the tins of bread dough popped inside to bake. The whole set-up is basic but practical, with the only machinery used a giant dough mixer that looked more like a cement mixer than anything else! I quite liked the minimalist kitchen (although I’m not sure what having a lawnmower stored in there added to the mix).

Bread tins in Atiu's bakery (the Cook Islands).

A little further down the road lay Atiu’s telecom mast, phone satellite and TV station. Microwave antennae capture signals transmitted from Mangaia and Mitiaro and boost them onwards. Atiu’s TV channel can receive several signals, but can only transmit one signal at a time to island residents – so locals have to be patient and cooperate with each other, taking turns to watch their favourite TV programmes. At least that avoids TV ratings competition…

Phone satellite, telecom mast and TV station on Atiu, the Cook Islands.

Our next stop was at a coffee plantation, formerly owned and run by German growers Juergen Manske-Eimke and his wife Andrea. Their business ended when Juergen sadly died in mid-2015, but the coffee bushes were continuing to grow well. Missionaries first brought coffee to the island, and it became a cash crop in the 1950s. The island’s calcium-rich soils lend Atiu coffee a unique flavour, and despite fluctauations in the coffee trade it continues to be grown and sold. The production of Atiu Island Coffee is now headed up by local woman Mata Arai, using hand picking and roasting with coconut cream, giving this coffee a very special taste.

Coffee plantation on Atiu, the Cook Islands.

Coming through the forest we emerged near the island’s airport. While we watched a Pacific golden plover or toretoreā (Pluvialis fulva) pottering about on the runway, Marshall related how an Air Raro plane had a tyre blowout while taxiing on the crushed coral runway a year or so previously. It must be interesting being an Air Raro pilot! A request had gone in for a new tarmac runway to replace the crushed coral surface. Locals had already begun clearing the site and bringing in machinery, only waiting for funding to be found so that they can begin work. Marshall also showed us two massive blocks of coral (each half as big as the pick-up we were riding in) that had been thrown up onto the runway by the sea during a cyclone in 2005.

Makatea cliffs on the northeast coast of Atiu, the Cook Islands.

Southeast of the airstrip we hopped out of Marshall’s pick up to walk over the makatea to the cliff tops on Atiu’s northeastern edge. Just as we’d found the day before when trekking to Anatakitaki, walking on makatea requires concentration. We were stepping over a fossilised coral reef, its rugged and undulating topography mirroring the choppy Pacific swell surging below us. Hardy plants such as ngau (Creeping half-flower, Scaevola paulayi) wedged their roots into the crevices, growing in wind-resistant mats and weathering the salt spray.

Plants growing on makatea (fossilised coral) on Atiu, the Cook Islands.

It wasn’t easy to picture the sharp crags of limestone that we were walking on as an undersea coral reef, millenia ago… Until I crouched down and looked closer, when an ancient tropical ocean landscape became revealed. I saw intricate patterns of many different coral species: hieroglyphics written in the skeletons of billions of long-dead coral polyps. There is always something mesmerising to me about being confronted with the geological evidence of deep time. Humanity takes itself and its everyday concerns so seriously… But really we’re just a recent blip on the evolutionary timeline. For some reason I find this weirdly comforting.

Fossilised corals in makatea limestone, Atiu (the Cook Islands).

Driving soutthest took us along the coast road that runs all the way around Atiu, with its handy signs at intervals indicating the distance to landmarks in either direction. Our next stop was at Oneroa Beach, a beautiful little cove with pinkish coral sand used by Marshall and Jéanne’s family. The edge of the reef is very close here, the wild Pacific surf rolling just a few metres out.

Oneroa Beach on Atiu, the Cook Islands.

After a brief but lovely wander along Oneroa Beach, we returned to the truck and drove on along the coast road to Takauroa Landing on the island’s southern edge. This was the scene of an epic battle between Atiu warriors and invaders from Tahiti. History tells of how a Tahitian traveller shipwrecked on Atiu was cared for and nursed back to health by Atiu folk, but then travelled back to Tahiti… Only to return to Atiu with two vaka (war canoes) loaded with two hundred Tahitian warriors! Fortunately for the locals they were able to ambush the Tahitian invaders as they tried to access the island’s interior through a narrow passage in the makatea: after a pitched battle the Atiuans won. The ungrateful Tahitian who’d led his fellows back to Atiu was reputedly hunted down, fought with by the ariki, and killed. (And allegedly eaten, which seems fair enough.) Two marae at Takaroa Landing mark the burial sites of all those warriors who fell in battle defending their island.

