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Photograph by David Liittschwager, National Geographic
Archaeologists and farmers tell the gritty story of French Polynesia
Walking up the sweltering, steep slopes of Mo‘orea’s gray volcanic peaks, the lumbering Tahitian chestnut trees, bursts of pink blooms, and iconic views of the South Pacific can mesmerize. But if you stop to catch your breath and glance down, a whole new set of wonders reveals itself at your feet.
There, at ankle level, meticulously stacked, moss-shrouded stone blocks outline an ancient way of life on the forest floor.
These are the marae of Mo‘orea, and while now weathered and overgrown, they once were temples—sometimes covering 4,000 square feet (370 square meters)—where the island’s original settlers, the Maohi, came to pray to gods, pay respect to chiefs, and meet on tribal matters.
Much of what the marae stood for has faded over the years, replaced by European and Christian institutions. But archaeologists are taking a closer look at these well-worn platforms and, in doing so, are digging deeper into the island’s history.
One of best-restored and most-studied marae sits in ‘Opunohu Valley, up the slope from the bay where Captain James Cook anchored during the mid-18th century. Cook was considered an “enlightened voyager,” spending more time than his predecessors interacting with the locals. Indeed, Cook’s stories of Tahiti and the surrounding Society Islands, including Mo‘orea, shaped the European concept of the “noble savage.”
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