This photographer took a life-affirming cargo ship cruise through the Marquesas Islands

Most people picture French Polynesia as a place of shallow, turquoise waters, coral-fringed atolls and reefs teeming with multi-colored sea life. And the likes of Bora Bora and the UNESCO biosphere reserve of Fakarava certainly deliver on that promise. But the remote Marquesas Islands are a world apart. Jutting out of deep, dark seas, the rising basalt peaks bordered by emerald forests and shrouded in mist would have likely unnerved the first European sailors to arrive here.

A long way from everywhere, around 1,500 kilometers northeast of Tahiti’s capital Papeete, the South Pacific volcanic archipelago is made up of 12 islands, six of which are permanently inhabited. Since July 2024, the islands have become a UNESCO World Heritage Site, thanks to the waters that, in UNESCO’s own words, are “among the world’s last marine wilderness areas” and an archipelago that remains “virtually free from human exploitation”.

Originally settled by West Polynesians around the year 1000 CE, it wasn’t until the 16th century that the first Europeans arrived. Though the archipelago was renamed by colonist Álvaro de Mandaña y Neira in 1595 after the Spanish Viceroy of Peru, islanders clung to their own name—Te Henua Enata—The Land of Men.

I’m traveling with the Aranui shipping company on their latest hybrid passenger and cargo vessel, the Aranui 5. The company was founded over 70 years ago by Tahiti’s Wong Family, initially to carry freight through French Polynesia, an overseas territory of France in the Pacific Ocean. 30 years later, they added passengers to the mix.

2024 marked the 40th anniversary of this innovative adventure cruise, and though the latest ship has extra cabins and is more luxurious than before, trade with the people of the Marquesas remains Aranui’s raison d’être.

It’s little wonder French Polynesians refer to the ship as the ‘seventh Marquesan island’, jumping on at different points to join the Aranui band, or heading to Papeete with their artisanal products, decked out in heady floral tributes.

I get chatting with fellow passenger Tepuarii Skeels, originally from Moorea, the idyllic island next to Tahiti. Now a travel industry professional in Canada, she tells me, “It was during the pandemic that the islanders realized just how much of a lifeline the Aranui is.”

Though logistics were difficult they just carried on delivering—everything from tinned food to toilet roll. “It’s not like people would starve,” she says, “but the Aranui brings everything else.” And sometimes, that even includes helicopters.

The first taste of what I soon become accustomed to as a Polynesian welcome is the white tiaré flower handed to me as I board my plane in Paris. I notice the Air Tahiti Nui flight attendants wearing the fragrant gardenia buds behind their ears, and I awkwardly do the same, though I don’t quite have the knack yet to keep mine firmly in place.

We’re showered with lei at each new arrival too, from the airport to the islands—garlands made of sweetly aromatic hibiscus, frangipani or tiaré, or sometimes shells and seeds. It’s a ka’oha (hello) with an added nui (big). It’s a gesture of hospitality that fills us all with warmth.

Local guide Leotine Tuhe wears her hibiscus bloom as she waits to greet us on our first Marquesan island, Nuku Hiva. After a full day and a half at sea, it’s worth the wait. In a convoy of vehicles, we head to the archaeological site of Kamuihel in the village of Hatiheu.

We’ve been told to expect a Marquesan welcome, but I’m not prepared for the sight of an enormous banyan tree, under which a group of tattooed and traditionally clad male dancers are already in full flight. Samoan artist and Polynesian cultural expert Rosanna Raymond, traveling with her friend and colleague, the onboard lecturer Tahiarii Pariente, tells me that this is the authentic haka, a spiritual and evocative link to ancestors that’s derived from the words, ‘ha’ (breath of life) and ‘ka’, usually translated as ‘fire’ or ‘to ignite’.

Head Aranui guide, Steven Tehiva, holds a large group of us spellbound at the Kamuihel site. He explains the meaning of ‘ha’ as well as ‘mana’, the spirit which still guides Polynesians in their everyday lives. Tahiarii Pariente picks this up later, demonstrating the hongi greeting with Rosanna, where their noses touch, followed by a kiss on each cheek. “In our belief system, you are dead longer than you are alive, so it’s important that we recognize the ha when we meet each other and acknowledge life.”

I learn more about the notion of mana from Tepuarii, when she encourages me to tap into which of the islands calls to me the most, through my own sensory perceptions and emotions. If we’re able to learn anything from French Polynesian islanders, it’s that the spirit of a people or place can connect with us, so long as we open ourselves to the possibility.

Our local guide, Vanessa Emery, addresses all of us who have taken an optional tour with them: “Thanks to you, 15 families will take something home today.” It’s a reminder of the power of spending our money locally.

