Honeymoon photos at InterContinental Le Moana, Bora Bora

Everyone thinks they know Bora Bora. The lagoon, the overwater bungalows, Mount Otemanu keeping watch over all of it. A postcard you've seen a thousand times.

Except a postcard tells you nothing about the two of you.

What you're really after at Le Moana isn't the scenery. The scenery is a given. It's what happens inside it, between you, when the light is right. And that part doesn't improvise itself.

Le Moana, a backdrop that doesn't fake it

The InterContinental Le Moana sits on Matira Point, on one of the most beautiful beaches on the island. The lagoon on one side, Otemanu on the other. And the two of you in between.

The lagoon first. Those shades of blue you only really see here. At the right hour, it turns into a living backdrop, never the same twice.

Then the overwater bungalows. Wood, water, sky. A quiet moment on a private deck, feet just above the lagoon. Simple. Real.

And the beach. White sand, palm trees, a walk hand in hand as the sun moves. Nothing staged. Just the two of you, and what you are to each other.

Light comes first

You might know me a little, or not yet. So let me say it upfront: I love working at sunrise or sunset. Bora is no exception.

With one twist, and it's good news for you. Here, in the morning, you can let the sun climb a little. The white sand throws back an incredible light, the lagoon gives up all its blue, and for the drone, nothing compares. No brutal wake-up call required.

In practice, I fly into Bora on the first flight of the morning. The session usually starts around 8 or 9, and that's perfect. That's when the island is at its very best. That blue is the whole reason you came.

Sunset, I offer less often here. A return flight in the evening is tricky, even a late one. So we lean into the morning, when the light and the lagoon are at their peak.

One thing never changes, in Bora as anywhere: no session in the middle of the day. The light is hard, flat, and the heat wears everyone down. You don't want to remember your session as sweat down your back and eyes squinting at the sun.

Good light flatters everyone, no exceptions. In Bora, it keeps its appointment in the morning. And that's where I like to work.

The drone in Bora isn't like anywhere else

The wide shot, in Bora, is almost a given. The turquoise lagoon, the reef, Otemanu at the center, your story set right in the middle of it. A frame nothing else can give you.

Except here, you don't just send a drone up whenever you feel like it. And that's a good thing.

Bora is a tiny island with an airport sitting on a motu, right in the heart of the view. Planes come in low, often, several times a day, and that's before the helicopters. Up there, it's genuinely busy. Sending a drone up alone, with no clearance, isn't a fun little dare. It's a real hazard.

Since 2026, European drone rules apply in full across French Polynesia, which is French territory. In plain terms, a traveler who pulls out a drone to film their honeymoon is, in nearly every beautiful spot, breaking the law. The big resorts ban it on their grounds, to protect their guests' privacy. On arrival, you often sign a document that spells it out in black and white. Fly one anyway, and it can mean being asked to leave, no refund, on top of fines that really sting.

One thing in your favor, though. Le Moana sits on Matira Point, to the south, a good distance from the airport. It's one of the few areas of Bora where an authorized flight is still on the table, while the big northern motus are far more locked down.

The drone, in Bora, has to be earned. It takes a certified pilot, permits filed ahead of time, the right zones, the right insurance. That's my job. I'm a certified professional drone pilot, I fly by the book, and I handle all of that so you carry none of it.

The drone is never guaranteed, weather and air traffic always have the final say. But when the sky lines up, in Bora, the result takes your breath away.

I don't live in Bora. But I know it.

I'm not a Bora photographer, and I won't pretend to be. I've come several times, for projects worth the trip. A family I've been photographing for years. A honeymoon that began on Moorea and carried on here. A family session on Matira beach, right where Le Moana sets its feet in the sand. Saïda and her love's honeymoon, among others.

Sessions in the right place, with the right people. I've read this light. I've watched how the lagoon answers it as it climbs in the morning. I've found the angles that actually matter. Bora's light is still light. And reading light has been my craft from the very start.

My home ground is Tahiti and Moorea. But I travel.

Out there, I know every beach, every hour, every season. It's home, and I'm very happy in it.

But some couples don't choose a photographer for the package. They choose an eye. A way of telling the story. And the care that comes with it, from the first message to the finished gallery. Those couples know what they want, often without having to explain it.

If that's what you're looking for, distance stops mattering much.

With Amélie, we're not just a camera. We're a duo. Real hands-on care, an eye for light sharpened by 25 years on the ground, and the option to go further than a single session when you want it: the drone, the film, the content creation.

It stays rare, I won't hide that. But when a project deserves it, I pack my bags. For yours, gladly.

Let's talk

A honeymoon at the InterContinental Le Moana, in Bora Bora, doesn't come around twice. Worth keeping images that truly look like you, not just one more pretty postcard.

Planning your stay in Bora? Write to me. We'll look together at what we can create, in the island's light.