’m in French Polynesia on the far side of the world. It must be one of Europe’s most remote outposts. It is classed as an “Overseas Collectivity” of France which suggests the complicated relationship it still has with that country.

The 118 islands, spread over 1,500 square miles of South Pacific Ocean, have a population of around a quarter of a million. While the islands have their own government they are heavily dependent on France for military power as well as justice, health and the gendarmerie.

With the proliferation of boulangeries touting their freshly baked croissants and baguettes, and the use of the franc, the islands have a distinctly Gallic feel.

French Polynesia has a reputation for being one of the most beautiful places on Earth.

While the island produces plenty of vanilla and coconuts, the archipelago is now heavily reliant on tourism.

The last time I was here was more than 10 years ago when I passed through the remote islands on my way to another South Pacific anomaly, Pitcairn Island, an overseas territory of Great Britain.

There was something very strange about going from a French protectorate, across an ocean to a British one, all thousands of miles away from their European counterparts. It took me nearly a week of sailing into one of the biggest storms I’ve ever experienced to reach the remote island, home to the descendants of the mutineers from HMS Bounty.

Here Fletcher Christian and his motley crew sought refuge from the British Navy who never found them.

After days of vomiting and misery, I finally reached the pinprick of an island, only to be arrested and deported within the hour on the basis I didn’t have the correct paperwork and on suspicion of illegally trying to smuggle a breadfruit tree on to the island. There are indeed times in one’s life when fact really is stranger than fiction. It has remained my lifelong ambition to revisit Pitcairn, which has since experienced a seismic change after many of the men were imprisoned in a notorious abuse case several years ago.

Until I return there, I will have to make do with our South Pacific French neighbours, in the Marquesas.

It’s a tough job but someone has to do it.