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Our plan was to island hop our way south to the Great Astrolabe Reef, world famous for its diving. The Total Devotions went on westward to Musket Cove to pick up a visiting friend so it was just the Imagines and us. Along the way, called into Koro, Ngau (see the last email for details of our excellent visit there), and finally North Astrolabe Reef. After a windy night anchored there with only the protection of a lighthouse on a small rock awash(=zero), and no prospect of diving, we moved on to the Great Astrolabe Reef. We anchored off the little island village on Dravuni and made our sevusevu with the chief there. As I mentioned before, sevusevu is a ceremony by visitors to pay respect to the Tui Ratu or chief of a village or island. Visitors typically give a gift of some kava root and in the case of yachties, we also presented to him our Fijian cruising permit. In exchange, the chief will grant permission to come ashore, swim and fish in their area, offer protection and assistance, yada, yada, yada. The chief was quite happy to get his grog and be done with us, so we moved on to the little island of Yaukuvelevu, a few miles south, and joined a fleet of yachties including our friends Aleta and John on “Holding Pattern.” They had been there for a few weeks, diving along the western edge of the reef, where there are numerous passes, spectacular walls and coral canyons, not to mention gazillions of fish, and an abundance of very healthy hard and soft corals. The Great Astrolabe Reef is feels quite remote, yet on a clear night, the glow of the lights from Suva, the capitol of Fiji, can be seen on the horizon.

Since they were all nearly out of diesel, veggies, rum and gasoline to power the dingies and dive compressors, we only got a day to socialize before they had to headed off west to reprovision in Musket Cove. We did get a lot of intel from them on the best dive sites in the area from all their personal experience. The weather had been unsettled for a few days so we had not been able to get into the water, other than for an occasional snorkel during a nice break.

There is a species of sea snake here called the “banded sea krait” that has unnerved us a bit. These little guys are amphibious and come to shore at this time of year to lay their eggs. According to our “Guide to Venomous and Toxic Marine Life of the World,” they are quite poisonous, producing enough venom in just one bite to kill more than 20 humans. The problem is that with their tiny little snake brains, they don’t know the difference between “shore” and “yacht.” One of these critters found its way into the cockpit scupper drains of Salacia last week and Tom on Imagine caught another attempting to crawl up his anchor chain. We are all hoping that one doesn’t try to lay its eggs under our pillow. The good news is that they are generally not dangerous unless provoked to attack, and their mouths are very small, their fangs well back in their mouth and they have a difficult time injecting venom into a human…not to mention swallowing one whole.

Finally, the day before yesterday, the sky cleared, the wind calmed, the whitecaps on the lagoon disappeared and Tom from Imagine shouted “OOOGA, OOOGA, DIVE, DIVE!” over the VHF radio. We loaded all of our gear into the dinks zipped out to nearby Herald Pass. The visibility was easily 150+ feet, and as advertised, the diving nothing short of spectacular. The coral gardens that form the barrier reef roll off into 100+ foot vertical walls that plunge to a rock and sand bottom. The coral canyons are deep with lots of pukas and interesting caves. The reef is teeming with fish of all types and sizes and the hard and soft corals come in infinite varieties, sizes and colors. Dives on this sort of site just never seem long enough. It was a bit of a bash getting back to the yachts from the dive site, but well worth the ten minute bone jarring dinghy ride. So far, we have made only five jumps, all absolutely first class, but we have some time to burn and will wait out the weather to get in as many as possible before we have to move on.

