South Pacific paradise

SCOTT INGLIS puts his best foot forward to discover an idyllic world of sand, sea and culture that's right on our doorstep.

This must be paradise. As the sun beats down, I am lying on white, powdery sand, partly listening to the breeze rustle the coconut trees behind me, half-heartedly watching the handful of snorkellers in the sparkling lagoon in front. Time seems to stand still, work seems far away and the only stress is deciding whether to take a dip.

This paradise is Tapuaetai, or One Foot Island, an unspoiled, uninhabited tropical island in the Cook Islands. It has lush green vegetation in the middle surrounded by a ring of white sand.

There is also an all-in-one eating area, with bar and souvenir shop and a post office (for sending postcards to envious friends and family).

There's so much to do. Swimming, snorkelling, eating, staring at the tiny atoll within spitting distance and warming the soles of your feet as you take a 10-minute stroll around the beach.

Oh, and I almost forgot, you can feed the fish and watch them swarm around your hands, making the water appear to boil.

One Foot Island and the nearby, larger island of Aitutaki are jewels in the Cook Islands' crown. It takes about 40 minutes to fly from Rarotonga to Aitutaki, and if it's possible to find a place more laid-back than Rarotonga, then this is it.

After getting off the plane, we walk into the island's open-air airport terminal and are greeted by a smiling, moustached man, singing "Welcome to Aitutaki".

We then board our tour bus. This is no air-conditioned, inter-city coach - it is made of wood, painted with bright flowers and has bench seats on each side.

Our guide is Taoro Strickland, or Ta as he is known, a stocky Cook Islander with a goatee, who hands out sliced coconut and fruit before the rickety bus bumps along a dirt road.

Aitutaki is surrounded by 15 motus, or little islands, is 18km round, surrounded by a 45km-round reef, and has 2000 locals - about half of whom are related.

There are eight villages, four main religions, one television channel, and no dogs, poisonous or dangerous animals or insects. The main industries are tourism, agriculture and fishing.

Despite there being about a dozen resorts and other tourist accommodation businesses, the local people are determined not to let the Cooks' main income-earner - tourism - spoil the beauty.

"No building is allowed to be higher than the tallest coconut tree," Ta grins. "And be careful on our roads, this is our rush hour." I look back to see only a red ute behind us.

A wander through Aitutaki's township is like stepping back in time. Chickens run across the road and locals walk leisurely around or work in the handful of shops, waving and smiling at the tourists and each other.

One local, 44-year-old Noo Toko, fills a large metal bucket from a communal water tap. She smiles when I ask why she likes it here: "I would say it's paradise. We have our own house and land and free food from land ... except for things like sugar."

It's about to get even more laid-back. We board a 21m vaka, the Cooks' version of the waka, for a day-long lagoon cruise around the islands and atolls.

While based on a traditional design, this vaka has two outboard motors and a gas barbecue. As its motors hum, the vessel, with its 40-or so passengers and crew, carves through the turquoise lagoons.

Our first stop, 45 minutes later, is the island Motu Rakau, where our tour group huddles around Ta as he shows us how to husk a coconut. We also get a chance to swim in the tepid, clear water before continuing another 20 minutes to One Foot Island. Here, we swim, sunbathe and devour a barbecue lunch, which includes Wahoo fish, bread and fruit.

Two hours later, as everyone leans back with their skin either slightly brown or red, the vaka heads back to Aitutaki - and Ta and three other crew members bring out a ukulele, guitar and spoons and sing their hearts out, island style.

Back on Rarotonga, life is not much faster for the 9000 locals who call it home. Ringed by a reef, it has one main road, which winds around the outside of the island - you can drive around the island in 30 minutes. Other sealed and unsealed skinny roads snake through the island's middle, and are called the "ancient" roads.

Along one of these roads, well off the main drag, I find two sisters sitting outside an unpainted concrete block home with a red corrugated iron roof. The lawn is bright green, and neatly trimmed.

Mata, aged 40, and Ina, 35 and wearing a white sheet wrapped around her, wave and smile broadly when I approach. As the song Who Let The Dogs Out blares from a stereo inside, they talk freely about themselves, occasionally using their forearms to wipe perspiration from their foreheads.

Mata still lives at the house but Ina lives with her boyfriend up the road. The family home is nine generations old. "We don't have to pay rent like in New Zealand. We grow cabbage, taro, kumara. They say it's just like paradise," says Mata.

