Departing Vulaga - Beautiful sunrise and then rainbows to send us off
Our exit of Vulaga's pass was uneventful against a flood current of about a third of a knot. When we got into deep water, I couldn't help but notice that the sea temperature climbed three degrees Celsius, which is backward from usual, since shallow lagoons generally allow water within to heat up faster in the sun.
With the strong wind on our starboard quarter, Begonia ate up the miles easily, even with an extra reef tucked into each sail. Even better, the gloomy drizzle of the last few days had gone, leaving bright sunshine on a sparkling sea.
Our fun ended when we reached the lagoon at Oneata. The pass entrance is on the far, northern side, about four miles from the island. Conditions weren't too bad in the lee outside the reef, but once we reached the pass, we had to turn directly into the wind and bash into steep chop that had been heaping up since the island. Our nice, dry decks and windows, which had so recently been rinsed of their accumulated salt by the rains during our last few nights in Vulaga, were now being completely recoated with flying spray being driven over the boat by thirty-knot headwinds.
The rough seas and our headwind-hindered speed improved ever so slowly as we crept up into the protection of the island. When we dropped anchor, we were down to eighteen knots of wind on a slightly annoying swell that was still somehow managing to wrap its way around the island. Still, it was way better than what it had been like on the way in, and we were more than grateful to let out a big sigh that our day was now over. Those last four miles from the pass took more out of us than the forty before them.
A welcome view on arrival in Oneata, and a beautiful beach ashore
In the morning, we gathered up our things and rowed the dinghy ashore for the walk to Oneata's main village, Waiqori. The route there requires a bit of what the Kiwis call a Tiki Tour. From the beach where Begonia was anchored, we had to blaze a trail through the jungle to the adjacent beach. At the far end of that beach, there is a proper trail to the village of Dakuiloa, Oneata's original settlement. From Dakuiloa, we could join the island's main artery to Waiqori.
The trail was difficult for us to follow, and we managed to find ourselves in a swamp at one point (but those buttress roots of the swamp trees were just so enthraling to look at so we didn't mind too much, even if we nearly lost our shoes)
The thing is, the trail between Dakuiloa and the beach isn't heavily travelled, particularly on the beach end, which is far beyond the village's garden plots on the village side. With vague directions, we managed to find the trailhead, but lost it several times in the thick undergrowth. We squished our way through boggy swamps, filling our shoes with greasy mud. Ewww! The place did at least have the most interesting trees with the most delicate buttress roots that looked like fine filigree.
After several minutes of collecting mud for our legs and getting increasingly annoyed with each other's navigational prowess, we stepped right into the middle of what was very obviously a somewhat well-trodden trail that was leading in the direction of Dakuiloa. We considered backtracking all the way to the beach to see where we had gone wrong, but we had a long day ahead of us, so we decided to hope it would be obvious on the way back.
In Dakuiloa, we arrived as we had in Vulaga, by ducking under a line of drying laundry. The first woman we met greeted us like returning family, with a smile and handshakes that turned into hugs. When we explained that we were needing to get to Waiqori for sevusevu, she assigned her four young sons to show us to the path.
We have been to Oneata before. The path between the villages is wide and obvious, but the boys insisted on showing us the way. Once we were out of the village, the eldest, Seko, explained that he was going to accompany us for the whole journey. His next younger brother, Solo, was also keen to go, but they weren't so sure about the youngest two, Joni and Cama, who they kept trying without success to send back home to mom. Eventually, it became clear that it was going to be the six of us the whole way.
Local kids from the village of Dakuiloa were assigned to help us find the main village of Waiqori (an obvious path, but their company was delightful, AND they sourced refreshments on route for us) - maybe you can spot Solo up in the coconut tree?
The kids were actually a lot of fun. Cama was trailing a long piece of polypropylene line and seemed to think there was nothing more fun in the world than the game of keeping us from stepping on it as we chased him. Give a kid anything and they will figure out how to make it into a toy.
At about the halfway point, Seko decided we must be getting thirsty, despite our obvious, hot-pink water bottle, and ordered Solo up a tree to collect us all a few drinking coconuts. He opened them deftly with his machete, which of course he had, because he's eight. Fresh Coconut water is sweet and delicious, although I have yet to master drinking out of the little hole without dribbling a third of it down my shirt.
Further down the road, we met a man who introduced himself as Uraia. He was the same Uraia we had met in 2019, when he was delivering hot lunches to the school for Dakiuloa's children. I thought we had taken a picture of him, but the one we had was of a different man. When we showed him that picture, he pointed out that it was taken right in front of the tree where we were all now standing. How funny. It looked like a lot of the others, but on closer examination, it was the same tree, only a little older. There is a man who knows his island!
