After two great nights at Drawaqa Island, we moved on to Divetrek Resort on Wayalailai (aka Wayasewa aka Little Waya) Island. We were again very fortunate to find that our resort was not one of the popular ones amongst the major booking agencies, so we arrived to find about 7 people in the resort. This island and one other one were among the most impressive naturally, as seen from the boat, so it was great to be staying in such a beautiful place. There is a small beach with some lounge chairs and hammocks, then a steep hill leading to the first terrace with a few thatched roof huts and a large grass field where locals from a few of the nearby islands gather to play rugby every night. Up another steep set of stairs is the second terrace with the dormitory room and main hut for meals. Beyond that, the island continues upwards with a dense green forest and finally a massive rock face that dominates the Southern side of the island, known as Vatavula.
At dinner, Lucy, Jade and I met up with a few of the other guests including a young Dutchman named Ronald (apparently the Dutch like Fiji - or maybe the Dutch are just drawn to me) and a Japanese guy named Shim who we recognized from our International Night a few days earlier. To pass the time, the four of us (Shim went to bed) asked for a board game and after hearing the choices, we decided upon anything but Monopoly, so we made a few specific requests for games that the owner had listed, though after five minutes, he proudly turned the corner with the all too familiar box of Monopoly, so we played for an hour or two before conceding to the real estate tycoon, Ronald. Early the next morning, the five of us (Shim is back) went for a hike, along with an old man from the resort who was our guide. As we ascended the steep, sometimes slippery terrain, we passed amongst all sorts of vegetation including cassava (bread fruit) and mango trees and some other fruits of which our guide didn't know the translation. We also carefully passed under a tree that is said to be so poisonous that its itching effects would make one scratch away their skin - a cheap glimpse at the world of a heroin addict.
Out of the forested section, we ventured into fields of four to six foot high grasses and patches of sugarcane, which make a nice hiking snack when you cut the stalks and suck out the sweet juice. We then climbed on top of a 15 foot boulder that can be pushed from the side to make it sway from side to side without the risk of falling down the mountain (or so we believed), giving it the name Wobbling Rock. Fijians are so creative sometimes. Ten minutes later, we reached the top of the peak for some fabulous views of our resort straight down below and a few of the surrounding islands. We took a few pictures perched precariously over the sheer rock face, then we moved on to our climb down the back side of the island to the local village and sand bridge connecting to Waya, the adjoining island. Just as we got down to the village, the sky opened up and poured down rain, so we got soaked, but luckily we weren't far from cover. Heavy rain on top of the mountain would have made the trek much more arduous and not so enjoyable, so the timing wasn't too bad. We entered the local village of about 30 small, very simple huts, located right along the coast, after having been ordered to move to that side of the island by the government after a few landslides coming down the mountain in previous decades.
In the village, we were welcomed into the home of our guide's daughter for a nice lunch. Her house was very, very basic with just two rooms, a few pots and pans in the corner and huge mats across the floor and a great deal of flies that persistently tried to steal bits of our lunch. Next, we met with a few of the local villagers that were selling sarongs, necklaces and a few other typical souvenirs that helped bring some income to the village. Then, we crossed the playground and rugby field to the local school where a group of 40 or 50 elementary or middle school aged children gathered all around us as we introduced ourselves and answered questions about our lives and our cultures. They also sang us a few songs - some local ones and some not so local, including the 70s hit "Seasons in the Sun." The guide's grandson also greeted us along the way, and our guide has stashed away some of the sugarcane from atop the mountain to give to him.
Our final portion of the trip took us just down the road to the beach and sand bridge connecting the two islands at low tide. We did a brief bit of snorkeling in spite of a lot of jellyfish, though this particular type doesn't sting. Then, while waiting on the beach, I saw a very fast moving speedboat approaching. As the boat of five local men got closer, I could tell that they had no intention of stopping at the sandbar. Going full-speed, they hit the sandbar, got a little bit of air, then landed hard and came to an abrupt stop right in the middle of the 20 foot wide bridge. After a bit of pointing and laughing, three of us went over and helped the four guys and crying toddler drag the boat across the sand into the other bay. Apparently this method has worked before because the driver obviously showed no hesitation, though I wouldn't recommend it.
