Lau Group part 2: Lomati Village and Friends

Our ambassador/ tour guide/ adopted father Koli.

Koli arrived in his little fishing boat (exactly like a Mexican panga) in the late afternoon.  His boat planes surprisingly well with the little 15 horsepower engine it has on the stern, but there is always about 8 inches of water in the bottom of the boat because there are cracks in the hull.  There is a palate in the bottom of the boat to sit on to stay relatively dry and long wooden sticks to push through the shallows, which also serve as fishing poles when a hand line won't do.  This boat is one of three in the village and it is absolutely essential - as a means of transportation, for obtaining food and as a connection to the outside world in general.  There are no cars on the island and one can only travel from village to village by these rickety boats through the inside reef passages.

As we are anchored right in front of Lomati village, our ride into shore was quick and easy.  At high tide the water comes right up to the sea wall, and I can only imagine the havoc wreaked when cyclones come through here.  The Lau group has not been hit by a cyclone in over two years so all the foliage is healthy and the water is clear, but it is not always so. 

As we walked into the village Kevin and I were greeted by little kids who yelled Bula! and ran away shyly.  Kevin was wearing the standard board shorts and t-shirt attire of a surfer/sailor but women in Fijian culture are very conservative with their dress, and so not to offend anybody I wore a sulu (also called a pareo, lava-lava or sarong) over my shorts.  I forgot my flip flops so I felt like I fit right in walking around barefoot along with all the kids - minus their dark hair, eyes and skin.

Koli took Kevin and me to the "mayor's house" where we were asked to sit down on a woven panadus mat on the front porch of a small cinderblock house.  There were a few men sitting in a circle and when we joined them, always sitting cross legged - sitting with your feet sticking out is considered rude - and Koli presented the chief with our kava.  The chief was an old man wearing a white but very worn Manchester United football jersey and a sulu wrapped around his waist.  For all intents and purposes he looked like a regular Fijian guy, but was obviously treated with esteem and respect by everybody in the village.

After chanting what I assumed to be a welcoming and thanking speech - I heard lots of "bula" and "vinaka" - we were served kava out of half shells of coconut.  Some people say that kava is the most disgusting thing they have ever tasted, but I do not find it so bad.  It has a bitter, earthy taste and instantly makes the tongue numb, but is not nearly as bad as the local Fijian rum, Bounty, which tastes like (and has similar effects of) an industrial carpet cleaner.  Kava is a very mellow narcotic that gives one a sleepy, dreamy sensation if enough is consumed.  The strengths of the root vary considerably, with Vanuatu's allegedly being the strongest, but the Fijian men drink it all day and all seem to be  functional, although pretty chilled out.  Nobody seems to drink alcohol around here.  They say, "When you drink the alcohol you start off quiet and end up noisy.  When you drink the kava you start out noisy and end up quiet.  Which would you prefer?"  They seemed to condemn alcohol so I didn't mention that I could really go for a beer right about now.

In reality it is beneficial to society that these Fijians are kavaholics rather than alcoholics, as I am sure it reduces the rate of abuse and domestic violence in this male dominated culture.  One of things I dislike most about the kava ceremony is that women are almost totally excluded.  As a Western woman I was invited to join and served kava, but Fijian women do not take part.  To be honest it is a little intimidating sitting in a room with 10 to 20 men all drinking kava and smoking cigarettes without another woman to be seen.  Don't get me wrong, I appreciate their willingness to include me in the ceremony and respect their traditions, but it would be nice to not be the only girl drinking kava.  And whereas Fijian women are powerful in their own way, men tend to dominate society.

My young tour guides.

After drinking kava for a while I was taken on a tour of the village by a few kids.  As we walked down the grassy lane between the houses we seemed to collect more, and before long I was being taken around by a gaggle of kids.  They all loved getting their picture taken and showed me their houses, most of which are single room dwellings built on stilts.  There is very little furniture in the houses, maybe a TV and a chair or two, but life is lived on the woven mats.  All of the cooking is done in little huts outside the house.  Many houses do not have electricity and those that do are usually lit by a single CFL lightbulb.

