Download PDF - Oyster News 66 - Oyster Yachts
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We were first to arrive in the small quiet<br />
anchorage but not long after, a second boat<br />
then a third and by the following day we<br />
had the lime green Awesome party cruiser<br />
as a very close neighbor as well as the<br />
cruise ship, Spirit of Yasawa. The clipper<br />
ship, Spirit of the Pacific was anchored on<br />
the far side of one of the passes and as it<br />
regularly drove by in close proximity cutting<br />
between us and the Awesome, passengers<br />
leaned over the side shouting their friendly<br />
bulas. I made note that if they came any<br />
closer, we should get to know their names.<br />
There was a back packers resort located<br />
nearby where we attempted to send a fax<br />
home and although the fax never got away,<br />
the people were so very friendly and tried<br />
repeatedly to solve our dilemma. As I sat on<br />
the beach waiting for Mike by the dinghy,<br />
I was joined by an employee who came to<br />
wait for new resort arrivals. She had a name<br />
tattooed on her hand that a friend had<br />
punched out with a sewing needle.<br />
We moved the boat again in search of<br />
another resort called ‘Octopus’ that we<br />
had learned from other cruisers was worth<br />
a stop. The only information we had was<br />
that it was located somewhere on the<br />
North West corner of Waya Island and we<br />
headed the boat in that direction although<br />
our electronic charts were pretty useless.<br />
Once we arrived, the manager of the<br />
Octopus invited us to make use of all the<br />
resort amenities while anchored off his<br />
shore, swimming pool, beach volley ball,<br />
and happy hour each evening. A Fijian<br />
lovo feast was being prepared for that<br />
evening and a seafood buffet the following<br />
night. It sounded like we might never want<br />
to leave. But that very night, our first<br />
night, the swell came into the open<br />
anchorage and rocked us like Ray Charles<br />
standing on stage singing, "What I’d Say".<br />
The next morning we dragged ourselves<br />
away from what could have been a very<br />
nice retreat and headed for another bay.<br />
When we arrived at our new location we<br />
dropped anchor between two islands off<br />
the southern shore of Waysasewa Island.<br />
There was one other boat in the spacious<br />
bay but it left the following morning just<br />
after the roosters from all three villages<br />
cock-a-doodle-dooed their way into<br />
daylight. Each morning vibrated with<br />
rooster mania in surround sound but it<br />
was actually the beating drums from one<br />
of the villages that woke me, or was it<br />
the church bells from the other village?<br />
I expect the beating drums woke the<br />
roosters or maybe it was the squealing<br />
pigs being tormented by the dogs, but it<br />
was all before the first light of day break.<br />
We dinghied ashore that morning to visit<br />
the village of Namara where we were met<br />
by a child of about three who did not<br />
hesitate to help drag our boat onto the<br />
beach. Dry brown kava roots poked out<br />
from the newspaper wrapped bundle in my<br />
back pack like a dehydrated bouquet of<br />
flowers. The island chief was away on other<br />
important matters and the daughter of the<br />
acting chief invited us into their home.<br />
Mike lay the kava at his feet and we sat on<br />
the coconut mat in front of him while he<br />
ran through the traditional welcome<br />
dialogue. We were thankful he skipped the<br />
part about sharing the kava root with us.<br />
We spent four nights anchored off the<br />
island; we toured the boarding school<br />
where approximately 70 children, most<br />
from neighbouring islands attend grades<br />
one to eight. Parents of the boarding<br />
children pay two dollars per semester per<br />
child and pay for the pickup and drop off of<br />
the children by local boats on weekends.<br />
The children of various ages slept in a two<br />
room brightly painted dormitory, one room<br />
for boys and a separate one for girls. If they<br />
had diesel for their generator, lights stayed<br />
on until 8pm.<br />
The weekly rugby match was to take place<br />
across the bay in another village. Although<br />
Anita, the kindergarten teacher had a fear<br />
of drowning, she requested that we take<br />
her and her two children to the match. She<br />
had never been across the bay before and<br />
I guess felt safer in our dinghy than in the<br />
small village long boat that over flowed with<br />
twelve rugby players and a few local fans.<br />
The following day, we pulled our dinghy<br />
away from the village shore for the last<br />
time. A young boy whom I had not met<br />
before was standing knee deep in water<br />
helping a fisherman shove his long boat<br />
out to sea. Asking my name, he stretched<br />
his hand towards me and presented me<br />
with a small beautiful highly polished shell.<br />
"Here, you can have this, he said with a<br />
smile". Eeli and I knew each other for no<br />
more than sixty seconds and yet I shall<br />
never forget his friendship or the unselfish<br />
kindness of the Fijians.<br />
FAR LEFT: Village children lend a helping hand, Namara<br />
FAR RIGHT: The Volcanic Yaswaras’ islands<br />
ABOVE: Namari school children<br />
OWNER REPORT<br />
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