Days: 3-4 (27th May 2018 – 29th May 2018)
Total distance travelled: 3,985.46 kilometres (2,476.45 miles)
Before you start thinking we’re heading back to the nineteen eighties and that infamous Brooke Shields film, think again.
Sure we’ve a similar setting.
A tropical island in the Pacific Ocean, swaying palms (we hoped) and turquoise waters, but it was there we wanted the parallels to cease, being marooned for years not something on our agenda at this stage in our lives.
For our transfer back to Denarau Harbour, where another vessel was set to ferry us out to the Yasawa Islands, we were advised to wait in the hotel lobby by 07:15 in anticipation of a 07:25 collection.
Another couple appeared out front, with me assuming they too were in wait for the same pick up, so all seemed swell.
Sarah did begin to stress a little as it got close to fifteen minutes after our scheduled meeting time and still no sign (we weren’t confident of the actual time the boat was supposed to depart nor how long the check in process might be), so we conferred with the other couple to confirm they were indeed also waiting for the bus.
Somehow, it always feels better when your in the same predicament with others, even if the outcome is not the desired one!
Fortunately, there was no predicament to be found, as minutes later, our chariot arrived and whisked us back to the port (we’d sailed from there yesterday as well).
Once there the process was essentially the same, just a little smoother than the day earlier, we were handed a paper wallet with a wad of vouchers (I’d queued for the
tickets while Sarah had dropped off our bags) then it was time to loiter before boarding and our departure.
Under cloudy skies, we spent the time getting breakfast from a nearby bakery, their sausage rolls surprisingly delicious, only lacking for us, a dollop of tomato sauce!
Shortly it began to drizzle.
As we munched away, enjoying our morning feed, the accents around us were a mix, dominated by English and American with a handful of others thrown in for good measure.
Ours promised to be a long day, The Blue Lagoon resort almost as far is this vessel would be going (the schedule said six hours of travel lay ahead), and as we boarded that light morning drizzle became a steady rain.
Welcome to this tropical paradise!
By the time the Yasawa Flyer II (we didn’t dare ask what happened to Yasawa Flyer I), our vessel for this day of travel had left the harbour behind and the relative shelter of the breakwater behind, it was apparent that for some, this may be an uncomfortable ride.
There was a decent swell, the winds whipped across the vessel and the rain, at various levels of intensity continued to fall.
With the swell came that exaggerated and incessant rocking motion, both up and down, and side to side, the potential for sea sickness very real, despite the Flyer being a large, twin hulled catamaran.
Wary of the possibly challenging journey ahead, we were quick to secure ourselves a seat indoors, near enough the back so as to avoid the heaving that might be felt close to the bow and beside the window so we could focus on the horizon (when it could be sighted) if either of our stomachs began to churn.
Again we were surprised by the volume of North American accents, with a pair of newlyweds sat opposite, and an even larger party (over a dozen) sat in the two booths behind them.
It wasn’t long before we realised that posse was even larger, with several of them sticking to the outdoor areas (or perhaps even the toilets) in an effort to cope with varying levels of seasickness.
We weren’t all that far from Denarau when the first of what would be many scheduled stops began to occur, the first of those in the Mamanuca Island chain where
a fair volume of day trippers would alight at places such as Beachcomber Island (which would actually by our final island stop), however the large number also boarding was a big indicator of how popular the island hop on, hop off ferry service was.
Impressively, in spite of the conditions and the logistics of getting landlubbers off a seriously rocking boat, we were kept to our schedule with most people boarding or alighting pretty much dead on the times expected.
Over time, a few more of the large American posse began to drift away, the rigours on their stomach proving too much. By this time we’d also begun to wonder their caper?
Were they a church group, spreading their ‘word’ to the South Pacific?
As the journey wore on, conditions improved and by early afternoon we were tantalisingly close to our destination.
Most people had come and gone, but us and the large posse remained, as well as a couple we think might have been Danish.
The sky was still grey as the boat once again idled to a stop, and as we finally got the call to make ready to disembark, I should touch a little on how the process works and differs depending upon the island/resort.
Few, at least on this outbound journey had piers or jetties long enough to reach water deep enough, so in the majority of locations, we’d simply drop anchor at a predetermined spot, and the various resorts would send their vessels to deliver departing guests, and collect new ones.
All of the baggage was tagged upon boarding with the relevant destination, so the crew would load the vessel before the guests would board.
If multiple vessels for multiple islands or resorts were present, they’d be in differing sides of our vessel, and if even more boats were at that stop, then they’d simply need to wait.
Anyway, our call came, and we along with the posse of possible missionaries all stood, filed towards the rear of the vessel and one by one began to board the waiting smaller craft.
On this smaller boat, the rise and fall of the waves was even more apparent, it being a very fortunate thing that the churning seas we’d started out voyage on had calmed somewhat.
We chugged around a reef, before a channel allowed us to cut towards the shore, our boats shallow draught getting us close indeed to the shore, the last metre or so made with a brief walk through knee or calf deep water, depending if a wave was coming through or not.