The village of Lomati is small so the tour was short, and I returned to the mayor's house to continue drinking kava with the men.  I met most of the villagers, who are incredibly friendly.  They all speak remarkably good English (considering their circumstances), introduced themselves, and seemed genuinely interested in our lives.  As Fijian culture is very traditional, Kevin and I decided to tell people we were partners - I wanted to tell people we were married so as not to raise any eyebrows - but Kevin wasn't ready to make the commitment so we just decided to tell people we are planning to get married, even though our relationship is platonic.  Needless to say we had a few awkward conversations, but everybody is so mellow and kind they just let it blow over.

After drinking kava and sitting cross-legged on the floor for hours, I was very ready to get back to the boat.  The last thing I wanted to do was offend anybody, but Koli could see the exhaustion in my eyes and graciously took us back to the boat.  He told us that he would pick us up at 9:00 AM to go to another village and watch rugby for the day.  "Bring more kava for the sevu-sevu," he told us.  Kava and rugby, I can't wait.

Lau Group 1: Surf, Passage, Arrival

S/V Shannon anchored at Tavarua island for a pre-passage surf.

Bula Vinaka from one of the most remote corners of the Earth.  Perhaps geographically the village of Lomati on the island of Matuku is not one of the most remote places on Earth, but considering what we went through to get here, I would think it to be.

Rewind.  I moved onto S/V Shannon as crew for Kevin, a 28 year old guy from Hawaii, on Tuesday (I think).  We were based in Musket Cove which, if I had to make a comparison I would compare Musket Cove as the Las Vegas of Fiji,  essentially being tourist central.  But not without good reason.  Musket Cove is five miles from the infamous Tavarua and Namotu Islands, where the best waves in all of Fiji break on the fringing reefs.  I talked Kevin into sailing up from Suva to pick me up and get a few waves before heading out to the Lau group.  If I had to make a comparison I would compare the Lau group to the outback of Alaska where you have to travel for days to get to.  It is fairly easy to get to Musket Cove and hang out in the bars and resorts, but it takes a bit more time, effort and desire to get out to Lau.  We will get there in a minute.

Kevin and I managed to score ourselves some sweet as waves at both Tavarua and Namotu islands the two days we were anchored out there.  Our second day we surfed Swimming Pools, a nice right hander on Namotu with a relatively soft break considering the shallow reef it breaks over.  I remember dropping into my best wave, looking at the wave walling up and sucking over the reef, deciding to charge across the face and screaming "Waahhhhhhh!!!" all the way down the line, only to have my knees shaking as I popped out the back at the end of it.  It was just so... good.

You can imagine what a tough decision it was to leave the easy life of Musket Cove and the perfect surf behind, to head out into the ocean for a 3 day, 200 mile, upwind passage to the unknown and relatively uncharted corners of Fiji.  The reason the Lau group is considered so remote is that it is upwind of the main islands of Fiji - between Fiji and Tonga - and boats have to check in on one of the main islands before going back to Lau.  Sailing upwind is most unpleasant - unpleasant enough to deter most yachties from ever going back up that way.  There is also almost zero tourist infrastructure so traditional Fijian way of life remains relatively intact. 

As Kevin and I prepared to head out into the ocean after surfing Namotu all day my stomach was churning with anxiety.  For one, I had just come off a gnarly seven day passage and had no desire for a repeat experience.  Two, Kevin's boat Shannon is a bit, um, rustic.  Three, it was damn near dark by the time we were ready to head out the pass and anybody who has done it knows that sailing a boat through a reef pass in the dark is no fun. 

Not to be deterred, we sailed out Wilkes Pass (also a gnarly/epic wave) under a waxing moon and clear, star-filled skies.  The weather was calm with a nice breeze and smooth seas.  I felt the tension in my stomach ease as I remembered that the ocean is not always rough, choppy, and wind swept. 

