Learning more...

Thanks to a favourable windshift at the weekend, a further eight boats have arrived in Fulaga so on Monday there was quite a crowd in the Chief's house for the sevusevu ceremony. Most of the boats are over at the Sandspit anchorage whist we, Ithaka, Sel Citron (our mates Kerry & Damian, who arrived on Sunday) and a couple of others are anchored at the village landing place.

 

We've come to realise that some crews are happy to meet the villagers when they first arrive but then congregate, like a group of expats, over at the Sandspit anchorage at the far side of the lagoon, content just to enjoy the stunning beach and wonderful views. However, we've been to lots of islands with stunning beaches and wonderful views so, for some of us, the incredibly rare opportunity to become involved in village life is really the thing that makes Fulaga so special. Colin and Ana on Ithaka are certainly in that camp and on Monday Ana (a physiotherapist) was giving a talk, complete with demonstrations, to the women of the Weaving Group, about pelvic floor exercises!

 

Every time we go ashore we learn a little more about life on this remote island, about the relationships where everyone is somehow related to everyone else it seems and even those who've arrived from other islands have an interesting story to tell. We had lunch with Sera the island nurse and her husband Sikele the other day – lovely people who have lived in Suva whilst Sera was training and returned last November to their home island for probably a couple of years before her next posting – and got an informed opinion on some of the challenges and as well as the delights of a small community. Gossip is definitely an issue in these small villages and the Monday Weaving Group (strictly ladies only) began with a very emotional but effective 'clear the air' session where concerns were openly aired and resolved; it made us think about all the angst that Facebook and similar inventions cause in our world where we've lost the ability to resolve differences face-to-face.

 

The 'expat' yachts are missing all this and also don't experience the delight on the villagers' faces when we walk in and find the daily volleyball game starting at about 3.00 pm. They enjoy our fumbled attempts at playing, though they are very supportive and encouraging, and then more of the regular players arrive so the pace and skill increases to the point that, one by one, we bow out to enjoy watching them. It's an inclusive game for them; men and women play on equal terms and the peals of laughter and the happy chatter is, for us, one of the main soundtracks of village life.  The teamwork and competitiveness of the game must be another vital component of harmonious living here. The arrival of the new boats, even if they don't come to participate in village life, was welcomed, though, particularly as the island had completely run out of kava and the next supply boat isn't due until next week. The yagona roots brought by each yacht for the sevusu were quickly distributed on Monday but it seems that binge-drinking isn't only a British problem; there was a day and late-night kava session and now they have run out again!

 

Yesterday morning we were involved in the beginning of the next chapter of a Fulaga story that's very important to us. Regular readers will remember that last year our brilliantly-talented host Meli had been making a new dug-out canoe up in the forest, the first to be built here for at least six years. We helped haul the 25' hull out of the forest (the first foreigners to witness such an event) and if you search YouTube for 'Maunie of Ardwall' you'll find a video of the adventure. Following Meli's death (at only 48) last year, the canoe was left above the high-tide line here but his brothers Alfreti (aka Lutu) and Mini said they wanted to finish it. On Sunday we showed them the video, which included a sequence of Meli shaping a section of wood for the foredeck so we suggested that we could go and retrieve it as it was still at the site of the felled tree.

 

So, with the crews of Sel Citron and Ithaka, we set off into the forest and scrambled up the rocky 'path', wondering how on earth we managed to manhandle the heavy canoe down it. The abandoned poles, used as rollers, still littered the route and Meli's 'workshop' was pretty much as we left it almost a year ago. The deck piece, about 6' long, was shaped to fit the bow but was a heavy wedge of hardwood. about 3" thick at the front and 6" at the back. With some incredibly deft work with a chainsaw, Lutu made a lot of criss-cross cuts on the underside and then he, Graham and Colin used adzes to chip out a hollow so that the deck was only about an inch thick and, of course, a lot lighter. Lutu was clearly a little apprehensive about the whole job because, though he's a talented wood carver, he explained that he had never built a canoe before; however he looked increasingly happy as the job progressed. After only about an hour and a half's work, the deck, plus chainsaw and tools were carried down the rocky path and back to the dinghies.

 

When we got back to the beach, the deck was placed onto the canoe and it fitted absolutely perfectly. Lutu's smile was just wonderful to behold and we think Meli was smiling down on us too.

