>Almost immediately, expectant gray reef and lemon sharks began swimming past us; minutes later the big guys show up. Their conditioning around divers is a remnant of the regular feeding that occurred here before recent local regulations banned the practice. The piscine politics are clear, with smaller sharks slowing deferentially whenever a tiger shark passes overhead, which is often. I glance over at the guide, who points enthusiastically toward the smallest of the tiger sharks, a male I estimate to be 12 feet long. He flashes me an animated, extended OK sign, so I smile weakly and signal OK back to him, quickly turning my attention back to a particularly large gray reef shark who seems overly interested in her reflection in my dome port. After 40 minutes or so of controlled chaos, the tigers depart one by one.
>Our ascent from White Valley presents a wind-whipped surface, a bouncing dive deck and a captain eager to find some calm inside the lagoon. The Spring fortunately offers a placid, protected haven despite the wind's antics. Cold, fresh spring water feeds this series of coral-covered, anemone-topped pinnacles, creating a thermocline — and a shimmering silver visual effect — in areas of outflow. The extra boost of nutrients has led to lush sponge cover, making this the preferred hangout for the local turtles, which can be seen napping atop the coral, making a meal out of the pinnacle itself or ascending to the surface for a quick breath of air. At the surface we're treated to a view of the surf breaking at the edge of the barrier reef with the neighboring island of Moorea in the distance.
>We find a boat that will take us to the Sandbar, a popular snorkeling site inside the lagoon that we've heard can attract crowds. Fortunately, at this hour of the afternoon we're joined by only a few paddleboarders weaving around the area. After donning our snorkels and hopping in, we're soon swarmed by friendly stingrays and tiny blacktip sharks accustomed to being fed by visitors on local tour boats. It's an experience better than any umbrella drink, and it helps to get us amped up for the next morning, when we'll explore Eden Park (also known as Opunohu Canyons), a lemon shark hotspot.
>After arriving the next day, we descend past an eager tangle of blacktip reef sharks at the surface while on our way to photograph the local celebrities. A trio shows up shortly thereafter; two large females and a smaller male pass low over the reef, with their prominent choppers giving them a fearsome appearance that doesn't quite jibe with their graceful, cautious passes. Nearby Coral Wall (part of the reef that encloses the lagoon) is less sharky but every bit as exciting. We descend through swirls of surgeonfish and barracuda to discover a meandering series of nooks and crannies covered with hard coral. Two Napoleon wrasses show up almost immediately and follow us from a distance throughout our dive, but the highlight is the ample turtle population, with greens and hawksbills slowly passing us every few minutes.
>The mellow pace suits us just fine, because we know we'll soon be headed to Fakarava and Rangiroa, where mellow is simply not an option.
>This atypical condition is bad news. Diving in French Polynesia's passes, the channels that connect the lagoons to the open ocean, is wholly dependent on tide. Although it's nearly always possible to dive one of the bordering reefs regardless of the direction of water flow, venturing into the heart of the passes themselves — home to ripping currents, high-octane drift dives and the legendary "walls of sharks" — is done only on incoming tides. Incoming tides bring blue ocean water and extraordinary visibility and allow divers to finish in a safe, calm lagoon rather than in the open ocean.
>We have only two days to explore this world-famous atoll, and we'd been hoping against hope (and apparently nature) that the tides would line up well for us. The divemaster sees our dismay and promptly shifts into damage-control mode. "Don't worry," he said. "We'll just stick to the reef. There were mantas and lots of fish there yesterday."
>We drop in at Central Park, descending to the edge of the wall and staring cautiously at the misty cyan water rushing past. Venturing even a few feet over the reef's edge demonstrates a good reason for trepidation — the downcurrent pulling over the wall is formidable, and the outgoing current is also incredibly powerful. Any diver unfortunate enough to be caught in this kind of flow could be transported either over the wall into the depths or into the open ocean at speeds that would make recovery very challenging. We stick close to the reef, which is well-attended by blacktip, gray reef and even occasional silvertip sharks (though not stacked end-to-end as we'd hoped). Minutes later we spot a graceful pair of mantas taking turns getting touch-ups at a deep cleaning station. We ease our way up the reef, finding not a wall of sharks but certainly walls of fish. Our cameras stay busy as huge schools of surgeonfish swarm over the reef, interrupted only by the occasional cluster of trevally.
![]() |
>Truly, this is what all divers envision when they think of French Polynesia and especially the Tuamotus. Our time ticks down too quickly, and before long we're in the shallows, surrounded by schools of snapper. Elation swells through me, soon to be replaced by disbelief that we're able to experience only a single dive at this amazing site. As an eagle ray buzzes past, I adjust my attitude. Now that I know what's here, I have every reason — and solid plans — to return.
>I shake my head and descend toward the wall, where a large eagle ray is lazily circling. As I start adjusting my camera settings in the hopes of a close pass, I hear a bell ringing insistently — a signal from our dive guide that he finally sees dolphins approaching. I kick as hard as I can until I finally see a group of six (including an adorable baby) swimming unhurriedly but with purpose, checking us out as they continue toward their destination. I manage to capture a few "proof" images, and then I put down my camera, assuming the moment is over.
![]() |
>I continue to stare into the blue long after they've disappeared, thinking to myself, "Dolphins 5, us 1." And an incredible, lifechanging one it is.
>Conditions: French Polynesia's tropical climate offers average daytime temperatures in the low- to mid-80°F range. There are two distinct seasons: Winter (April through October) is cooler and drier, while summer (November through March) is characterized by warmer temperatures with greater humidity and rainfall. Water temperatures are also in the low- to mid-80s year-round. Visibility averages 100 feet, though it may be less during an outgoing tide, especially following periods of high rainfall. It can be substantially greater as well, with 200-foot visibility possible in some areas.
>Diving: French Polynesia has several lagoon sites that are ideal for novice divers as well as sites that are "shoulders" (seaward of the cut but distant enough from the point that the current abates). Many of the best-known dive sites, however, are high-current pass dives or deeper, open-ocean sites. Local regulations strictly limit open-water and advanced open-water divers to a maximum of 100 feet. Rescue divers and above are allowed to dive to 131 feet. Deep-diving specialty certifications are not recognized, and most divers find it best to attain an advanced or rescue certification before their French Polynesia adventure. Many operators don't offer night dives in the Tuamotu Archipelago due to safety reasons and the remote locale. It is critical to pay close attention to dive briefings and stay with your divemaster during pass dives because currents can be extreme. Surface signaling devices are a must. Full 3 mm wetsuits and gloves are recommended for warmth and protection from hard corals, especially during high current situations. A hyperbaric chamber is located in Papeete.
>© Alert Diver — Q4 Fall 2019