Our nice weather lasted about 36 hours.  As the direction we wanted to go is Southeast and, coincidentally, right into the teeth of the Southeast trades, we had to go wayyy off course so that we could sail.  We ended up sailing about sixty miles south of Kadavu and then cutting across, bashing into 2-3 meter seas and 25 knot winds for another 36 hours before we finally caught sight of our desired destination: Matuku Island of the Lau group. 

Whereas that three day passage was not nearly as bad as the passage from New Zealand to Fiji, it was difficult in that there were only two of us to share watches, Shannon leaks like crazy, and straight up is not nearly as comfortable or luxurious as Rutea.  Kevin, however, is a top quality sailor and got us to our destination as comfortably and quickly as possible.  He is also super laid back - at one point we got hit by a wave that broke into the cockpit and about three gallons of water poured into the cabin.  I looked to him to see his reaction and, as he had been sleeping, he poked his head up, laughed, and went back to sleep.  Gotta love the guy.

We finally arrived at the reef pass and went from bucking 9 foot seas to being in flat calm waters instantly.  What a relief.  Now to navigate through all the coral heads and find a safe place to anchor.  Fortunately just as we came through the pass a small fishing boat came out to greet us.  "Bula bula!" Kevin and I yelled.  The man told us to follow him an led us expertly through the coral to the bay in front of a tiny village called Lomati. 

Kevin with our bundles of kava for the sevu-sevu.

After anchoring we invited the man aboard.  We learned his name is Koli and he has since become our guide/ambassador/adopted father on the island.  After sharing a cup of Coca Cola with him he told us he would come back and pick us up in a few hours so we could go to the village and present the sevu sevu - a gift of kava - to the chief of the village.  After the first shower (jumping in the bay, soaping up, jumping back in the bay, then rinsing off with a liter of fresh water) and the first real meal we had both eaten in a few days, Kevin and I felt ready to jump into traditional Fijian culture.  We doused ourselves with bug spray, got out a bundle of kava and waited for Koli to come pick us up.

Fiji: Week 1

We have been in Fiji nearly one week and part of me feels like I never left.  I have been reunited with old friends, made new ones, surfed Tavarua and drank (too) many Fiji Bitters.

I love Fiji.  Let me tell you why.  It is accessible: there is great tourist infrastructure, most locals speak perfect English and anywhere you want to go is relatively close; it is cheap: you can get the best Indian meal you have ever had for $5 (FJ), a beer at the bar is $3 (FJ) and a bunch of bananas is 50 cents (FJ); the people here are awesome: both locals and yachtie friends are loads of fun to hang out with; and of course, there is incredible surf.

I have taken advantage of all these aspects of Fiji in the past week.  After making landfall we had to check in with customs, immigration and bio-security in the city of Lautoka.  Lautoka is not a tourist destination per se, but it isn't that bad either.  After finishing the check in process (which is lengthy), we provisioned a bit (bought heaps of beer), did laundry and headed out to Musket Cove where my good friends on Slow Dance were anchored for the weekend.

One can always count on having a good time with the Slow Dance crew.  Shortly after dropping anchor Ron and the girls came and swooped me away, and I pretty much did not come home to Rutea for three days.  Although it was not all play - I helped BJ clean the bottom of the boat - our days were filled with swimming, jam sessions, tequila shots, great meals, trips to the bar and other outrageous behavior.  Unfortunately, in order to keep such a flash boat in prime condition they had to head back to Port Denarau to continue working, as well as to send off guests and restock the beer supplies.

During this whirlwind of a weekend I got an email from a guy who I met on the docks in New Zealand.  His name is Kevin and his crew is (was) Ed, two young surfers from Hawaii.  Back in Whangarei we had chatted for a bit and talked about surf in Fiji - where we were both headed.  Anyway, Friday morning I got an email from Kevin saying that on the passage up here Ed took a nasty fall and broke two ribs, had to fly back to Hawaii, and would I like to join him (Kevin) in Suva as crew to go look for waves in the Lau group.

