The day is bright, the sky an intense blue streaked with long clouds. The original plan was to go forward to Nairai, but it being quite upwind I decide on trying Mbatiki: the island is a challenge as the reef entrance looks very tricky, a sure sign that neither tourists nor sailboats often go there. The sailing is pleasant: good five knots with a dry deck. We coast along Mbatiki, the inner lagoon is perfect turquoise, sloping green hills with the cutest sheltered village on the western side. Arrived at the infamous passage we douse the sail and start looking for the entrance. Even before it there are several intermediate reefs and coral heads, pretty narrow manoeuvring space as it is. I circle closer and closer, each of us studying the colours ahead trying to spot the passage, but after about half an hour we give up, after all the charts are pretty old and in the intervening years corals might have grown to make the passage even narrower.
We have the full day in front of us, so we keep on sailing north to Wakaya, where the passages are multiple and seem to pose no problem at all. Again we coast the western lee side, again we look for a passage into a picture perfect lagoon-with-white-sand-beach but again no luck, we must go to the ‘official’ anchorage on the northern side. Getting to the entrance we go by some stunning steep rocky coastline, surprisingly, above we spot several luxurious looking villas, we are intrigued.
Upon reaching the northern side there is a beach developed as what looks like a resort. We manage the reef pass indicated by two beaten “beacons” (overstatement!) and finally drop anchor in seven meters, a pristine looking beach on the right, more luxury villas above.
The only other boat is a charter diving boat, and after we get settled the dinghy approaches with some Fijians aboard. They inform us this is a private island owned by the owner of Fiji Water, it is forbidden to land and by the demeanour of the kayakers around (blatantly ignoring us and looking the other way), we figure we’re not quite welcome in their private paradise. Never mind, new year’s is tomorrow and we’re not going to move until ‘07. We snorkel and swim, happy for the new place, and wondering what the fuss is all about on this island, though knowing that Tom Cruise and Mel Gibson have a villa here makes it sound a true rich weirdo recreational spot.
The sunset is amazing, worthy of some tropically inspired postcard, we have some dinner and then start imagining some lavish party in some awesome villa while having a few glasses of wine. As night falls we have worked ourselves up into a real big party fantasy, and the curiosity to go see if anything is going on is just too strong.
We then decide to put on our best clothes, grab the bottle of Bounty Rum (58% over proof) and row the dinghy ashore. On the beach a big sign warns that entrance to the island is strictly forbidden, but we muse that being new year’s, the inhabitants might be intoxicated and forgiving of our little intrusion.
We walk up the unpaved road and make our way to some villa’s gates, everywhere is silence, bummer.
Some cars pass us but don’t stop, (looks like they’re not so strict after all), while the warm rum straight up makes us all more and more boisterous. Nearly giving up on the party crashing idea and turning around to go back at the beach I start hitchhiking, just for the fun of it.
An SUV stops, and I anticipate a bit of chit chat and some more information on the island itself. The lone passenger on the unlicensed car is a beefy Australian, and immediately he fires a few dry orders. You’re from the yacht? Go back immediately!
His tone is anything but friendly, I explain what we were up to, just checking for the chance of having a bit of fun on new year’s, but the bully is unmoved and repeats his “orders” with an even angrier tone. “Ok, no need to get agitated!”, I say, “We’re going back at once”. The Doberman is mechanically barking now, so I repeat that we’re going back and what if we don’t, is he going to shoot us? He replies that he can shoot us if he pleases “And much more”. Asshole.
I just ignore him and keep on walking downhill, no point in even talking to the dog, while I keep sipping the Rum to keep myself from getting in his car and see if I can teach him some manners.
We spend the rest of the night getting drunk on the beach (no beach can be completely off-limits), skinny dipping, while a guard keeps flashing a light at us. I try to offer him some Rum as to say that we have no evil intention, but the Fijian must have been chastised already for not spotting us earlier, so he refuses.
Having drunk almost half of the bottle by myself the day after sees us all (and me in particular) with a devastating hangover, as January 1st should be.
We have the full day in front of us, so we keep on sailing north to Wakaya, where the passages are multiple and seem to pose no problem at all. Again we coast the western lee side, again we look for a passage into a picture perfect lagoon-with-white-sand-beach but again no luck, we must go to the ‘official’ anchorage on the northern side. Getting to the entrance we go by some stunning steep rocky coastline, surprisingly, above we spot several luxurious looking villas, we are intrigued.
Upon reaching the northern side there is a beach developed as what looks like a resort. We manage the reef pass indicated by two beaten “beacons” (overstatement!) and finally drop anchor in seven meters, a pristine looking beach on the right, more luxury villas above.
The only other boat is a charter diving boat, and after we get settled the dinghy approaches with some Fijians aboard. They inform us this is a private island owned by the owner of Fiji Water, it is forbidden to land and by the demeanour of the kayakers around (blatantly ignoring us and looking the other way), we figure we’re not quite welcome in their private paradise. Never mind, new year’s is tomorrow and we’re not going to move until ‘07. We snorkel and swim, happy for the new place, and wondering what the fuss is all about on this island, though knowing that Tom Cruise and Mel Gibson have a villa here makes it sound a true rich weirdo recreational spot.
The sunset is amazing, worthy of some tropically inspired postcard, we have some dinner and then start imagining some lavish party in some awesome villa while having a few glasses of wine. As night falls we have worked ourselves up into a real big party fantasy, and the curiosity to go see if anything is going on is just too strong.
We then decide to put on our best clothes, grab the bottle of Bounty Rum (58% over proof) and row the dinghy ashore. On the beach a big sign warns that entrance to the island is strictly forbidden, but we muse that being new year’s, the inhabitants might be intoxicated and forgiving of our little intrusion.
We walk up the unpaved road and make our way to some villa’s gates, everywhere is silence, bummer.
Some cars pass us but don’t stop, (looks like they’re not so strict after all), while the warm rum straight up makes us all more and more boisterous. Nearly giving up on the party crashing idea and turning around to go back at the beach I start hitchhiking, just for the fun of it.
An SUV stops, and I anticipate a bit of chit chat and some more information on the island itself. The lone passenger on the unlicensed car is a beefy Australian, and immediately he fires a few dry orders. You’re from the yacht? Go back immediately!
His tone is anything but friendly, I explain what we were up to, just checking for the chance of having a bit of fun on new year’s, but the bully is unmoved and repeats his “orders” with an even angrier tone. “Ok, no need to get agitated!”, I say, “We’re going back at once”. The Doberman is mechanically barking now, so I repeat that we’re going back and what if we don’t, is he going to shoot us? He replies that he can shoot us if he pleases “And much more”. Asshole.
I just ignore him and keep on walking downhill, no point in even talking to the dog, while I keep sipping the Rum to keep myself from getting in his car and see if I can teach him some manners.
We spend the rest of the night getting drunk on the beach (no beach can be completely off-limits), skinny dipping, while a guard keeps flashing a light at us. I try to offer him some Rum as to say that we have no evil intention, but the Fijian must have been chastised already for not spotting us earlier, so he refuses.
Having drunk almost half of the bottle by myself the day after sees us all (and me in particular) with a devastating hangover, as January 1st should be.
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