Docking at each island, we watch the cargo being unloaded. From barrels of diesel to cement and gravel, the heavy items are lifted by cranes overhead, while forklift trucks are ready to move boxes lifted out of the huge freight containers. Meanwhile, Aranui staff wait with weighing scales for smaller items, like bananas.

On Fatu Hiva, we’re warmly welcomed by the islanders who come to watch, in anticipation of goods they’ve ordered, or to send off shipments to Tahiti and beyond. It’s a fascinating glimpse of island life, and a vibrant, bustle of activity, the likes of which most of us never have seen before.

With so few tourists coming to the Marquesas, the Aranui is a world away from a cruise liner docking at a classic port city—it’s international cruising meets local delivery and ferry service. And with most of the crew also hailing from nearby isles, there’s a sense that we’re coming home.

It’s little wonder French Polynesians refer to the ship as the ‘seventh Marquesan island’, jumping on at different points to join the Aranui band, or heading to Papeete with their artisanal products, decked out in heady floral tributes.

Maybe because of the expectations of the ship’s clientele, the onboard menu is mostly French or European in style. On the islands however, we get to sample more local dishes.

On Nuku Hiva, we try goat meat cooked in coconut milk, sweet potato and pork wrapped in leaves and roasted underground for several hours—known as ‘umu aka’. I’m tempted to grab a second plate, but settle for coffee with coconut milk and roasted banana for dessert. Starbucks, eat your heart out.

Coconuts are ubiquitous here and an economic lifeline across the Marquesas; they’re exported by the sack load to Tahiti to be pressed for oil. On the island of Ua Pou, 51-year-old Aka Vasson, owner of a small plot of land, shows me his neighbor’s copra (coconut fiber) drying in the sun.

Like many, he has also set up a makeshift drying table—while the weather does the rest. But Vanessa Emery, my guide here, explains how surviving on just the produce from a small parcel of land isn’t always enough.

From the rich, wooden decor to the large, vibrant bougainvillea tree shading the house and the sweetest mango I’ve ever tasted, everything is heightened, imbued with something beyond this world.

With just two cars to begin with, she and husband Robert started a tour company that now employs a raft of drivers to take visitors to the island’s striking and often most remote spots. She addresses all of us who have taken an optional tour with them: “Thanks to you, 15 families will take something home today.” It’s a reminder of the power of spending our money locally. We’re also thanked at the end of the tour by the mayor, Evelyn Hikoutini, as we drink from whole coconuts, serenaded by local musicians.

Arriving at the six islands, passengers take their positions on the bow to drink in the beauty of each new vista—the lush and floral vegetation, dramatic peaks and dynamic shorelines. You can understand why writers such as Herman Melville, author of Moby-Dick and Typee, a romanticized account of his time in Polynesia, and artists like Paul Gauguin—who made his home here—found these islands so inspiring.

Gauguin is still a strong lure for European passengers, keen to visit his grave and the museum on the island of Hiva Oa. Like many artists linked to the idea of ‘exoticism’, his work is being debated and reimagined. In Australia recently, there was an exhibition of his work, which I’m stoked to discover both Rosanna and Tahiarii were involved with.

While Gaugin remains a big draw, exploring Indigenous art feels more in keeping with this adventure, given how immersed we are in Marquesan culture on the Aranui. From black pearl jewelry to wooden carvings and block prints on tapa, or bark cloth, each island has its own distinctive wares. On Tahuata island, it’s artisan carver Tehau Tetua’s work that calls to me, with intricate designs carved on bone.

I look at a turtle-shaped necklace, but his wife points elsewhere. “This is for you”. My star sign is Pisces, and the pendant of two intertwined fish-like creatures makes me wonder if she’s using her mana to read me. Of course, I buy it.

At our final island, Ua Huka, I’m tempted to ride one of the many horses that it’s famous for, but I can’t pass up the invitation to visit Tahiarii’s cousin, Maheatete Lichdle. Being welcomed into someone’s home is the best way to experience island life, however briefly; it’s an honor and a highlight of the trip for me.

From the rich, wooden decor to the large, vibrant bougainvillea tree shading the house and the sweetest mango I’ve ever tasted, everything is heightened, imbued with something beyond this world. Maybe it’s because it’s our last Marquesan island, but I think about what Tepuarii said, and somehow feel this island’s mana has connected with me.

I return to the ship adorned with the lei that Maheatete welcomed us with, its aroma filling my cabin. It’s customary to throw flowers into the sea as you sail away from the Marquesas, but I cannot bring myself to part with this lei just yet. I wear it all evening, along with a frangipani behind my ear, which has now somehow become part of my everyday attire. These islands have definitely pulled me into their world.

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The writer traveled courtesy of the Aranui 5, a dual-purpose passenger/freighter ship that sails from Tahiti to the Marquesas, Tuamotu and Society Islands in French Polynesia on a 12-day all-inclusive cruise.

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