As usual, all is not diving and beach parties. Along with the fun comes at least an hour or two a day maintenance and repair. My ability to regenerate the skin on my knuckles is exceeded only by the ability of my autopilots, watermaker, heads, and other miscellaneous mechanical and electrical gear to regularly fail or require maintenance, causing epidermal sacrifices during the corrective process. Also, all of the dead skin, hair, and food particles we all drop, not to mention cat hair, mold, dust, kitty litter, sand, salt deposits, etc. that all accumulate in our 400-odd square feet of living space aboard Moonshadow require an accelerated cleaning schedule. That, along with cooking most of our 21 meals a week, making our own electricity and water, burning garbage ashore and doing the wash on board keep us pretty busy. When the anchor is grumbling on a bommie and/or we get 25-knot wind “bullets” that wake us up six times a night, we sometimes think fondly of our vacation where we had peace, quiet and a bed that didn’t move all night. No complaints, just some of the realities of cursing and we wouldn’t trade it for the world.

The weather is crappy at the moment. It is windy, overcast and rainy so diving and hiking are out. It’s either clean the bottom of the boat or do some writing. OK, I guess the bottom isn’t THAT dirty.

Yes, the political situation in Fiji is still dicey. So far, it has not affected us too much, but we have been avoiding populated areas and maintaining a readiness to head directly west to Vanuatu if the situation warrants. We keep a close ear to the short wave radio, listening to the latest news from the BBC and the local Fiji radio station which is called, believe it or not, “Bula 100.” Thanks also to Cate’s brother, Matthew, who regularly emails us reports on the crisis from the fijilive.com website. We feel very bad for the Fijians. The racial, power and money struggle between a very few here will set back the already fragile economy by at least ten years. The good news is that George Speight and his band of hooligan supporters are “detained” on an isolated prison island so it looks as if the military can finally begin to reestablish peace and order to the country. We remain bound and determined not to let that #!*&$@! screw up our Fijian cruising plans!

We ended up hanging out in the little backwater town Savusavu for a couple of weeks after our arrival. Being the only boat from the Auckland to Savusavu Race fleet to actually make it to Fiji, we were treated well by everyone around the Copra Shed Marina and Savusavu Yacht Club. We even received a write-up in the “Fiji Sun” newspaper, as the “only yacht to complete the race.” I guess it made a better story than “Stupid Yank yachties keep sailing, hard to weather, right into a banana republic in the middle of a hostile coup d’etat.”

It was nice to have some meals ashore (no cooking or dishes!), and to catch up on our rest and boat maintenance. MooCrew Amy, Eric and Todd all hung out to enjoy a bit of R & R in Fiji before returning to the real world. Nick’s wife Karen joined him and shifted boats to hang out with our buddy boaters Tim and Cindy on “Total Devotion.” For Cort, it was back to the States the day after we arrived due to family and work obligations. I guess for some it’s not the destination, but the journey that matters. A big thanks to all of them for a safe and fun passage, in spite of the less than favorable sailing conditions and questionable destination.

The Saturday after we arrived, the Savusavu Yacht Club sponsored a fun race to the lovely little island of Koro, about 30 miles south, so of course we joined the fleet. It was a bash, beating into fresh southeast tradewinds the entire way, but due to some great trimming and helming by the crack crew, and catching a favorable wind shift near the end, we placed second in the fleet and won a gift certificate to our favorite restaurant in town. The only resort on the island of Koro hosted a party for the entire fleet that night. The bar and buffet were open and free the entire evening, and there was even a live band playing dance music afterwards. NO COOKING, NO DISHES and NO BILL!!

The “Total Devotion” crew joined us for a hike to a remote waterfall the following day. The locals told us “Follow this road for 20 minutes and head downstream when you come to the creek. You can walk along the beach to return to the cove.” Well, the first part was fine. We all enjoyed a nice walk on the high road overlooking the ocean, and a short trek down the lazy creek teeming with freshwater prawns. Of course, the waterfall was dramatic and we all had a refreshing swim in the cool water under the falls. We assumed that the creek ran to the sea, as most creeks eventually do. Wrong! It ran toward the sea, into a mangrove swamp and more or less disappeared into dense undergrowth. After a half hour of bushwhacking, we finally found the beach. Ah, no worries, now just follow this nice beach to the cove. Wrong again! It was about four miles of hiking and wading along the water on everything from soft sand beach, to bush trail, to rocky cliffs, to get back to the cove. Those of us who made it all the way summoned boats to collect the tired, sore and blistered scattered along the way.