A few minutes later, our guide appeared with a small wooden motorboat, full of some of the school children that we'd just met. We squeezed our way into the boat alongside them and their bags and went back around the island to the other village to drop off the children and then to our resort. The long day in the sun (and rain) left us fairly tired, so we spent the rest of the day relaxing, watching rugby and eating another great dinner. Just before dinner, Ronald realized that he lost his watch somewhere along the way at the beach, though he didn't really mind, and it was pretty cheap, so it wasn't worth going back for it. While we ate dinner, our guide had disappeared, and then he showed back up with a huge grin of his face, apparently very proud of something. He asked Ronald again about his watch, and then he told us how he had just returned from taking the boat back around the 30 minute trip to where we had snorkeled and then eventually found the watch on the beach right in front of our resort, where we returned the snorkeling gear, and then the guide pulled his hand from behind his back and revealed the watch. Despite Ronald assuring him that it wasn't a big deal, our guide felt compelled to help him and was so pleased that he was able to find the watch. As with many of the Fijian people that I met, he is extremely nice and willing to go out of his way to help others, a very impressive characteristic of the people, though, of course there are a few people that are trying to make money and take advantage of the tourists, like the constant barrage of sellers in the main town that shake your hand and ask you where you're from, how much longer you have in Fiji, etc, before imploring you to come check out their shop, but such is life. In Bora Bora, I also met a few of the generous locals, including a bus driver that stopped at each construction/road work site and gave much appreciated cold drinks to each and every one of the workers, toiling away in the tropical sun. Sadly, after the recent military coup in Fiji, the tourism industry has suffered greatly, affecting many of these peoples' lives. Talking to some of the owners, they told me that they are only at about 10 or 20% of their normal capacity because of the perceived instability of the government, so they are obviously not proponents of the coup. Though it's very nice for us to have the incredible islands almost to ourselves, it is a shame for the workers and villagers whose livelihoods depend on the money brought in by tourism.
I had one more night on the island, and then I had a transfer back to the main island in the morning, but I didn't realize what an adventure that would be. Apparently in order to save a few dollars, I got booked on a private transfer back to the mainland instead of the main tourist boat that brought us over. The words 'private transfer' made it sound like it might be a nice ride, but as I walked down to the beach in the morning, I found out that my private transfer certainly wasn't going to be luxurious. In fact, it was the exact same small powerboat with a piece of plywood across the bottom that we'd taken with the school children the day before, so it was me along with four locals strewn about the floor of the boat, intertwined with some supplies, bags and water jugs to bring back to the mainland. The sun was already fierce, so I managed to put on some sunscreen and sunglasses to prepare for the long ride. The water was extremely choppy, but that didn't seem to faze our captain, as he went full speed at the waves. Each large wave sent us airborne and then back down hard as we returned to the water, sending a resounding jolt through the entire boat. As my seating position up against the small wall of the boat with my legs outstretched wasn't so secure, I was treated to the equivalent of a few solid, well-placed kidney punches every time we landed from a big wave, so I knew this was going to be quite a long, rough ride. After a few smiles and the local guys laughing at me as they tried to sleep, I settled in and accepted the fact that I'd leave the boat battered and bruised.
We passed through a few islands on the way - the Castaway one again and one that has helicopter transfers from the mainland and charges a few thousand dollars per night. The, we began slowing down, and soon the engine shut off, right in the middle of the deep blue ocean. I looked back at the captain, and he was literally syphoning gasoline from one tank to another before putting the gas hose into the new tank and starting up again. Thankfully, we only had one of these 'refueling' stops. Also, after only 30 or 40 minutes of badly losing my boxing match against the formidable boat, the ocean calmed down, so the rest of the trip wasn't quite as painful.
An hour and 45 minutes in total, the trip arrived at a local port in Lautoka, a large town North of Nadi (which by the way is pronounced Nandi, just so you know). I helped tie down the boat to the concrete pier and jumped off, observing the mass of humanity piling onto the adjacent boats and continuing to add cargo until it looked as if the boats wouldn't be able to move. My new friends told me that a driver would be coming soon, so I waited in the hot sun on the pier for about 20 minutes before a guy I recognized from the resort pulled up with his wife. Since I wasn't in a huge hurry to get back to town, I told him it was ok to run a few errands before taking me back. So, I walked around the local fruit and vegetable market with his wife, then we waited in the car for about 45 minutes while he went to the bank, and I read each of the local newspapers from cover to cover. Then, we finally made the 35 minute drive back South to Nadi and my hostel, encountering another roadblock or two on the way, though the driver told me that they never stop anyone.
All in all, my various trips among the Yasawa Islands were amazing. Initially after hearing some stories of heavy rains and ruined vacations upon my first day arriving in the hostel and seeing the main town, Fiji had lost a bit of its allure, but after these islands, it has completely redeemed itself. Relaxing, beautiful, friendly, and even a pretty good deal, especially with the all-inclusive buffet packages - everything you could ask for from an island paradise. One more day and a half here to hang out and plan my next stop, and then I'm off to one of the top travel destinations on my never-ending list: New Zealand.