All of the baggage, already unloaded on our behalf, had been neatly placed in a pile higher up the beach, we were led up to a small shelter where a brief welcome and orientation was provided by the resorts Australian manager.
The Blue Lagoon Resort, was something of a misnomer, for as lovely a spot that it was, it was perched on the shores of a gently curving bay, fronted by a readily accessible reef, metres from the shore (no lagoon in sight).
Sadly, much of the reef sat exposed to the sun at low tide, and as a result sections of it were in poor shape with a considerable amount of dead and bleached coral.
Anyway, we checked in into our room, dumped our small cases and oriented ourselves with the bar and dining area where lunch was soon to be served.
A complimentary welcome beer certainly hit the spot and as we dined, that thin grey sky occasionally parted as patches of blue began to emerge, instantly making the place feel a bit nicer.
It was either this first meal, or perhaps our 2nd where we spied for the first time something with a more local touch, Fijian Kokoda and immediately we knew we had to try it.
A raw fish dish, similar to ceviche (so also marinated in either lemon or lime juice), where it seems to differ here is with the addition of coconut milk.
This truly was a delight of a dish, and something perfect for the tropical climate, so fresh and flavourful.
Despite the again grey skies, it was not, was cold, so we grabbed a couple of pairs of fins from the resort, grabbed our own snorkels and masks (which we’d brought from home) and took a post lunch dip, directly off the shore.
Conditions were less than ideal, but not bad enough that it was a pointless exercise.
As already noted, the coral was not in a great state, and the poor weather from earlier in the day meant that visibility was only a few metres and quite murky at that, however, there were thankfully still plenty of fish making it their home.
It was this volume of marine life that made it worth staying in the water, as with the shallow reef, it was all very accessible to even a first time snorkeller.
Sarah decided a bit earlier that she’d had a enough, but I lingered, admiring the various schools that swam about, or keeping an eye on small families of Clownfish and the like.
I was still in the water when a seaplane began to circle in its landing approach, a young family making a far more grandiose arrival to the island than we had in our bouncy boat!
It was pretty cool to watch, but looked pretty crap when I tried to capture it on the GoPro with it’s fisheye lens and water droplets dribbling across its cover (and the sky was still a dull grey which did nothing for it either).
Eventually, blue began to paint the sky, and it was in bright sunshine that we signed ourselves up to a trip to the Sawa-i-Lau Caves the following day (we had vouchers that included it in our package), then set out a loose plan for the remainder of our day.
Some more snorkelling, some relaxing on the beach and then repeat.
It felt great to get a splash of vitamin D, and the bright sunshine certainly made subsequent visits to the reef feel a lot more colourful (not so much the coral, but the colours in the fish began to pop)!
A few of our potential missionary group were starting to get lively as the afternoon wore on, and I got chatting to one who was behaving a bit more like a chaperone.
It turns out there was a religious connection, but it wasn’t that they were here to spread the word.
Turns out they were a bunch of about a dozen anthropology students here from the remote College of Saint Benedict and Saint John’s University in Minnesota.
After weeks of studying, this was their few days to let their hair down before flying home.
We talked a bit of baseball, he being a Twins fan, being one of the teachers his task for these last couple of days being to keep his charges safe and get them back home safely to the states.
Some time in the early evening, there was a sound from the communal area (I can’t recall with clarity whether it was a bell or gong), and somehow most people seemed to know what it was about (especially the bulk of those young college students).
Turns out it was time for the evenings Kava ceremony.
Now I know of it.
Indeed we’ve had a few English backpacker friends with fond memories of their time in the Pacific on the back of it.
For us however, it was new.
A brief telling of the tale.
We all sat in a circle.
There’s a song or chant that we mumble our way through, then a half a coconut shell is passed around and is drunk.
What are we drinking?
Kava infused water, although to look at it, it has that appetising colour of something leftover from your dirty laundry!
The effect?
Something of a numbing to the lips and tongue, like some sort of throat lozenges I suppose.
It was novel, and all a bit of harmless fun before we retired for the night.
We had a private room, basic but clean and tidy enough. Louvred windows with fly wire mesh to keep mosquitos and other bugs out.
It didn’t possess an ensuite, so we shared a communal washroom with those in the dormitories (most of the students) and others with the same room configuration as us.
Upon waking the following morning, it was not a place we were all too keen on leaving.
It was pissing down rain!
Like real, monsoon like rain!
At this point in time, we assumed there’d be little likelihood of our days excursion continuing, but there was little that could be done.
The other issue the resort staff suggested, was the runoff which would make any visibility in the reef poor, should we try for a snorkel a little later.
For now, that certainly seemed unlikely with a lazy day indoors beckoning.
One thing we had forgotten about the tropics, was how hard it an pour, only to suddenly stop, as though a faucet has been turned off.
First thing, the rain stopped, but the morning remained dull, and everything was sodden.