Marae at Takauroa Landing on Atiu, the Cook Islands.

Here in the southern part of the island, the makatea is pretty impenetrable, with its combination of thick tangled undergrowth and forest on top of sharp craggy fossilised limestone. Marshall related how a local lawbreaker evaded arrest by local police for some time by hiding out in the makatea. After a few weeks however the wrongdoer turned himself in, finding living in the challenging landscape of the makatea too difficult!

Makatea scrub on Atiu, the Cook Islands.

A little further on into the coastal forest Marshall stopped the truck to show us a fruits from a boxfruit tree (Barringtonia asiatica or ‘utu). The seed from the centre of ‘utu fruits can be ground up or chopped to release a poison, which paralyses fish if the ground seeds are scattered into the sea. Formerly used for fishing in the coral lagoon, this is now illegal: a local man was recently caught using ‘utu poison in this way and fined $500 (after having been warned several times not to do this).

Marshall Humphreys displays Baringtonia or 'utu fruits, once used to poison fish but now illegal (Atiu, the Cook Islands).

Heading now up the western side of the island we stopped at Taungaroro Beach, which like Oneroa was beautiful and deserted. Walking through the sand and looking out to the Pacific waves splashing against the coral reef, I felt a little like Robinson Crusoe (although hopefully without the white imperialist overtones).

Taungaroro Beach on Atiu (the Cook Islands).

It’s not just coral which makes up the pinkish sands fringeing these islands: billions of fragments of seashells too are rendered down by the action of waves and wind to create the lovely beaches that are such an iconic element of Pacific islands. I spent a happy half hour wandering and gathering seashells, including many cowries or pōre‘o. In many places in the world cowries have traditionally been used as currency: in the Cook Islands they were favoured more for jewellery, especially to convey status to the wearer.

Taungaroro was also the spot where we had a picnic lunch, to fortify us after our morning’s exploring. Banana muffins, fresh fruit salad with papaya and guava and pawpaw sprinkled with grated coconut, and a nice cup of tea to wash it all down: perfect.

After lunch I went wandering a little way into the coastal forest, to admire the tropical trees with their buttressed roots and epiphytic ferns growing in nooks amongst the branches. Atiu was a delight to a plant nerd like me: while my tropical botany knowledge wasn’t good enough for me to identify many species, I still felt happily at home in this green growing ecosystem, relatively unimpacted by tourism.

Tree growing in coastal forest, Atiu (the Cook Islands).

The plan was for us to continue on up the coastal road northwards to Oravaru landing – but our plans were temporarily foiled by a roadblock in the form of a fallen tree. We detoured via Ngatiarua village and back out to the coast by another route, finally reaching Oravaru on the west coast.

Fallen tree blocking coastal road, Atiu (the Cook Islands).

If you search on the internet for information about the Cook Islands’ colonial history, it describes how Spanish explorers sighted Pukapuka and Rakahanga (in the northern islands group) in 1595 and 1606; then Captain James Cook sighted other islands in the 1770s; followed by Captain William Bligh in 1789 (whose tyrannical captainship led to the mutiny on his ship the Bounty). The name ‘the Cook Islands’ was conferred by Russian navigator Adam Johann von Krusenstern in his 1823 Atlas de l’Ocean Pacifique, in honour of the surveying and mapping done by Captain James Cook: previously they were named the Hervey Islands after a British Lord of the Admiralty.

Ironically Cook himself never landed on Atiu during his voyage on the ship Resolution: instead one of his officers, Lieutenant John Gore went ashore in 1777, accompanied by the ship’s doctor, botanist and three boatloads of crew. They were met by some two thousand Atiuan warriors and people lining the clifftops, with full body tattoos and carrying spears – no doubt an intimidating sight. Bear in mind that on one of Cook’s previous expeditions to Tahiti, John Gore was the first person ever recorded to shoot and kill an indigenous Pacific Maori person, after an altercation over a piece of cloth. These were not casual explorers but the vanguard of a powerful military empire, intent on mapping and colonising what they regarded as ‘uncivilised’ territories, largely ignoring the rights of the indigenous people already living there.

