A few days ago Steve called, the neighbour from down the hill. There was a cyclone being tracked, threatening to hit Fiji. In two days it whipped itself up into a quite a frenzy. Reports of a category four or five were going around. They named it Cyclone Daman. Otherwise known as a hurricane in North America. Early Friday morning Steve called again and told me it looked as if Daman was going to hit the western tip of Vanua Levu and pass between the two main islands.
An hour later Daman shifted again and was threatening to cut a path straight through the middle of Vanua Levu from Labasa to Savusavu.
By noon we were boarding up the house, screwing the shutters to the windows and doors. On some sound advice we packed our valuables, along with candles, flashlight, the machete from the house, and what clothing we figured we’d need. We threw the some supplies in the truck and booked a room at the Hot Springs Hotel. Room 110. After securing our room we drove through town a bit and Tara took pictures. The young men that worked at the gas station seemed giddy about the coming storm. It was hard to tell if it was nerves or excitement. Probably both.
It was strange being at the grocery store getting more supplies with loads of locals preparing for a cyclone, the whole time Christmas music playing in the background. It was surreal. The entire experience was surreal really. It took some time for the reality of it all to sink in and mentally prepare for the event. Back at the hotel Tara and I had a few drinks on the hotel patio that overlooks the picturesque Savusavu Bay. Still beautiful despite the skies darkening ominously and we talked about how everyone seemed in good enough spirits, but definitely nervous as hell. This was a big storm that could inflict unimagineable devestation on the islands people. We talked about how we can go home to Canada when all was said and done. But these people, they live here. The homes they live in are far from hurricane proof and many would likely have to rebuild. At the bar they played the local radio station, reminding people of the importance of community and helping each other in times such as this.
Back in our room we watched the skies grow darker, not before Tara snapped some shots of the distant south-western skies. They were a breath-taking purple and mauve. Its astounding how something so devastating can be so beautiful…We made tea, having to do something with our own nervous energy. There was a knock on the door and we were told we had a call at the main desk (we’d been given a 'Budget Room', no television, no telephone). It was Tara’s brother Matt calling to ensure we had done all we could to secure ourselves.
By 7:00pm the sky was a dead black and we were waiting for Daman to come. As the night wore on it was apparent the storm was shifting. I checked at the front desk for updates. We managed to rest a little and finally sleep came…as fitfull as it was. Tara and I both woke up every few hours. Finally morning arrived. The latest report telling us that Daman had shifted once more, taking mercy on the mainland and following an eastward path, around the top of Venua Levu and was curving around the east end of the island. A few of the small islands in that area were hit, there are small villages on those islands and we were still awaiting reports from them. We worry about those people, they’re of little means and dwell in incredibley simple homes. As of 9:00am we still hadn’t heard any word from the people on those islands. Finally word got to us that one island of a 100 homes was wiped from the map.
I was informed that Cyclone Daman had a barometric reading of 925, the lowest in the recorded history in the South Pacific. A record breaking storm that would have devestated these islands if it hit dead on. We were told that we would have returned to the house with the roof gone and that the boards we had screwed to the windows and doors would have been blown away like tissue paper. You can sense the collective sigh of relief this morning. Everyone grateful that we dodged a bullet.
We can't take the shutters down and kick back with G and T's just yet. Daman could take an eratic turn and come straight back into the islands. But for now it seems the threat has passed Fiji.
We thank everyone for their concern.
An hour later Daman shifted again and was threatening to cut a path straight through the middle of Vanua Levu from Labasa to Savusavu.
By noon we were boarding up the house, screwing the shutters to the windows and doors. On some sound advice we packed our valuables, along with candles, flashlight, the machete from the house, and what clothing we figured we’d need. We threw the some supplies in the truck and booked a room at the Hot Springs Hotel. Room 110. After securing our room we drove through town a bit and Tara took pictures. The young men that worked at the gas station seemed giddy about the coming storm. It was hard to tell if it was nerves or excitement. Probably both.
It was strange being at the grocery store getting more supplies with loads of locals preparing for a cyclone, the whole time Christmas music playing in the background. It was surreal. The entire experience was surreal really. It took some time for the reality of it all to sink in and mentally prepare for the event. Back at the hotel Tara and I had a few drinks on the hotel patio that overlooks the picturesque Savusavu Bay. Still beautiful despite the skies darkening ominously and we talked about how everyone seemed in good enough spirits, but definitely nervous as hell. This was a big storm that could inflict unimagineable devestation on the islands people. We talked about how we can go home to Canada when all was said and done. But these people, they live here. The homes they live in are far from hurricane proof and many would likely have to rebuild. At the bar they played the local radio station, reminding people of the importance of community and helping each other in times such as this.
Back in our room we watched the skies grow darker, not before Tara snapped some shots of the distant south-western skies. They were a breath-taking purple and mauve. Its astounding how something so devastating can be so beautiful…We made tea, having to do something with our own nervous energy. There was a knock on the door and we were told we had a call at the main desk (we’d been given a 'Budget Room', no television, no telephone). It was Tara’s brother Matt calling to ensure we had done all we could to secure ourselves.
By 7:00pm the sky was a dead black and we were waiting for Daman to come. As the night wore on it was apparent the storm was shifting. I checked at the front desk for updates. We managed to rest a little and finally sleep came…as fitfull as it was. Tara and I both woke up every few hours. Finally morning arrived. The latest report telling us that Daman had shifted once more, taking mercy on the mainland and following an eastward path, around the top of Venua Levu and was curving around the east end of the island. A few of the small islands in that area were hit, there are small villages on those islands and we were still awaiting reports from them. We worry about those people, they’re of little means and dwell in incredibley simple homes. As of 9:00am we still hadn’t heard any word from the people on those islands. Finally word got to us that one island of a 100 homes was wiped from the map.
I was informed that Cyclone Daman had a barometric reading of 925, the lowest in the recorded history in the South Pacific. A record breaking storm that would have devestated these islands if it hit dead on. We were told that we would have returned to the house with the roof gone and that the boards we had screwed to the windows and doors would have been blown away like tissue paper. You can sense the collective sigh of relief this morning. Everyone grateful that we dodged a bullet.
We can't take the shutters down and kick back with G and T's just yet. Daman could take an eratic turn and come straight back into the islands. But for now it seems the threat has passed Fiji.
We thank everyone for their concern.
