When the appointed time came which would get us to the pass at slack water, we both left the village anchorage. As soon as we got into the lagoon, we got hit with headwinds. Begonia has more frontal area than they do and our two engines have less power than their one, so it didn’t take them long to leave us behind.
As we were crossing the lagoon toward the pass, a pretty big powerboat came in. It was still pretty far away, so we couldn’t tell if it was a motor yacht or maybe a commercial fishing boat. When we got a little closer, we saw that it was a military ship. They stopped and anchored right in our path. We were following the track we had taken back and forth because we knew it was free of hazards. Dodging around them put us in no man’s land.
Just after we passed them, the military ship called Devana on the radio. They had just entered the narrow part of the pass and probably were a little busy to be chatting on the radio. When they answered, the military boat peppered them with questions about their itinerary, particularly when and where they had cleared in. Many boats try to sneak into the Lau group before clearing customs and they had clearly been tasked with nabbing any who tried.
Once Devana answered all of their questions, they called us with the same. When we were done, they thanked us and wished us a good sail.
Just as we were entering the pass, a RIB came speeding up to us and demanded we stop so they could board us. We refused, saying it was too dangerous to stop because we would lose steerageway and would not be able to control the boat in the narrow pass. They demanded again, this time with raised voices. They were now following us about a meter from our port stern. I yelled that we would NOT stop in the pass. Maryanne went out on the stern steps to explain why. I couldn’t even look at them because I needed my eyes forward at the helm.
After a little back and forth, they agreed that we could slow slightly to allow someone to board. The RIB would follow us and collect the guy once we were in open water. That was totally fine with us.
The Fijian Navy arrive in Vulanga, and from their little inflatable boat chase down Devana out to sea after boarding Begonia
The guy boarded. I steered while Maryanne showed him our inbound clearance paperwork. He then had a quick look through the boat, presumably for stowaways. Once he was done, we even had a couple minutes for pleasantries before he returned to the RIB. When he was back aboard, we were surprised that they went charging into the chop, chasing towards Devana, who was more than a rough mile ahead in the open sea. They appeared to make the same deal with them and Devana slowed and then turned into our path. We zipped by them. They had lost their lead.
We were about 3/4 miles ahead when they turned, filled their sails and started heading in our direction, We were doing about as expected. Devana is a monohull and slightly shorter than us, so we were slowly pulling away from them by almost a knot.
About halfway to Namuka, the wind died slightly and we slowed down commensurately. They did not. Over the next couple of hours, they turned our healthy lead into their healthy lead. Oh, how embarrassing.
By the time we had pulled down our sails, started the engines and motored to the anchorage against the strong trade winds, they had already been anchored for half an hour and were turning in for a nap.
Once we were anchored, we had to move fast to get everything done so we could get to the village for sevusevu and back by dark. The walk traverses most of the island’s length. The good news is the, “Go for a hike on the island” item on the ol’ tourism list is already taken care of with the pilgrimage to complete sevusevu.
The trail was quite long and pretty. It deposited us right at the Headman’s house, where we were directed to sit on the lawn with him and his wife for sevusevu. There was none of the formality we had seen at Vulaga. We were told we wouldn’t need to go to the trouble of meeting the chief. He would pass on the word. He took our kava, gave a little speech about how bad kava was for the village, and then requested the $50 fee for anchoring.
We knew nothing of such a fee, we had not brought enough money for such a fee - yikes! We had read in more than one source that compliance with iQoliqoli tribal protocols (which includes sevusevu) was all that was expected. In fact, the Fijian government has ruled that requiring any sort of additional anchoring fee as part of iQoliqoli above and beyond the normal sevusevu is unconstitutional. Vulaga gets away with charging a $50 fee for maintenance of their marine reserve areas. It’s a bit cheeky of them, but their fee is well established, and widely advertised around the various cruising guides. We had been cautioned that other villages may try to charge an additional fee. The advice is to decline politely and be firm.
