Day 139: Rarotonga, Cook Islands – 24/05/10

It’s Mike’s birthday today and he has booked himself a treat – a dune buggy ride into the interior of the island.  Of course, I have to go with him.  Not sure about this.

A safari bus comes and picks us up at 9.30 am and as I climb in I totally forget about the bars across the top and clunk my head on one – hopefully not the shape of things to come.  We arrive at the office of Coconut Tours and pay our money.  The office is at the soon-to-be-opened Cultural Centre which looks lovely.

Photo:  Rarotonga Cultural Centre

Mike signs his life away (and probably mine).  Does anybody ever read the small print on these things?  We are then given our basic instructions on using the buggies.  Our guide, Tony, needs a ‘volunteer’ and I get picked on – the shape of things to come for the duration of the trip.  I become his stooge!

After getting me to demonstrate the workings of the buggy (most of the instruments I couldn’t find without my glasses – good job I’m not doing the driving), we are led to our own vehicles and find that we are to be at the front of the pack.

Photo:  Buggy line-up

Then off we go, first along the main road then we turn off at a noni factory.  Noni is a fruit grown all over Polynesia, the juice of which is meant to be one of those cure-all tonics.  Tony pulverises one of the fruits and slaps it into our hands before we get a chance to realise what is happening.  The smell is repulsive – a cross between rotting fruit, blue cheese and sweaty feet – and there’s nowhere to wash your hands to get the stench off.

He explains the fermentation and processing and then I am called on again to distribute the disgusting brown liquid to the party.  I try a sip first – it’s almost as foul tasting as it smells.  It’s so bad it probably is good for you.

Photo:  At the noni juice processing factory

We go back to the main road for a while and he drives across the grass verge by the sea, zig-zagging between the palm trees, over thick protruding roots and fallen coconuts, just to give us a taste of what’s to come. 

Photo:  Buggies by the sea

We stop to ‘admire’ the Sheraton/Hilton resort, a resort which was 80% finished (bathrooms were fitted, bedroom furniture was in) some years ago when the plug was pulled for the financing.  It sits there now, decaying, but hardly vandalised.  Incredible.  As he is talking to us, a motorcycle cop pulls up and I think we are in trouble for being on the grass verge.  But no, with a slap on the arm and a ‘hey cuz’ they gossip for a few minutes before we move on.

Photo:  Tony and mate in front of the decaying Hilton complex

Off the main road again, we pass a house that an American guy had started to build out of beer bottles.  He only stopped when he was refused permission to go further because the structure could not support a roof.  It all probably seemed like a good idea when he was in the middle of drinking the contents of his building materials!

Photo:  Glasshouse reclaimed by the jungle

Then we go inland.  The road very quickly turns into track, strewn with rocks and coconuts (which are nearly as bad as the rocks).  Every now and then there are deep ruts and tree roots and patches of mud (all of which seem to be on my side) and soon the mud is flying in my direction.  Mike throws the buggy around with obvious glee, reliving his short lived go-karting days of the early 80s.  I sit there shrieking and laughing and get filthy!

Photo:  Follow that buggy!

We stop every now and again so that Tony can give us some local information about what we are seeing.  I get called upon time and time again to be his fall guy.  As Mike says when I ask “why me” – they always pick on the gobby one as they know they are game for a laugh and won’t be upset.  So I play my role and roll plants between my hands until green slime forms which I then have rubbed onto my arms to ward off mosquitoes (doesn’t work but then neither does the stuff I have already put on and there are swarms of the hungry little bastards already making a meal of my exposed parts).

Photo:  Taking a rest from having our bones shaken

We pass lots of plantations and agricultural land, much more than I thought there was.  Passing one field, we see pineapples growing - I always thought they grew on trees – apparently not!  They grow upright (I thought they’d hang) on small bushes.

Photo:  Polynesian pineapples growing in a row

Photos:  Through the plantations

We make a stop at a river where some people go in for a swim and to wash off the accumulated dust and mud but the water doesn’t look very inviting to me and I can’t wait to get away from the mosquitoes so we don’t bother.

Back at the base, I nip to the loo and look in the mirror.  I am absolutely filthy.  When I take my glasses off I have white circles around my eyes.  I have had so much sun tan lotion and mosquito repellent on that the dust must have stuck even more than normal.  That and the fact that we were in the first buggy following Tony who was kicking up as much dust as possible.

Photo:  Angel with very dirty face!

I try to wash it off but only succeed in making my face streaky which probably looks even worse.  I can’t do anything about the dirt all down my arms and legs and over my chest.  I look like an urchin from a Charles Dickens novel!

We stop at the Cultural Centre for refreshments (juice, doughnuts and fruit) then are taken back to the boat.  As we have invited everyone from the boats over for a drink tonight to celebrate Mike’s birthday, we grab some bags and go to the supermarket to buy some more wine and nibbles.  When we get back, there’s just enough time to have a quick tidy up, make some dips and have a really hot shower and hair wash to get rid of the dirt.  I can’t believe the colour of the water and to think I had been to the supermarket looking like that.  No wonder they had been giving me funny looks.

Everyone except Donal from A Lady turns up.  Donal had been out on a motor scooter today and on a rough bit of road had flown over the handle bars and ended up in hospital with some nasty cuts and bruises and quite a bad case of concussion so they are keeping him in for observation.

However, the birthday boy has a good time and some nice presents from the other crews.  Everyone sings happy birthday, first the English version then the Norwegian one.

Photo:  The birthday boy

Photos:  Mike’s birthday party aboard Jeannius

Marie brings Mike a vanilla sponge which she then covers in Betty Crocker’s chocolate frosting.  It ends up looking like a giant turd but tastes great.  Thanks everyone.  You made Mike’s day.