Exploring the recesses of underwater caves with snorkel, mask, and flashlights. Take a big breath!
Author: Pete
Location: Sawa-I-Lau and Vomo, Yasawas, Fiji
Despite the overcast we were happy sailing north from the Blue Lagoon. We had been there for about a week, waiting for an ugly spat of weather to clear so having the sails out an moving felt great. Even caught a Bluefin Trevally on the way!
Sawa-I-Lau is a high, limestone island in a cove just south of Yasawa Island, the northernmost of the island chain. We pulled in, made friends with the locals in the village, and set about finding the treasure hidden on the island…
The island is renowned for its caves. A set of cracking cement stairs have been built into the rock up from the beach to the cavern entrance. The first cavernous room has an open cathedral ceiling with the sun pouring in, lighting up the clear water. A few fat eels basked in the glow and made us a touch hesitant to jump right in. At the far end of the grotto, a few feet below the water gaped an huge swim-through to another cave. Armed with goggles and fins, along with a memorized map of the cave system courtesy of our friends on another boat, Family Circus, we ducked under the water and swam into the black. Since there was much natural light in the first cavern our underwater torches did little initially to punch through the black, but our eyes adjusted rapidly and the inverted image of the next room could be seen in the reflection of the placid water.
It was a short, easy swim-through and then we explored the next cavern in the green glow from the light oozing in through the underwater passage. The cave is oddly shaped, but there’s no place to get lost. The sheer walls are brown limestone that blazes brightly under a torch, even below water. The bottom is black rock, so even though it’s only ten feet down in places, the light beam appears to be swallowed by the abyss. In some places you could swim down and see the bottom. A dive in other spots revealed no bottom at all. The last room could only be accessed by a fairly long, underwater swim. The passage through was hidden in the corner of the second chamber about six feet below the water surface. It was mostly straight, about eight feet wide, then came to a quick turn at the end. No dead ends, no spurs off to get lost in, and smooth rock walls. After the initial paralyzing fear of swimming into a black tunnel underwater, the passage was really beautiful, like flying at the top of a cathedral, albeit with eels popping up here and there. It’s okay, they’re friendly, but it reaffirms Miranda’s hold as most courageous person I know. The third cavern is completely cut off from outside light. The place echoed like thunder when we popped up and cleared our snorkels. It was even difficult to talk because of the reverberation. The place was fantastical, with drippy salt stalactites and strangely organic architecture. We braved the pathways into darkness again the next day just to be back in the middle of an aquatic Dr. Seuss illustration.
Stars filled the clear skies for a few calm nights, one of which we made a bonfire on the beach. Nice to have a little connection to the terrestrial, to come back to the boat smoky and sandy. It’s amazing how many consecutive days we go without touching land even though we’re island hopping.
Tucked in a coral minefield between the Yasawas and Viti Levu is Vomo Island. As we sailed east, the island’s protective reef could be seen shining bright yellow in the sun. We weaseled our way in and dropped anchor in twenty feet of glittering sand. We didn’t know anything about the place before we showed up and some exploring revealed incredible underwater topography.
The coral reefs were chest deep at the top and sixty feet deep one step away. The vertical wall drew big and small fish alike and soft corals waved. The water in the south here seems clearer than north in the Yasawas. It made our deep free dives even more spectacular. There’s a diver in the last two shots here. Can you find them?
Then it was back to Viti Levu to prep, provision, and wait for a weather window to sail south to New Zealand! Back to the high seas!
Author: Pete
Location: Vava’u Island Group, Tonga
Date: August 5 – 10, 2015
On August 5th, we left Niue heading west for Tonga. Niue fell astern as we rocketed downwind, running wing-wing under twenty knots of wind. Moderate following seas gave us an extra push AND we didn’t even have to hand steer since Otto was back in the game. The next day was August 7th. What happened to August 6th ask you? Gone! Zip! Ripped from our lives like a bandaid from a skinned knee! Everyone else will have an August 6th, but the day will be an empty hole in our histories. Can you hear the Twilight Zone music? I hope I don’t have to account for my whereabouts at some point in the future.
“Where were you on the night on August 6th, 2015?”
“Uhhh… I didn’t get one.”
“Get one what?”
“An August 6th, sir. I missed that day. Must have been out sailing.”
“Off with his head!”
Tonga isn’t across the international dateline, but they take the same date as Fiji for business reasons. Thus, as we raced into Tongan waters, our trusty little boat burrowed twenty-four hours ahead in time like a wayward electron quantum tunneling out of a potential energy well. erhm…sorry ‘bout that. Won’t let him out again.
We spotted the islands of the Vava’u group as we cut through a deep portion of the shoal and into more protected waters. To the north and south of the cut, rollers exploded on the unseen reefs as we scooted through. We sailed north then west, dodging rocky islands and a couple of whales before we tucked into the protected bay formed by Nuapapu and Vaka’eitu islands. Tried anchoring in several spots before we were satisfied with our holding and swing room based on the weather supposed to be coming in.
