Fai Tira Blog Friday 16th July

Heading for Musket Cove 17:23.98S 177:45.55E

 

After something like six days in SavuSavu we are now heading out to our next Fijian destination, Musket Cove. The sails are up and we’re sailing along in bright sunny weather on a beam reach in bumpy-ish seas making about 6 ½ knots. It’s 9am and we’ve about 45 miles to go before we reach our next overnight anchorage.

 

We hope that Pete’s photo blog conveyed some of the feel we had for the Island of Vanua Levu. However we also thought that a few words of written supplement might help to give it some support. So here goes:

Our trip across from Tonga was fairly nondescript with a lot of engine-on stuff. The timing of our arrival also left a bit to be desired, resulting in an approach to the reef and entrance at around midnight. The passage in was well marked by a flashing beacon, but looked tight on the chart, and when combined with the added confusion of unrecognisable white lights off to the left, we decided to hang about outside until daybreak. There was no advantage in entering anyway as we’d still have had to anchor until morning, and we’d already been warned that this might be frowned upon by officialdom.

Daylight revealed a clearly defined and quite wide passage through to a colourful, congested, but tranquil and enclosed location with the very small Copra Shed Marina tucked away in to the right hand bank on the edge of a distinctly Caribbean-looking town.

 

 

 

 

                     Sunset from The Copra Shed                                                               The tucked away marina

 

We were quickly greeted by Pio. He works for the Marina, turning out to be a great first contact, and an indication of just how friendly and industrious this obliging and welcoming community is. He took our lines and hooked us up to the temporary mooring buoy that was to act like a staging post. It was where we were to stay and await the arrival of the various officials in order to complete the clearing-in process that would facilitate our move forward onto one of the few permanent berths on the Shed, an operation made relatively simple by further input from the most affable Pio and the crews of the already installed BWR boats.

Just occasionally, first impressions have the knack of being spot on, this was one of them.

Right from the beginning the whole place felt good, possibly down to some of the things we’d read, but more likely just down to a feeling from deep inside.

There was nothing ostentatious about this place. The staging was fairly short and covered with a vaguely ‘agricultural’ and uneven timber decking with a low level hitching rail to tie onto, with the ability to accommodate about six boats stern or bow-to. It all sat forward of the Shed itself, now a converted rustic but tastefully presented small complex.

Corrugated iron was the predominant roof covering, with much of it in need of a coat of paint.

The bar seating was by way of randomly placed green plastic chairs, some of them placed around what would easily have passed for ordinary kitchen tables. Nothing very formal, organised or posh about this place then!

As Pete had already mentioned, his wife Judy was flying out, so once he’d left for the airport on Friday morning, it was natural that he’d be elsewhere for much of the time.

Once more, as with all supported legs, there was a range of organised tours to choose from as well as the formal greeting and Kava drinking ceremony, an important part of the Fijian culture and one not to be missed.

 

 

            Drinking of kava at the greeting ceremony                              Industrious pair, slaving away over hot journals!!!

                                                                                                                              

 

Both Jeremy and I had identified our own particular area of interests that we wanted to try and pursue, eating as many curries in as many different cafes as we could. Tracking down and watching a local game of rugby and, most importantly, seeking out and experiencing an undiluted and genuine cultural experience, whilst at the same trying not to lose sight of the ubiquitous boat jobs list that never seems to reduce.... Oh yes, almost forgot, and find some local ice cream!!!

However none of this took into account the three days of incessant tropical downpours, refreshing, soothing, but on occasions, quite disruptive.

One of the cultural experiences was almost on the doorstep. Two minutes walk from the mooring was the town. Although the Asian Fijian community is the minority race, they own and run most of the shops and business outlets, with many of them located along this single strip of road. Everywhere there was colour, everywhere there was noise with Indian music belting out from shop speakers and everywhere industrious activity. This could almost have been one of the roads in the middle of Southall, except here everyone greeted you.

Nothing seemed too much effort. I called at a small shop looking for a piece of odd- sized dowel in order to repair an oar. Although this was clearly going to be a chore, the owner took on the task, cheerfully producing one a couple of days later, made to measure.

Jeremy’s efforts to buy shorts looked to be going wrong until the shop assistant pointed him in the direction of trousers in the same style. These were perfect, except they were still trousers. Not for long though. They quickly disappeared from the counter to an area behind the magic curtain, re-emerging just minutes later as shorts, complete with machined hem and smiling assistant, all part of the service!!!.

Our attempts to watch rugby met with mixed results. The serious rain that fell all throughout Friday night was still making its presence felt throughout the morning. However these are big butch and powerful Fijians....A bit of rain’s not going to stop them!!!!!