Oravaru Landing, where Captain James Cook's crew first landed on Atiu in 1777 (the Cook Islands).

Gore’s party were taken inland by the Atiuans to the Orongo marae and cave of the warriors, which would have been an impressive and unsettling sight. It’s said that the landing party’s Polynesian interpreter saw a prepared umu pit (earth oven) but no animal carcasses, and assumed that this meant that they were on the menu! This proved not to be the case however: after being ceremonially introduced to the ariki and being the subject of several hours of close curiosity from the Atiuans, the landing party was allowed to return to their ship.

Marshall told us of an ancient local tradition, that when a new baby boy was born the child was taken to the tribal priest at the Orongo marae, who would wrap the baby up in leaves and leave him on the marae altar overnight. In the morning if the baby had managed to break free of his leaf swaddling he would be raised as a warrior at the Orongo marae and taught how to fight. If the baby was still wrapped in the leaves, the child would be returned to his parents and grow up to be a fisherman or planter.

Orongo marae was also the final resting place of the skulls of the island’s ariki, as well as those of great and heroic warriors. It was and still is a sacred place. In the 1960s two Mormon missionaries visiting the island were disrespectful and foolish enough to remove a skull from the Orongo cave, intending to take it with them to Rarotonga… But the woman missionary died before they got there. The skull was swiftly returned and replaced at Orongo.

The archaeology and history of pre-colonial times in the Cook Islands was seemingly only just beginning to be shown the interest and respect it deserves, at the time of my visit in 2015. I was reminded of Ngaa’s determined labours on Aitutaki to preserve and pass on the culture and history of his people. Compare this with the wealth of research and fieldwork that has been done on ancient cultures such as Egypt, Greece and South America. I suspect that partly this is due to the legacy of colonialism, and the fact that we white Europeans are still reluctant to engage with the reality of our colonial history: a history that contains a great deal of brutality and exploitation, and which persists to this day in some people’s colonial or white supremacist mindset. Too often I’ve heard white people try to diminish the impact of colonialism by saying “Explorers then didn’t know any better”, or “Every European nation was doing the same thing”, or even “These cultures had plenty of their own problems before we came along – what about their inter-island wars and cannibalism?” These defensive responses are missing the point: white colonial powers invaded lands, imposed Christian religion (with all its guilt-ridden and problematic dogma), took whatever resources they fancied, and ruthlessly eradicated many indigenous people through military force and disease. If someone did that to Britain we’d call it an act of war.

When we returned to Marshall and Jéanne’s home, I found a wonderful book on their shelves: Akono’ango Maori: Cook Islands Culture, by Ron Crocombe. Browsing through it I came upon a remarkable photograph taken circa 1904, titled ‘Ngatiarua on Atiu in old time dress‘. The dignity and pride of these muscled men standing with their heavy spears, gazing directly into the camera lens, shone out of the page.

Ngatiarua men on Atiu, the Cook Islands: photo taken circa 1904.

As a privileged white tourist in the South Pacific, I felt enormously grateful to have the opportunity to travel in these beautiful islands, and to meet the friendly and generous people who lived there. This friendliness and generosity is even more remarkable, given the explotiation of their lands and people ever since white colonisers first began occupying their territories. Writing this blog is my effort to show my gratitude to all the Cook Islands and South Pacific Maori and Polynesian people who welcomed me into their homes; and to raise awareness as far as I can of the destructive impact of European colonialism, and the importance of honouring South Pacific culture. It’s vital too that we take rapid steps to limit climate change caused by our industrialised nations, the latest colonial legacy to threaten the safety and future of Pacific island peoples.

I had only one more day to spend on Atiu. I could’ve happily spent another month there (and not just because of Marshall’s mouth-watering cooking!). I felt happily at home on this quiet little island with its rich history and diverse wildlife; its rugged makatea and green forest; and the shell-scattered beaches and sacred marae, freighted with memories and meaning.

Standing on Oneroa Beach on Atiu, the Cook Islands.

