Aitutaki

Our little twin propeller plane bumped as it dropped down through a thin layer of white whispy clouds, before flattening out again in the bright Pacific sunshine.

Below us the little island of Aitutaki was suddenly revealed in all its glory; a band of coral reef thrown wide around a few scattered peaks of tropical islands poking their heads from the bright waters of the turquoise lagoon. Everyone gasped as our little plane banked unexpectedly and we dropped a few hundred feet. Suddenly we seemed to be skimming across the lagoon itself, and then with a jolt we touched down on the runway. I think I left my fear of flying somewhere high above the South Pacific, because I loved every minute of that journey, and all I could think about was exploring this perfect little paradise over the next 5 days.

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Rarotonga felt like a big shift of pace for us after the smogfilled, gridlocked, skyrise madness of LA, but sleepy little Aitutaki makes Raro feel like a bustling metropolis. Everyone you pass has a smile and a wave, the top speed on the few roads across the island is equivalent to a brisk jog, and there's nothing more hazardous than falling coconuts or the occasional daredevil rooster that wants to play chicken with your scooter.

We spent our 5 nights on the island in what will almost certainly be the nicest accommodation of our entire trip; a beach hut facing the perfect lagoon. It even had a palm tree growing through its balcony! The perfect spot to live out any bizarre childhood Swiss Family Robinson fantasies that might have lingered into adulthood (with a bit more time I might have been able to train some monkey butlers...). Normally it would have been out of our price range, but we got a good internet deal months in advance and it ended up costing about £25 a night. They could have charged us three times that and I wouldn't have felt ripped off.

After a couple of days we decided to stretch the budget even further with a day trip across the lagoon. Left to ourselves we might not have spent the money, but everyone we spoke to told us we'd be missing out, and I'm really glad we took their advice.

We were picked up by softly spoken, immediately likable Captain Puna, and clambered aboard his battered yellow pickup truck. Two other couples (tourists on Aitutaki are overwhelmingly couples) were inside the truck's twincab, so we had to ride on the back. I couldn't have been happier - we had a bumpy, windswept ride to Puna's little pontoon while the others looked at us a little jealously from their more comfortable, more boring seats inside.

Once we were aboard it quickly became clear why a boat trip is the only way to fully appreciate Aitutaki. The waters stay fairly shallow throughout the lagoon, although the water is so clear that you can see the bottom even in 20 metres or so of depth. Puna picked his way effortlessly through the hidden maze of underwater coral islands that can easily tear through the hull of a carelessly piloted boat, and soon we were in about 8 metres of water above one of the protected reserve areas of the lagoon.

We could clearly make out the enormous stands of coral all around us as we peered over the deck and hurriedly got our snorkel gear on. The ripples of the waves broke up the outlines of what I first imagined to be chunky rocks dotted around the seabed, until Puna explained we were in a good area for giant clams. That was all I could take; a few seconds later I was over the side and splashing about in the stunning undersea landscape of the reef.

Giant clams! I have two vivid childhood memories of learning about these weird little beasties; seeing them in David Attenborough documentaries and reading the Willard Price novel South Sea Adventure, where a diver gets his flipper trapped in one as it slams shut. I swam down as close as I dared (well within snapping distance), but managed to survive unscathed.

The coral amongst the lagoon is like nothing I've ever seen. This is my first experience in tropical waters, and we found ourselves surrounded by huge 'forests' of coral standing tens of meters high, with dazzling clouds of colourful fish constantly weaving in and out of the multitude of sheltered nooks and crannies. It was like swimming in an enormous fish tank, but a more sublime fish tank than I ever could have imagined.

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After an hour or so of happy splashing about we climbed back aboard the boat, through a pulsing shoal of fish feeding on a tunafish tail that Puna had thrown in for them, and we jetted off for the second part of the trip.

We stopped at a few of the myriad little islands that pepper the lagoon; deserted honeymoon island, a beautiful, unnamed goldenwhite sandspit, circumnavigated the islands used on T4's Shipwrecked as Tiger and Shark islands, and then stopped for lunch on glorious little One Foot Island, where Puna cooked up an enormous spread of barbecue food that was worth the price of the trip on its own.

