Back to the small islands

Crewing on a catamaran around the South Pacific for an extended season, we spent longer than planned in Fiji; waiting for spare parts (which means staying close to heavily populated areas) and sub-optimal weather (which means picking a secure anchorage) plus a dental emergency that meant we had to sail past places we hoped to visit and head for Suva with its movie cinema, traffic lights and lattes.
Of course, we enjoy such luxuries, plus spending time with other yachties, but the real reason for travelling this way is to meet the local people and that we can do best in the smaller and more remote locations, so we were happy to be all ship-shape again and ready to sail away from the two main islands.

We had joyous times anchored off Yanuca Island (Fiji actually boasts more than one ‘Yanuca’) in the safe Beqa Lagoon with incredible coral and abundant fish – no need to get wet, just look over the side into the peppermint-colored waters. We dodged quickly in and out of the popular yachtie hangout of Musket Cove, in the Mananuca group, avoiding the annual regatta with wet t.shirt competitions etc. Yeah – we are not the most sociable sailors out here!

Back to the mainland for more spares we spent time at Port Denerau (close to Nadi airport) there is a small Mall complete with clothes shops and a well-stocked supermarket and luxury cruisers. One visitor was heard to say ‘Now, THIS is the real Fiji’ but we hastened off back to the islands. Cruise vessels of all size (and age) act like taxis and transport visitors to the outer islands far more quickly than we chug or glide along. We became used to seeing them perform clever pick-up and drop-off routines at the smaller jetty-less resorts, and were surprised that the locally-run places in smaller bays use them for transporting passengers and fresh produce.

Waya Island lies in the dramatically-peaked Yasawas where the islands look as if giant creatures lie slumbering just under the surface, a little like the Marquesas other yachties thought . Perhaps our boat took fright as – in the middle of the night – it dragged anchor and we were off on a ride around Yalombi Bay in the darkness. The dinghy line got caught round the propeller, bits and pieces floated away and it was an hour of excitement until we managed to re-anchor. Maybe we just need an anchor that holds as well in mud as it does in sand! As always, I enjoyed watching the ladies finding food on the reef and joined the boys trying to catch tiny fish left stranded in pools but these were expert hoppers were almost impossible to pin down (and too small to eat anyway).

At Manta Ray Bay we didn’t see the rays that come in from the deeper waters, local information as to the best viewing time varied to include all states of tide and weather but it was superb snorkeling anyway. I lost count of the varieties of sealife, swam through a veil of fish quite unconcerned at my intrusion, spotted a lobster too deep to grab, and met a school of squid just too cute to consider eating.

Later we sailed through a REALLY shallow pass - my eyes fixed on the depth meter, Skipper’s on the upstanding coral ‘bommies’ that we had to straddle with the two hulls, quite a buzz! Safely around to a bay not visited by yachts at all and we were welcomed by a couple visiting from their nearby village. They were spending a couple of weeks to maintain the gardens, check on the cattle that had ‘gone bush’, to fish and catch octopus; they accepted our sevusevu (presented kava roots) and we settled in for a few days.

Toting a machete, my Skipper learnt how to plant cassava (tapioca) and yams while I was shown useful plant medicines and helped pick pumpkin, pawpaw and plantains. A hopeless octopus-spotting apprentice, even when they were pointed out, I couldn’t see them. I volunteered to provide dinner however, with the wind and swell rising, getting the food ashore was quite an adventure as we surfed onto the beach in the dinghy, not helped because we were carrying heavy canisters of fresh water (made on board by de-salination) as the island was quite dry.

The winds were kind to us in the gritty sugar-mill town of Lautoka, depositing a modest amount of ash on our decks, we got used to the peculiar smell of the pile of wood chips – so high it features on navigational charts; and the people were ever-cheerful and helpful. Completing final maintenance tasks we turned to provisioning, the market was knee-deep in fresh produce, all the vegetables a vessel planning to go to a practically soil-less country like Tuvalu could wish for, plus mangoes galore and glasses of fresh cumquat juice.

How to get photographs back out to our new friends on Naviti? I knew some of the ladies came in to sell produce at the market, found one from the right village and showed her a photo ‘Do you know who this is?’, she squinted at it and said ‘Yes, my brother’! The free delivery deal is – you save on postage but leave the envelope open so everyone can have a look!

Time to move further north (Vinaka vakalevu, Fiji) and so we head for Tuvalu……… posted separately.

Angela - I'm so enjoying your reports - do let us know when the book is published - you ARE going to put it all in a book, aren't you?

Hi Angela

I haven't looked at this branch for a little while but your journal will bring me back...thank you for sharing your beautiful story with us. I look forward to your next chapter.

Jules.

Glad you got here Angela!