Week 8 Nov 28-Dec 6, 2014
Mana, Waya and back

Next morning, we want to get our or Mana before the ferry comes back, so we are up early.  Once out of the channel we work our way through, between, around reefs and atolls.  This is nerve wracking navigation with one eye for the iPad and one eye on the water and a third eye on the depth gage.  We don’t bother to put any sail up because we are going to have the motor on and we need all the maneuverability we can get.  We had considered making a couple of intermediate stops, but ended up going all the way to Waya which is the southernmost of the Yasawa Island group.  If the weather holds we can stop at the other places on the way back. We anchored easily in 5 fathoms with a sandy bottom just in front of the village, a welcome change from last night.

One of the traditions when sailing in the more remote islands in Fiji is to “make sevu sevu”.  This means to present the chief of the village with a bundle of kava roots  and participate in the kava drinking ceremony.  I have actually been looking forward to this. Once we had the dingy put together and launched we changed into proper clothed, me in a skirt and a blouse with sleeves and Alan in a fijan skirt and button shirt.  When we landed there were only a few people on the beach.  It is Sunday evening and everyone is in church.  We are told, quite nicely, that we must wait until church is over and then someone will tell the chief that we are here.  Except that apparently there is no chief, only a sous chief or headman in charge.  And so we sat on the beach and made small talk for half and hour or so.  It is fascinating to me that after the first questions of “What is your name?” and “Where are you from?” the next question os always “How old are you?”  They are of course always amazed that we are seventy one and it earns us a fair amount of respect.

Eventually our waiting time is over and we are turned over to a small boy who is the grandson of the chief who escorts us to another young man who takes us a house next door to the church where a group of women are seated.  After several minutes of conversation one of the women rises and taks us into a small house next door where an older man is waiting.  This is the headman whose role it is to check us out and see if we qualify for admission to the village.  
after several minutes of polite conversation he apparently decided we pass and asks if that is our gift.  Alan presents him with our bundle of Kava roots.  He saya a prayer over it in Fijian acknowledging our gift and asking for protection and good fortune for us.  That is it.  No kava drinking because there is no chief.  We are accepted and welcome to explore the village and dismissed. 

The women next door are weaving beautiful floor mats.  My expression of appreciation for the hard work and beauty of the work seem to be the ice breaker and we are suddenly best friends with everyone.  We are escorted around the village, given mangos and giant papaya, introduced to everyone, invited into homes.  We are introduced to the old the oldest man in the village who is 82.  Yes, of course everyone we meet has asked how old we are.   We also meet the crazy Australian and his granddaughter.  He is a sailor who came to Fiji and never left.  Except that he is a single handed around the world sailor who was one of the few to survive the big storm that hit the Sidney Hhobart race.  He makes his living now by giving inspirational speeches to various conferences and conventions.   He has a compound of three houses at one end of the village, distinguished by their white paint and curtained windows.  Most of the houses are a combination of cement block and corrugated tin with open windows and doors.  Inside is one room for sleeping and storing clothes.  Cooking and eating seem to be done outside.  That night, back on the boat, we realize that there are no lights in the village.  When we ask about this the next day we are told that they do have electricity but it is turned off on Sunday night.  I never figured out exactly why.

Next morning we decide to go snorkeling in the morning.  It is beautiful.  Even though the sky is overcast, the water is wonderfully clear.  We can see the whole shape of the hull as we swim away and the chain all the way down to the anchor.  We spend a couple of hours drifting around among the coral between the boat and the shore.  There are amazing shapes and colors.  There are giant wrinkled mounds that always remind me of a human brain, tiny lacy fans, one that looks like a black feather boa,  brilliant red and purple and yellow ones.  Fish in every combination of color, little and big. 

While we were diving a cruise ship anchored in the bay.  Shortly the villagers had set up mats with a variety of trinkets for sale, wooden masks and carvings, necklaces of shells and tapa cloth and wonderful polished shells from the sea and the shore boats brought the tourists in for a talk on village life and a chance to shop. 

i wandered down the beach collected shells, carefully selecting just the right ones for a necklace.  (Unfortunately when I tried to drill holes in them, they we both too hard and too hard to hole.  I am going to get a small jewelry vice when I am home and a super hard drill bit for my drummel and try again.)  The tourists had gone when I returned to the village and the ladies were packing up their mats until next time.  Interestingly, they not only did not expect me to buy anything but actually gave me some of the shells.  As we headed back to the village I asked about the various trees around.  When they discovered that I had never had breadfruit, I was taken to one of the homes and plyed with both boiled and fried pieces of breadfruit, along with very specific instructions on how to pick and cook it.  When I was completely stuffed, they gave me several to take back, along with more mangoes and papaya.

Next morning we reluctantly weighed anchor and left this lovely island to head back. The wind was good for once and we were actually able to sail.  We got to Mana and decided to anchor for the night again.  This proved to be a disaster.  It was late in the day and overcast so it was very difficult to see the coral reefs.  Using our previous track on the iPad we headed for the spot where we had anchored last time,  The catamaran was still here and it must have moved because we could not find a spot that was deep enough and had room to swing.  I was on the tiller and Alan was up front ready to drop the anchor when there was a horrible crunch and we were on the reef.  I screamed and put it in reverse but that was no good because there was coral all around.  Alan secured the anchor and came and took the tiller while I went up front to look for a clear spot .  After what seemed like hours of back and forth, alternately creeping and gunning he finally managed to get us turned around and out back into the channel.  If it had been earlier in the day we would have left but we did not want to be out sailing in the dark so we moved on down the channel towards the village to see if we could find another spot, trying to remember from last time where the reefs were.  Next try had us scraping bottom again but we finally found a spot that seemed OK.  I think it is actually in the ferry lane but we plan to be gone early in the morning before the ferry arrives.  I doubt that we will be back to Mana. 

Next day we headed back to Muscat Cove and the next day back to Vunda Marina, just ahead of wet and windy weather.