At dinner, Lucy, Jade and I met up with a few of the other guests including a young Dutchman named Ronald (apparently the Dutch like Fiji - or maybe the Dutch are just drawn to me) and a Japanese guy named Shim who we recognized from our International Night a few days earlier. To pass the time, the four of us (Shim went to bed) asked for a board game and after hearing the choices, we decided upon anything but Monopoly, so we made a few specific requests for games that the owner had listed, though after five minutes, he proudly turned the corner with the all too familiar box of Monopoly, so we played for an hour or two before conceding to the real estate tycoon, Ronald. Early the next morning, the five of us (Shim is back) went for a hike, along with an old man from the resort who was our guide. As we ascended the steep, sometimes slippery terrain, we passed amongst all sorts of vegetation including cassava (bread fruit) and mango trees and some other fruits of which our guide didn't know the translation. We also carefully passed under a tree that is said to be so poisonous that its itching effects would make one scratch away their skin - a cheap glimpse at the world of a heroin addict.
Out of the forested section, we ventured into fields of four to six foot high grasses and patches of sugarcane, which make a nice hiking snack when you cut the stalks and suck out the sweet juice. We then climbed on top of a 15 foot boulder that can be pushed from the side to make it sway from side to side without the risk of falling down the mountain (or so we believed), giving it the name Wobbling Rock. Fijians are so creative sometimes. Ten minutes later, we reached the top of the peak for some fabulous views of our resort straight down below and a few of the surrounding islands. We took a few pictures perched precariously over the sheer rock face, then we moved on to our climb down the back side of the island to the local village and sand bridge connecting to Waya, the adjoining island. Just as we got down to the village, the sky opened up and poured down rain, so we got soaked, but luckily we weren't far from cover. Heavy rain on top of the mountain would have made the trek much more arduous and not so enjoyable, so the timing wasn't too bad. We entered the local village of about 30 small, very simple huts, located right along the coast, after having been ordered to move to that side of the island by the government after a few landslides coming down the mountain in previous decades.
In the village, we were welcomed into the home of our guide's daughter for a nice lunch. Her house was very, very basic with just two rooms, a few pots and pans in the corner and huge mats across the floor and a great deal of flies that persistently tried to steal bits of our lunch. Next, we met with a few of the local villagers that were selling sarongs, necklaces and a few other typical souvenirs that helped bring some income to the village. Then, we crossed the playground and rugby field to the local school where a group of 40 or 50 elementary or middle school aged children gathered all around us as we introduced ourselves and answered questions about our lives and our cultures. They also sang us a few songs - some local ones and some not so local, including the 70s hit "Seasons in the Sun." The guide's grandson also greeted us along the way, and our guide has stashed away some of the sugarcane from atop the mountain to give to him.
Our final portion of the trip took us just down the road to the beach and sand bridge connecting the two islands at low tide. We did a brief bit of snorkeling in spite of a lot of jellyfish, though this particular type doesn't sting. Then, while waiting on the beach, I saw a very fast moving speedboat approaching. As the boat of five local men got closer, I could tell that they had no intention of stopping at the sandbar. Going full-speed, they hit the sandbar, got a little bit of air, then landed hard and came to an abrupt stop right in the middle of the 20 foot wide bridge. After a bit of pointing and laughing, three of us went over and helped the four guys and crying toddler drag the boat across the sand into the other bay. Apparently this method has worked before because the driver obviously showed no hesitation, though I wouldn't recommend it.
A few minutes later, our guide appeared with a small wooden motorboat, full of some of the school children that we'd just met. We squeezed our way into the boat alongside them and their bags and went back around the island to the other village to drop off the children and then to our resort. The long day in the sun (and rain) left us fairly tired, so we spent the rest of the day relaxing, watching rugby and eating another great dinner. Just before dinner, Ronald realized that he lost his watch somewhere along the way at the beach, though he didn't really mind, and it was pretty cheap, so it wasn't worth going back for it. While we ate dinner, our guide had disappeared, and then he showed back up with a huge grin of his face, apparently very proud of something. He asked Ronald again about his watch, and then he told us how he had just returned from taking the boat back around the 30 minute trip to where we had snorkeled and then eventually found the watch on the beach right in front of our resort, where we returned the snorkeling gear, and then the guide pulled his hand from behind his back and revealed the watch. Despite Ronald assuring him that it wasn't a big deal, our guide felt compelled to help him and was so pleased that he was able to find the watch. As with many of the Fijian people that I met, he is extremely nice and willing to go out of his way to help others, a very impressive characteristic of the people, though, of course there are a few people that are trying to make money and take advantage of the tourists, like the constant barrage of sellers in the main town that shake your hand and ask you where you're from, how much longer you have in Fiji, etc, before imploring you to come check out their shop, but such is life. In Bora Bora, I also met a few of the generous locals, including a bus driver that stopped at each construction/road work site and gave much appreciated cold drinks to each and every one of the workers, toiling away in the tropical sun. Sadly, after the recent military coup in Fiji, the tourism industry has suffered greatly, affecting many of these peoples' lives. Talking to some of the owners, they told me that they are only at about 10 or 20% of their normal capacity because of the perceived instability of the government, so they are obviously not proponents of the coup. Though it's very nice for us to have the incredible islands almost to ourselves, it is a shame for the workers and villagers whose livelihoods depend on the money brought in by tourism.