Generally when somebody asks me if I want to go surf I say "yes" immediately, but the Lau group is an extremely remote island group in eastern Fiji, and I met Kevin once - for about an hour - so you can understand my hesitation to accept.  Plus, I am in Musket Cove, 5 miles from some of the best waves in all of Fiji and there is swell filling in, so I am hesitant to leave.  But I do want to go to Lau!  I expressed these concerns to Kevin and he said: Ok, I will come up to Musket Cove, we can hang out and make sure we get along, then we can take my boat out to Tavarua and get some waves, and see how things go from there.  SCORE.

Sure enough, yesterday evening Kevin showed up on his boat S/V Shannon.  Granted, Shannon is not quite as flash as Slow Dance - in fact Shannon is a bit rustic in comparison to Rutea.  However, I think that a few weeks on a boat with fewer amenities will help me to appreciate Rutea that much more.  And Kevin and I are looking for the same things - good waves, cool dive spots, meeting locals and enjoying all Fiji has to offer in general.

Today he and I took Shannon out and anchored off Tavarua island, home of the infamous Cloudbreak.  You can imagine how smug we felt as we jumped off the boat with our surfboards, laughing at the people who pay $4000/week to stay at the Tavarua Island Resort.  Suckers (not that I wouldn't if I could afford it).  We got some fun waves at the break inside Restaurants, but no barrels - yet.  Maybe in Lau.  Or maybe not, but I am up for the adventure!

The only thing I am not looking forward to is that in order to get to the Lau group one has to sail up wind for about 200 miles.  This is not fun.  This is not fun especially after the last passage we did only one week ago.  To be completely honest it makes my stomach churn a bit even thinking about going back out in the ocean, but opportunity has knocked and I must answer. 

A Very Salty Schneider Makes it to Fiji

Bula Vinaka! After a most treacherous eight day passage - by far the worst I have ever made - we have arrived in Fiji. Gracias adios!!

I left you at Day 3, during which the weather went from light winds and fairly calm seas to heavy winds and BIG seas. It is one thing to sit through a day or two of consistent 30 knot winds and 15 foot seas, but it is a whole other ball game to deal with it for 7 days straight.

The morning of Day 3 I did my usual watch from 00:00 to 03:00 (midnight to 3 AM). The winds were blustery and the seas had picked up a bit, but it was nothing significant. (Hey - we are passing Tavarua RIGHT now!! I love Fiji!) After my watch I went back to bed but when I awoke a few hours later things had changed. Down below I could hear the wind shrieking through the halyards, sounding eerily similar to the screams of the Ringwraiths from Lord of the Rings. It also felt like we were on a roller coaster. Up and down, side to side, plunging and soaring off swells. Yuck. Then I went up into the cockpit.

Although this is not the nastiest weather we have ever been in, I have never seen the ocean like it was that morning. The swells were massive, towering 20 feet above the boat. The tops of the waves were blown off and water was whipped across the surface of the ocean. It looked similar to snow being blown off a mountain peak, except that the mountains were rolling right at us. Most of the time the Rutea just rolled over the tops of these giant swells, but every once in a while we would hit one just right and it would break over the deck, covering the deck with water and dumping buckets of water into the cockpit.

Fortunately we had the cockpit enclosure up which kept much of the water out, as if we didn't, even up until this morning the cockpit would have been completely flooded, oh, every two hours or so. Still, more than once as I was snoozing in the cockpit I would wake up with a huge splash of salt water drenching me. It's ok, I needed a shower anyway. However, at one point we were so concerned with the size of the waves we were taking on the beam (side of the boat) that we decided to change our course so that the swells were more to our stern. This meant we were heading more towards Vanuatu - where I want to go - just not yet. It was very discouraging not to be heading in the right direction, but better than hitting a swell that could have capsized us.

By this point we were about 300 miles out to sea. The forecast said we were supposed to have this weather for the next four days, and there was absolutely nothing we could do about it. There is no place to run, no place to hide. When I looked at those swells towering above me I couldn't help but stare in awe of their beauty, but not without a knot of fear in my stomach. It was almost better at night when I couldn't see the really giant ones coming, but then again I had no warning before Rutea was thrown on her side.

