Feel the Mana: Makatea
Don’t touch the Phosphates of Makatea
In November, I climbed the Rostrum with Chris Van Leuven in Yosemite, CA. He was driving to the airport early the next morning to fly to this little island in French Polynesia called Makatea. Chris is a journalist, flown around the world to write about places and people. Two weeks later, Chris called me, so hyped to tell me about this obscure place. “I think it’s the best climbing in the South Pacific,” I remember Chris telling me. No. Way. I’m. In. “Let’s go back!” I promptly responded.
And so, we started to plan a trip. In my mind, Makatea was this remote tiny island that sounded like a tropical escape from the depths of winter. In learning more about it, the plan became so much more meaningful to me.
Makatea’s about the size of half of Manhattan with a population of about 100 people. During 1906 and 1966, Makatea was buzzing with workers mining for phosphate. The island boomed as 11 million tones of phosphate-rich sand was dug out of the island’s limestone cylinders. Then, there was a mass exodus. The switch turned off and over half the population left the island. Phosphate, a key ingredient found in fertilizers, pharmaceuticals, and munition, has been a desirable element since the growth of modern agriculture. But once it’s gone, it’s gone. And Makatea is a prime example of the impact of a boom and bust mining industry.
Not everyone left.
Chris had met Julien Mai, and his son, Haitapui (Tapu), during his first trip. Tapu is the steward of the climbing — him and his brother put up the first ever route on the island. Not long after, a primarily French team led by Erwan Le Lann and Maewan Adventures traveled to Makatea to develop climbing and expand its potential for a new, sustainable chapter of climbing-led eco tourism.
With the help of the Tahiti Tourism Board, we put together the plans for my crew of film makers, journalists, and pro climbing friends to check this place out.
I flew first to LA, then LA to Tahiti, to a hopper plane over to an island called Rangiroa. From there, we boarded a fishing boat to begin a 4 hour open water, adrenaline pumping, wet ride to the little gem of Makatea. During our boat ride as we all held in the urge to puke from the massive sloshing of waves that were tipping us back and forth, our boat driver yelled, “Mahi Mahi!” And he grabbed his harpoon, threw it in to the water, directly into the head of a gigantic fish. He pulled it on to the boat, and kept going. It was one of the most athletic maneuvers I’ve seen.
As our boat got closer to the island, limestone cliff bans rimmed the circumference. Every direction had these massive walls — with really impeccable rock. Makatea is an atoll, (a ring-shaped coral reef) and over the past two million years, 40–75 meter continuous bands of cliff have shaped the coast of the island.
When we arrived, Julien Mai, Makatea’s mayor, and his son, Haitapui, the founder of “Makatea Escalade,” and his family greeted us warmly with sea shell necklaces and flower leis. We were staying at the family Guest House; a house with some basic rooms and a shared bathroom and kitchen.
Buzzing with excitement, we headed to the East side to get a couple pitches in before sunset. Then the following days, we went scouting walls and climbing on existing lines. And we began to bolt new lines. Brette Harrington and Elliott Bernhagen had arrived a couple days prior to me and had started to develop the new sector that Tapu recommended us to start developing. Brette had gone ground up on a strikingly beautiful tufa line — which we later named “Coconut Crab,” — and a line just to the right of it. The obvious next line in this sector was the segment of rock that followed a layback-seam into an absolutely blank-looking face. Could it go? No idea.
That’s the neat thing with first ascents — it’s this process of transforming something that looks like an aesthetic line, rapping or climbing up it with aid, finding the line of where the climb could go — and putting in bolts. Then — in my opinion, the fun begins. Testing out sequences on the line — seeing where the hidden holds that make the climb go from being impossible to possible — a reality.
On this line that I chose, the beginning seemed pretty obvious. I knew the holds were there and if it was hard or not, at least all the sections for the first 6–8 bolts looked passable. Then the holds on the rock seemed to disappear and there was about a 15 foot blank space, followed by the appearance of some small edges again.
I swung around on my rope, jumarring and rappelling back down, searching for options through this blank space. I found some small flat edges hidden in the featured, slick limestone — and some small holes that could fit a single finger. Monos!
I filed down some barnacles and brushed holds, desperately putting chalk on potential little spots my finger tips could grip on to.
After this process, I started working the route. I navigated the beginning to figure out the most fluid sequences — and then I started to work what was the obvious crux section. The first day trying it, I was concerned it actually was going to be extremely desperate at best to climb through the blank section.