We had a quick and pleasant downwind sail back to Savusavu a couple days later, where Cate and I said good-bye to all the remaining MooCrew and began provisioning up for some cruising. After waiting out some reinforced trade winds for a few days, we headed east to Viani Bay, one of the cruiser’s favorite destinations, and met up with our Auckland marina neighbors Rita and David from “Bossanova.” I think that Bossanova is Brazilian for “let’s PARTY!”

We were welcomed to Viani Bay by Jack Fisher, whose family owns much of the land around this large and well protected anchorage. Jack, a perfect example of Fijian friendliness and hospitality, gave us permission to walk on shore, fish and dive in the waters of the bay and offered to help us in any way he could. He provided moorings, fresh coconuts, arranged for laundry to be washed, hosted a couple of killer beach bar-b-ques, ferried provisions from Somosomo, the nearest village, to some of the fleet and acted as our personal dive guide.

Viani Bay opens up to the Rainbow Reef, known to divers worldwide for its spectacular diving. Jack took us on a number of dives to sites there like the “Fish Factory” and the “White Wall,” both very aptly named. The Fish Factory had some pretty wicked currents that split up our little group of divers and took us in a figure 8 pattern over a small sea mount, but there were enough fish to restock the public aquariums in every major city in the world. At the White Wall, we jumped into forty feet of water and descended into a near vertical coral cave to about eighty or ninety feet where we popped out along a vertical wall, covered in delicate white soft corals. It looked like snow patches clinging to crevices on the side of a mountain. The visibility was easily 100+ feet and a number of large pelagic fish, such as reef sharks, tuna and napoleon wrasse were spotted by our group. Jack hovered above with our dingies and picked us up when we surfaced.

After a week or so, it was time to move on, so we sailed to Matagi Island, another 25 miles or so east. The winds were nearly out of the north, so we anchored on the protected south side of the island off a little honeymoon resort. It was nice to do some hiking on the paths around the lush, green island and have a few meals ashore, while socializing with some of the vacationing Yanks. On one hike, Cate and I got in a torrential downpour. We sought shelter under a rock overhang near the beach. After an hour of carefully studying the habits of coconut crabs, with no respite in sight, we tossed in the towel and sloshed back to “Moonshadow,” which by then had a thorough fresh water rinse-down.

The winds shifted back to the southeast, so we moved around to the north side of Matagi to a spectacular little horseshoe shaped bay. The surrounding steep basaltic cliffs, with their clinging greenery was evidence that the bay was old, blown out volcanic cone, who’s summit was barely poking out of the surface of the sea. It was nice to spend a couple of peaceful days in an idyllic little tropical island anchorage that seemed to be light years from civilization. Cate and I went snorkeling just outside of the horseshoe bay one morning. We swam among the reef fish, rousted a lazy little blacktip reef shark sleeping under a bommie, and spotted a shy sea turtle. While exploring one bommie, a remora came up and attempted to attach itself to my ankle. A remora is fish that typically attaches itself to sharks and manta rays, feeding off of food scraps and parasites attached to their hosts in a sort of symbiotic relationship. They are harmless fish and this little guy’s antics gave us a chuckle.

Ready to do some serious SCUBA diving, the Total Devotions, long time cruising friends Tom and Pam on “Imagine” and we sailed further east to Wailangilala Island. Wailangilala is a tiny “Gilligan” type island with a rusty old lighthouse planted in its center and inhabited only by huge (3-5 foot wing span) fruit bats, hermit crabs and a variety of insects. The reef protecting the island has a deep, wide, fairly well marked pass that appears to have been blasted through it, allowing easy passage into the lagoon and the nice sandy anchorage just off the island. We happened to visit during a period of “king tides” so it was a bit rolly and lumpy at high water when the sea swell rolled over the top of the barrier reef, but drift diving through the pass and wall diving on the outer reef was fantastic. The vis was good, and the coral reef was healthy and colorful. There were plenty of sharks, turtles and big fish sharing the water with us, but no lobster. We had some nice walks around the little island, picked some fresh pawpaw (papaya) from some the many trees, and our little fleet had a nice beach bar-b-que and bonfire one evening.