As Rowanleaf I write, photograph, teach and sing about the world, for the world. If you enjoy my work and would like to help support me to keep on doing it, please consider buying me a coffee at KoFi, or making a regular donation via Patreon. The links are here below: much gratitude to all those who have encouraged and supported me thus far. <3
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Coming up next time, in South Pacific Adventure part 9:

Aliens, natives, lorikeets, flycatchers and noddies: travels with Birdman George
in Enuamanu, Land of the Birds.

Ancient coral cliffs and dodgy landings; swimming in caves and spotting birds that live in the dark…. South Pacific Adventure, part 7

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(For new readers: if you’re just discovering this blog and you would like to read about my South Pacific travels from the beginning, you can click on this link to go to the first chapter:  Travels in the Cook Islands.)

Trees and ferns growing out of the makatea (ancient coral) in the interior of Atiu, Cook Islands

I left Aitutaki on a Friday morning, driven to the airport by Tracey. En route we passed the motorcade procession of Miss Cook Islands, who had just arrived on an early plane and was standing up in the lead vehicle, waving and smiling to all and sundry. Her retinue comprised men on scooters and in cars and trucks, including what looked like most of the musicians from Island Night, playing and singing enthusiastically as they bowled along. Most of the locals had come out to greet her, standing outside their homes and Puffy’s Bar to wave at Miss Cook Islands as she cruised past. It seemed like a fittingly fun ending to my stay on this lovely island!

Arriving tourists at Aitutaki airport were being greeted with tiare leis (flower necklaces) as I walked to the tiny prop airplane that would carry me to Atiu. The pilot cheerfully greeted me on the tarmac, then hopped aboard as I and fellow tourists Donna and Mark from New Zealand took our seats. (Donna and Mark had also been staying on Aitutaki, having got married there the previous week.)

Once in the air I took a last look back at Aitutaki’s beautiful lagoon with its milky-white sandbars, before our plane headed southeastwards over the wide ultramarine blue of the Pacific. En route to our destination we flew over the island of Manuae: a small oval of green fringed with yellow beach and turquoise lagoon and surf-ringed reef; shallow sea falling away into the deep blue fathoms of the South Pacific ocean. It impressed me again how isolated these little islands are, in their thousands-of-miles-wide lapis lazuli sea: how remarkable it is that the people who populated them navigated this vast expanse of ocean.

Atiu airport, the Cook Islands

Landing on Atiu’s small air strip was an interesting experience, as the island rears out of the ocean on fossil coral (makatea) cliffs several metres high. This produces violent updrafts and sidewinds which meant our plucky pilot had to bring us down pretty steeply and rapidly, the plane rolling and yawing as the wind buffeted it. But once our wheels thumped down onto the tiny crushed coral landing strip we all released the breath we’d been holding, and disembarked into the charming corrugated iron-roofed shed that is Atiu airport.

All three of us visitors were staying at Atiu Homestay, a bed and breakfast run by Marshall Humphreys and his wife Jéanne. Marshall met us at the airport and drove us to his home via some local places of interest. First stop was Taunganui Harbour, constructed out of concrete in the mid-1970s by New Zealand Army Engineers to enable ships to load and unload goods safely. Before it was constructed, accessing the island by boat or ship was a lot more perilous, especially in poor weather. The harbour had benefited local fishermen, many of whose boats we saw pulled high up in the scrub inland behind the harbour (to protect them from the same tsunami warning I’d received while on Aitutaki).

Taunganui Harbour, Atiu, the Cook Islands
Outrigger canoes near Taunganui Harbour on Atiu, the Cook Islands

Our journey took us along a mostly single-track road through Teenui and Areora villages. In the settlements the roads were tarmac, but elsewhere we trundled along on crushed coral or packed dirt. I saw single storey houses built from breeze blocks and timber, corrugated iron roofs and louvred glass windows, painted in rainbows of colours.

House on Atiu, the Cook Islands

When we reached Marshall and J­éanne’s house, it was raised up off the ground on stilts: a sensible precaution to allow cyclone winds to blow through. Set in a pretty garden in a quiet corner of the island, it was a lovely (and very comfortable) place to be staying. I was looking forward to a few days of comparative luxury, having my meals cooked for me!

Donna and Mark then displayed the typical generosity and friendliness I’d encountered in all the Kiwi tourists I’d met so far: on hearing that my digital camera had died on Aitutaki, they offered to lend me one of theirs for the duration of our stay on Atiu… Which is why I have actual photographs of this wonderful little island! Huge gratitude to both of them.