In Waiqori, every person we met, including his wife, told us the Chief was out fishing and wouldn't be back until later to do sevusevu. Then we started meeting others who said they had heard he was in Suva. In the meantime, it was determined we would wait at the school until someone figured out what should be done with us.
There, we met Saukula, the kindergarten teacher, who invited us to wait at the house she has at the school. Inside, a man was laboriously pounding casava into flour, occasionally taking breaks to diligently pick out any unwanted pulp. Saukula introduced him as Ledua, and explained he was one of the Chief's sons. He was soft spoken, but kind and funny. He apologized for not being able to offer us any clarity on his father's whereabouts. Apparently, the coconut telegraph also suffers from occasional outages.
As the hour was getting late for us to make it back to Begonia by dark, it was eventually determined that it would be acceptable in a pinch for us to do our sevusevu with Asaeli, the village pastor. He ran through the ceremony efficiently and Maryanne and I were soon bid a good journey home.
In Waiqori, it took a while for us to find someone who could perform the sevusevu (permission/welcome) ceremony - and while we waited we were again enthralled watching locals land with their fresh fish catch, or grind flour from cooked/dried cassava roots; once again we were in a living museum (where we had plenty to learn)
After completing our sevusevu, we found Solo, Joni, and Cama, but Seko was apparently off somewhere with friends. His brothers wanted us to wait for him. When Maryanne and I explained that we had no time for that (we needed to get back to the boat before dark), but that we *could* easily find our own way back, they opted to go with us instead. Solo said Seko could find his way back in the dark, no problem.
But Seko has the machete. What if we get thirsty?
At Dakuiloa, we dropped the kids off and said a quick hello/goodbye to their mother, promising to return in a couple of days to spend more time.
Just after joining the beach trail, we noticed a pig that had somehow escaped from the adjacent pen. I went back into Dakuiloa to report it. After some consultation by an ad hoc committee, it was determined that a boy of about fourteen years would accompany us back to the pen, where he would corral the animal while Maryanne and I continued on our way.
Back to the dinghy on the beach "just in time" for Sunset
Back at the beach end of the trail, we quickly found our error from the morning. After taking two steps off the beach, the trail bends sharply in the direction opposite of Dakuiloa. Then there are about twenty paces to get around the edge of the swamp, before the trail starts heading directly at the village again. Now that we knew where to go, our next trip ashore should go much more smoothly.
We spent the next day at home, which we learned the day before is called Lawaki Bay by the locals. As it was Sunday, no fishing boats came around and we had the whole uninhabited side of Oneata to ourselves.
Time for a snorkel. We were pleased to find that the water was noticeably warmer than it was back in Vulaga. That small difference allowed us to stay out for hours, exploring the reef adjacent Begonia, plus the fringes of the nearest three bays. The coral was not amazing, but good, with a few fish left that hadn't been taken for bait or dinner. The most interesting spot was in the next bay to our east, where a craggy islet with two lonely palm trees serves as the centerpiece of the bay.
As promised, we left Begonia early the next morning so that we could spend all day on the island. At Dakuiloa, we met several people, including a woman called Wati, who took us to see the cave where the locals like to go to cool off. It probably would have made sense to have a dip ourselves, as we would undoubtedly be completely dry after an hour of walking, but we elected to give it a miss today.
A little further on, we were invited in by three other ladies, who were each at different stages of stencilling some Masi (tapa) cloth for a big event coming up at the church to commemorate the arrival of the first missionaries to Oneata. The most senior of these (Wati's mother: Ulamila) was so efficient at the task that she practically completed her entire Masi as Maryanne and I watched on.
The cave off the beach in Dakuiloa
The local women stencilling their masi (tapa) cloth ready for the church anniversary in Dakuiloa village
At the far edge of the village, no children were following us, but we were joined by an enthusiastic dog who seemed to be glad to have someone to join him on a long walk to Waiqori.
There, we spent some time hanging out over lemon leaf tea with the Chief's wife and sister, and also his brother. Then we meandered through the village. A characteristic pounding sound drew us to a sheltered area, where a woman was pounding Mulberry bark into Masi cloth. She invited us to her house to see the finished product. Her latest creation was enormous, requiring almost all of the floor area in the room to display. She explained that it was going to be for a wedding (not hers) and that it was going to be hung on the wall as a backdrop.
The stencils are all hand made by each woman (not shared between them). At one time the stencil material would have been banana leaves, but nowadays it is repurposed sheets of old x-ray film used for the task (making the patterns reusable longer-term). This giant masi, once finished, will be a centerpiece at an upcoming wedding (mounted on the wall)
Waiqori is the larger of the two villages, and also has its own beach for the local fishing boats, etc
We excused ourselves a bit early because Maryanne wanted to head to the school. The school uses traditional drums, played by a specially chosen child, in place of the school bell for a subset of a day's events. Maryanne was hoping to get to witness it.
