Savusavu (Vanua Levu Island, Fiji)

[Kyle]Once we had received our clearance, we went ashore for all of the usual shore stuff. We didn’t have much provisioning to do as we were pretty stocked up from Neiafu and New Zealand before that. We dropped off our laundry, reconnected with a few other boats we hadn’t seen for a while and had a few meals out.

One of the last ones we had was a night out with the Ross family (from the catamaran Muse) at a Korean restaurant (Grace Kitchen) that had been recommended to us by everyone we met that had been there. It was A-mazing! I ordered a spicy dish that came out actually spicy and we had an incredible dessert called a Snow. The description on the menu kind of implied it was an overpriced snow cone. I ordered the red bean version because it seemed most in keeping with the Asian theme. We used to get red bean buns in Chinatown when we were in Oakland and I always liked them there.

It took them so long to make it that I thought they forgot our order. I mean, how long does it take to drizzle some red bean flavored syrup on a snow cone anyway?

Okay, I’m a jerk. I was wrong. What came to the table was clearly something that had taken a lot of time and care to prepare. It was a big bowl filled with a thick slush suffused with coconut cream, a little lemon and a few other flavors I couldn’t identify. It was topped with a generous blob of sweet red bean paste covered in pistachios and shaved coconut meat. There was a bunch of other stuff in there as well. The whole thing was a masterpiece of low key sweetness and mouth-pleasing textures. The most amazing thing was that it contained no chocolate whatsoever. Ordinarily, I would be opposed to such things on moral grounds. I think I may have found my new favorite dessert, beating out a whole raft of other things with names like Decadent Triple-Chocolate Insanity, Explosion, etc. Then it’s blah, blah, blah, blah…prunes. Prunes are a terrible dessert.

The awful thing is I probably won’t be able to find the “snow” as readily as all of the chocolate desserts in all of the world’s Chili’s and Chili’s knock-offs. Sigh…

Savusavu, and both types of Fiji flags - the red one is the official 'maritime' courtesy flag, but everyone actually uses the pale blue one which matches the country flag

There are plenty of opportunities to purchase stuff in Savusavu (From a coal fired iron, to Kava roots, to a sula/wrap-around-skirt for Kyle, and a 'snow' desert - all while enjoying the views.

During dinner, as we and the Muse gang recounted the days in the week since we had last seen them in Tonga, I told Phil about my day and my concern over the water situation.

I asked Pretti, the marina manager about their water. She repeated what the Health guy had said that it was potable, but should not be taken after rains.

”How soon after? Days? Hours?” She wasn’t sure, but seemed to feel that it was alright now. I told her that I got the impression from the Health guy that it may not be okay just yet. She seemed surprised by this and agreed to call him over as soon as he was done clearing his next boat.

When I spoke to him, he said the water was perfectly safe to put in our tanks. We’re using it for washing, right?

“And drinking”, I said

“Oh, you should be fine, then.”

Good! But then he would finish off by saying something like, “Just take normal precautions, like boiling it” at the end, almost as an afterthought. We’re not going to boil all of the water in our tanks.

”So it’s NOT safe to drink?”

”No, no, perfectly safe…..just use a filter.”

”For the contamination?”, I asked.

”No, just for the chlorine, but I wouldn’t drink it.”

”You wouldn’t drink it?”

”I would drink it because I’m used to it, but you probably shouldn’t drink it.”

”Okay, but CAN I drink it?”

”Yes, of course, but you may want to boil it, though you don’t have to, but you should, even though it’s not necessary, but you really should, especially after rains.”

I relayed all of this to Pretti. She said they don’t use the city water during rains. They use a big tank they keep filled from when it has not been raining. She told us we could fill our jugs from the tank if we weren’t comfortable using the hose.

”Yes, please! Oh, thank you, thank you!” Running back and forth in the dinghy with jugs is not nearly as convenient as using a hose, but I may thank myself later for that.

As we were filling our first jug, the nice laundry lady ran up and told us that the tank water was only for when it was raining, we should just use the hose. We told her about our concerns, to which she responded by filling a big, white mug full of hose water to show that it was clean and safe now. The hose water was safe.

