The passage from Tonga to Fiji was uneventful. We decided to sail to the south of the western Fijian islands, and spent the first day and a half slogging to windward. There was a bit of a blow and some rain on the second day, then we turned northwest again and headed straight for Fiji. As the wind dropped we put out more sail, and discovered that one of the seams on the genoa was split. It was way up the top of the sail so we just rolled the damaged section up again, which slowed us down a little. We decided we were not going any further without having the sail totally re-stitched. As we sailed on the wind continued to die and soon we were ghosting along at two to three knots. The sea was flat and the imposing bulk of the main island grew in front of us. Fishing boats passed us and the people waved.
As we headed into the harbour at Suva we noticed that the leading lights were impossible to pick out from the background, and the curve of the reef was deceptive. The wreck of a large steel ship testified to the risks of entering the passage, even though it was quite wide. The engine was not running very well and we had our hearts in our mouths in case it stopped. We navigated carefully down the channel and tied up at the customs dock to check in. It was built for ships so I had to climb up the huge fenders just to get up. Suva was a city and the cruising guide said it had good facilities. It was time to get the boat ready for the passage to Australia.
Suva is the capital of Fiji and is a mixture of Chinese and Indian stores, supermarkets and modern malls, tourist shops lining the waterfront for the many cruise ships that came in. The huge Indian population was immediately obvious as women in Saris walked the streets and the familiar singsong English of the expatriate Indian competed with the deep Melanesian tones of the original inhabitants. It was not always an easy relationship and there was a great deal of resentment on both sides that occasionally erupts into violence and political unrest. Both groups, however, seemed to like Australians and we never felt unwelcome. Suva was extremely hot and humid during the day and rained regularly in the afternoon. There were good, reasonable supermarkets and we stocked the boat with enough food for the rest of our trip.
Our thoughts moved onto our new life in Australia. Where would we live? Brisbane? Sydney? On the boat or buy a flat? We sat in internet cafes and looked through the job and real estate advertisements. Al favoured Sydney because her parents lived three hours away, and I tended to agree because there was more IT work there. We decided to sail direct from Fiji to Australia and live on the boat while we found jobs. The passage didn’t scare us- it was only about 1500 miles to Brisbane, then a coastal sail down to Sydney.
We put our genoa in to the local sail-maker. He spread it out on the yacht club lawn and looked over the damage, then grabbed an edge and gently pulled. The seam just tore in his hand. It was rotten from the sun. The cloth was weak too, but we hoped it would hold together for one last passage. He took the sail away and a couple of days later it came back triple-stitched along each seam.
The Suva yacht club was great, and while we were there Alice Ambler came in. It was great to see them again. We got together for too many happy hour beers and swapped stories of the various places they had visited since we saw them last in Tahiti. They planned to sail down to New Zealand and were considering moving there. Also around were a German couple, Michael and Nathalie on Iron Lady. Michael was in IT and Nathalie is a doctor, and they were about half way through a leisurely circumnavigation. The club had pool and table tennis tables and was a natural source of local information so vital to visiting yachties. Soon, though, the heat and the noise and frustrations of the city began to wear on us, and we looked forward to finding some remote anchorages on our own.
Our first stop after Suva was the island of Mbengga. The anchorages there were wide open to the weather and strong winds were forecast. The middle of the island was a wide fjord and we thought it would be a good place to sit out the weather, but the deep valley acted as a funnel and terrific bursts of wind tore down the channel. We gave up and motored around the west side of the island to a muddy bay that offered more protection to the forecast southerly winds. We anchored in twelve feet of water in the muddy mouth of a small creek and I ran a line to shore as well as placing an extra anchor out. That night the wind picked up to about fifty knots, screaming through the wire rigging. It was a dark night and it was hard to see if we were dragging as a small chop built up in the bay. As the chain stretched tight we moved closer to the shore and as the tide fell we were soon bouncing on the bottom. The bottom was soft, though, so there was just a persistent bump-bump-bump as each wave passed. Each hour I measured the depth with the boat hook, and eventually the tide came in again and we were free.
In the morning I resolved never to anchor close to shore again, so we moved around to the east side of the island. This was wide and deep and the barrier reef surrounding the whole island was not too far away. As usual after a blow the conditions were light, so we hung out the damp bedding and enjoyed a swim and a lie in the sun. Occasionally a local fishing canoe would motor by but we were not in the mood to go ashore to introduce ourselves so we just waved and smiled.
We moved on early the next day, back to the mainland and then along the Coral Coast. We sailed along in perfect light winds a couple of miles off the fringing reef. Dolphins came to visit for almost an hour and we sat on the bow to be as close to them as we could be. After the drama of the last few days it was good to be reminded how good this life could be. Apart from the occasional small fishing vessel it seemed we had the entire coast to ourselves. In the mid afternoon we sailed into a deep fissure in the reef to a wide sheltered bay. A fishing boat was working the channel and the guys gave us some advice where to anchor. We wished them luck and dropped the hook in a wide, placid bay called Vuna Niu. Later the guys motored home and we were alone again. Sitting in the cockpit we watched the swells breaking down the reef pass, two to three meters high, and thought that if Tyrene was here Paul would be knocking on the hull to get me to go surfing. Again I resolved to return.
The next day was much the same, with light trade winds blowing us gently along the south coast. We tried to catch a fish but nothing was biting. Our next stop was the bay outside the Outrigger hotel and it couldn’t have been more different. There were screaming kids being towed on a giant inflatable banana and at sunset there was a booze cruise that sailed around the bay while everyone sang stupid tunes. Certainly everyone was having a great time. It was fun.
Again we had an early start and this time we sailed right around the end of the main island. Our next stop was the Mamanuca group of islands, Musket Cove on Malolo Island. Again this was a Mecca for yachties, because there was a marina there and the resort was cruiser friendly. Alice Ambler and Swiss Lady were there and we caught up with them at the three dollar bar at sunset. This was a great place where everything was three bucks – beer, spirits, wine, everything. You could also cook your own food on the BBQ and they would supply plates and cutlery.
While we were there the Melbourne Cup horse race was on, and we went to the resort to watch it. We had a swim in the pool and entered the sweep, but didn’t win anything. It reminded us that we were into November and the official cyclone season had already started. We were leaving our passage to Australia very late and most people had already left. I tried in vain to get more information on the frequency of cyclones in the region but couldn’t find anything. Each day I went to the marina office to look at the weather map but each day there was evidence of bad weather out there. A stationary front seemed to be sitting in a line from Fiji to New Caledonia, and the reports were for over 30knot winds. Alice Ambler was headed for New Zealand but had only the first four of five days in the cyclone belt, where we had a couple of weeks. We finally sailed the twenty miles over to Vuda Point near Lautoka to get fuel and taxi to town to check out. We went into the marina there, where we found Pau Hana tied up next to us. The marina there was a good cyclone hole and it was tempting to leave True Blue there and fly home, to complete the trip the next year. We were low on money, though, and Al was keen to get home. The long passages had taken their toll on both of us. I found it increasingly hard to decide when to leave, as each time I thought we had a weather window it seemed we sailed straight into bad weather. (Later we found out that it had been an unusual year, with lots of southerly winds and more gales than usual.) I had also sprained my wrist and only had one good hand, so it was hard to see how well we would go. Finally we decided just to leave. We spent a day or so with Pau Hana, went out to dinner, and did some last minute shopping. I finally heard weather reports promising less than 20 knots, so even though Alison was feeling a bit off we decided we couldn’t wait any more. We packed up the boat and left.