When the winds hit 35 knots Dad decided we should put the storm sail up. This involved going out on deck and dealing with huge sails with winds howling and waves pouring over the bow. It is really the last thing any of us wanted to do, but it had to be done. Mom and I kept our eyes on Dad while furling sails and keeping the boat into the wind and waves while the mainsail was lowered and the storm sail hoisted. We ended up sailing with that little orange handkerchief of a sail all the way here, and just now put it away.

For the next four days we had pretty constant 30 knots of wind and solid 10-15 foot seas. It was like living on a roller coaster, which makes everything hard - and I mean EVERYTHING. Eating, sleeping, using the toilet, cooking... it was all nearly impossible. I couldn't read, watch movies or play games because I was too seasick. The only thing I did was listen to three of the Harry Potter books which I downloaded on my Ipod before I left NZ. Thanks Evan - that saved me! Of course now I am thinking of things in terms of muggles and wizards, but after 8 nasty days at sea things could be worse.

The only thing that couldn't be worse is how gross I feel - I can't remember the last time I went 8 days without showering and I feel absolutely disgusting. Not only am I ridiculously dirty, but the entire boat is. Everything is covered with salt, inside and out. The hatches leaked (not surprising considering the amount of time they were under water) and all the couches and beds are damp and salty. The floor boards are covered with everything from food to books to pillows and water because, when it is a monumental task just to get some crackers, who cares if you spill a few on the floor? Needless to say, we have some serious clean up to do before we start partying.

And party we shall! This has been the most difficult passage I have ever done and now I feel like I worked hard to get here - dare I say I deserve to be here, goddammit! For the next month and a half you can expect stories of shark encounters, perfect barrels, kava sessions and boat loads of good times. Bula Bula!
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At 4/22/2012 9:27 PM (utc) Rutea's position was 20°13.00'S 176°42.16'E

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Day 3

25-30 knots of wind with gusts to 35+, 10-15+ foot seas on the beam, storm sail and staysail up... this is NOT fun. Will elaborate when things calm down.
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At 4/17/2012 10:25 PM (utc) Rutea's position was 33°00.95'S 174°53.50'E

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And We're Off!

Kia Ora from New Zealand one last time.

Trading this for jungle and palm tree lined beaches. Which would you prefer?

We're outta here! After nearly six months in New Zealand, we are finally on our way back up to the tropics. All that stands in they way between me and my beloved tropical islands is 1,100 miles of open ocean. No problem.

I do not think I have ever been so excited to do a passage. I usually dread the prospect of spending seven days at sea, but this passage is different. This will be our second season in the tropics and while I am by no means an expert on the South Pacific, it is no longer a total unknown. I know what I am getting myself in to, and am keen as.

This trip to Fiji is also special because I already spent one month there and now have an idea of the places I would like to spend more time. I also have a few friends I am looking forward to meeting up with. To be completely honest it feels pretty cool to be going someplace as exotic as Fiji and already have a good idea of people and things I want to see and do.

In spite of my excitement to get to Fiji, I am also feeling pangs of sadness to leave New Zealand. There are aspects of New Zealand that I absolutely love: the friendliness of Kiwis (the people - not the bird which I never actually saw), the sub-tropical rain forest (nicer to hike in than tropical rain forest), the fact that you can take a hot shower and the cool off by stepping outside (not feasible in the tropics), Surf Lifesaving New Zealand, and of course, the surf (which I could still go on and on about but will spare you).

Of course I couldn't help but winge about the weather this summer (winter? summer.), but in the five months I was here that uncontrollable force was my biggest bane. Other than that, I had a pretty damn good time. I made friends, got involved in a community, and surf-surf-surfed. In other words, I got exactly what I wanted out of New Zealand. I even got a job - crewing on Slow Dance - but that was in Fiji so I guess it doesn't count. But because I worked on Slow Dance for a month and just got a little taste of Fiji, I am hungrier than ever for more.

