A fortnight in Fiji

The transit from one country to the next always seems to make for a long and tiring day, regardless of the length of time it takes and our journey out to the easternmost destination on the trip was no exception. The flight to Nadi in Fiji is less than 4 hours from Sydney, but involved us transferring from Katoomba, though the busy central station, out to the airport and all the usual departure & arrival routines. By the time we made it to our out-of-the way digs in Nadi, courtesy of the nicest taxi driver you could meet, we were buggered and couldn’t even be bothered to go out to eat. Encouraged by the guesthouse owner we attempted to find somewhere near that would deliver a pizza, or something. Nothing doing and it was only 8:30. Our host advised that we were now on Fiji time and any delivery from anywhere still open, which was nowhere, might take a while anyway (by which he meant anything between 1 and 2 hours). Tea and three biscuits for dinner it was, but then blessed & instantaneous sleep at least.

A 05:30 get up too, this time to walk the couple of hundred metres to the next hotel from where we were due to be picked up in a shuttle to take us to the docks. “You’re wasting your time,” our host rather sententiously pronounced as he shoved the cash for the room into his pocket. “The bus only comes at 08:00 and you’ll be there for 07:00.” “We were told 07:10, so I think it’s better we stick to that”. We tramped out, had a nice chat with the young French couple next door and got picked up at 07:15.

The Yasawa Flyer, the main carrier of locals, tourists and goods from Viti Levu, the main island of Fiji, plies a resort oriented route up through the Yasawa Islands on a daily basis. It was surprisingly full, considering this is still off-season, and we knew we were in holiday territory straight away. Younger people, a lot of them, made up the majority of passengers. Couples seeking romantic paradise escapes, a few older folks taking photographs of the sea and small groups of excitable girls anticipating how they’d look like hot-dogs after an extended stint on the beach. We didn’t mind. This was always a down-time, do little if anything destination after a very busy Australia and likely hectic time in the Solomon Islands and Vanuatu to come.

Kuata Island

Outside our ‘bure’, Kuata Island

Beach front ‘bures’, Kuata Island

We were greeted at our first destination by a man in a grass skirt standing on a large rock off the coast of Kuata Island, jumping up and down and waving a club. This, we were informed, was a nameless warrior of the Mataqali (the indigenous clans of the island chain), who provides blessings for those arriving or leaving this tiny volcanic outcrop in the sea. Whether he was welcoming or merely menacing wasn’t quite clear, but he was most enthusiastic. We wondered if that was his permanent job and how that might come across on his CV.

Trying to ignore the possibility of a traditional welcome clubbing, we boarded a tiny ferry boat that met the moored-up Flyer and jumped off into the surf to an accompanying ‘Bula’ greeting song, heartily rendered by the resort staff. We’d splashed out a little here, monetarily as well as literally, and booked a pricey beach front safari-style tent, or ‘bure’, with a wooden frame & deck and luxurious bed. It was lovely indeed, with a not so taxing 3 metre walk to the gently lapping sea, framed from our deck by two coconut palms.

Our main reason for coming here however, was the chance to swim and snorkel with sharks. We duly booked ourselves on the next day’s outing and, after a kit-out at the dive shop, merrily bounced and slammed our way out into the lively ocean on a 6 man speedboat, laughing in pain as our backsides walloped against the hard wooden seating planks every 10 seconds or so. We feared a repeat of Great Barrier Reef conditions, but once a half-hour out the sea was quiet and we all calmly plopped ourselves over the side (some idiots like me elected to enter headfirst and backwards like a scuba diver) and awaited any shark-related snorkelling advice. We got a largely unneeded “try not to touch them”. None of us had done this before and no-one was likely to start prodding something with extremely sharp teeth.

A guide with a cylindrical feeder swam out a little way – we followed with our heads in the water and watched as a pretty magical scene unfolded. A half-dozen reef sharks were soon swarming around the feeder and moving around and between the snorkellers, the white-tips of their dorsal and caudal fins catching the sunshine of the shallow depths. A few more joined in, larger black-tip sharks that were always mirrored in movement by small opportunist fish at their flanks. It was a strange and rather moving experience, being surrounded by them. Though not large by any means (the biggest was less than 5 feet long), they came very close to us, enough that we could stare directly into each other’s eyes and wonder what the other was thinking. Often we would be watching one group of sharks, when others would suddenly appear beneath us, a foot from our faces, gliding silently past. A truly remarkable swim. Everyone was giddy with elation as we bounced our way back.

