Update 15 --

Hello from Namotu, Fiji!

In the last few weeks we have not covered the big mileages that we're used to seeing, but the sailing has been very challenging for other reasons. We spent 7 days at Wallis island, which has a very interesting lagoon dotted with muffin-top islands, craggy Dr. Seuss cliffs, and long sand bars. Wallis is remarkably isolated and the people's lifestyle is an artifact of the generous French government; they have no industry, they export nothing, and there is no tourism—yet the island supports a population of nearly 9,000. Despite the economic state, there is almost no poverty, everyone is happy and seems to have everything they need. Everyone is a local; there are no street signs, the businesses aren't labeled, there are no maps. They drink Foster's instead of water—in fact, we hadn't taken 10 steps on shore when we had cold beers shoved in our hands by some friendly natives. They don't get many (any?) visitors, so we were a bit of a curiosity. Hitchhiking was easy, thumbs largely unnecessary. After getting in the car, we sometimes found ourselves kidnapped for extended island tours. It wasn't unusual to have the driver pull over to buy a round Foster's along the way. We were amazed at the Wallisian generosity, especially since we rarely encountered anyone who spoke English.

The highlight of our stay was at the end of a muddy dirt road, after a gentle but lengthy uphill slog on borrowed bikes. An inactive volcano crater, 1 mile wide and perfectly round with vertical sides, dropped 600 feet into a black lake. Legend has it that the lake is bottomless, fact seized upon by the Americans at the close of World War II. Presumably to keep their war machines from falling into the wrong hands, they simply bulldozed their entire war operation over the cliff into the lake. The tanks, trucks, artillery and ammunition sank into the depths and have never been seen again.

Fully refreshed, we decided to press on to Savusavu, Fiji. That night we entered Fijian waters, which are a new ballgame, navigationally speaking. Up until this point, the geography of the South Pacific has been one of few islands separated by hundreds or thousands of miles of deep, open, and safe water. This leads to a highly technical sailing strategy of “point the boat in the right direction until you see land.” In Fiji, however, all the charts say things like “numerous uncharted reefs exist in all areas,” which turns out to be exactly correct. There are lots uncharted reefs, and entire uncharted islands, big ones! Needless to say, we can sail only during the day and someone is on bow watch all the time.

Having safely arrived in Savusavu, we were overjoyed to find that we could afford to buy things! We ate out at restaurants, bought fresh fruits and vegetables, and were able to talk to locals (English is spoken as a second language by nearly all Fijians). Around this time word got out to friends and family back home that we were in a prime vacationing zone and suddenly we found that we were sorely missed and people were just going to have to come visit us. The excitement started when Megan and Chris, friends from home, caught a lift with us from Savusavu across the Bligh Water to the remote Yasawa group to do some beach camping and backpacking. Kara cooked a breakfast which our guests quickly regurgitated into Orca's wake. Between heaves we told them how the situation could be worse; the Bligh Water got its name when Captain Bligh and a few loyal men, after losing the Bounty to another faction of mutinous crew, were chased across the same 70 miles of water by war canoes filled with angry Fijian cannibals. They frantically rowed their lifeboat for hours and finally escaped, exhausted, into open ocean. Megan and Chris, however, retired below for long naps.

The next morning at first light, we anchored behind a picturesque sandspit connecting two islands in the Yasawa group. We surfed a nearby reef that had almost no redeeming qualities – shifty and small like a beach break, shallow and dangerous like a reef break. We had a nice bonfire on the beach, which was when our would-be campers discovered that tropical desert islands don't make good campgrounds: lots of creepier-crawlies, debilitating heat, and chronic lack of water. A bit disillusioned, our first round of guests retreated to Orca's relative luxury, canceled their camping plans and booked flights back to the U.S. Megan and Chris were hot, seasick, and tired but in surprisingly good spirits when we left them at Musket Cove to start their retreat back to the US.

Meanwhile, a few miles away at an expensive surf resort, a pair of hot, tired, and jet-lagged parentals had just checked into their executive villa and wasted no time bumping the air conditioning thermostat down to sub-Arctic. A quick sail brought us out to meet them, and so it happens that we find ourselves anchored behind the small island of Namotu, within easy reach of several world class surf breaks that have yet to produce anything other than knee high wind-chop. However, time is on our side so we will see what the future holds.

Thanks!

John & Kara