Since the rest of the eastern islands, known as the Lau Group, are pretty much off limits to cruisers, we headed back west to Budd Reef in search of more diving. The weather sucked, and the anchorage was rolly and uncomfortable so we skipped out the next day and made the white knuckle trip to the island of Rabi, and the well protected Albert Cove. I say white knuckle because the rather short cruise (20 odd miles) took us out of one poorly charted reef pass, into another shallow and narrow pass awash in current, across its coral bommie infested reaches, out another pass and finally into yet another pass leading to the cove. The light was good so we managed to dodge all the bullets, but travel in these waters requires good light, precise navigation, a reliable engine, good communication between the bow lookout and helm, constant vigilance, and big cajones. All three yachts made the journeys safely.

The Rabi Islanders are Melanesian transplants, so their habits and customs and habits vary significantly from the Fijians. As we approached the island, we could see quite a few of the natives out fishing in their small dugout outrigger boats with sails made from that blue tarp material that we all know and have probably used at one time or another. They nimbly navigate these tiny, primitive vessels through the reef-strewn waters whipped by wind and currents while they troll for fish at the same time. They carry no VHF radios, no GPS’s, no charts and no life vests. These guys are truly “seat of the pants” navigators. Albert Cove was all that was promised, picturesque and well protected, with clear water and a consummate Fijian palm tree lined beach. There were a few native families, subsistence farmers and fishermen, living in a rough, primitive settlement of thatched palm burres or huts. We visited with them on shore. They were quite friendly and we all enjoyed a chat while the ladies showed us how they weaved mats and baskets from palm fronds. The men took us to some caves where the villagers would go to escape the winds and waves of occasional tropical cyclones. As we left, they gave us pawpaw, limes and coconuts and some other unidentifiable fruit in little baskets that they had crafted. The next day they asked to borrow our snorkel gear and dive lights so they could look for lobster that night. The Imagines and we loaned the men our gear. The following day they returned it to us along with two lobster for each boat. They kept none for themselves, so we gave them some fishing line, hooks, batteries and a spare snorkel.

We completely enjoyed the eastern island groups, but we found ourselves running low on diesel, fresh veggies and rum, so we began to make wakes for Savusavu for a dose of civilization and some reprovisioning. It had been over a month since we had seen a fuel dock or a grocery store. We wove our way in and out of the Rainbow Reef back to Viani Bay. We spent a couple of nice evenings over at the small and exclusive Rainbow Reef Resort with owners Kari and Richard. We enjoyed a couple of nice meals out and partook in a kava ceremony, wondering afterwards what all the fuss is about. Richard is quite a jazz aficionado, but since the nearest Tower Records is at least 2000 miles away, he was starved for some new music. On the second night I brought him a sampler of a dozen or so of my recent CD’s. He spent the entire night recording them and sent his boat boy to return them the next morning before we departed. We weighed anchor, slipped out the pass and made the easy passage west to Savusavu.

All seemed quiet and normal in Savusavu, but we had heard of unrest in Labassa, one of the larger cities on the east island of Vanua Levu. We went about the task of reprovisioning. Making a list, checking it twice, and hoping that you can find what you want and need in a third world outpost. In a big city like Auckland it is a big job to shop for four to six weeks of life in the middle of nowhere, but in a place like Savusavu it is more like the scavenger hunt from hell. It was nice to have some meals out, watch a bit of TV and get some news at the Savusavu Yacht Club and catch up with some cruising friends who were hanging out there. After three days, we were provisioned up to cruise for at least another month or so. Just as we were finishing, we got a report that the Savusavu airport had been taken over by rebel supporters of coup leader George Speight. OK, we’re outta here! SEEEEEYA. We immediately weighed anchor and spent the night well outside of town in Savusavu Bay, anchored off the Cousteau Resort.

