If I could define remote island paradise, I’m pretty sure Fanning Island would come close.
I mean, a pod of dolphins followed our boat on the way in, and then from our anchorage on the last night here we watched manta-rays feed in the lagoon, flapping their wings on the water's surface. That’s got to say something about this place.
Every day we were here this paradise was revealed in a new and different light.
The first day ashore we stumbled across an old Frenchman who got shipwrecked near this island 25 years ago. He invited us to visit his house. Nestled among a grove of coconut palms and frangipanis his petite, open-plan home was simply stunning. It is the only western-style home on the island, built by hand it was a 20-year labour of love, now fit for a vogue magazine.
A morning was whittled away listening to his stories of life on the island, married in to a Kiribati lifestyle.
The next day we decided to visit a local school. To get there, the dingy dropped us off at the local wharf and we were instructed to walk 10 or so minutes to arrive at school. An hour and a half of walking later we still hadn’t found our destination.
Feeling exhausted from the beating sun, we stopped on the side of the track and decided it would just be better if we went swimming. So white sand and turquoise waters beckoned. We didn’t find the school that day, but it was just so lovely strolling along this path, through the forest of coconuts, next to the lagoon, chatting and walking along.
The afternoon was spent cycling through sleepy villages in another area of the atoll. It was slow going because everyone who was out and about wanted to chat - people here are so friendly. A few fresh coconuts, an impromptu photo shoot with them, and an evening swim later, and I was one happy camper.
On the last day here we managed to make it to the school. An extensive tour of the complex was finished off with a tradition meal served in a brand new, raised maneaba (meeting house). Prime real estate, the handmade open-air hut housed us for a few hours while the local teachers spun yarns and entertained us with more stories of island life.
That evening, the sun sunk low in the sky – an orange ball silhouetted the drooping coconut palms. This place has a good feeling about it. It’s kind of sad to be off in the blue mare pacificum now, leaving Fanning behind to become another part of this dream.
I mean, a pod of dolphins followed our boat on the way in, and then from our anchorage on the last night here we watched manta-rays feed in the lagoon, flapping their wings on the water's surface. That’s got to say something about this place.
Every day we were here this paradise was revealed in a new and different light.
The first day ashore we stumbled across an old Frenchman who got shipwrecked near this island 25 years ago. He invited us to visit his house. Nestled among a grove of coconut palms and frangipanis his petite, open-plan home was simply stunning. It is the only western-style home on the island, built by hand it was a 20-year labour of love, now fit for a vogue magazine.
A morning was whittled away listening to his stories of life on the island, married in to a Kiribati lifestyle.
The next day we decided to visit a local school. To get there, the dingy dropped us off at the local wharf and we were instructed to walk 10 or so minutes to arrive at school. An hour and a half of walking later we still hadn’t found our destination.
Feeling exhausted from the beating sun, we stopped on the side of the track and decided it would just be better if we went swimming. So white sand and turquoise waters beckoned. We didn’t find the school that day, but it was just so lovely strolling along this path, through the forest of coconuts, next to the lagoon, chatting and walking along.
The afternoon was spent cycling through sleepy villages in another area of the atoll. It was slow going because everyone who was out and about wanted to chat - people here are so friendly. A few fresh coconuts, an impromptu photo shoot with them, and an evening swim later, and I was one happy camper.
On the last day here we managed to make it to the school. An extensive tour of the complex was finished off with a tradition meal served in a brand new, raised maneaba (meeting house). Prime real estate, the handmade open-air hut housed us for a few hours while the local teachers spun yarns and entertained us with more stories of island life.
That evening, the sun sunk low in the sky – an orange ball silhouetted the drooping coconut palms. This place has a good feeling about it. It’s kind of sad to be off in the blue mare pacificum now, leaving Fanning behind to become another part of this dream.
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