 

 

Wind: BLS, becoming BDOC later

The New Zealand weather forecasts remind us of home in as much as they highlight the maritime nature of the country and, in a place where everyone seems to have some kind of boat, even if it's just a 'tinny' aluminium fishing boat for the weekend, the windspeed and wave conditions they report seem relevant to most Kiwis. Back in Britain the Shipping Forecast on Radio 4 is, for the majority of listeners, a rather arcane but oddly reassuring intonation of strange names and terminology; Dogger, Fisher, German Bight.... For sailors, though, it instantly evokes memories of feverishly scribbling down the words on a notepad made soggy from wet sleeves and dripping hair at a slanted chart table and hoping that the 'Westerly Gale 8' might arrive 'later' (in 12 hours or more) and not be 'imminent' (within 6 hours) as we raced for a sheltered harbour.

 

Before Graham was born, his father,  Geoff, was briefly in a pop group (not sure that's the correct term, a combo might be better?) produced by legendary Beatles producer George Martin; the Master Singers were his other Fab Four. They shot, briefly, to fame but sadly not fortune with a No. 22 hit called The Highway Code. That wasn't just the name of the song, they actually sang the contents of the Highway Code booklet in the unaccompanied style of a Gregorian Chant; clearly something of novelty number (Google it if you don't believe us!). A slightly less successful follow-up, the difficult second single, was The Weather Forecast where, you've guessed it, they sang the Shipping Forecast: Humber, Thames, Dover, et al. It ended, after increasingly loud sound effects of wind, thunder and lightning, with the words: "In short, the weather will be normal for the time of year."

 

Well, here in the South Pacific the weather certainly isn't normal for the time of year and without the luxury of internet access here in Fulaga, we can't click onto all the weather forecasting sites that we normally use to make sense of what's going on. So we're back to scribbling notes whilst we listen to the static-laden SSB radio for the daily update from NZ, some 1,100 miles away. Don't get me wrong, it's a fantastic service but we have to learn a new language and set of weather rules for this part of the world; for a start, the winds revolve the opposite way around high and low pressure cells compared to the northern hemisphere and the fronts bring squalls and downdrafts and something called CB's. Not too sure what they are but they sound nasty.

 

Anyway a big weather front is passing over us as we speak and the boats at anchor have obediently weather-cocked to illustrate its arrival. The wind, which had been blowing strongly from the SE (the normal Trade Winds direction) has reduced and veered (the opposite way to a northern hemisphere veer) to the NE, then the N and it's now NW (all within a few hours). The atmosphere has become increasingly hot and humid and the heavy rain has just begun; we'll let it wash the decks for 20 minutes then open the lid of the deck filler to the main fresh water tank, just as the villagers are diverting it from their corrugated iron roofs into their tanks. The big unknown is whether the passing front will bring cloud bursts and strong wind squalls so we might have a disturbed night.

 

Which brings us onto some new-to-us meteorological terms from the radio forecasters. The BBC talks very formally about Force 5 or Gale Force 8, from the Beaufort Scale invented by the eponymous Admiral of the Royal Navy, but the New Zealanders give the windspeed in knots. Occasionally the forecaster at Gulf Harbour Radio will add the delightfully unauthorised illustrative term of 'BLS' (Blowing Like Snot, which we take to be about a Force 6) and we've heard other boats referring to 'BDOC' (Blowing Dogs off Chains, an Australian term, we think, for about a Force 8). At the moment, we're pleased to report, it's 'As Calm As', as the Kiwis would say. Fingers crossed for a quiet night.

Hiking and a Birthday Picnic

As you will see from our latest update on http://www.yit.co.nz/yacht/maunieofardwall we have moved anchorages. We came over yesterday morning with three locals, Socce, Nessie and Ba, aboard for a special event – more of that later.

 

The Google earth photo on the YIT page gives you a pretty good idea of the size of the lagoon here. The main village, Maunaicake, is actually on the south side of the island facing the ocean at the large indented bay and the second village, Muanaire is ten minutes' walk to the west of it. The third village, Naividamu, is the only one facing into the lagoon and is situated in its NW corner. With the blustery winds blowing from the SE at the moment, the anchorage there is an exposed lee shore so we decided to hike overland on Tuesday to go and see Jiko, our lovely host from last year.

 

The conflicting advice we received about the path between the villages should have warned us. Some people said it was a good path, others looked surprised when we said we were going to attempt it. Some said it would take 45 minutes, others thought it would be closer to 2 hours. What became clear is that no one really uses the path any more; instead they walk the first part of it down to the lagoon and then get the open 'fiber' boat across. Anyway, we set off, with Ana from Ithaka with us, in a mood of optimism, walking though very dense forest, following a narrow and obviously little-used trail. After about an hour it seemed to peter out and we were faced with waist-high undergrowth. 'Can't be the right path!' we thought, so turned back to investigate various little side-paths, none of which lead anywhere. Dianne was wearing only sandals and the going was rough so she sensibly decided to head back to the village; Graham and Ana refused to be beaten so went back to the point we'd turned around, pushed our way through the undergrowth and found the path again. Three hours after setting off, we finally arrived in Naividamu to a huge welcome, with hugs and tears from Jiko, a formal sevusevu welcome from the chief, a wonderful lunch and a round of kava. Luckily for us, Sera the island's nurse, had been called over to the village after we had left so we thumbed a lift back in her boat.