In spite (Speight) of the continuing political unrest we are well and out of harm’s way. We have been cruising some of the remote north eastern islands for the last six weeks, and haven’t made much time to write, but I promise to fill you in on our experiences there when I get a bit more time.

We did have a memorable Sunday, so I sat down at the computer and wrote of our experience and thought I would pass on a little bit of what life is like in the more remote parts of Fiji, where there are no roads, resorts or many of the things that we all take for granted.

We had been anchored in a secluded little spot called Herald Bay for a couple of days on the beautiful little island of Ngau, pronounced like cow with a G. It is only 40 miles east of Suva, but light years away culturally. We had daily visits by manta rays, sea turtles, schooling fish as well local villagers who are curious about us “yachties.”

On Saturday we went to the main village of Sawayake to make our sevusevu. This is a customary Fijian ritual by visitors who offer a gift to the village chief for the privilege of anchoring in the village waters, diving, fishing and walking on shore. In addition to their land, the Fijians consider the reef, the fish and everything in proximity to their property to be their own. The gift is traditionally kava, a dried root that when ground and mixed with water is purported to induce some sort of euphoric high. It is THE local drink in Fiji. On another occasion, two bowls (half a coconut) of this so called “grog”gave me no noticeable effects other than numbing my tongue for a few minutes. It tastes sort of like a peppery dish water and looks like much the same. I guess it is an acquired taste.

We made our sevusevu to the chief’s brother, who quickly dismissed us. We were then shown around the village and school by his most hospitable wife who gave us some chilis (off the vine) and a fresh pawpaw (papaya). As far as Fijian villages go, this one was fairly prosperous as they had reasonably tidy homes, electricity, kitchens and toilets in each home and a cement sea wall to prevent erosion during storms. The school even had a carpet in the kindergarten room.

The locals are most friendly and love to come by in their punts (small boats) and chat with the yachties. One of them was Joe, from Somosomo, another smaller nearby village, who invited us to come for church on Sunday.

We dinked over that morning after breakfast and were greeted by Joe and many of the inhabitants of the village. They were stoking up a communal fire to cook lunch. Lots of hot rocks, tarot roots and coconut husks over the top. The village was definitely out of “National Geographic.” Most of the homes were thatched but a few were cinder block with corrugated tin roofs. There was no electricity, no indoor plumbing, no roads, no TV and no Starbucks. There was communal cooking, toilets and shower. Fresh water came via pipeline from a dam up above the village. The villagers scraped out their existence by subsistence farming their “gardens” and fishing in the waters protected by the barrier reef beyond their lovely little cove. I could only imagine that this is how life must have been a hundred years ago in many of the South Pacific Islands. Everyone was friendly, welcoming and curious.

We went to Joe’s house where we were served tea in Christmas mugs. There were no chairs and very little furniture. The house had one great room and two small bedrooms. We sat on the floor on beautiful mats skillfully woven from palm leaves by the women of the village. Everyone who happened by the open door popped in and greeted us. The home was simple and reasonably clean. A few old faded photographs of family and friends hung on the wall close to the ceiling. Some of the frames were draped in shells that had been strung like beads. There was one glass-doored cabinet that contained a few pieces of china that was probably used for special occasions. Joe rolled cigarettes from strips of tobacco that he had grown, and long, narrow strips of newspaper. His daughter brought him burning sticks from a nearby cooking fire so that he could light his long and skinny smoke. Afterwards, he showered in preparation for church and then rubbed himself down with coconut oil kept in an old half-pint rum bottle.