Okay. It was going to be a while before we could refill our tanks and there was no way we could last until then with the water we had, so we decided to roll the dice with it and fill our jugs with tap water. Oh, how I wish we had saved all of that rainwater. We could have put two months worth into our tanks in an hour.

So here’s where Phil comes in. After hearing the whole story and seeing us fill our jugs from the hose, he decides he just can’t let us put that water into our tanks. Muse has a watermaker (desalinator), so they fill their tanks from the sea. Once their water is turned from salt to fresh, they then filter it with carbon filters before it goes into their tanks. He went home and then got their big filter, an electric pump and all of the wiring necessary to plug it into a 12V socket and came over to Begonia. Now we had a system that would filter all of our jug water as it was being pumped into our tanks. Brilliant! He told us to get it back to him whenever we were done.

The problem was that Muse was leaving in the morning. Phil made a point of saying there was no rush, but overhearing his conversations with his wife and kids, it really seemed like it would be better for them to leave as early as possible. I decided we couldn’t be responsible for delaying them, so I needed to get all of our water that night.

It took seven round trips to the tap in the dinghy. I finally got the last of our water at 1:30am, but we could now last through our whole stay in Fiji and Muse could leave on time. Maryanne graciously agreed to get up early to hand off Muse’s system to them as they left Savusavu the next morning.

The following morning, after collecting our neatly folded laundry from the nice lady at the marina, we returned to Grace Kitchen, a mere eighteen hours after we left, where I ordered the exact same meal I had had the night before. Well, almost. This time, I ordered the large snow instead of the medium one. I just knew Maryanne was going to steal a bit every time I looked away, even though it’s MINE, so I needed extra. The whole repeat meal was no less incredible than the one the night before and I made a point of slowly savoring each bite. Magnificent!

Next on the list was kava. The drinking of kava and the ceremony around it is an important part of Fijian culture. When going to a new village, visitors are expected to first go to the Chief, introduce oneself and present a gift of kava root in exchange for his blessing. This ceremony is called sevusevu. The Chief’s blessing effectively makes the visitor a de facto member of the village. It hasn’t been that long since not being a member of the village meant you were soon to be surrounded by cassava, breadfruit and papaya as part of a big feast. Maryanne and I were planning on visiting many villages in Fiji, so we needed a lot of kava.

Kava is normally sold in bunches, each the customary size for sevusevu. The bunches are wrapped in newspaper and ribbon and look like a bouquet of sticks. None of the vendors in the market had enough bouquets for our month in the boonies, so we had to pre-order the requisite amount the previous day for pickup today.

I guess most people ordinarily buy one or two of these things at a time and then buy more for their next visit. We needed nine. Nine is beyond the number where the bundles can be tucked in with other shopping or hidden in a shirt. I ended up with a bag in each hand, the kava tips sticking out like the tentacles of a dried octopus.

Walking down the streets of Savusavu with a bag of kava root in each hand is like walking through downtown Santa Cruz with a case of beer under each arm. Suddenly, I’m everybody’s best friend. People were constantly coming up to me and asking me where I got it and how much I paid.

When we got it back it back to the boat we found a place inside out of the sun. We were told to hang the bundles, but the only place we could do that is in the cockpit. Leaving nine bundles of kava in the cockpit would be like leaving a bail of weed on your front porch. Not gonna happen. That stuff’s expensive. We quickly learned that although kava doesn’t have a detectable smell in the market, in the enclosed cabin, it wasn’t long before we had a whole hull that smelled of the stuff. The smell isn’t pharmacological, but it’s also not pleasant if you’re not that into kava. It’s like having an open bag of stale yard mulch aboard.

Weighed down with as much water as we could carry and reeking of kava, we were off to the wilds of Fiji.

{Maryanne}Our stop in Savusavu was really all about getting our paperwork done. We needed to clear into the country and then wait for our cruising permit to be approved. During that time we did chores (with a quick trip to the Gardens). We should have also visited the hot springs in the town, but somehow that just didn't get done (something for next time).

Visiting Flora Tropical Gardens - a pleasant way to see a huge variety of palm trees

Passage to Fiji

[Kyle]The first night after clearing out of Neiafu, the forecast was for no wind and a whole lot of rain. Rather than being subjected to that while underway, we popped back into the anchorage at Mala to wait it out on the hook.

