Nov 20, 2017 Musket Cove

Musket Cove  Nov 20-25

Denerau feels very much like San Diego or Newport Beach or any other pricy waterfront development; fancy house on the water, each with it’s own dock, lots of restaurants and tourist shops.  It is close to the airport and the departure point for all of the ferries, tour boats and island cruise ships.  Alan counted 18 boats coming and going one afternoon.  It is also home port to a number of super yachts giant boats some of them bigger than the cruise ships with their own helicopters.  We spent about a week at the dock here, mostly sleeping and dealing with some of the issues that had come up on our trip.  The two biggest issues are. The SSB radio, which receives but does not broadcast, and the ongoing watermaker/generator problem.    I did some much needed shopping and stocked up on beer and wine, meat and vegetables. 

Thanksgiving found us at Musket Cove Resourt, a short sail across the bay and a favorite of all the yachties.  There were only a few other boats there when we arrived but one by one, others showed and there was a good sized crowed for the traditional barbecue potluck on the beach.  We spent several days here, swimming, snorkeling, being still more lazy.  We took a dive trip out to the reef and rented a Hobie cat for an afternoon.   We had not realized before that Malolo is like the other islands in that no alcohol is for sale in the markets.  You can only get it a few hours a day from a back room at the hotel. 

The highlight of this visit was my new kitten.  I so enjoyed having a cat on board last year that I had decided that I was going to have one this year too.  I had planned on contacting the local Humane Society when we got back to see if they had a kitten I could foster.  Whenever they found a home for it I would give it beck and take another one.  Our last night at the bar I was explaining my idea to the waitress when she said that they had just found two abandoned kittens and one of them was black.  I have always had a soft spot for black cats.  After she promised to take it back when we left Fiji, I said I would I would take it.  She called her son who showed up with a cardboard box containing a tiny, fierce, hissing bundle of fir.  It was so young it’s eyes had not finished changing color yet.  We loaded the box into the dingy and set off across the bay to Rhapsody.  Surprisingly, he did not seem to be frightened of the outboard.  I guess it sounded like purring.  I had accidentally kept one bag of kitty litter when I gave away Raijeli last year so that problem was taken care of.  One tin of tuna later and the little waif was snuggled down for a long nap.  Next morning we headed back to Vuda.  To our surprise, he was not bothered by the engine noise at all.  He was named Capt Jack Sparrow.  Then name seemed to suit.  Even when we found out that she was a girl rather than a boy we kept the name.  The Fiji language does not really distinguish between the sexes anyway and we were used to it.  After all there were a number of women pirates back in the old days.