Atiu Homestay, on Atiu in the Cook Islands

After dumping my backpack in my room, Marshall refreshed and refueled us with some chilled water and a snack of sundried banana, which he makes using a solar drier in his back garden. (The drier’s feet stand in tubs of water, to prevent ants and other minibeasties getting at the drying banana strips). I’d not previously been much of a fan of dried banana, finding it somewhat like chewing sweetened shoes, but Marshall’s was a treat: soft and succulent, and brimming with rich fruity flavour.

Solar banana drier at Atiu Homestay, Atiu in the Cook Islands

Atiu is a very small island (3.7 x 4.3 miles, or 6km x 7km): the current population is roughly 450 people, so it feels like a pretty quiet place. People live in the island’s interior here: a demographic shift that happened with the arrival of Christian missionaries in the mid-nineteenth century, who encouraged the population to relocate centrally, away from the makatea and swampy areas they were formerly living in. J­éanne and Marshall live in this central area of the island, not far from the village of Areora (you can see the red dot marking their house on the map of Atiu, pictured below).

Map of the island of Atiu, the Cook Islands

Once we were watered and banana’d up, Marshall took us on an expedition to Anataktaki, the cave of the kōpeka or Atiu swiftlet, Aerodramus sawtelli. J­éanne is half Cook Islands Maori, and Anatakitaki is located within her family land: its name comes from the story of Tangaroa and Inutoto, which I set out here as Marshall related it to us.

Tangaroa was a skilful warrior, while Inutoto was a wonderful dancer. One full moon night – a good time for fishing, and for dancing – Tangaroa wanted to go fishing, but was worried that if Inutoto went dancing without him she would be too popular… So he asked her to wait at home until he returned. A group of Inutoto’s friends passed by her home and asked her to come dancing, but she told them she had to stay; then later a second group of friends came by, begging, Hey, we’ve waited a whole month to see your new dance, you have to come and dance with us! So eventually Inutoto was persuaded, and went dancing under the full moon.

Out on the reef the fish stopped biting: Tangaroa tried every trick his father and grandfather had taught him – different bait, different fishing spots on the reef – but to no avail. He gave up and returned home… to find Inutoto not there. Heading to the dancing area he found her dancing, the centre of attention and admiration. Becoming angry, Tangaroa spoke harshly to Inutoto: then each of them left the dancing ground, separately.

Though Tangaroa waited at home, Inutoto did not return. He assumed that she went to stay with cousins or other family or friends… But over the next day and night there was still no sign of her. No-one had seen Inutoto since they quarrelled on the night of the full moon dance. A search was carried out of the bush and makatea and swampland; a week went by, three weeks, and still no trace of Inutoto. People began to say that she must have had an accident and died somewhere on the island… But one day Tangaroa was working in his planting field when an ngōtare, a chattering kingfisher (Todiramphus tuta, pictured below in J­éanne and Marshall’s garden) began pestering him, diving down at him and pecking at his head, again and again. Rangaroa couldn’t drive it off: it seemed as though the bird was trying to tell him something.

Ngōtare, a chattering kingfisher (Todiramphus tuta), on Atiu in the Cook Islands

When Tangaroa turned to the ngōtare it flew off a little way then back to him, as if trying to lead him in a particular direction. He followed the bird through the makatea and eventually he came to a cave where he found Inutoto, still alive. (‘Inutoto’ means ‘drinker of blood’ – according to the legend she survived by drinking her own blood!) So this story of jealousy and a lovers’ quarrel has a happy ending… And the helpful ngōtare who reunited Tangaroa and Inutoto gave the cave its name, Anatakitaki: ‘to the cave he brought him, he brought him’.

Marshall Humphreys with the walking sticks needed for traversing the difficult path through the makatea to Anatakitaki Cave, Atiu

And indeed, ‘to the cave he took us, he took us’! But at the very start of our walk Marshall advised us all to take a sturdy walking stick, to keep us steadier on the journey. Our path lay across a stretch of makatea: the ancient fossilised coral that was formed around the island’s central raised volcanic core thousands of years ago when the island was lower than it is now; and raised up by tectonic plate action in the intervening centuries. (Hence the six metre-high makatea cliffs around the island’s periphery.) Makatea limestone is as jagged and sharp as the corals that it formed from, so falling onto it would be a painful experience.