I’m so glad we did. The rain was torrential, like standing under a waterfall. It hit the deck and splashed back up from every direction at once, making for an instant soaking when venturing outside, even under the bimini in the cockpit.

We didn’t really need any water. We still had ten days left in our tanks above our reserve level and enough in the cockpit buckets for a rinse should we decide to have a swim for some reason. In Fiji, we could fill up with as much as we wanted for five Fijian dollars, so there was no need to carry any extra weight there if we didn’t have to.

Still, our water catchment was all set up, so we left it that way. All three of our 40 liter buckets were overflowing within twenty minutes. I wanted to clean off all of the muddy footprints that were covering the deck from our clearing out process (the road to the offices is dirt), so I donned a pair of swim trunks, lathered up (might as well get a free shower out of it) and headed out with a deck brush and a bottle of soap. When I was done, I was able to splash tons of fresh water over the decks and upend a bucket over myself for good measure. The tubs refilled so fast, I was able to then turn the cockpit into a rapidly draining little kiddie pool, sending all of the accumulated salt and sand back to the sea.

Afterwards, it felt strange to sit there and watch all of that clean, fresh water go into the sea. We are so habituated to thinking about conserving our limited resources that it was like watching money fall out of an ATM onto the ground and standing there passively while the wind blows it all away.

It was still coming down in big, heavy sheets in the morning. By the time we were finished with breakfast, it had stopped. By the time the anchor was up, the clouds were rapidly turning into bright sunshine.

We had a few slow squiggles on our track as the wind filled in and swirled in the lee of Vava’u. Then we reached clear air and FOOM! We were off.

It was the best passage we have had in ages. The wind was from behind. The waves were, too, and they were slight enough that we barely felt the motion. We weren’t in a particular hurry because the distance was such that a daytime departure and a daytime arrival meant we could back off of the throttle a little bit, so to speak. We threw an extra reef in each sail, which kept us well protected from any unexpected gusts.

The air was warm and the skies were clear. My first night watch was the perfect mix of three hours of bright moonlight followed by three hours of moonless stargazing. Oh, if only all long sails could be this easy…

On the third day, just past the halfway point, we made it to the Lau group of islands. We had to pick our way through them to get to the Koro Sea, the relatively unobstructed gap between the Lau and Fiji’s main island of Vitu Levu. The Lau consists of about eighty islands, about half of which are inhabited. In addition, there are loads of reefs and atolls to worry about there as well. Much of the area hasn’t been surveyed since the 1800s, when longitude was difficult to pin down accurately. Reports from people we have met that have been there area say it’s not uncommon for charts to be as much as ½ mile in error in places. As a result, our route zigzagged across open water like we had been dodging a fishing fleet or something. We saw no other boats. We were just trying to keep at least a mile away from anything that might be land or even a shallow spot.

When we got to the Koro Sea, we had to turn even further downwind. This made our jib flog annoyingly in the turbulence behind the mainsail. We solved that problem by bringing down the main and zipping it up into its bag, since the jib is generally less work to operate. That made the sailing even easier.

On the morning of Day Four, we just managed to catch sight of Fiji’s second biggest island of Vanua Levu before losing it again in a wave of heavy rain reminiscent of our last night in Tonga.

It ended just as we rounded the corner into Savusavu Bay. The sun came out and the rain immediately began the process of steaming back into the sky, making it both hot and muggy. We announced our arrival to the Copra Shed Marina. They are the biggest of the three marinas in the harbor and seem to have been given the unofficial role of Harbor Control by the others. They assigned us the last of their mooring balls and then seamlessly put later arrivals in berths or on balls at the other two marinas. The whole time we were in Savusavu we detected no rivalry whatsoever between businesses there.

Once we were tied up, a launch came out with our first official, the Health Officer. The health inspection was in the same style as the one we got in Tonga; hand us the bill, see if our hearts hold up. He explained that he is always first in case we are actually sick. That way, he is the only official that gets exposed to anything we may have. Apart from that, he was very friendly. He told us the history of the town, explained where to go to get most of the things we might need. He emphasized that if we ever had any questions about anything at all, not just health related, we could pop into his office anytime to ask. Savusavu looked small enough to be easy to figure out. I asked him about the water at the marina. He said it was safe and potable. That was good to hear. Then he said it just wasn’t that way today. Huh‽

”When it has been raining too much, runoff can get into the drinking water supply. It’s best to wait until the rain has stopped for a while.”