 

Having  survived that little adventure, yesterday was a fun day over here at the Sandspit. The locals had proposed a picnic for the yachites on the beautiful beach here so they piled into the big village boat, with Maunie and Ithaka taking a few left-overs. In all there were 14 visiting yachties and about 35 locals and we ate amazingly well – a huge haul of crabs (the biggest about 8" across the shell) cooked in a lovo earth oven, plus some lovely fish and a good array of 'pot luck' dishes from the yachts. Dianne and a few others had been shown the skill of weaving bowls out of coconut palm leaves so there was quite a production line in operation before the lovo was opened up. It was Ana's birthday so the previous day Colin had smuggled some ingredients to Ma the baker and she had made a huge chocolate birthday cake with pink icing. The singing of 'Happy Birthday' was loud and in harmony – they know how to sing here!

 

We'll stay out here at this anchorage for a few days but are watching the weather. We listen to an excellent weather radio net every morning, Gulf Harbour Radio, which is run by a cruising couple who have 'swallowed the anchor' and are now based in NZ; David is a meteorologist so he gives us daily lessons in upper atmosphere winds plus a great forecast for the south Pacific. Anyway he tells us that it has been abnormally windy and unsettled so far this season and there is even a tropical cyclone now in the Solomons (north west of Fiji). Cyclone Raquel is the first ever cyclone to be recorded in July (the normal cyclone season is between November and April) and so everyone is watching her progress with interest. We shouldn't get strong winds down here but some weather fronts will spin off from her and could bring rain and squalls. Ah, well.

 

 

Net fishing in the Fulaga lagoon

A crack team consisting of seven locals and five yachties set off in three dinghies on Saturday morning for a spot of fishing. The preferred method here is to use a net with floats at the top and lead weights at the bottom (it's about 40m long by 1.5m deep); it's manoeuvred into position in 1m deep water by two people, one at either end, and the rest of the team thrash the water to drive the fish into it. As the 'thrashers' get closer, the net controllers pull the net into a circle and join the two ends before snorkellers swim around inside it to drive the fish into the meshes. It's amazingly effective and great fun to be part of the process.

 

Our haul amounted to about 30 fish, a baby black-tipped shark and a small sting-ray. The village ate well that day and the three yacht crews got a couple of fish each.

All dressed up, Fulaga-style

We have a little data left on our account at the end of the month so here are a few photos...

 

In the village we're expected to dress in accordance with local expectations; the missionaries brought standards of long dresses, covered shoulders and knees to the people of Fiji and today the people find western skimpy clothes embarrassing. Men are expected to wear sulus – usually brightly-coloured skirts wrapped around the waist and knotted at the front and on Sundays and other special occasions, there are formal sulus made in pinstripe suit material.

 

Graham scored extra points at church with his formal sulu plus shirt and tie; the Chief's brother wanted a photo with him!

 

The other dress-up event was a meke – a dancing event in the second village – where we were presented with beautifully fragrant garlands.

 

 

The warmth of the Fulagan welcome

Above: the anchorage; Bale and Akosita aboard Maunie

 

Both of us had felt a few slight misgivings about returning to Fulaga; after such a wonderful experience here last year, would it be an anti-climax and, with the tragic death last year of our host and dear friend, Meli, would we be overcome with sadness? We need not have worried. After five days here we are feeling as though we never left and the warmth of the welcome given to us has been overwhelming.

 

We went ashore on Wednesday morning to present our sevusevu with 5 other boats - Ithaka (Scotland), Anico & Antares (Germany) and Ranganui (NZ), all Fulaga virgins.  At the beach, waiting for us, were Alfreti and Mini, Meli's younger brothers, who led us into the village; on the 1-mile path we met lots of familiar faces and we received wonderful, big hugs and happy smiles and just everyone remembered our names (including many of the school kids when we walked past the playground). Luckily we remembered most of the names of those who greeted us. The other cruisers must have wondered what we did here last time as we certainly felt like the returning prodigals!!

 

One of the village elders,Tai, did the introduction of all the new visitors to Chief Daniel (now 89 but looking very well) who seemed to be very pleased to see us and was all smiles. He became very solemn during the sevusevu ceremony (conducted entirely in Fijian, punctuated with resonant hand-claps (known as cobos) and, at the end, shook hands with each of us in turn and said 'Bula' (welcome) then, with a twinkle in his eye, pretended he didn't know Tai so shook his hand and said 'Bula' to him too.

