March is a very special time here in Fiji. They’ve made it so that three weekends in a row they have a holiday weekend. The first two are three day weekends and the third is four days. For each holiday Monday we went to the beach out off the Hibiscus Highway with our Fijian friends. The second holiday Monday we were treated to an Island retreat where there was development started for a high end community but has since been abandoned. The island now sits peacefully again with a lagoon and beaches for locals to enjoy. Our friend Tima Wong knows some families from the village that officially own the island so we were allowed passage across the flat bridge (almost a kilometer long)and enjoyment of the beach. A few women from the village came out to fish and after a few hours they had a few dozen in their baskets. Soon they cleaned and cooked them, then placed them in salty sea water with chopped chili peppers. Incredibly savory and extremely satisfying.
The last holiday Monday we again headed out to another beach off the Hibiscus Highway. That day I decided to walk out to the surf. The interesting thing about Fiji is that it has its own built in breaker wall that pretty much surrounds both islands. When you walk out into the water from all points of the island you’ll find yourself in shallow water that gets no deeper than your waist. It’s clear and beautiful, but the bottom is of very rough volcanic rock bed and, once you’re out far enough, coral. So either way you need water shoes and you must tread carefully and slowly. It’s easy to lose your footing and fall into the rough volcanic rock and you certainly don’t want to be responsible for stepping on and killing coral that has been struggling to survive for hundreds if not thousands of years. So you move along gradually and patiently. Carefully placing each step and swimming where its deep enough. Out there I saw huge starfish as blue as velvet and massive mounds of coral in royal purple. As you walk out you see that the volcanic rock levels off in platforms. The farther out you go the smoother the rock is from thousands or millions of years of constant and relentless beating from the ocean waves. These platforms are kilometers long and have smooth edges. The water they contain gradually overflows back into the ocean all along the platform wall like a tiny eight inch waterfall with the serenity of a summer stream. I saw a fish of silver and black skip out of the main platform and down the levels to the ocean. It was obvious it was enjoying itself.
Finally you make it out to the surf line. The edge of that natural volcanic breaker wall. When you turn around back to face the beach you realize you’re easily a kilometer out, likely more. Those pounding surf waves that looked remarkably mediocre from the shore, suddenly you realize they’re averaging eight to twelve foot swells. And those swells are a brilliant and translucent turquoise green and ocean blue and they curl over in a frothy rage before they pound the sloping wall. As the wave swell pulls back down the slanted rock and into the ocean, you see the depth drop out like an abyss and it feels like your standing at the edge of the world. Not thirty feet from the surf is a spot that’s raised again, a platform head you can stand on that only remains above water until one of those waves swell up and pass over it and into the lagoon-like platforms. And you prepare yourself because that oncoming rush of water is fast and heavy and shows no discretion. As firm as you plant your feet you can feel the powerful drag attempting its best effort to sweep you away. And it humbles you. So you meekly begin to make your way back after tempting fate and the coming tide for so long.
After making the long walk back to the beach to Tara and Eugene and Tima and their kids we feasted. Tima cooked the lamb chops Eugene had marinated the night before in salt, garlic and soy sauce. She cooked on a flat open iron skillet placed on rocks over an open fire. She threw on some sliced onions and dalo and our mouths watered at the smell of the sizzling meat and the smoke. Finally we ate and drank and relaxed.
On the drive home we watched storm clouds over Savusavu almost blot out the sun. By the time we got home the storm was almost on us, lumbering across the bay like Thor was personally out on a holiday afternoon stroll. It was so thick that the opposite side of the bay wasn’t visible. The cloud and rain were like a slate grey curtain that rumbled thunder so loud it shook the house and lightning strobes replaced the sunlight. Then came the inevitable deluge. But eventually the storm and its clouds passed and the evening came and the sun set like a slow motion explosion.