The village’s Methodist church was a simple and functional building. Many of the panes from the louvered glass windows were broken, missing or replaced with wood slats. The paint was old and discolored. There were no statues, paintings or stained glass, just four walls, a ceiling, a floor with at least three different patterns of rolled out linoleum, pews that could have fetched some nice money at an antique auction and a few bits of ornamentation at the pulpit, including an antique brass cuspidor stuffed with a bunch of plastic flowers. No church bells here – they use hollowed out logs for drums to call the congregation. The choir sat in front and to the right, facing sideways and sang beautiful hymns. The children sat in front to the left side, close to the pulpit. The congregations was segregated, men sat in the pews to the right, women to the left. Everyone was in their “Sunday best.” Men wore jackets and ties and dark blue sulus (sort of a long skirt). Women wore long white dresses or blouses and flowered sulus. Even though the temps were in the mid eighties, not a bead of sweat was shed. It was the only time that I can remember showing up for church barefooted, in shorts and a Hawaiian print shirt. Even though the sermon and singing were in Fijian, we were mesmerized by the experience. The pastor, dressed in a collar and tie, a tan suit jacket and a matching sulu, made a point of welcoming us “tourists” and we thanked them for their hospitality. After the rather long mass, which consisted of numerous repetitions of singing, preaching, readings, etc., we walked outside where the entire adult congregation came up to us to meet us, greet us and shake our hands. It was like a scene from a James A. Michener novel.

We went back to Joe’s house where lunch was waiting. Everyone sat on the floor around an old but clean tablecloth. Dishes were placed upside down. At least a dozen bowls of food were put out, and by our plates there were even “western” utensils that had been taken from a plastic bag and put out especially for us. The Fijians ate with their hands. The meal, more like a feast, consisted of taro root cooked over the hot rocks, dahl (a spicy lentil stew), curry, corned beef and rice, rock cod, parrot fish and a few other unidentifiable concoctions. It was actually a better meal than any we had eaten in any Fijian restaurant so far!

Interestingly, Cate, as the “guest of honor,” was the only female to eat at the first sitting. The other women and children (excepting the sons of the “landowner,” a prominent villager) ate after we and the men had finished. After lunch, we walked back to the dinghy on the beach. Along the way, the were invited into every home that was occupied. It is a Fijian custom to invite passers by in to join in the meal. We declined and instead were taken by Joe to visit to a resort being built by an American at the next bay to the south. It is quite simple but exquisite just the same. The best we’ve seen in Fiji. There will be three private thatched roof burres (detached rooms) with outdoor showers and plunge pools. There is a lovely private beach and a superb view of the bay reef and surrounding islands from the bar, dining area and infinity pool. There is a terraced garden which will produce most of the fresh food for the guests. If you are looking for a unique honeymoon destination or a secluded getaway with diving, this is the place.

Afterwards. Joe, his daughter Karen and cousin “Tooks” came back to “Moonshadow” for a visit. We served some cold soft drinks and Karen, aged four, asked what Cate was putting into the glass-she had never seen an ice cube! Ah, the simple life. I would like to say that this is just another typical day in the life of a cruiser. No way! Rare days like this are why we put up with long, tedious and uncomfortable ocean passages, hours with my ass in the air, schnoz in the bilge and a wrench with a hand full of skinned knuckles trying to fix somthin’, third world inefficiency and beaurocracy, sleepless nights in windy, rolly anchorages with the anchor chain “growling” as it drags over coral bommies, etc., etc. You don’t even want to know the bad news.

At the moment we are anchored inside the Great Astrolabe Reef off an uninhabited little tropical island called Yaukuvelevu. It is pissing rain and the wind has been howling for two days with regular “bullets” (gale force gusts) due to a trough that is passing through. It is good weather to do chores like cleaning, washing and boat maintenance, as well as a bit of writing, and to read a Clive Cussler novel, but we came for the diving and are hoping that the conditions settle down a bit tomorrow so that we can get out and do a few jumps on the legendary passes and walls along the barrier reef to our west.

Oops! The boat next to us in the anchorage just radioed to the fleet that they discovered a sea snake on the transom steps. These critters have some seriously deadly venom and it didn’t even ask permission to board! Just another day in “paradise.”