 

The ceremony over, Tai arranged to take each yacht crew to meet their host family. He explained to us that we had 'jumped houses' (the task of hosting is done in strict rotation) as Alfeti and his wife Bale had asked to host us in memory of Meli; this was really touching  and they now live in Meli and Jiko's house where Pussy the cat is still there begging for food by putting a paw on your knee just as she did with Meli. It was a bit emotional to talk about Meli but lovely to be able to chat over lemon-leaf tea and delicious pancakes. Jiko is now living with her brother in her family village of Naividamu, across the lagoon so we'll see her there in the next few days.

 

Alfreti and Bale came aboard Maunie on that first evening as Alfetie had caught a big crab that morning and Bale had made delicious rotis. They bought with them their great-niece Akosita who is nearly three; she's living with them for a few months, a fairly common practice with the big families in Fiji. Once her shyness had worn off she was chatting and singing away to Dianne in the cabin. Alfreti and Bale spend quite a few months each year in Suva and Nadi; unlike his brothers, Alfreti left the island in his youth and spend 18 years in the city, but still calls Fulaga 'home'. Incidentally, our conversations with them illustrated the challenges we have in remembering names here'; we noticed that Bale and other locals called Alfreti 'Lutu'. "That's my middle name" he explained, "but some people in the village also call me 'Fere', it's my nickname." We have no chance!

 

So, lovely to be back and it's been full-on ever since we arrived. We've been dancing, fishing, playing volleyball and laughing a lot with the locals. More updates to follow, we'd better get ready for church this morning. 

 

 

The warmth of the Fulagan welcome

Above: the anchorage; Bale and Akosita aboard Maunie

 

Both of us had felt a few slight misgivings about returning to Fulaga this year; after such a wonderful experience here, would it be an anti-climax and, with the tragic death last year of our host and dear friend, Meli, would we be overcome with sadness? We need not have worried. After five days here we are feeling as though we never left and the warmth of the welcome to us has been overwhelming.

 

We went ashore on Wednesday morning to present our sevusevu with 5 other boats - Ithaka (Scotland), Anico & Antares (Germany) and Raganui (NZ), all Fulaga virgins.  At the beach waiting for us were Alfreti and Mini, Meli's younger brothers, who led us into the village; on the 1-mile path we met lots of familiar faces and we received wonderful, big hugs and happy smiles and just everyone remembered our names (including many of the school kids when we walked past the playground). Luckily we remembered most of the names of those who greeted us. The other cruisers must have wondered what we did here last time as we certainly felt like the returning prodigals!!

 

One of the village elders,Tai, did the introduction of all the new visitors to Chief Daniel (now 89 but looking very well) who seemed to be very pleased to see us and was all smiles. He became very solemn during the sevusevu ceremony (conducted entirely in Fijian, punctuated with resonant hand-claps (known as cobos) and, at the end, shook hands with each of us in turn and said 'Bula' (welcome) then, with a twinkle in his eye, pretended he didn't know Tai so shook his hand and said 'Bula' to him too.

 

The ceremony over, Tai arranged to take each yacht crew to meet their host family. He explained to us that we had 'jumped houses' (the task of hosting is done in strict rotation) as Alfeti and his wife Bale had asked to host us in memory of Meli; this was really touching  and they now live in Meli and Jiko's house where Pussy the cat is still there begging for food by putting a paw on your knee just as she did with Meli. It was a bit emotional to talk about Meli but lovely to be able to chat over lemon-leaf tea and delicious pancakes. Jiko is now living with her brother in her family village of Naividamu, across the lagoon so we'll see her in the next few days.

 

Alfreti and Bale came aboard Maunie on that evening as Alfetie had caught a big crab that morning and Bale had made delicious rotis. They bought with them their great-niece Akosita who is nearly three; she's living with them for a few months, a fairly common practice with the big families in Fiji. Once her shyness had worn off she was chatting and singing away to Dianne in the cabin. Alfreti and Bale spend quite a few months each year in Suva and Nadi; unlike his brothers, Alfreti left the island in his youth and spend 18 years in the city, but still calls Fulaga 'home'. Incidentally, our conversations with them illustrated the challenges we have in remembering names here'; we noticed that Bale and other locals called Alfreti 'Lutu'. "That's my middle name" he explained, "but some people in the village also call me 'Fere', it's my nickname." We have no chance!

 

So, lovely to be back and it's been full-on ever since we arrived. We've been dancing, fishing, playing volleyball and laughing a lot. More updates to follow, we'd better get ready for church this morning.