Hawaiki Nui Va'a: When the Islands Come Together

There is a stretch of water at Matira Beach on Bora Bora where standing in the wrong place during the Hawaiki Nui Va'a could earn you a very unexpected encounter with an outrigger canoe.

As the leading crews approach the finish, spectators form two lines extending from the beach out into the lagoon, where the water can reach their chests. Together they create a narrow lane for the canoes. The paddlers come charging down that lane at full speed, six men digging their paddles into the water with everything they've got left after three days of racing.

And they don't have brakes.

Waiting in the shallows are strong Polynesian men and women whose job is to catch the canoes before they plow into the beach. It's an extraordinary finish to one of the Pacific's great sporting events, and quite unlike anything you'll see at a typical international competition.

But the Hawaiki Nui Va'a is about much more than the race itself.

A Race Between Islands

Every year, the Hawaiki Nui Va'a brings together some of the Pacific's finest paddlers for four days of competition across the waters of French Polynesia's Leeward Islands. The program includes one-day women's and junior events, while the centerpiece is the three-day senior men's race.

While the race is firmly rooted in Polynesian culture, its appeal extends far beyond French Polynesia. Teams come from Hawai'i, California, New Zealand, Australia and elsewhere, joining local crews in a competition that has become one of the great events on the Pacific paddling calendar.

The senior men's race begins on Huahine, crosses to Raiatea, continues to Taha'a, and finishes with the long open-water crossing to Bora Bora.

These aren't short sprints around a marked course. The crews paddle Polynesian outrigger canoes, known as va'a, across stretches of ocean where wind, waves and currents can make an already demanding race considerably harder.

Six paddlers work together in each canoe, their strokes synchronized through hours of physical effort. Strength matters, certainly, but so do rhythm, teamwork and an intimate understanding of the ocean.

The connection between Polynesian people and their canoes goes back many centuries. Long before Europeans ventured into the Pacific, Polynesian navigators were crossing vast stretches of ocean in sophisticated voyaging canoes, using their knowledge of stars, winds, currents and ocean swells. Those voyages carried settlers to Hawai'i, New Zealand, the Cook Islands and islands scattered across an enormous portion of the Pacific.

Many of the great voyaging canoes were double-hulled, quite different from the sleek six-person outriggers racing today, but both belong to a remarkable maritime tradition.

When the Islands Celebrate

One of the most memorable aspects of the Hawaiki Nui Va'a isn't necessarily what happens on the water.

It's what happens ashore.

In Fare, Huahine's main port town, the normally quiet streets take on a completely different personality during race week.

The main street becomes a bustling market, with stalls selling food, flowers, race souvenirs and all manner of things associated with the festivities. Nearby, a park fills with perhaps fifty brightly colored outrigger canoes, lined up and waiting for their crews.

The canoes themselves are beautiful, long, slender craft in brilliant colors, each representing a team with its own identity and supporters.

There's an energy around town that reaches well beyond the paddlers. Families, friends, volunteers, vendors and spectators are all part of the occasion.

For visitors accustomed to thinking of French Polynesia primarily in terms of overwater bungalows and turquoise lagoons, it's a wonderful glimpse of another side of island life. Our cycling story from French Polynesia explores more of the everyday island life that visitors can discover beyond the familiar postcard views.

The excitement isn't limited to Huahine. As the race moves through Raiatea and Taha'a, those islands embrace the occasion with the same enthusiasm. Villages, families, businesses and volunteers become part of the festivities, welcoming the competitors and their supporters.

By the time the race reaches Bora Bora, the celebrations have spread across all four islands. It's a sporting event that involves entire communities, with international competitors joining a tradition that remains deeply Polynesian.

The Finish at Bora Bora

The final stage, from Taha'a to Bora Bora, brings three days of racing to its dramatic conclusion.

By the time the crews approach Matira Beach, they've tackled demanding open-ocean crossings and spent hours driving their canoes through wind, waves and currents. Their muscles are tired, their hands have gripped paddles for hours, and there's still one last sprint to the finish.

The leading crews aren't about to ease up now.

As the beach comes into view, the paddlers drive their canoes forward, racing for the finish with whatever strength they have left. The crowd lining the water is cheering, and the narrow passage between the spectators gives the final approach an almost theatrical quality.

For the paddlers, though, there's nothing theatrical about it. After three days of competition, every second still counts.

Then, as each canoe crosses the finish line, the waiting volunteers spring into action, grabbing the craft and bringing its momentum to a halt before it reaches shore.

It's a remarkable ending to an extraordinary physical effort.

We've had Pedalers groups on Bora Bora during race week in past years, including occasions when we've been there for the final stage. For guests cycling through the Leeward Islands, encountering something like the Hawaiki Nui Va'a adds an entirely different dimension to the journey.

The scenery may be what first draws people to French Polynesia, but events like this provide an opportunity to experience the islands and their communities in a very different way.

More Than a Sporting Event

The Hawaiki Nui Va'a is fiercely competitive. Teams train for months, reputations are built on performances, and the results matter enormously to the paddlers and their supporters.

But what stays with you as a visitor is how much of the community becomes involved.

In Fare, it's the market stalls, the colorful canoes filling the park, and the crowds gathering around the waterfront. On Raiatea and Taha'a, communities welcome the race and join the celebrations. And on Bora Bora, it's the spectators standing chest-deep in the lagoon and the volunteers waiting to catch the arriving canoes.

The race draws international competitors, but its character remains unmistakably Polynesian. The same ocean that once carried voyaging canoes between distant islands now brings their descendants together for a very different purpose.

For a few days each year, communities throughout the Leeward Islands come together around a sporting event that draws paddlers, families, supporters and visitors from across the Pacific.

And if you happen to be on Bora Bora when the leading canoes arrive at Matira Beach, you'll have a front-row seat to something quite extraordinary.

Just be careful where you stand.