We woke on the 8th after a glorious, flat-water sleep. Our bodies ate it up. Two days on passage isn’t enough to get your body into a good circadian sailing rhythm. We were making ready to go snorkel the nearby coral gardens when a lone man standing in waist-deep water started yelling and waving from the empty shore. I dropped the dinghy in the water and zoomed in to see what was up. In the shallows a stout Tongan man with a mustache and enormous smile introduced himself as David. I don’t know what he was smiling about- he explained that his boat broke down on other side of the island and asked me if I could tow it back to his house. Together we zipped to a sandy bay where his two boys, George and Kaho, were waiting with the little boat. Apparently the motor had died while they were fishing and George swam the boat to shore with a rope tied around his waist. I threw them a line and towed the boat back around to the other side of the island where we moored it just off a sandy beach. David’s tin house stood just inside the line of palm and mango trees. He told me his family had been on Vaka’eitu for many generations, pointing out a small cemetery on a hill where his parents, grandparent, and great-grandparent were buried.
When David explained in his measured, thoughtful English that he had no tools to fix the motor, I offered to take a look at it. I brought hardware from Tayrona and David went ashore to help his wife with lunch, leaving his sons on the skiff to help me with the repairs on the 2-stroke Yamaha . The recoil mechanism to pull-start the motor wasn’t working and there was fuel leaking from somewhere. The three of us sat on the little boat and wrenched off the recoil unit atop the engine. The obnoxiously long winding spring had popped out of place and required a good deal of finesse and six hands to coerce back into the housing. Nice to have so much help, even if we didn’t speak the same language all the time. Pointing and noise making did the trick when ‘socket wrench’ didn’t translate into Tongan. “Hey, pass me the ‘crick-a crick-a crick-a, please. Mālō”. The fuel line connector had a torn seal that couldn’t be fixed, so I bypassed the connectors and spliced the fuel line right to the filter on the engine. With a touch of persuasion the motor fired right up. The boys were proud, David was relieved, and I was happy that I didn’t do any more grievous damage to the thing! It’s nice to feel like you can give something tangible back to the people that share so much with us. That boat and a small kayak are the only means of transportation from their island to the next town, five miles away across the bay, where the store, church, and school are. I can’t imagine what happens if that motor goes south. Daniel brought us three papaya, ten shucked coconuts, a dozen limes, and an invite to have dinner at his house to say thanks.
Before our big date ashore, Miranda and I went snorkeling in the coral gardens in the shallow pass between Nuapapu and Vaka’eitu. At first the coral looked blasted, with mostly dead stag horn, though it was surprisingly still full of fish. We finned across the shallows toward deep water, and after duck diving a few breakers we were out in the deep. Whales sang hauntingly in the distance as we chased butterfly fish and dove among the brightly colored, rolling patchwork-quilt of coral hills. I think Nemo was even out there!
Also ran into a vicious predator of the deep. This is one of the dreaded cone shells in the South Pacific. It’s the Marbled Cone Snail. It hunts other mollusks down and injects its venom through a harpoon structure that will also go through the foot of a careless wader. There is another kind out here called the ‘Cigarette Cone Snail’ because you have time for one last cigarette if you get stuck by one before the venom gets you. You know those things’ll kill you…
This next one is just a plain old boring cowrie shell. Really pretty though! They have a beautiful, smooth shell which gave rise to the word ‘porcelain’ from the Italian name for the little guys. Neat, huh?
Back at the floating ranch we got ready to go in for dinner with David and his family. We brought rice, veggies, and lemonade to share. What do people like to eat on tiny Pacific islands? Last time we treated a local guy to our cuisine he almost jumped overboard rather than try our peanut butter! We also brought a bunch of little gifts for their kids: some cool shades for George, a pocket knife for Kaho, jewelry things for the girls. David played guitar and sang harmony for Hika in a welcome song as the girls danced in the Polynesian style for us. They served us a gorgeous spread of fried plantains, roasted grouper, and teriyaki chicken. All of it was cooked over an open fire outside of their dwelling and had a beautiful smoky flavor. I played a few tunes for them as well and we talked about life in Tonga. It was a thoroughly enjoyable and unexpected evening.
After we got back to the boat the rains came, first sprinkling, but then quickly turning into torrents. It was the front we had seen on our weather reports and the reason we ducked clandestinely into the shelter of Tongan waters. It rained all night, the kind of biblical rain that weighs the boat down, obliterates all other sounds but the hammering of the decks, and turns the radar screen into a wash of yellow so thick that the shore can’t be seen just a hundred meters away. No more sea spray on the decks!
We snorkeled in Willy Wonka’s coral gardens again the next days and prepared for our passage to Fiji with a few meals and a solid slab of brownies. BAM! Our original passage from Bora to Fiji was twice interrupted, both times leading us into extraordinary experiences for our troubles in changing our plans. Go tell the sea gods about your plans. They love a good joke.
More from Tayrona to come…