I had one more night on the island, and then I had a transfer back to the main island in the morning, but I didn't realize what an adventure that would be. Apparently in order to save a few dollars, I got booked on a private transfer back to the mainland instead of the main tourist boat that brought us over. The words 'private transfer' made it sound like it might be a nice ride, but as I walked down to the beach in the morning, I found out that my private transfer certainly wasn't going to be luxurious. In fact, it was the exact same small powerboat with a piece of plywood across the bottom that we'd taken with the school children the day before, so it was me along with four locals strewn about the floor of the boat, intertwined with some supplies, bags and water jugs to bring back to the mainland. The sun was already fierce, so I managed to put on some sunscreen and sunglasses to prepare for the long ride. The water was extremely choppy, but that didn't seem to faze our captain, as he went full speed at the waves. Each large wave sent us airborne and then back down hard as we returned to the water, sending a resounding jolt through the entire boat. As my seating position up against the small wall of the boat with my legs outstretched wasn't so secure, I was treated to the equivalent of a few solid, well-placed kidney punches every time we landed from a big wave, so I knew this was going to be quite a long, rough ride. After a few smiles and the local guys laughing at me as they tried to sleep, I settled in and accepted the fact that I'd leave the boat battered and bruised.
We passed through a few islands on the way - the Castaway one again and one that has helicopter transfers from the mainland and charges a few thousand dollars per night. The, we began slowing down, and soon the engine shut off, right in the middle of the deep blue ocean. I looked back at the captain, and he was literally syphoning gasoline from one tank to another before putting the gas hose into the new tank and starting up again. Thankfully, we only had one of these 'refueling' stops. Also, after only 30 or 40 minutes of badly losing my boxing match against the formidable boat, the ocean calmed down, so the rest of the trip wasn't quite as painful.
An hour and 45 minutes in total, the trip arrived at a local port in Lautoka, a large town North of Nadi (which by the way is pronounced Nandi, just so you know). I helped tie down the boat to the concrete pier and jumped off, observing the mass of humanity piling onto the adjacent boats and continuing to add cargo until it looked as if the boats wouldn't be able to move. My new friends told me that a driver would be coming soon, so I waited in the hot sun on the pier for about 20 minutes before a guy I recognized from the resort pulled up with his wife. Since I wasn't in a huge hurry to get back to town, I told him it was ok to run a few errands before taking me back. So, I walked around the local fruit and vegetable market with his wife, then we waited in the car for about 45 minutes while he went to the bank, and I read each of the local newspapers from cover to cover. Then, we finally made the 35 minute drive back South to Nadi and my hostel, encountering another roadblock or two on the way, though the driver told me that they never stop anyone.
All in all, my various trips among the Yasawa Islands were amazing. Initially after hearing some stories of heavy rains and ruined vacations upon my first day arriving in the hostel and seeing the main town, Fiji had lost a bit of its allure, but after these islands, it has completely redeemed itself. Relaxing, beautiful, friendly, and even a pretty good deal, especially with the all-inclusive buffet packages - everything you could ask for from an island paradise. One more day and a half here to hang out and plan my next stop, and then I'm off to one of the top travel destinations on my never-ending list: New Zealand.
(Climbing down the mountain towards Waya and the sand bridge - visible on the right side)
(The children after singing the never-ending verses of Seasons in the Sun)
(Our resort in the foreground and Vatavula in the background)
(The local rugby match on the first terrace of the resort grounds)
(Woooaaahh...looking down the steep drop from the top)
(Shim, Jade, Lucy, Ronald and me atop the mountain)
(Another view of the grasslands and neighboring island as we climbed down towards the village)
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