July 4, 2015   Naviti to Blue Lagoon

For the last time we are up early and underway by 8am.  This is another day of weaving inside of the reefs and there is much radio chatter about just exactly where the shallow spots are.  No one’s charts seem to agree.  I finally get out the maps that I got from the Land Commission Office in Lautoka.  My theory is that these are the official government maps having to do with ownership of the land and in Fiji the village owns the reef, unlike the US where ownership stops at the high tide line.  Sure enough, they are remarkably well detailed.  No depths are shown but you can see every reef.  Finally, we are through the reefs, around a large rock and iinto a lovely sheltered bay between several islands.  The wind drops, the sun comes out.  We weave our way around still more reefs and drop anchor just off of a new resort, once again in 50 feet of water.  Finally we get to relax.  We are staying here for at least a week

This turns out to be a charming resort, very friendly and welcoming.  A dozen or so bures for guests, a restaurant and a waterside bar with cold beer at reasonable prices and 2 large TVs where the staff gather to watch rugby and wonderful hot showers.   Apparently there is a new owner and work is going on apace.  A concrete launch ramp is being put in, gardens planted, lights put in, a farm established on the hills.  Every day there is noticeable progress.  The more we learn the more we are impressed.  There is a massive solar array on the top of the hill. and also a large water desalination plant.  They have a glass crusher and all of the bottles are pulverized and mixed with the cement.  When they are through with all the cement work, the ground glass sand will be added to the reefs.  Food waste is taken home by employees and fed to the pigs and chickens.  Paper is burned.  I did not find out what they do with metal but I expect that have that covered.  This is the way all resorts should be built.

On the other side of the island is a backpacker resort and a number of the backpackers showed up on our side of the hill for a cold beer and hot shower.  Eventually we walked over to investigate.   Basic huts are scattered along the beach. There is no hot water and no electricity  One building hosts a large dining hall where commercial meals are served. The one consistency is the friendly people.  Everyone knows everyone else and they all keep an eye on visitors.  We were greeted warmly and given a tour and a bag of fruit to take with us.  One of the island dogs escorted us on our walk home, checking to be sure we were going the right way.

A neighboring island is not quite so friendly.  Posted signs proclaim “Private Property, No Trespassing”  Apparently this is Turtle Island, the playground of the rich and famous, very private and exclusive.  From time to time helicopters and seaplanes arrived and departed.  We had been out exploring in the dingy and missed the signs when we landed on the beach, but before too long security guards showed up and invited us to leave.  Not important.  There are plenty of other beaches to explore.  Just at the end of our island in another private beach belonging to Blue Lagoon Cruise Lines.  This sign is much friendlier and says to leave the beach clear for the cruise guests when the ship is anchored there and otherwise to enjoy respectfully.  The reef here is teaming with colorful fish.  I think they must feed them to be sure that the tourists have a rich snorkeling experience

The first several days here are cloudy and windy,  and we just stay on the boat but eventually the weather clears a little.  We had heard that there is a farm here somewhere, where we can buy fresh produce.  After 2 weeks cruising we are out of everything, so when the wind finally lets up we head off to see if we can find it.  It is a long, wet dingy ride across the lagoon, through the reefs, around the point and up into a deep sheltered bay.  Our directions were to go to the head of the bay at high tide and head up the river into the mangroves.  Sure enough, there we a narrow opening and a shallow, muddy river winding inland.  At the head of the river is a lovely sailing dingy which turns out to belong to the owner of the farm. 

The farm itself is delightful.  Several acres scattered over the hill, linked by winding paths.  We follow the farmer from plot to plot as he harvests our groceries.  We get lettuce, tomatoes, cassava, papaya, bananas, basil, cilantro, green onions, boo choy,  The bananas are actually plantains because we have learned that they last much longer than regular bananas.  Even when the outsides turn black the inside is firm and tasty.  I had intended to get just a hand but Alan decides that we should take the whole stalk.  We eat bananas constantly for the next month.  The lettuce and cilantro and green onions have their roots left on so when we get back to the boat I fill a baking pan with water and start a mini hydroponic farm on board.  The lettuce and onions last for 2 weeks.  The cilantro does not do so well so I decide to have chili and tortillas for dinner the next night and use it all up.  It is impossible to get corn tortillas here but I have masa and my tortilla press from Mexico.

When we are finished at the farm we spend some time exploring the bay.  There is a charming backpacker resort and a large school.  Interestingly, the school is owned and staffed by the catholic church but paid for by the government.  Several places around the bay I notice piles of clam shells and cockles are listed on the menu at the backpacker resort so we decide to come back at low tide to try our luck.  Although there have been clam shells on the beaches every where, this is the first time I have seen that they are actually dug for food.  Several times before I have showed the shells to the locals and asked if they were good to eat and have been met with blank stares or head shakes so it is great to know that at least here they do eat them. 

We watch the weather and the tides carefully for the next few days and finally make our way back.  Once more it is a wet ride.  By now I have learned to wear my frog jacket to keep dry.  It is not cold but it is nicer not to arrive soaking wet.  The tide is out this time so instead of going right up onto shore like we did on our last trip, we anchor the dingy several hundred yards off shore and walk over the mud flats to where a young fijan woman and her little boy are collecting clams.  The clams are thick, lying on top of the mud or just slightly buried.  When I ask if it is OK to collect them, she begins giving me handfuls from her basket.  Before long I have a bag full of little clams, about as big as a quarter.  That night we make clam chowder.  It takes forever to clean them and pick the meat out but the results are wonderful.  Alan declares it not quite as good as the legendary Canon Beach chowder, but quite delicious.