The staff advised it was still touch and go, as the seas were choppy, and if conditions stayed as they were, our trip would not be going ahead.
An hour or so later we sat in blazing sunshine in a small tinny (tinny is Australian slang for a small aluminium motor boat), bouncing over gentle waves on our way to Sawa-i-Lau Island, home to the caves.
In a matter of hours, the day felt like it had swung around 180 degrees!
Arriving at the caves, we were ferried to a rocky beach where our party was deposited.
A nearby set of stairs leading up a scrub covered hillside being the direction everyone else was headed (there were other boats bringing their own visitors here as well), so we followed suit.
We’d been advised in advance that there’d be swimming involved, so we were dressed accordingly, and had our snorkels and masks as well.
Continuing up past a small viewing area which overlooked the bay below, the concrete path headed towards a cave where beside the entrance, people had left their sandals, flip flops and towels before descending another small set of stairs into the passage within the rocks.
Within, the stairs were a little slick, but the cave was surprisingly naturally lit a little deeper inside, with an opening high above allowing the sun to peek in.
A small aluminium ladder, the kind you see on the back of speedboats to help people climb in and out was lashed to the last step, the final means of lifting oneself in or out of the clear blue water below.
Shaded as it was, the water was bloody freezing!
Paddling our way through to the tall, sunlit cave, some people were milling about on a few small, slick rocks, and others almost fully submerged, clinging to a series of plastic piping that had been put together and floated as a buoyancy aid.
In a nod to crazy, a couple of locals were busy climbing the inner walls to demonstrate how it was done, then, after a countdown from 5, leaping back down into the water, distance close to 10 metres!
I had visions of my mangled body across the rocks just thinking about it, but a few far more intrepid guys were doing their best to make the slimy ascent to give it a go.
Now inside this cave as already noted, it was cool, so not really the most pleasant place to just hang out.
The reason we, and a host of others did so, was there was apparently a secondary cave, accessible only via an underwater swim.
A maximum of around 8 people at a time were allowed to swim through, then once all had returned, the next posse could make their passage and check it out for a time.
It all sounded pretty daunting, but we were here, and at least it didn’t involve jumping from a great height over jagged rocks!
The last of the previous group were eventually come back, so we were advised to abandon our perch and tread water for a bit, ready for our turn.
Somehow, Sarah and I were to be the first to go through…
A local Fijian remained in the cave, and we were advised to head towards the light when we swum through into the cave.
Fortunately, it wasn’t a case of seeing stars as we struggled for breath, or an out of body experience.
The local guy was holding a torch.
Inside the cave, another float was there for us to cling to, created from plastic piping, and it was dark.
Like really dark.
When the torch was off, or submerged, we could see nothing (and as you can imagine, my GoPro footage was useless).
It was also cold.
And being the first people through, we had to wait for all of the others to swim through as well, spend their time in the cave, before we’d all make the swim back.
So we just bobbed and waited.
One of the interesting things came from the acoustics of the place, as outside in the main cave, people were still climbing and making that leap of faith.
Every time they did so, we couldn’t so much as hear it occur, but we could feel it reverberate through the cave, I imagine something like it would have been for submariners being depth charged!
It was an interesting experience.
Eventually, it was time to leave the cave, a moment we were actually welcome for given how cold it was in there.
This time we were swimming towards natural light, and again, a local was there to assist.
Not to guide us, but as we broke the surface, he was there to grab the swimmers head and prevent them from smashing into a low hanging rock.
It was a crude, yet effective system.
Something I realise I’d neglected to mention through all this is the depth of the water within the cave (or caves).
The truth is, I have no idea of how deep it actually is, suffice to say, it was deep enough that at no point could we touch the bottom, so it either meant find a rock to cling to, a float to support you, otherwise it was tread water!
Given how cold we were by now, thought it a good time to make our exit, getting back into the sunshine a welcome move.
We weren’t however, able to depart, with a few of our party dilly dallying somewhere, meaning we were forced to wait a bit longer than most of us desired.
Back at The Blue Lagoon, we did try our hand at another snorkel, but the visibility was poor as had been suggested with the silt runoff with the overnight and morning storm.
Instead, we had a few beers and enjoyed a stellar sunset as a gorgeous way to round out our 2 nights here on the island, as with the coming day, we’d be switching islands for the next couple of days in our island hopping journey, back towards Vita Levu.
We had few plans for our last morning, as 1pm boat that had delivered us a couple of days earlier, would be our connection to the next island.
Fortunately, as far as weather to not do much goes, this day presented us with something perfect.
A pleasant temperature, plenty of sun and a nice gentle breeze.
It was the perfect goodbye!
* QANTAS return airfares to Nadi cost us $689.44AUD each, which I purchased through work at STA Travel
* Our Blue Lagoon resort stay and our Yasawa Flyer transfers wer part of our Awesome Adventures Fiji package which all up cost us about $1,500.00AUD at a charity auction
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