I tried a night snorkel here too with an English couple and an Irishman for a chance to see nocturnal animals in the reef just off shore from the resort. Here we were given flashlights and strict instructions to stay close to the guide. Within moments we caught sight of a spooked juvenile white-tip shark that hair-tailed off at great speed. Not much in the way of other life however, save for a black and white banded sea-krait (a surprisingly venomous snake) and a thrilling yellow and red squid that seemed as interested in us as we were with it. Alas, the snorkel camera was not up to anywhere near decent photos in the gloom, but the shots below give a flavour of the experience at least. Best of all were the few minutes where the guide asked us to turn off our flashlights. We floated there in near total darkness for 30 seconds whilst he found his ultra-violet setting and shone the beam over the corals beneath us. Vibrant blues and purples and sumptuous reds and oranges lit up the sea bed as the light hit the many and varied species of symbiotic algae that live in the coral and give it its colour and its life.

These were the highlights of a stay in Kuata that had all the ingredients to be amazing, but somehow didn’t quite live up to expectations. There were other interesting elements here, such as the couple of lectures we attended, led by marine biologists, in which we discussed the lifecycles of corals and the misunderstood nature of sharks, but the place was a little let down by the predominance of the instagram crowd. Too many Italian and Spanish poseurs, silly giggling girls, more interested in their phones and the perfect sunset selfie than any meaningful interaction.

We had a better overall time at the Korovou Eco Lodge, our next destination a few islands north on the Flyer, though that had all the hallmarks of a disastrous stay. The stupendous weather at Kuata was replaced by increasingly dull, blustery and rainy weather for a start. The place, a row of off-white painted chalets, was in the process of returning to nature thanks to a lack of investment following the Covid pandemic. Nothing really worked. The showers produced a thin trickle of water, most of the toilets didn’t flush (though ours did) and the roofs leaked in the frequent rain. A swimming pool next door was full, but only of green water with floating clumps of algae to entice you in. Flies were everywhere, the persistent type that would try the patience of saints. Worst of all, when we arrived there was no beer. Nothing in fact but water to drink. Yet here communal dining was encouraged and we met some of the loveliest people on the trip so far. An American / South African couple who were cheerfully trying to face-out their disappointing choice of accommodation on a short trip, a most wonderful German couple and younger French travellers who were happy to join in. Most here were not holiday makers, but like us, on trips of longer lengths and with a shared experience that led to almost instant camaraderie. It was needed. Though the beach on which it sat had the potential to be idyllic, the lashing rains made it impossible to do much else other than enjoy the company of one’s fellow guests. The first impacts of Tropical Cyclone Zaiana were making themselves felt, a category 3 storm that was slowly making its way into Fiji off the coast of the Yasawas.

Hot and sultry Korovou Beach

We left on the Flyer on a day when it probably should not have been running. It was already cancelled for 2 days hence, when the cyclone’s winds would be at their strongest, but as a lifeline to the islands it only stops when absolutely necessary. As a result, the Flyer lived up to its name, leaping up through huge waves and seemingly taking to the skies before plummeting downwards. Stomachs were left in the air every other minute. It was like an aquatic rollercoaster. We’d taken the precaution of stuffing ourselves full of sea-sickness drugs, but many had not. The sounds of retching, the smell of stomach contents, the sight of grown adults splayed out on rolling decks in paroxisms of vomitous agony. A glorious journey it was not.

We again transferred, gingerly, to a ferry craft that sped and slammed us out to our last stop in the Yasawas, Nanuya Lai Lai Island and the tiny but gorgeous Gold Coast Resort. Here at the third time of asking, and despite the day to come, we’d found our South Seas paradise. A collection of 4 green huts on the beach, with attached bathrooms, no electricity and wonderfully welcoming and laidback owners. Inventive meals, cheap beer and surrounded by shady coconut palms fronting a picture-postcard beach. We knew this was going to be fabulous, despite the awful weather.

