Day 3 Fiji

Sunday was our first full day on Naigani. There was a wind coming from the east which the NZ lady yesterday had described a trade wind. "Pity about the east trade wind coming up today, it'll be here for 8 to 15 days, feshing will be no good while it's here."

I wasn't worried about the feshing, or the wind. It was warm. The morning brought overcast skies and drizzly rain. The tide was out. We walked south along the rocky shoreline, stopping to shelter from rain under rocks on the steep bank up from the high water mark a few times. I slipped on a rock, instinctively throwing out my left hand to break my fall. In so doing the plastic bag I was carrying in my left hand swung down crashing onto a rock. Thinking the binoculars may have broken I was relieved when quick inspection showed they were fine. I then removed camera from case to find the screen broken and inoperable. Lib's camera, 50th birthday present from me, six years ago. We both had become attached to it. The next hour was tense with few words spoken and a mood of disappointment and frustration, simmering anger, and guilt, regret, plain bloody sorrow. I should have had a shoulder bag or a backpack.

The camera still turned on and the lens popped out. It still clicked and flashed when you pressed down on the button, but we had no way of knowing if the shot was actually being taken and stored on the memory. Screen was shattered.

That afternoon we took a walk to "the summit". It was a climb up of about 20 minutes from where you got a good view of the overall lay of the island. The track was the only one marked at the resort, or talked about. The NZ couple had told us of another track that went to the native village where tourists couldn't go past a gate through a wire fence unless invited in. Up till then we knew nothing of a village on our island, and said so. "It's only five hundred bloody metres away along the track at the back of the resort." There's another track further north across to the other side of the island too, but the villagers blocked it off with branches and things, because of a dispute with the resort about unpaid lease money or something."

You could clearly see the village from the summit, a number of iron rooves nestled amongst coconut palms in the distance just in from a nice sandy beach. It looked very clean and tidy, but we could see no people, except for one man wading out from the shallows to an out board motorboat which he boarded and began to do some manual work like checking or repairing fishing gear. I had a good sight of the man and the boat through the binos.



The Village from the Summit

After returning to our bure we walked north along the shore. I was always looking for what looked like it might be track to the other side of the island. After a couple of explores that were dead ends after a promising start only to be short diversions into the bush where piles of coconut husks and crab traps showed they were just foraging entrances, I found one that looked promising still a hundred metres or so in, going back then to tell Lib and making a mental note of where it was. The tropical vegetation was quite thick and the entrance to a track not easily seen.

On the way back we had to pass the NZ couple's bure. The lady came out to talk. We told her about the camera. She offered to put the memory card in her lap top and see if the camera was working. It was. At least we could continue taking photos even if we had to just point it and hope.

We told the KIWIs we'd been to the summit and saw the village and a man boarding a boat who we saw later go past in the boat and wave to us warmly not a half hour ago. "That's 'Toka'. He's the boat fesherman. Frank, the driver of the boat that took you to the island from Natovi Jetty, the only other one with a skipper's licence, is the main spearfisherman. They sent him out earlier to get more fesh for the restaurant because Toka didn't catch enough. Toka's father used to eat human flesh, they still practised cannablism here into the 1930's. Toka knows more about the history than anyone else. He'll talk if you go feshing with him."

Happy hour was from 6 to 7 when stubbies were cheaper at the bar so we bade good evening and headed for the pool garden. As we enjoyed our Fiji bitter the NZ lady came over and sat down and gave us more info on the subtleties of Naigani.

I'd insert some photos now but I can't find the camera and as Lib is asleep I don't want to go rummaging in the bedroom. Hopefully I'll find time later.