Following the path over the makatea to Anatakitaki Cave, on Atiu

The photo above shows a pretty typical stretch of the craggy makatea path we followed: like walking across a stony surf, with ferns and scrub growing out of every nook and cranny. The walking sticks were definitely necessary!

Asian spiny-backed spider (Gasteracantha mammosa), on Atiu in the Cook Islands

We’d only been walking a few minutes when I spotted a brightly-coloured spider on the path, which I pointed out to Marshall. He pronounced it a non-native invader – and he was right, because it was a female Asian spiny-backed spider (Gasteracantha mammosa), originally from India and Sri Lanka and introduced recently to the South Pacific. Further research once I was back in the UK yielded this entry on the Cook Islands biodiversity database: “Poisonous bite. Its spiky webs can be a residential nuisance; and it frequently bites people it comes into contact with. The bite is painful with localised swelling.” Marshall proceeded to squash the spider with the tip of his walking stick, which may sound harsh… But invasive non-native wildlife species are a serious threat to the biodiversity of these little island ecosystems, and Atiu takes protecting its native wildlife very seriously.

Polynesian mahogany tree (Calophyllum inophyllum) growing in makatea forest on Atiu, in the Cook Islands

A little further on our journey we came upon a wonderful big old Polynesian mahogany tree or mastwood (Calophyllum inophyllum), locally named tamanu. Timber from tamanu trees was highly valued for shipbuilding by Polynesian and Maori peoples, much like oaks were valued in English culture for the same reasons. Sacred tamanu groves were planted at marae sites, considered the homes of spirits; and the wood was also used for carving tiki. Tamanu oil extracted from the ‘nuts’ of the tree is also important in Cook Islands Maori and Polynesian cultures, being used for medicinal and cosmetic purposes. Marshall explained that there were many of these huge tamanu trees hidden away in the makatea, because the inaccessibility of these areas keeps the trees safe from felling and logging.

Scrub forest on the makatea, Atiu (the Cook Islands)

Another thing I noticed along our route were the numerous empty coconut shells lying on the forest floor, with ragged frayed holes through the shell. Rather than being signs left by some giant tropical squirrel, Marshall explained that these were the remains of coconuts opened and eaten by the coconut crab or unga kaveu (Birgus latro). I’d encountered these largest of land crabs moving about nocturnally and climbing trees on Aitutaki: they can seem like fearsome critters at first sight.

Juvenile coconut crab (Birgus latro), photographed on Aitutaki (the Cook Islands).

These land-based crabs go to the sea to spawn, but after a while the young crabs migrate back to dry land, wearing borrowed seashells to protect their vulnerable soft hind parts. As they mature they develop hard shells and discard their armour, foraging for food using their acute sense of smell. Despite their name these kaveu eat a variety of foods including fruits, nuts, seeds and even carrion: they have the reputation of carrying off any food they find lying around, giving rise to their scientific alias – latro means ‘robber’. Astonishingly they typically live for 40 – 60 years… So although kaveu are highly-prized as food, their longevity makes them a vulnerable species for over-exploitation.

About to descend into the entrance to Anatakitaki Cave, Atiu (the Cook Islands)

When we finally reached Anatakitaki the way in was to descend down a ladder below ground ground level. I’d done some potholing with friends in Derbyshire in my youth, so I was reasonably relaxed about the prospect of going into enclosed dark underground spaces. Anatakitaki is a karst cave: the calcium-rich makatea is dissolved by water, eroding into an undergound landscape of caves and fissures and chasms; minerals in solution then solidify again into diverse speleothems (stalactities, stalactites, limestone ‘curtains’ and pillars).

Journeying through the tunnels and caverns of Ana takitaki Cave, Atiu (the Cook Islands).

In practice, this means that travelling through Anatakitaki’s upper levels is not particularly claustrophobic, as there are many fissures and large holes which let in daylight. Having Marshall as our experienced guide obviously helped: he was able to share with us stories such as the tale of Inutoto and Tangaroa, as well as showing us J­éanne’s family monument within the cave. Each time a family member visits the monument (e.g. for special occasions) they can place a stone upon the pile. Somewhere buried underneath will be a carved seat, a carved bowl, and spears.