Tropical Cyclone ‘Zaiana’ makes herself known on Nanuya Lai Lai Island

‘Zaiana’ looms ominously in the disance

And awful it was. Cyclone Zaiana waited until that evening to unleash its full force on the islands, and carried on for another 24 hours. Luckily we were on the more sheltered part of the island, but it still felt like we took real pounding. It wasn’t so bad – nothing was destroyed or blown down here, but going outside was distinctly unpleasant and precarious as the rains lashed down in ferocious waves, soaking you in an instant and threatening to blow you off your feet. The palms bent at impossible angles, but largely stayed intact. Their loads of coconuts were less resilient. Many flew off in the wind over several metres, clanging loudly as they hit the metallic roofs of the huts. The owners told us not to walk under the trees, but we could have been hit from anywhere.

Dramatic, exciting, tedious and interminable. A day spent sheltering from a maelstrom is all of these things and we were most glad to get through it and out to a miraculously bright day following the chaos. Times following a storm are said to be the best and for 3 days afterwards we enjoyed the calmest of seas, the warmest of sunshine and the gentlest of breezes, days that confirmed we’d landed in everyone’s idea of a tropical island paradise. We sat in hammocks, we lounged on the beaches, we found time to read (I hadn’t read a book in over a year) and we enjoyed the wonderful company of an ever changing tiny crowd of like minded travellers. Basic, beautiful and a million miles from civilisation.

Nanuya Lai Lai Island

Here the most insignificant things became outings. One day we ventured down the beach to the island’s tea-house, a full 4 minute walk away. Here the lively Lo runs a shop selling hot and cold drinks and her ‘famous’ doughnuts that are served slightly warm and smothered in chocolate sauce. We sat on rude wooden benches looking out to sea, telling travellers tales through massive greasy mouthfuls and lashings of tea and lemonade. Disastrous for the diet, but most uplifting for the soul.

Nanuya Lai Lai Island

We took in the local ice-cream parlour, another 4 minute odyssey down the beach in the opposite direction. The ‘parlour’ was someone’s beach hut home, manned by a large Fijian with kindly eyes and a brusque manner. We chose coconut and papaya iced lollies on little sticks and presented on plates, both of which tasted like eating a frozen version of the fruit itself. Pure and unadulterated bliss.

Gold Coast Resort, Nanuya Lai Lai Island

From Nanuya Lai Lai Island

Nanuya Lai Lai Island

Dawn on Nanuya Lai Lai

The snorkelling here was also fantastic. A swathe of fairly healthy reef 200 metres out to sea held a captivating array of charismatic fish with exotic livery and intriguing names. Nothing very large, but much to marvel at. Several varieties of Angelfish, Threadfin and Citroen Butterflyfish, Moorish Idols, scarlet painted Sabre Squirrelfish, Sandperches, dozens of Damselfish, Blennies, Oriental Sweetlips, Whitebelly Puffers, Scribbled Rabbitfish and many others apparently not referenced in our Snorkellers’ Guide to the Marine Species of the Yasawa Islands. Most charismatic of all was the Picasso Triggerfish, the 6-inch long result of an evolutionary attempt at cubism. Divided into distinct sections, it sported a blue and black bandit mask, a yellow snout with an Adam Ant-like white nose stripe and diagonal zebra stripes on its rear end.

Orange Spot Filefish

Melon Butterflyfish

Picasso Triggerfish

Orange Spot Filefish

Picasso Triggerfish

One day a few of us went out with the owner’s brother (the captain) in his fishing boat. We first stopped to collect some bait for the line hooks, in this case small crabs that we dug out from burrows on the beach. There’s apparently a technique known to the captain by which you can stuff your hand into sand holes made by the crabs and quickly tunnel your way down before the crab has a chance to escape. He managed to catch around 20 this way, quickly disarming them by yanking off their claws, then nonchalantly snapping off most of their legs. The crabs remain alive, but dismembered. All six of us tried our luck but could not find a single crab willing to let itself be discovered in more than half an hour. That was until one of our party, a dutch girl, found a crab in a tunnel and involuntarily screamed at it as it tried to nip her. It ran off down the beach into the surf, but was headed off by myself and our German friend Peter. I managed to slam my palm over it and following the captain’s example, pulled off its claws and legs, whilst inadvertently crushing its body with my thumb. It was a brutal murder, but we all celebrated with a cheer at dispatching a single beast between the lot of us. The captain smiled at our amateurish first foray into the world of crab killing.