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Aside from the boat trip, the rest of the adventuring was left up to us. We hired a scooter and drove the circumference of the island, waving to the friendly locals and their playful kids, and scattering crowds of scuttling mudcrabs that bolted back to the safety of their burrows on the swampy, unpopulated area of island near the airstrip.

In no time at all we were watching the sun melt into the lagoon for one final spectacular sunset. We boarded our little plane again the next morning , and as we sat on the runway we caught a glimpse through the window of a pair of humpback whales blowing out breaths of salty spray just off the reef to our left. Our startled happy shouts weren't enough to keep the plane on the ground, and with a rush and a jolt we were launched back into that bright South Pacific sky, the stunning colours of the island shrinking away beneath us.

However long it takes, I know I'll have to go back there.

Rarotonga

Disappointingly, it was raining when we landed on the South Pacific paradise isle of Rarotonga, the capital of the Cook Islands. Yawning, we shuffled through the little arrivals lounge as an endearingly cheerful old man with flowers in his hair serenaded us with a ukelele, and soon enough we were through the tiny customs area (a world away from the US customs experience) and free at last to explore the island.

The little Raro Tours bus that ferried us from the airport was full of sleepy, happy tourists, and one wide awake, happy Cook Island driver called Willy, who gave us all an impromptu tour of the island as he dropped us off at our various hotels.

Unfortunately for us, our first 4 nights weren't going to be spent in any of the luxurious honeymooner retreats we'd just driven past; we were starting our stay on the island in a more budget-friendly guesthouse before moving upmarket later in our stay.



Rau's Guesthouse was basic, but set just back from what turned out to be our favourite beach on the island. It's other main benefit was the two resident dogs - Cheech & Chong - a pair of mainly Labrador mongrels that decided to follow us wherever we went; joining us for swims in the lagoon and then hogging our beach towels when we came back out.



There are dogs everywhere on Rarotonga, and most of them come over to say hello and follow you around for a bit. I've never experienced such universally friendly, unthreatening dogs anywhere else in the world - a nice surprise for the pair of us as we've both been missing pets back home.

We shared the guesthouse with the young Cook Island family that run it, and like all Cook Islanders they were friendly and hospitable. The two young boys, Kyle and Rafael, excitedly showed me their collection of ninja movies, mum Moka brought us fresh bread every day, and cute little baby Lillia gurgled and smiled at us at every opportunity.

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Our days were spent on white sandy beaches, or in the perfect waters of the lagoon as the rolling, white-tipped waves of the Pacific crashed like angry thunder against the reef.



The water is so clear that you can see fish swimming in the coral while you stand on the beach. When you strap on a snorkel mask and get in amongst it all it's just mindblowing; there are tropical fish everywhere - electric blue, hot pink and shocking yellow flashing bright in the warm azure waters of the lagoon. Some of them nibble your fingers or fearlessly try to scare you off their patch, while others dart off to hide, poking their heads out of the coral when they think you've gone.

There's nearly as much going on back on the beach, hermit crabs of all sizes, bums tucked securely into a variety of stolen shells, scurry about everywhere, happy to clamber over a foot or a leg until you reach down to pick them up and they realise you're a person not a palm tree.



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Tasha picked up a really nasty sore throat a few days into our stay - so bad that we had to go to Raro's nice little hospital that sits high up on a hill. Once again the people were friendly, and even though it wasn't a part of our plans we still got a great view of the sunset from the top of the hill! Poor Tasha lost her voice for a couple of days and was in a lot of pain, but the antibiotics the doctor gave her cleared everything up, and there are worse places than the South Pacific to spend a few days recuperating.

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When our time came to leave the island we did so with heavy hearts, but also with the knowledge that we'll have to come back as soon as possible.

At the airport we waited for our flight to get in from LA on its stopover before carrying on to New Zealand. There aren't many international airports in the world where you can sit in the open night air, rich with the scent of a hundred tropical flowers, and watch the sun rise over the mountains. When our boarding was announced and we walked towards the runway a mother hen scurried in front of us trailing her chicks. We'll miss this magical place.