Wrong!!!!

Although we knew that the game was off, J and I decided to brave the conditions and look at the ground for ourselves. So, equipped with a big umbrella, we set off on the two mile or so stroll. It was great...We certainly got wet, but we also met lots of people and had many friendly chats before turning up at the ground, to be greeted by a prominent sign. It read..... “Playing of rugby on a wet surface is strictly prohibited. Offenders will be prosecuted”... That must be the secret to victory then, always play them in the rain!!!!

 

 

All was not lost though. Arun, the owner of our favourite eatery The Blue Water Cafe, had informed us that his somewhat grainy telly would be showing the All Blacks v Springboks match that evening.

The tempting combination of good, inexpensive food, and friendly genial service had no competition. So, after spreading the word around amongst the other crews, we turned up for an evening of self- indulgent entertainment....Great.

 

 

 

                       There you are Arun. Next thing we expect, is to see a sign saying “Internationally acclaimed restaurant”

 

Having declined most of the organised trips, and falling foul of the rain forest walk that turned out to be a letdown, both J and I embarked on our own pre-planned cultural tour of bus ride and village visit.

The book had said that a village visit prerequisite was a gift of Kava, so our first stop was the market to buy some.

 

 

                 A new batch of kava being delivered                                             Told you, agricultural decking!!!

 

 

 Next it was the bus station, where enquiries pointed us at one of those ageing growling monsters that had skimmed us by as we sought out the rugby ground. It was lurking in one corner, eating people as it waited to unleash itself onto the undulating roadway.

We joined the unsuspecting queue, clambering up the stairs to its mouth, providing it with yet more fodder. We then proceeded to melt, inside what was in effect a steel oven on wheels, before it seemed satisfied and eventually set off.

The journey took about an hour, much of it spent with the engine screaming in first gear as the lumbering giant struggled to the top of the hills and tried to stop itself running away out of control, down the other side. The views were fantastic, the friendly conversations great, and before long we’d also received an invitation to another village.

We arrived at the bus stop outside the village store. The deceptively large community was dispersed either side of the main road and accommodated in very basic dwellings sprawled over the hillside linked by a series of grass paths.

Almost as if by magic or some telepathic message service, the ‘turanga ni koro’ (head of the village) was already striding across the road. He greeted us with a friendly wide smile and warm firm handshake; we couldn’t have been more welcome.

    

   

    

                                                                                                                                                      

                           These guys made us so welcome                                                            The outskirts of the village      

 

 A tour of the village followed and ended with us sitting cross-legged on the floor of his house, talking to both him and his wife, passing on the gift of Kava, drinking tea and receiving an invitation to return and join them for a meal.

 

 

 

                  

                Typical dwelling and connecting path                               The local children thought we were a great novelty

 

 

The visit was all too short. The return bus was on its way. Another short tour and we were back at the store and bus stop. The ice cream sign outside proved too much of a temptation and nearly caused a missed bus, but Fiji’s own Tuckers Ice cream just had to be tasted and well worth the risk!!!

 

 

 

                        Last minute Tuckers ice cream                                                     View from the window-less bus

 

If anything, the ride back was even more hilarious. This time it was a bus without windows, our gratitude for the powerful cool air flow only tempered by the deafening engine and wind noise. The whole event could be summarised by the method used by passengers to communicate their requests to the driver. It was done by via a piece of string running the length of the bus passing through a series of supporting loops, before being tied to the lever of a bicycle bell alongside his ear. A sharp tweak on the string letting him know just what was required. I wonder just how many feverishly bell ringing cyclists have ended in a crumpled heap on the side of the road whilst trying to attract his attention!!!!

 

 

                                                                                    Who needs windows

 

Our success at curry eating was almost complete, and the establishments we missed hardly worth a mention. All were all good, incredibly cheap and mostly great fun. In particular we’ll take away good memories of Arun, The Blue Water Cafe and his delightful staff.

Pete and Judy spent much of the time taking in the social scene and, like us, working on the boat in preparation for the trip,

 

So that just about takes us back to where I started. We’re now near the end of our second passage and had a great 7 knot broad reach sail across the open stretch known as Bligh Water. However, not before I managed to park us on a sneakily- lurking lump of coral as we made our way out at first light. No excuses, just a lot of personal embarrassment, but luckily no obvious damage. There have been bigger thumps on the boat before and I suppose over a journey like this, there was always a chance it had to happen at some time.

 

Let’s just hope it’s the last!!!

 

‘Bye for now from Pete, John, Jeremy and Judy