In this paradise, foreigners - including New Zealanders - are not allowed to buy land, which has been divided between families. Most families here bury their loved ones on their property, rather than in a cemetery or churchyard.

The graves on the front lawns are one of the first things visitors notice as they travel around the island. The best way to do this is to ride a motorcycle, like many locals.

It can cost as little as $12 a day to hire a bike but visitors are supposed to have licences, which cost $10 from police headquarters. The test is a police officer watching to see you don't fall off - and no one has to wear helmets.

I hire a four-speed step-through and ride the 20 minutes to the police station in the main town Avarua - with a sense of lawlessness and no helmet.

As my confidence increases, so does my speed, although I have no idea how fast I am going because the speedo doesn't work. As the wind stings my face, and the locals smile and wave, I have a few wobbles and one close call with a noisy red ute, but I don't fall off.

At police headquarters, I find they are closed for licence tests. Instead of returning the bike, I indulge in some shopping although, unlike other tourist destinations such as Bali, shopping is not Rarotonga's forte. The number of shops is limited and prices are similar to New Zealand's.

Recreational and water sports are, however, two of the island's best features.

Back at the Rarotongan Beach Resort, I have the choice of swimming in the pool or clear lagoon, using one of the many kayaks lying on the beach, playing beach volleyball, and snorkelling.

Those who head underwater are rewarded with close-ups of coral and fish, some brightly coloured, which like to glide around your legs.

Other guests lie on the golden sand, either in the sun or under the shade of a coconut tree, some sipping a cool cocktail, taking in the aroma of barbecued fish and chicken wafting from the restaurant area.



Having never tried windsurfing, I decide to give it a go, and along the beach find Captain Tama's Hut, which caters for tour cruises and water sports.

For $35 I can have a 30-minute lesson on a land simulator and 90-minutes on the water.

My tutor is Chris Uka, a lean, chiselled 23-year-old who has been windsurfing for two years and teaching for one.

He shows me where to place my feet, how to keep my balance and how to pull up the sail, steer the boom, hold the mast, turn the board and put the sail down again.

It sounds easy but the simulator moves around easily and I fall off, landing in the sand.

Eventually, I windsurf for real in the shallow lagoon. As the sun reflects off the surface into my eyes, a light breeze propels me along. I am surprised to be standing, let alone moving, and a fellow windsurfer encourages me.

"You look good out there," she says with a grin.

Seconds later, I lose my balance and fall off. I struggle out of the water, on to the wet board and try to haul the sail back up.

I manage to get going again and, despite two more spills, I find the experience refreshing.

While the lagoon and beach offer idyllic settings and sports, inland Rarotonga has its own hidden treasures, and Raro Safari Tours offer visitors an insight into these.

We decide to take a tour and meet our guide, Captain Oki, a grey, wiry-haired man, with a bushy moustache and a neck as thick as Mike Tyson's.

He used to live in New Zealand but nine years ago became the island's first official tour guide and has been taking tourists around since, showing them the sights and filling them in on the history of island.

He takes us up almost vertical tracks, leading to breathtaking views of the blue Pacific, inland snapshots of island life as well as a visit to a Cooks' marae, which belongs to the Te-au-o-tonga tribe.

Cooks' marae, unlike those in New Zealand, are made of stones in the ground and have no roof or walls. As Captain Oki talks to us from the middle of the marae, it is easy to imagine the chiefs meeting here, sitting on their tiny stone seats, discussing the business of their tribe.

We finish the tour with fruit juice from a plastic cooler and sliced fruit, including pawpaw.

Much of Rarotonga is unspoiled, and there is almost an innocence to the place. The people treat visitors like friends, and it is so safe many locals don't even bother to lock their doors.

Let's hope tourism doesn't spoil this paradise.

Case Notes

* Accommodation

The Cook Islands have at least 66 resorts and places to stay, ranging in price from $18-a-night budget hostels to $1200-a-night luxury units in the exclusive resorts.

* Sport/recreation

Snorkelling, diving, sailing, windsurfing, swimming, golf, volleyball, kayaking.

* Weather

April-November - dry and averaging 26C. December-March more humid, ranging between 22C and 28C.

* General

New Zealand currency is standard, many prices are similar to ours and many shops shut at 4pm. Take sunblock, but you won't need long pants.

* Scott Inglis travelled courtesy of Air New Zealand and Cook Islands Tourism.

Jasons

Cook Islands Tourism Corporation