We had not read any cautions specific to Namuka and so we didn’t even expect a problem. When we declined the payment, the Headman became as agitated as Fijians allow themselves to appear and politely explained to us that they have had the fee for a while. “They” had a big meeting several years ago and decided everybody was charging a $50 fee now. We should have known that. Gee, we hope not. We offered him ten bucks a night to anchor for two nights. He didn’t like that. He insisted there was no per night fee, just $50 for as long as we wanted, but also that we didn't have to pay it. It was all really uncomfortable and unexpected.
We have no doubt the village could use the income and we wouldn’t mind paying if we knew to expect the fee in advance, but we probably would have planned fewer stops of longer duration each island too. That would have saved us on the cost of kava as well. In this case, it seemed pretty clear they were trying to get away with something because they were the next island over from Vulaga and were trying to establish a precedent.
When Maryanne and I started to get noticeably uncomfortable about the whole thing, he backed off and said we didn’t have to pay if it would be a problem. Fijians are very wary of offending. We eventually produced our $20 and promised to pass on the word of the fee to other boaters, which ironically will probably cause many to cross Namuka off of their lists.
Once we were done with sevusevu, we were told the village was ours and we could look around as we like. We were worried about the remaining daylight, but decided to take a quick walk around before getting back to the boat.
Enjoing Namuka-i-Lau village - including the nicest village store we saw in Lau
The very first person we encountered was Mala, a fisherman tending to his nets in front of a newly built house. He welcomed us warmly and took us inside to meet his wife and kids, who were in the process of preparing dinner. We talked for a bit and then our new friend graciously took us on a tour of the tidy little village, which was surprisingly just a little bit larger than Muana-i-cake.
We could hear children in the distance calling out “Palagi!” (non-Fijians) and then running over to get a good look at us. Soon it felt as if the whole village was either following us or at least peeking out from their houses to get a look at us. We met a few people engaged in cooking or washing. All of them welcomed us warmly and seemed happy to meet us and have a chat. The children seemed to love practicing English phrases to us, saying very polite, “Good afternoon, Sir. Good afternoon, Madam” and shaking our hands.
Each visit took a little longer than we expected. It was hard to pull away from such nice people. At the Headmistress’s house (who our guide woke up to meet us!), we finally had to explain that we really must be going so that we can get home by dark. Once they realized we were going to be walking the long trail, several people offered to accompany us so we wouldn’t get lost. The trail was pretty easy to follow and after several times insisting we would be fine, they bid us warm farewells. We left Mala and the headmistress' husband smoking Suki-Suki: a homemade Fijian cigarette using the dried leaf of the suki plant, it is worked up in an seemingly impossibly thin and long roll using a narrow strip of newspaper. They would prefer B&H, but make do with Suki throughout the Lau group as it is so very much cheaper.
We didn’t make it. About halfway home, it became too dark to see the rocks and roots on the path that were trying to trip us up. We were ready for this and pulled out our headlamps for the rest of the walk. We had no problem staying on the trail. There were places under the thick jungle canopy with its hanging vines just at the edge of our lamps that made for a distinctly storybook spooky feel to the woods. It was comforting to know there were no bears, cougars or pythons lurking anywhere on the island.
When we got to the beach, we could see only one anchor light. Devana had left. We had the whole place to ourselves. Since the next day was Sunday, we knew that there would be no fishermen knocking on our hull in the early morning, so we felt free to sleep in the next day.
We needed it. By the time we emerged, bright sunshine was bouncing off of the beach and the sea, bathing everything in tropical warmth and sunlight. I went for a swim and a walk on a nearby beach while Maryanne did boat jobs in the shade of our cabin. The snorkeling wasn’t great, but it was good to see that there was nothing but sand within reach of our chain. The water was a little cloudy and I was worried there were hidden coral heads down there to trip us up.
{Maryanne: Namuka village is famed for its skill in making masi (bark cloth, elsewhere known as tapa) used for formal Fijian events such as weddings. Unfortunately we arrived too late in the day for anyone to be actively working on the cloth and given our discomfort, the weather and the distance to the village from the anchorage we were never to return and see it. Thankfully I did get to see it later at a different island in the Lau group}
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