September 1992
Niue is little-known, little-visited, and it is a gem. Like Anguilla it's an uplifted coral island, so it's flat, without the typical fringing reef and lagoon one sees in most of French Polynesia. It has no bays or other safe harbors, so anchoring is vile - in depths of less than 100 feet it's all rock and coral to snag chain and anchors. Moreover, since it's an open roadstead, if the wind shifts to the West one must get out immediately or the wind and swells will drive the boat onto the shore, which is all coral (there are no beaches on Niue). The bottom is strewn with abandoned anchors of all types and sizes (mostly large, since the locals salvage the yacht anchors) attesting to the difficulties of anchoring here. But it is an exceptionally interesting island.
The sea has carved incredible caves into the island
[PHOTO], which over the years have formed unusual stalactites and stalagmites. Since there are no cave bats on the island, and the seas scour them out every so often, the caves are wonderfully clean. There are caves one reaches from the sea with SCUBA gear and caves one climbs down to from the shore. Some caves are a bit tough to reach, but an incredible number are easily accessible.
The waters around the island are so clear that visibility in the water is easily 100+ feet, and the clarity of the water gives it the most intense blue color. There are only 2400 residents on Niue, who are all New Zealand citizens (New Zealand is responsible for the country, and there are 12,000 Niueans in New Zealand). Typical Polynesians, they haven't had the opportunity to become jaded by tourists, so they are wonderfully open and friendly. The few expats who live there seem to have absorbed this easy-going approach to everything, so they are as lovely as the locals. We stayed for five days and would have stayed longer if we had had a more secure anchorage. This is a gem that should not be missed, and any spelunker or SCUBA diver would be in heaven.
Our sail to American Samoa was pretty close to perfect - hauled anchor after morning radio net and set sail in 10-15 knots of wind, flat seas so we flew. In the middle of the night of the second day we could see the loom of the lights of Pago Pago from about 36 miles away - rather disconcerting, since it's the first time since we've been out here that we've seen so much light, making us doubt our position. But we made Pago Pago as the sun rose, and were in the harbor before the officials showed up for work.
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