SV Footprint (Begonia): Yadua Island

[Kyle]Our sail from Navidamu westwards along the northern Vanua Levu coast started out well. We weighed anchor and ran northwestwards under double-reefed mainsail in winds that increased as we left the land behind. After about three miles, we cleared the extensive shoals to the south and west of the village and were finally able to turn across the wind to parallel the coast. We unrolled the jib and had fast, easy sailing in the flat water in the lee of the island.

Moving west along the north coast of Vanua Levu

That lasted for about fifteen miles or so, until our course, which had slowly been converging with the shore, finally got close enough that we were once again in the turbulence behind the mountains. Then the wind went through a cycle of five minutes on, which was just enough to make us think our woes were over, and fifteen minutes off, which made us think we would have to start a motor and spend the rest of the day like that. Eventually, after clearing the impressive headland at Naivaka (Sleepy Point), with its 500-meter peaks, we found ourselves in twenty-five knot headwinds for the remainder of our leg to the deep indentation at Nokanoka, just up the coast from the extreme western edge of Vanua Levu, the smaller of Fiji's two main islands.

Nokanoka is pretty, but is otherwise lacking in diversions. There is no village there and no beach. Most of the shore is hidden behind a band of mangroves. There is some coral around the edges of the inlet, but generally speaking, it is heavily silted over, which makes sense in the murky water.

Thus, we were able to have a couple of guilt-free days, where we didn't feel compelled to leave the boat. Even better, the steep valley at Nokanoka was aligned with the prevailing winds, which rumbled down the valley to meet us. For the first time in a while, we were able to wake up each morning to a battery bank that had been kept completely full all night long by our wind turbine. With it and our solar panels able to put out more electricity than we could even use during the day, we had the luxury of being able to be somewhat indiscriminate with it.

On Day Three, the southeast winds backed slightly to the east-southeast and strengthened, which would give us a strong beam reach for the fifteen-mile leg from Nokanoka to Yadua Island. There are extensive reefs between Yadua and Vanua Levu, which put some zigzags in our track, but also helped tamp down the worst of the swell. After a few hours, we were rounding Yadua's northwest corner and turning into thirty knot headwinds for the last couple miles of motoring into Cukuvou Harbor. We found a spot in thirteen meters of depth alongside one other boat.

Yadua is well-known for having good snorkeling at Cukuvou, but the next few days were forecast to be in very strong winds, so our plan was to hunker through them aboard while crossing our fingers that the anchor holds.

Visitors to the boat
including Sevu (wearing his blue park ranger t-shirt)

Before they started in earnest, a local boat with two men arrived. We invited them aboard. They introduced themselves as Sevu, the Park Ranger, and Lua, the grandson of Yadua's chief. Sevu patrols the island. Lua spearfishes during breaks. We got the rundown of the island and were even able to give our kava to the men to take to the village, on the weather-beaten opposite side of the island, for a remote sevusevu ceremony. The anchorages on that side of Yadua are tenuous on a good day. This was definitely not one of those. There was no way we were going to be able to make the trip in the current conditions in our Portland Pudgy, so it was nice of them to handle it for us.

Before the wind picked up too far, we took the opportunity to go ashore the next day. Getting to the beach was a struggle, like a thirty-minute workout with the rowing machine on ‘high'. Once ashore in the protection of the trees, conditions seemed almost normal. With an aim to getting over the ridge to the beach on the opposite, windward side of the anchorage, we tried a couple of trails inland, but they eventually petered out on us. We were at least able to forage some fresh papayas for later.

Exploring ashore

We returned to the beach, walked to the other end, and then a little further over tidal rocks, before finally finding the correct trail over the ridge to the long beach on the windward side, called Talai. This beach was beautiful, with long views of southern Yadua, and completely exposed to the building wind. It was the kind you had to lean into while holding your hands over your eyes as protection from stinging grains of flying sand. Well, at least we were getting a walk in. We've been overdue for that.

After regaining the ridge on the way back to Cukuvou, we took a side trail that led us to a couple of high points on the cliffs edging the bay. There, we got nice views of the wind-streaked anchorage.

Just before dinner, we were visited by a local boat with four men in it, who said they were just starting an overnight stint of fishing. Only one of them was wearing anything waterproof. They told us that when they were finished fishing, they would take their catch to market on Vanua Levu in the morning.

When we told them about tomorrow's forecast of thirty-knot winds, with gusts to forty, which would be headwinds for them to Vanua Levu, they seemed concerned, but not deterred. We gave them hot coffee, wished them luck fishing tonight, but especially on the trip to market tomorrow. Then they headed to the beach to make camp.

When we emerged from our bed in the morning, the men were gone and the gusts coming through the anchorage felt like they were going to lift Begonia right out of the water, held aloft by her anchor chain like a kite. Maryanne shared with me the news that another local boat had gone missing, over in the Lau Group. It was the second this month. So far, there was no sign of them, and a big search was underway.

By the next afternoon, the wind had abated ever so slightly. We made a plan of doing a quick snorkel in Begonia's immediate vicinity, with the option of bailing out if the water is too churned up.

We started along the reefs along the southern shore of Cukuvou. There was plenty of variety there, with high proportions of vibrant healthy species, and plenty of fishes that were too small to be worth catching by Yaduans.

The water was still unseasonably cold, though. I had opted out of wearing a wetsuit for simplicity's sake, which meant I was soon tugging on Maryanne's fin to tell her I was going to give up and retreat to the warmth of home while she finished her swim.

The next day, having finally accepted that it would be worth the effort after all, I donned my full outfit, including the hood. That took temperature out of the endurance calculation, and Maryanne and I were able to have an hours-long swim to, and then around, the big patch of coral in the middle of the bay.

Some beautiful snorkelling along the reef walls at the entrance of the bay

That patch was even livelier than the one yesterday. That, in turn, made us go nuts the next day. We swam past the central patch to the large reef at the southern headland. Then we followed its edge all the way around to the wall on the outside, and then kept going until we had left the bay altogether and could no longer see Begonia.

The wall was just fantastic, with lots of bright corals and darting fishes. It plunges straight down into the black depths below. Occasionally, we would pass a little canyon along the way, which made for a pleasant detour with 360-degree views. Since I am pretty good at free diving, I would often follow the wall to the fifteen-meter range or so, where I was constantly surprised by how porous this giant coral structure above me was, with sunlight coming through holes and wide caverns that are big enough for a person to swim through if they were so inclined. I was not, as at those depths I am wary of putting myself in any situation that could prevent my buoyancy from returning me to the surface.

After a few hours of this, we were both starting to get worn out. Following about the fifth “just to the next canyon”, we finally agreed that we should start heading home in earnest this time. Our route was all just a marvelous as it had been on the way out, which kept us from having to think too much about the miles of water between us and Begonia's swim ladder. The upwind bash across the featureless portion between the edge of the coral and the boat seemed to take ages, though.