The more time I spent on the wall, literally staring at this same 15-foot section of rock, I started to see possibilities. What if you did a big cross into the mono then made a dynamic release-move out right to this really small flat edge — then — hiked your feet up high to a smear, crossed through and got the other little mono with your left middle finger and crossed up right hand high to another little edge? But there are no feet… — Oh- I could do a high left heel hook to offset my weight on the right and smear my right foot to be able to leverage my body taller and reach higher with my left hand.
All these minuscule details make a big difference to finding out if something is possible or not; and sometimes, that process feels almost infinite.
This process; staring up at a blank, challenging rock face, to then putting chalk on the holds and finding little weaknesses in the rock that could serve as something to hold on to — it’s like uncovering a sculpture — and finding the beauty in the line.
I came directly from a bouldering trip, so I actually was feeling quite strong but I found these moves to still be very challenging, so I wasn’t sure about the grade of the route as I worked on it. I figured it could be in the 8a-8b range because the beginning wasn’t harder than 5.12 climbing, into a v9-like crux, to then a v7 finish move. I ended up giving it a tentative grade of 8a when I desperately sent it — because I hadn’t ended up needing as many days to put it together as I thought, I found a good rest before the crux, and I figure that I could have been really tired from climbing and bolting many days in a row with extreme heat and humidity. A solid 5.13 grade feels appropriate for now! This was the hardest route at the sector we developed, but we also put up a range of routes from 5.11 — 5.12.
Of course — with the magic of this island, the impeccable rock, and its luscious livelihood, you may wonder why we chose to bolt. The climbing on this island is almost all sport climbing, and the local community is very much in support of developing this frontier. With face-climbing and very featured limestone, there is not often traditional climbing.
Climbing can serve as this new chapter — a drive for tourism and activity on the island that interacts with nature — not one that extracts its natural resources. We used stainless steel bolts and titanium glue-in anchors to last for years of climbers to use. We also brought and left extra drills, bolts, ropes, harnesses, shoes and other equipment for the local community to continue to use.
Julien explained to us that it is hard to make a decent living on Makatea; many people moved back to the island as retirees — and most people are trying to make ends meet. To Julien, the tourism industry by way of rock climbing and adventure is the sustainable option for the island to move forward.
Everything is so alive in Makatea. As we toured the island, old ruins from the phosphate mining days still exist; rusted over and overgrown by vibrant green vines and tree routes intermingling through their features. It seems as though nature is pushing through what was, in order to continue to thrive. The land is incredibly fertile and provides home to bee hives, vanilla plants, dried coconut, and is also home to the coconut crab — a Tahitian delicacy.
It may be cheesy to equate a Disney movie with an island, but I got true Moana vibes from the island of Makatea. Everyone is so in touch with their surroundings, their needs, community, family, and love. When the sea started to pick up and the trail got enclosed by water in front of our truck, Tapu would say, “nature, man.” When the stars glittered like sprinkles all over the sky, “Nature.”
I haven’t felt such a lift of stress in a long time. My phone was in airplane mode the entire time, and at the Guest house, we got fleeting slices of slow-paced internet… enough to load an instagram post, but not enough to download most emails. It’s easy to say I want to disconnect from my phone more, but it can be hard for me to put that to practice. In Makatea, it was just the way it was. So I left my phone in my room and I was fully present with the beauty of the island and the people I got to share this experience with. Our days began around 7am and ended around 7pm. We’d climb and bolt on the West side of the island in the morning, and then chase the shade to the East side in the afternoons. In the middle of our days, we’d go to the caves in the middle of the island and swim through cavernous rock coves in fresh cold water to cool off. We’d play around with the shallow water bouldering in these caves and marvel at bulbous soft limestone rock formations and big chandelier-like drooping features.
Currently, there are just over 100 routes in Makatea, ranging from 5.6 — 5.14. Many of these climbs are 30m (~90 ft) tall lines. This still comprises of less than 15% of the potential climbing that exists. I have traveled to over 50 different countries, many of which specifically for climbing trips. The rock in Makatea is world class. From the marble-white head walls, to the steep, dimensional black and white featured prows, if you can get over climbing in the heat, Makatea should be on your bucket list of climbing destinations to travel to.
As it stands, La Compagnie Francaise does Phosphates de l’Oceanie (CFPO) applied for a mining concession to remove any remaining phosphate. This project remains in limbo and the French Polynesian government plans to review this new 30-year proposal. The deadline for this proposal keeps getting extended so no mining has begun, ad the campaign to prevent the mine is ongoing by the local population.
Something special about this island is the term Mana. It translates colloquially to the energy of the island. What I feel is peace, love, and excitement for a new Makatea emanating out of my time here; one without the devastation of phosphate mining.