Each day, one of the senior local school kids is assigned to "sound the school bell" which in this case is a traditional Lali (drum). All the kids seem to totally disregard the call to class so we had to excuse ourselves to remove the distraction we'd caused.
In doing so, we managed to inadvertently hijack the event, which in this case was the end of lunch. As soon as the kids saw us coming, we were mobbed by smiling faces practicing various English greetings and barraging us with questions. The poor kid tasked with the important duty of being the day's drummer had lost his limelight. He got it back later when everyone realized his performance was why Maryanne and I had detoured to the school in the first place.
Since my phone had the better camera, Maryanne had designated me to be the one to video the drumming. I was all ready to go at the end of the question-and-answer period, when someone asked if I had any pictures from our 2019 visit. I pulled the phone out of my sulu and was immediately crushed by several layers of warm bodies pushing to get a view of my screen. The feeling was not unlike being in the first couple of rows at a rock concert when the lights come up and the crowd rushes forward to the barriers. There was no way I could move my arms, much less raise my phone to record a video. Maryanne had to hastily make her own.
When the kids recognized one of the girls in a 2019 photo, they all cheered as if she had one a big prize. The double-aged version was standing right in front of me with what was obviously the same shy smile. The current young lady looked like a one-and-a-half scale model of her younger self.
With the drums now officially beaten, it was once again time for classes to resume. The teacher gave them a little slack, giving a chance for everyone to shake our hands and bid us goodbye before heading back to their desks.
Maryanne and I then walked over to Saukula's house, where we were hoping to catch her, and even possibly Ledua, one last time. Neither were there, but we did meet the Lunch Lady (each day the village of Dakuiloa assigns one of the parents to trek to the school in Waiqori and take/prepare their school meal), who has a lovely Fijian name that dropped unfairly out of our heads almost as soon as we heard it. She offered to accompany us on the walk back to Dakuiloa. With her were four children who were young enough to only be doing half-days at school and were thus finished with lessons for the day. Two were hers and two were her sister's. The youngest, we were told, is only two years old. That kid walks the four-kilometer round trip between Dakuiloa and Waiqori at least five times a week.
Wait, that's not right. That kid RAN the whole way. She ran ahead, then turned around to run back to us before running ahead again, putting in three times the overall distance. An Olympic sprinting coach couldn't design a better workout. The other three kids were the same. They spent the whole journey chasing each other, playing tag and hide-and-seek in the tall grass. The whole time, they were giggling the giggles of pure joy that only young children possess, as if commuting with strangers was the most fun game in the whole wide world to play.
When we all sat down in the shade under a tree at for a brief rest at the halfway mark, all four kids slept deeply for the ten minutes before it was time to go again. Then they were good as new. Oh, how I miss being able to do that.
The locals and the kids make every village visit some form of memorable fund
At some point on this part of the journey, I must've grabbed one of the children and lobbed them ahead a bit. That was it – now I was Kyle, the Human Merry-Go-Round. For the next good long while, I strode the path while swinging a kid from each arm. Sometimes, Maryanne joined in, with a third child swinging between us. That, like the interval training earlier, is also fantastic exercise. I wonder if CrossFit knows about it? I was finally spared when Mom/Auntie told them to leave the nice old man alone for a while. Wait, who are you calling nice?
When we reached the outskirts of Dakuiloa, the children all peeled off to resume their play with dogs or uncles or grandparents or even Dakuiloa's stalwart climbing trees. Theirs seems like a pretty perfect childhood.
The day was waning and the next thing we knew, it was already time for Maryanne and I to be hitting the trail back to the beach one over from Lawaki Bay. At the end of the day, we would each end up walking 19.5 kilometers. We were bid farewell with smiles, handshakes and hugs, and told to come back the next time we were this way again.
Maryanne and I really like Oneata. Vulaga's lagoon is indisputably prettier, and with no annoying wrap-around swell issues, but I think the actual island of Oneata is just lovely, with its rolling hills and central grasslands. The people are also so warm and friendly. Oneata has also been (so far) able to avoid the cruising boat invasion fleets of some of the more over-loved islands. The irony of that is not lost on us, but Oneata does hold a special place in both our hearts.
We weren't actually leaving just yet. Before the next good weather window for us to continue, we had a couple of days to explore the unpopulated northern side of Oneata with the dinghy and to have a last snorkel. Again, like at Vulaga, we got to where we could almost wade to Waiqori from the terminal beach before we turning and heading back to Begonia for the night.
Exploring the coastline near the anchorage
Anchorage location >> On google maps
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