The weather forecast looks good. The winds will be a bit light heading out of the Bay of Islands, but will fill in to 20-25 knots on the beam for the next five days. I am guessing it will take us about seven days to get to our destination, and in the meantime I will write really boring blogs and how much I dislike being at sea. Or who knows, maybe after 10,000 miles at sea this whole sailing thing has grown on me and I will wax poetic like Bernard Moitessier. But that is doubtful.

In conclusion, living in New Zealand for the past six months (minus one month in Fiji) has been an experience. It was not all fun and games and blue skies and epic waves, but when the sun came out and the swell turned on, there was no place in the world I could think of that I would rather be. Now winter is coming and, much like my friends the humpback whales, I am migrating north to the warm blue waters of the tropics.

And so, thank you New Zealand - stay sweet as. And bula vinaka Fiji!

That's All Folks! (Almost)

Now THAT is what I am talking about!

Well folks, it's been quite a season. Granted, it wasn't the hottest or sunniest summer I have spent, but I can safely say that this is the best summer I have ever spent in New Zealand. And granted, I didn't do everything you are supposed to do here, and I didn't see everything you are supposed to see here, but the things I did do, the the things I did see and most importantly the people I met - were sweet as.

If you remember way back when we first arrived in New Zealand, the thing I was most keen on (aside from surfing) was to become a part of a community. It took a while, but I found the community I was looking for in the form of Surf Lifesaving (and it incorporated surfing so I was doubly stoked). I am going to do my best not to rant and rave anymore about lifeguarding or surfing, as looking back over the posts for the past few months that is all I have written about, but humor me this one last time.

Last weekend - a four day Easter weekend - was the last patrol of the season for surf Lifesaving. Apparently this weekend is usually marked by cold, onshore winds and heaps of rain, but since we had that all summer the gods decided to grace us with blue skies and pumping surf. The surf was so big that I didn't even surf on Saturday and on Sunday I surfed at the south end of the beach where it was smaller. Althought the waves were too big for me to surf I managed to make it out the back (past the breaking waves) with my camera and get some mean pictures of the waves (to be posted when I get decent Internet). The waves were so big that one of the lifeguards snapped his SUP. Oops, sorry Troy!

Monday the waves were a bit smaller and peaky and super fun but I am not going to talk about waves anymore. I have been traveling well over a year now and have not really felt like I belong anywhere for some time. I love the cruising community but they are not my peers, and I love the locals in the islands but to them I am an outsider. As a surf lifeguard I shared responsibilities, patrols, fun and games... In a sense, I had a shared purpose - and it felt really good. Don't get me wrong, it took months for me to become more helpful than a nuisance, to learn people's names and for them to learn mine, but showing up weekend after weekend I slowly became a part of the Whangarei Heads crew. A special thanks to club captain Lindsay Hill who gave me numerous rides out to the beach and got me involved in SLSNZ in the first place.

But now it is all over - for the season anyway. The gear has been packed away, the clubhouse cleaned (as well as any condemned building can be) and everything locked up for winter.

Winter? Yes, the days are getting shorter and althought it has been sunny, the air is crisp and the wind has a bit of a bite to it. This means it is time to leave, to head north to the warm waters of the tropics. Last night I was dropped off at McLeod bay where the boat was anchored, as Rutea left Whangarei even before I did on Saturday. We are currently anchored in Tutukaka as we cove hop up north to the Bay of Islands where we will wait for a weather window to head to Fiji.

The Southern hemisphere cyclone season officially ends May 1, but weather guru Bob McDavitt has given cruisers the all clear to start heading up the thousand miles to the tropics. We hope to leave within two weeks. Until then, we are making sure we still know how to sail and making sure the repairs we (Dad) did over the past five months hold up.

I got the closure I was looking for with the final epic weekend of surf Lifesaving, but I hope to share another good Kiwi story with you before we leave this pretty damn cool country.