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“Niue, Niue” (coconut, coconut). What more could you possibly need when making landfall on a remote tropical island after weeks, or months, at sea?
You can drink the milk and eat the flesh the coconut. From the husk you can make oil, rope, fuel, bait, medicine and dishware. From the palm fronds you can make shelter, clothing and baskets.  “Coconut ahoy! Niue, Niue”.   
Formed by volcanic pressure deep within the earth that forced the seabed up like a mountainous pimple on the face of the ocean floor, Niue is the largest upraised coral atoll in the world. Rugged and rain-forested, it is an explorer's dream.
Niue is not on the usual circuit of the yachting fraternity, most choosing to sail on by without stopping or, if sailing from New Zealand or Australia on the annual cruising migration, most opt for a Tongan landfall two days earlier. Why not sail the tradewinds further onto Niue and then from there downwind to Tonga and Fiji? There are no reefs to navigate and all one has to do is follow the coastline until you see the cliff top town with the wharf below. Being only 30-miles of coastline, it is just an afternoon cruise.
But we’re not going to sail on by today. It’s mid afternoon and the approach is from the southwest as Captain Don Sexton brings the Royal Tongan Airlines Boeing 737 in for approach.
At 15000 feet, Niue was surrounded by high altitude cirrus cloud and privelaged to be sitting in the cockpit jump-seat, I couldn’t see much, until;  “Ah there she is” advises Captain Sexton, “the HMS Niue”
“I beg your pardon”, I ask ignorantly.
“Yes that’s her”’ he points through the porthole,  “Her Majesties Ship Niue, just like a ship at sea. At night, in this part of the South Pacific, there are no lights except for the landing strip on Niue. Landing an aircraft on Niue at night is like landing on an aircraft carrier in the dark. You can’t see a thing. It’s an experience for pilots, a kind of aviator’s adrenaline rush she is. The HMS Niue”.
That was my first sighting of Niue Island and the beginning of a cruise that, although only lasted for a week, remains in my memory as one of the great ocean adventures of my life. And as a sailor with over 30,000 ocean miles logged, that is some recommendation.
The local Police Chief was there as meet n’greet ambassador, welcoming passengers as he does for every flight. One can’t help but feel comfortable when the Police Chief has no other pressing business than to personally meet arriving aircraft and welcome visitors. Another reassuring Niuean custom from the local rental car agent advised, “It is a crime to lock your car, you must leave the keys in it, just in case someone has to move it for you”. 
Now I’ve had flower leis upon arrival in Honolulu, welcome musicians in Fiji and a Maori Haka in New Zealand, but as a welcome gesture to a new land this was most refreshing and clearly reinforced the fact that Niue is certainly ‘off the beaten track’.
I was headed for even further off the beaten track, to Beveridge Reef, 120 nautical miles south east of Niue and only accessible by boat.
The only information on Beveridge Reef had come from the odd cruising yacht that had sailed through. Reports of crystal clear water, spectacular snorkeling, diving and lots of fish.  There was little other knowledge about the place, no records of the marine life, no accurate chart, just hearsay and rumor.
So when we sailed out of Alofi Bay at midday with 30 dive tanks, 2 compressors and enough photography equipment to start a studio, the 12 other crew and myself all mused as to just what was in store for us.
When the sun came up the next morning after a smooth overnight beam sail, all hands were on deck, cameras at the ready, for the first sighting of mystical Beveridge Reef.
The hand sketched chart we had most faith in indicated this horseshoe shaped reef was six nautical miles across and two miles wide, with varying depths inside the lagoon of between 10 to 15 meters.
Very easily, we found the opening in the horseshoe on the western side, 20 meters wide with a depth of 8 to 10 meters. Visibility so clear from the deck of the yacht that we doubted the depth sounders accuracy. It was like watching an underwater movie from the deck. Coral and fish were so defined that it all looked too shallow to pass over and we weren’t even in the water yet! Nonetheless, the sounder was correct and we were still actually in 20 meters of water.
Welcome to Beveridge Reef, the last South Pacific Frontier.
While the lagoon is speckled with coral heads and bombies, slipping past them with a 3-meter draft was no problem.
In 10 meters of water the only yacht in Beveridge Lagoon dropped anchor on the sandy bottom, the crystal water sparkling a perfect palette of blues. Brilliant turquoise within the lagoon and out to the rim of the reef, deepening to a soft cerulean beyond and then to a dark metallic cobalt as it dropped off into the great abyss of the South Pacific trench.
Not a palm tree in sight, no vegetation at all. Almost as if the hand of the creator had painted a basic picture and was waiting for nature to take its course and wash up some seedlings to take root. But in such a desolate spot, in the middle of the South Pacific Ocean, it is difficult for even the hardy coconut to take hold.
On the edge of the reef, fish jumped and splash-danced along the rim, sending up glittering bursts of spray in the daily ritual of feeding on the out-going tide.
The slight 1-meter tide receded to expose a two-mile stretch of fine white sand. Even at high tide, one could walk ankle deep in the warm water for two miles. At low tide, with the beach completely exposed, it was a breath taking sight.
The two-meter waves that rose from the ocean swell and curled onto the west beach made me wish I’d brought a surfboard along. Smooth glassy tunnels rolling into perfect tubes. Spiraling left on the north west point and amazingly, curling right further along the beach at the crook of the horseshoe. On that day, in that spot, it was as good as Namotu or Cloudbreak. Surf heaven.
Now if all this sounds a little too dreamy for you, just imagine yourself sitting there. Glassy waves folding ashore in front of you, a shallow turquoise lagoon at your back, a tickle of breeze on your cheek and the warm ocean licking your toes. The only audible sound is the heartbeat of the ocean as she gently swells, rises, crests, and then curls in to caress a glaringly white beach. 
I reached down, grabbed a hand full of powdery sand and stuffed it in my pocket, just to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.
Among our crew we had aboard a Niuean, Colin Harding, who had come prepared with his country’s flag in the event it was possible to land on the reef. With some degree of ceremony and in his native tongue, the first Niuean to visit Beveridge Reef, make footprints on the sand, and with the Prime Ministers approval, planted the flag atop Sunrise Cay to claim it for Niue.
Exploring the eastern side of the reef we found the wreck of a Japanese fishing boat high and dry, like a marooned pirate sentenced to eternity, paying the price for piracy. On this side of the lagoon, the reef floor was carpeted thick with a smaller variety of the giant clam. So great in number it took some skill to avoid stepping on one. And while the thought of a clam feast was salivating, we left the garden intact, unwilling to interfere with natures patchwork quilt.
A leisurely undertaking to troll for dinner from the tender proved to be a laborious task. With a rod out either side, no sooner was the propeller engaged than; ZING! The reel spun with fish after fish. Trevally, coral trout and snapper. Enough fish to feed the entire crew before having moved 100 meters.
Diving proved just as exciting, swimming with schools of barracuda, coral trout and an odd reef shark sunbathing in the shallows.
After several days of exploring, diving and just soaking it all in, it was time to sail the 16 hours back to Alofi Bay.
The Niue Yacht Club has 15 secure moorings in Alofi Bay for the use of visiting yachts.  And, more of a convenience than a sign of the times that Niue may be catching up with the rest of the world, the two coin operated laundries in town can wash away the salt spray while you enjoy a cold beer across the road.
Niue Island and Beveridge Reef may not quite be the edge of the world, nor the last South Pacific frontier, but they’re very close.
And when I think I’m dreaming it all, I still have a pocket full of sun bleached sand stowed on my bookshelf to prove it.

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