FIJI: Racing Across Fiji

By the time the weather broke, it was time to get the boat to the west side of Viti Levu, Fiji's main island. We need to be well south of here by the start of cyclone season, so we'll complete our passage preparations near Lautoka (convenient provisioning and chandlery), then leave at the first open weather window near the end of October.

Fiji is full of reefs, and navigation is extremely tricky. Charts are incomplete and in some cases inaccurate; even with electronic navigation systems and GPS waypoints, boats hit reefs (more scrapes than collisions, though there are some of each!). Travel must be in good light, keeping daily distances short. That could have meant 'explore ashore time' at the end of each day, but anchorages on the route we had to take were primarily functional: safe--and often pretty--but lacking shore attractions like beaches or hikes. 

The camera kept clicking, though! Some sights from our "motel anchorages":

Sunset at Wainunu Bay

Since it's near the end of the safe cruising season,
we had the immense and tranquil Mbua Bay all to ourselves

Yandua Island was our favorite stop on this route, since it had the only village
we were able to visit.

In Fiji, islands and their surrounding reefs and waters are owned by the people (not the king, as in Tonga). Custom dictates that guests bring an offering of yaqona (kava root) to the village chief, who gives his permission for visitors to stay, swim, hike, take photos, etc. The asking and receiving of permission is highly ritualized, and can involve making and drinking kava in an elaborate ceremony. We didn't get the ceremony, but village headman Ben helped us complete the formalities with Chief Johnny (who later visited our boat for a cold drink).

It turned out to be the most delightful village experience we've had anywhere, with enthusiastic 'Bula!'s (Hellos) greeting us from all the homes. People were eager to introduce themselves and find out about us: name, age, origin (word spread fast that we were from 'America'!), how long it took to get here from there, where we were last, etc. There was no sense of wanting anything from us other than friendship--though the small candies we'd brought for the children soon attracted a crowd of adults as well. (We always bring a few staples too, but have learned that treats are more fun for everyone!) That day will always stand out in our memories...

All homes were close to this narrow cement sidewalk, had laundry hanging outside and large woven mats
covering the floors inside. Even the traditional thatched bures had solar panels! 

Closeup of a bure

Boy on the beach

Kids in the new part of the village--
corrugated metal homes that replaced bures destroyed by a hurricane 

Me: "You have such beautiful eyes!"
Her: "I like your tattoo."
Me: "It's a picture of Harmony; it means we are all connected to each other."
Her: a great big smile...

The west anchorage was a
magical place:
beaches, snorkeling reefs,
sunset views.
Ah, to have been able to stay
for a few days!
But even one was a gift...

This is not an anchorage, but it's not just ocean, either. It's between Fiji's two main islands and is called Bligh Water--named after the captain of the Bounty. In 1789, he and his loyal crew of 18 men, after being dumped by mutineers in Tonga, rowed for their lives across this water to escape cannibals. Not only did they avoid a gruesome fate, Bligh completed one of the most remarkable feats of navigation in maritime history, guiding the small open boat over 3600 miles to a safe landfall in Indonesia.

These aren't anchorages either, but sights along the north coast of Viti Levu:

This area looked much drier than we expected.
To our surprise and delight, the contours and the vegetation actually looked very much like
the hills around Ashland.

A modern bure: same design, but storm-resistant building materials

Reefs like this are often invisible at higher tides

Our final anchorages:

Nananu-i-Thake

Mba River delta

Saweni Bay

FIJI: Savusavu

The passage to Fiji was one of our best: plenty of sunshine with steadily building winds and waves that came largely from behind, so they weren't uncomfortable and gave us a great push. It only took us 3 days to sail from Tonga to Fiji, and it would have been just 2 1/2 if we hadn't slowed down to avoid a night arrival (coming in to an unknown place in the dark is a cruising no-no). What combination of luck and skill brought us to Savusavu at exactly our target time?

It's a good thing we arrived when we did, too. Following us in was a weather pattern that brought two solid weeks of high winds, then rain that increased to torrential levels. It was unsafe to sail anywhere in Fiji, so everyone was stuck wherever they were--in our case, Savusavu (on the north island of Vanua Levu).

Second Wind (center) at Savusavu

After the cultural unity of Tonga, Fiji's eclectic ethnic mix was a significant change. One of the fun aspects of cruising is trying a variety of local foods; in Fiji, the two predominant cultures--indigenous Fijian and Indian--each have delicious offerings, all of them inexpensive. As one would expect, curries (always a favorite of mine) were widely available. Fijian dishes emphasize fish in coconut milk: steamed chunks of fish (skin and bones included) are served "in lolo" (coconut broth) or "with miti" (spicy coconut milk, served room temperature because of its inherent heat). Both were terrific!

Typical street scene

Simple surroundings with fabulous food

In addition to a change in local culture, we immediately noticed a change in the cruising culture as well. All across the Pacific we encountered people doing exactly what we're doing: heading west on their first (and for almost everyone, their last) trip to New Zealand or Australia. We were exploring together, with much in common and much to share. Though we have met a few well-off crews, by far the majority are people like us, who sold everything to make this dream happen. They are--or were--electricians, mechanics, engineers, teachers: self-sufficient problem solvers willing and able to do the gritty work it takes to keep a cruising boat functional.