We moved to an open stretch of water near a coral reef. After breaking open the body shells, finally dispatching those still moving, we baited our hooks by sticking them through the holes left by the absent legs and plucking off the attached flesh from inside the shell. Then assisted by the captain’s handy son, we swirled the hooks around our heads and threw them out to sea. I was the lucky first one to get a bite and hauled in a beautiful looking, but unidentified little fish. I was thrilled. The captain was unimpressed. “Can we eat it?”, several asked. “No”, replied the captain. “Why not?” “Because he caught it”, he said, pointing at me and laughing hilariously. What a wag. Perhaps he was annoyed I’d stuck my thumb through the only crab we’d caught and ruined the bait….Around 15 fish were caught that morning, most by the captain, but nearly all the party caught one. Helen got two, one a lovely little leopard-like beauty.

Reluctantly tearing ourselves away from the resort, we reboarded the Yasawa Flyer bound for Nadi and reality. A lovely cruise across a sea with barely even a ripple – the contrast from our last trip could not have been more pronounced.

Our last day on the islands might have been a tourist nightmare, but turned out to be rather enjoyable. We’d originally booked a catamaran trip to the Mamanuca Islands for the day after arriving in Nadi, but had to change it to the end of the trip. These islands get a lot of day trippers and those that can’t face more than an hour or two on a ferry to get somewhere nicer, so we tried to temper our expectations. They do, however, have some lovely reefs and wonderful beaches. First stop Mana Sands, a spit of a beach in the ocean and home to the clearest water we’ve seen but a somewhat chaotic snorkelling trip out to the reef here. To be fair though, the coral was a real treat and full of Parrotfish as well as benign, non-stinging jellyfish. Then on to Monu Island where we stopped to allow for the signature event of the day to take place – that of jumping into the sea from the roof of the boat. Though only a 3 or 4 metre drop, it still took a bit of nerve to take the plunge, but a nice adrenaline boost to compliment the free beer and wine that was doing the rounds. A final stop at Monuriki Island, a beautiful volcanic outcrop most famous as the setting for the Tom Hanks film ‘Castaway’. Here we did a little mini tour where the guide showed the exact rock on which Tom husked a coconut. They also brought along a Wilson volleyball, complete with painted face / bloody handprint.

Mana Sands, Mamanuda Islands

Monuriki, Mamanuca Islands

Fiji has undoubtedly surprised us. We expected tourism and we most definitely got it. We also knew we’d have a good chance of really bad weather and we got that too. But finding the island of Nanuya Lai Lai was without doubt one of the best experiences of the trip so far. A true idyll and one we never really expected to find here. A palm fringed fantasy, particularly during the most clement of weathers but remaining so regardless and largely thanks to the completely chilled atmosphere and great fellow guests.

Footnote: Characters we met at the Gold Coast Resort included the 70 year old Charles, an American traveller who’d been travelling for 4 1/2 years and told us at length about his 55 year long mental trauma at the hands of his very Jewish mother. We also talked for hours and hours with a German / South African male couple, our fabulous German friends Peter & Isa whom we’d met at Korovou, a lovely Dutch couple, Canadian girl and a very ambitious British lad intent on travelling the entire world over 10 years. We also endured the company of a crazy mongrel whose sole aim in life seemed to be getting in the way and barging into the guests with his head. He also liked to playfully (painfully) bite you when you were least expecting it. We were hoping our talent for losing dogs might stretch to a tally of three on this trip, but alas, get rid of him we could not….

Footnote: Whilst in Fiji we heard that a category 5 Tropical Cyclone, ‘Maila’, had torn through the Solomon Islands a few days before and destroyed one of the places we’d booked to stay. Some of the others had also been badly damaged but were still accepting guests. We’ll see when we get there, but we might be in for an interesting time…..