Caves of any sort are an unearthly landscape, but there was something particularly fantastical about this one. The caves I’d visited in the UK had been crawled all over by thousands of potholers, and in many cases their delicate limestone draperies and features had been eroded and broken… But here in Anatakitaki Cave, everything looked almost untouched by human hands.

The feeling of being in a lost mythical world was enhanced by the places where the cave has collapsed, creating openings looking out into the surrounding forest. It felt as if a dinosaur or a dragon could hove into view at any moment, lumbering through the coconut palms and ferns.

View out into the forest from Anatakitaki Cave, Atiu (the Cook Islands).

In places the makatea is thin enough that the roots of ava, Pacific banyan trees (Ficus prolixa) have grown through in striking curtains, following the rainwater that drips and filters down into the caves below.

Banyan tree roots (Ficus benjamina) growing through limestone into Anatakitaki Cave, Atiu (the Cook Islands).

Just beyond the banyan roots we descended into the deeper recesses of the inner cave where the object of our quest here lay: the nesting sites of the Atiu swiftlet, or kōpeka. We paused in the entrance of this inner chamber to watch and listen to the kōpeka swooping in and out. Whilst flying and feeding outside in the daylight they make a high twittering chreeee call: but as soon as they head into the cave’s darkness this changes to a rapid clicking sound, like someone swiftly clicking their tongue against the roof of their mouth. The birds are echolocating: navigating in darkness using these audible clicks, which increase in frequency as they approach objects. A wonderful example of parallel evolution: birds echolocating like bats!

Anatakitaki Cave interior, where the kopeka (swiftlets) nest (Atiu, the Cook Islands).

Once inside the deeper recesses of the cave it quickly grew almost pitch dark, except for the headtorches that Marshall used to show us the space. We kept still, listening to the clicking of these weird little birds, as we tried to spot them roosting and nesting in the nooks and crevices in the limestone – no easy task. You’re basically trying to spot a small black bird in a large black cave, with the light of your head torch creating shadows everywhere it falls on the convoluted stone.

Eventually we began to pick out the slender forked-tail silhouettes of the kōpeka, clinging to their niches on the cave ceiling. Male and female birds build their nests out of strips of vine and plants and lichens gathered on the wing outside, fragile little circlets stuck together with their saliva. They lay 1 – 2 eggs which hatch after 18 – 20 days; sometimes eggs fall out of the fragile nests to smash on the cave floor. Both parents take it in turns to brood; and when the nestlings hatch the adults share the task of feeding their chicks on insects hunted outside in the forest. These insect food hauls are stored in special pouches within the bird’s cheeks, so that they can still make echolocating clicks with their mouth full!

Once kōpeka chicks are old enough to leave the nest the parents bring them to hang out on a section of cave wall or ceiling with other youngsters, still feeding them. After another week they encourage the young by withholding food until the chicks move a little further out of the recesses of the cave. This process continues until after three weeks the juvenile birds make their first flight out of the cave to find their own food… And then navigate back inside using their clicking echolocation for the first time.

Sitting in the darkness listening to the clicking of these dark-living little swiftlets felt enchanting. I’d been drawn to visit Atiu by its reputation of unspoiled wildness and rich biodiversity: very different from the tourist paradise of Aitutaki, or even the teeming undersea life of the coral reefs. Atiu felt ancient and alive: a beating heart of stone and water and green plants and living creatures, a precious little gem.

Before we left Anatakitaki Marshall had one last surprise for us: an underground swim. We clambered down a narrow passage to an artesian pool, which Marshall illuminated by lighting a couple of candles in the inky blackness. I was the only one who took the plunge, and it was gorgeous: pleasantly cool but not too cool, refreshing in the humid tropic air. As I swam gently in the blue water by candlelight, dozens of metres underground, thousands of years of fossilised coral reef above my head, I found myself laughing with sheer joy. The gift of this eerie, beautiful place, with its family history and its water-carved limestone sculptures. The shadowy flitting spirits of the kōpeka, their clicking percussion echoing from the stone. This wonderful, magical moment.

Swimming in Anatakitaki cave, Atiu (the Cook Islands).

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Coming up next time, in South Pacific Adventure part 8:

Gods and government, proud warriors and foreign invaders: discovering the landscapes and history of Atiu.