That character profile didn't change in Fiji, but the experience level did. Many one-way cruisers either headed to New Zealand from Tonga, or were bound for Australia to sell their boat. Savusavu was populated with long-term cruisers, people who'd been living aboard for many years. Some traversed a large swath of the southwest Pacific, some had been all over the world. Returning to Seattle, our experience would seem formidable; here, we are newbies! We picked up lots of tricks, but mostly just enjoyed their awe-inspiring stories.

It occurred to me that there's a difference of purpose as well. One-timers' goals are adventure, exploration, challenge. I suspect the long-timers' main motivation is Freedom...

A gallery of other enjoyable sights and activities in Savusavu:

As always, we made regular trips to the grower's market

Kava is sold at the market, both for personal use and to take as gifts to outlying villages; kava ceremonies are an integral part of traditional Fiji culture.

A reminder of how these islands were born: hot springs bubble up to ground level right in town. Local women place pots in the water to cook meals, seen here covered with burlap bags (the pots, not the women! they do other chores while the food is cooking).  Children from the kindergarten next door were having recess when we visited. This would not pass US safety codes...

...nor would this!  The knife dance (and yes, the knife is real and large) is a traditional solo male dance in Tonga and Fiji. The knife is treated as a baton, twirled and swirled and tossed. (Fire dances are performed in a similar fashion.) This young boy was clearly thrilled to be in the spotlight with his skills!

For the first time in a long while, I was in the spotlight too. The delightful woman who manages the marina asked me to give a violin performance--and even though I'm out of shape (I do practice, but I'm nowhere near my normal playing level) and the instrument isn't good quality, for some reason I agreed. (I guess I figured no matter what came out, it would be better than any other live violin music anyone had heard recently--since that would be none...)

It was a dark & stormy night, after over a week of dark & stormy nights. Who would want to don foul weather gear and come ashore in a dinghy to hear classical violin? It turned out, lots of people did! The casual atmosphere was ideal: I gave a patter of background info for the excerpts I'd selected, while guests enjoyed beer & wine & finger food. We all had fun, and it felt gratifying to do in this life what I do in my other life: connect people with Music.

The music wasn't improvised, but the setup was:
no music stand, so music was taped to a bar table;
no lighting, so Stage Manager Art kept a flashlight going

And a few other images:

Steam rising where the hot springs water meets the sea

A 'swimming raft' (used for fun) kept near the shore

Farewell to Waitui Marina, as soon as the weather cleared
(a ramshackle building, but the personnel were fantastic!)

Tonga: The Rest of the Story

The appropriately named local repair shop.
Art did his own work, but owner Ian offered great advice and support;
they formed a mutual admiration society. 

We did find more than the usual share of trouble in the paradise of Tonga. It turned out that removing, repairing and reinstalling the transmission was not Art's most difficult engineering challenge. The new alternator we purchased in Neiafu didn't perform as well as we'd been led to believe, so after barely a week in the outer islands we had to return to town and order one from New Zealand. (The "expedited" delivery ended up on a ferry that only came once a week, then we had to hire a broker to retrieve it from Customs. No one should ever complain about the US postal service!) In the meantime we managed to keep the battery bank alive, but we didn't use the refrigerator, watermaker, SSB radio (= weather & communication), computer--anything that drew power. Fellow cruisers were glad to share their own stories of multiple breakdowns, and while I won't deny it was frustrating to see so little of Tonga, we knew it was all part of living on a boat. As one cruiser put it: this may be paradise, but it's still real life.

Art's view of Tonga

An abnormal weather pattern was unpleasant as well. Three weeks of clouds and rain were great for filling local water cisterns, but sailors became gloomy. One night we got almost 8" of rain; everyone's boats were fine, but many dinghies needed bailing!

*    *    *

I often say "everything in perspective": mechanical problems seemed large until genuine tragedies occurred. During our stay in Tonga, three people dear to us passed away suddenly. The burdens of grief were heavy, intensified by being way too distant to offer solace to our family and close friends who lost their children (adults, but far too young). 
Derek, Chris and Tim, we love you and miss you!

*    *    *

Me at 60

On a brighter note, I turned 60 in Tonga. To some of you that sounds old, to others it sounds young (and I'm honored to have friends who span that spectrum). Lucky me: we celebrated twice, once on Sept. 4 on this side of the international date line, and again when it was Sept. 4 where I was born. Dinner on nearby Tapana Island was the highlight; the setting was rustic but the tapas were fabulous! (Bringing my violin and joining the musicians for a few numbers was also memorable.)

Too bad he didn't cooperate and look at the camera,
but the goat in the eating area--shooed away when food was served--
was part of the atmosphere

One plate in a long parade of delicacies

Reflection was as enjoyable as celebration...

Camden sees these photos and says we look like voyaging is an anti-aging formula; though some nights in the middle of a several-day passage I would swear it's the reverse, I think he's right. It's not because this way of life is easy or stress-free (ha!), but it does feel invigorating. Needing to stay strong and agile helps, of course. More important, we're constantly learning new things and getting outside our comfort zone. The joy of discovery, taking pleasure in small things: we may be aging, but we have ample opportunities to experience child-like delights.

Of all the treasured images I retain from this adventure, my favorites are the older women: the radiant ones, the ones who still dance. Both serene and joyful, they are who I want to be when I grow up.

Me at 80