I pressed him further. He said the water was currently safe to drink, but they put a lot of chlorine in after rains, so we probably wouldn’t like the taste. He said everything would be back to normal in a couple of days at the most.

Next were Customs, Immigration and Quarantine. They were quick and efficient. Fiji has a very paperwork-intensive process. There are thirteen pages of forms to fill out. They did all of the writing for us, all while simultaneously repeating the previous guy’s insistence that we pop in or grab them on the street if we need help or advice on anything.

Sights on passage - mostly fine sailing with a bit of rain towards the end

The Rest of Vava’u

[Kyle]After everyone else had left, we once again had Langito’o all to ourselves. We finally had some unstructured time with no “jobs” on that infernal list of ours. That was nice, because it allowed us to get bored enough to start looking for things to do.

Even though I would generally be considered the tidy one, Maryanne got it in her head that she would do a little Spring cleaning. I decided to go overboard and give the bottom paint a wipe down to keep any growth from gaining a foothold.

I had company. Our resident family of squid was hanging out down there. They are so adorable. As I cleaned one hull, they were all lined up under the other one watching me with obvious interest. When I moved to the outside, I would catch them peeking under just far enough to see me.

When I got finished, I decided to spend some time hanging out with them. They clustered around me watching my every move. I tried to communicate with them by going quickly from light to dark like they do. I did this by pulling my dark shirt up and down over my white belly. They just seemed to think that was weird, so I switched to making different shapes with the tentacles on the end of my hands. They really liked that. They would all gather up really close and a brave one or two would reach out with an arm and almost touch me before chickening out when I moved too much. They never went far, though, and always came back for another try. While all of this was going on, they were giving me a great show. They changed from light to dark, spotted to solid, and a couple of them even turned an arm or two blue, presumably to mimic me. I had a blue camera in one hand.

Kyle managed some playtime with our resident group of squid (at Langito'o)

I stayed until my tentacles were good and pruny. I would have loved to invite them up to play at the table, but I don’t think they would have liked that. I went back to my world and left them to theirs.

I was secretly hoping they would find a way to follow us to our next anchorage, although I knew it was best for them to stay in their own neighborhood, where they had all of the good hidey holes scoped out. I hope they are okay without a big boat to hide under.

[Maryanne]On the passage to our next anchorage (Mala) we detoured to Mariners Cave. This is a sealed cave that has an underwater entrance - you swim down, along the short entrance passage and can surface inside the cave itself where there is air again (I was a little nervous about my level of fitness, but practiced ahead of time by swimming under Begonia a few times to make sure I was happy to hold my breath for the time required). While I assume (somehow) fresh air can get in and stale air can get out, there is no obvious opening, and indeed the swell of the water outside actually changes the air pressure inside the cave - so much so that the air condenses and clears as the swell comes and goes. Last time we visited, the weather was so calm that this effect was simply not apparent, this time however, we managed it.. While floating in the cave, it is hard to be sure if your eyesight is going a bit squiffy or a fog has appeared, and just as you process that thought visibility returns to crystal-clear. It is a surreal experience. We each took turns to enter the cave while the other stayed aboard Begonia and hovered around the area. It is a little nerve-wracking watching your loved one dive down to enter a cave, and not see them again for 15 minutes!

Mariners Cave, looking out to the entrance and up to the ceiling

[Kyle]We moved on to Mala Island for a few days, which is conveniently located about halfway between Langito’o and Neiafu. We slept in and snorkeled and generally got ready for our next big sail at a slow, comfortable pace.

[Maryanne]From the Mala anchorage it is about a 1.5nm dinghy ride to Swallows cave. We'd visited here previously, but wanted a repeat visit to this spectacular cave. We'd since learned that there was access by foot to an inner cave, deeper in. We came prepared with underwater lights, headlamps, and good shoes. You can actually take your dinghy inside Swallows cave, we did, and with our electric motor there is no issue with engine fumes either. This year we saw no birds swooping in and out (Swifts nest here, despite the cave name). Inside the water is really clear, and you can see down to the distant floor and the amazing rock formations in the walls look cathedral like (both above and below the water). Kyle kept attempting to dive down to the bottom (which looked so close) but never made it. There are also large schools of small fish that you can enjoy their displays (and even swim through) while backlit with the afternoon sun. Swimming around with my underwater flashlight I found some large shrimp in one corner (they were very shy). Kyle climbed out of the water and went off and explored the inner passages and additional chambers on foot. The story has it that feasts were held in the dry cave, but Kyle suggested there may not have been so many birds back then, since now the floor was covered with guano and he definitely appreciated his flashlight to avoid the extra slippery locations. While we were enjoying snorkelling and exploring the main cave, a local boat arrived with a tourist family so we retreated into one corner to give them their time.

Swallows Cave - impressive rock formations AND schools of fish

There is another smaller cave just to the left of swallows cave - so we dinghied and swam in there too!

We found time for some snorkelling around Mala too (not the best but we always seem to find something to impress us

[Kyle]Back at the anchorage a few other boats came and went for a night each. Most kept to themselves, making us on waving terms. We did spend some time with Phil and his young daughter Hannah from Muse, while they were waiting for the wind to start in earnest before leaving leaving for Fiji. We'd met before via VHF when we were both headed to Tonga from New Zealand this year. Hannah decided to interview us for her project (video!) and made it a fun job by presenting us with freshly baked bread to get us in the mood.

We visited Malafakalava Island in the hopes of finding a cocktail and maybe even a meal at Lava Bar and Grill but found it closed down.. oh well..

Kind gifts and beautiful sunsets at Mala anchorage

We beat them out of the anchorage the next day and headed into Neiafu for our outbound clearance as well as a bunch of other “city” stuff. We got there just in time. Boats were streaming into Neiafu. Most were arriving from Niue with the World ARC Rally. They all leave and arrive as a group, so it only took a few days for Neiafu to go from being eerily deserted to being chock-a-block full.

We managed to get the second to last transient mooring ball in the harbor while the two boats in front of us headed to the government wharf for their inbound clearance. Then more and more arrived until there was a queue of boats hovering by the government dock waiting for space. All day long, there was the constant activity of boats leaving the dock for the mooring field while the next one pulled up to take their space. Then a brand new arrival would hover/anchor in their spot. Once the mooring after ours was taken, the newly cleared boats would spend longer and longer loitering around looking for one for themselves. They would each take turns picking up increasingly dodgy private moorings until they either got kicked off by the owners or grew to realize the mooring wasn’t stout enough for their boat (ARC boats tend to be much larger than average) or that they didn’t have the swinging room to keep from hitting adjacent boats or even the shore.

The boats surrounding us were all separated appropriately, but just. We could probably reach our two nearest neighbors by dinghy without having to paddle – just a big push would do the job. The boat right behind us is a giant, shiny new catamaran that looms over Begonia in a way that makes it seem like they are nearer to us than they actually are. I wouldn’t mind so much, but they run their noisy generator pretty much the entire time they aren’t actually sleeping. That used to be considered inconsiderate, but is increasingly less so as surrounding boats also have their generators running and are sealed up tight in air conditioned, hermetically sealed cabins. Those of us in the “fresh air in the cockpit” crowd are being increasingly marginalized, looked down upon as undeserving have-nots. The noise creates the subconscious feeling that there is someone constantly bearing down on us. Perhaps there is, but the noise is being masked by that damn generator. It keeps us from ever really relaxing. I have scanned for another available mooring ball, but there won’t be any. We need to cling to the one we have. It’s nice to be able to go to cafes and restaurants and to meet some of the other cruisers, but Neiafu is getting too crowded, as if it were Cruise Ship Day. I’m already looking forward to the solitude of the open sea.

We got intel from one of the ARC boats that they aren’t allowed to leave until well after we’ll be long gone. They’ll overtake us again, but they’re on a tight schedule, so it won’t be for too long. I’m hoping that makes for just the right mix of socializing and solitude.

Amazingly we were reunited with our Machete cover - which we'd lost while bushwhacking in Kenutu Island. Somehow it had found its way to a completely different island and delivered to the boater friendly Tropicana in Vavau 'just in case'. A big thank you to all involved!