Bula! Welcome to Fiji! (kind of)

We respect a country’s right to establish their own regulations regarding entry into their domaine, and we understand that, just like in the States, these government offices are big bureaucracies with all the imbedded inefficiencies that come with such organizations.  Thus far, we have had no problems obtaining the necessary information to make sure we are entering a country following their guidelines.  Fiji, we found, has not been as easy.  They apparently frequently change their policies, and it is very hard to get the current information.  Even John and Lyn, our super organized and super knowledgeable directors of the ICA Rally, were having trouble.  They could tell us what last year’s policies were but had not been able to verify this year’s.   We also find out that there are inconsistencies between one office and another, one district and another, but the one thing we know is that breaking a rule innocently can be mitigated and even pardoned.  Breaking a rule knowledgeably can get one into a whole heap of trouble, and that we astutely avoid.

Monday, June 20th – Fiji has several locations where one is able to clear customs.  We have chosen to do so in Savusavu on the island of Vanua Levu.  Not only is Savusavu near our route as we enter Fiji, we have been told that clearing in here is convenient because both Customs and Immigration motor out to your boat and do their paperwork right there.  By 10:00 in the morning, we are tied to a mooring ball at the Copra Shed Marina.  Customs has been alerted to our arrival, and we are waiting on board Avante for their appearance. 

Our clearance process starts off well when two nice young men are brought out to the boat on the Copra Shed launch.  They inspect our paperwork and give us lots of forms to fill out.  The health inspector asks us how we are feeling.  We are fine, and with that, he checks a box.  His work is done, but there is just one extra detail.   We are told that we must pay our health fees at the hospital.  And the hospital is located?  Outside of town.  It is best to take a taxi.  By the way, the health fees have gone up this year.  How much?  About 10 times higher than last year!

Next we are told that we must pay duty on our excess alcohol.  We had been told that Fiji was not limiting the amount of alcohol one has on board, and like all cruisers out and about, we have our share of the stuff.  Last year, there were no duties on normal ship’s stores.  This year, there are, but it is last year’s information that is still printed on their website.  Too bad.  This is this year, not last year, no matter what the current website states.

Then we tell them that we are departing the next morning to sail to Lautoka.  That is in a different district, and we will require clearance documents for the trip.  No problem.  Come by the office later this afternoon, and we can pay the duty on our alcohol and get our outbound clearance papers.

Off we go to find an ATM and to attend to our duties.  We walk into town to where the taxis hang out and quickly find one that will take us to the hospital.  The only delay we encounter there is that the one person in the office who has access to the cash box is out to lunch.  The two attendants in the office cannot take our payment.  So we and the taxi wait until finally the money person shows up.  Unfortunately, we do not have exact change, and neither does he.  We wait some more while everyone in the office searches their pockets for change and tries to work out how to handle this predicament.

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The man has several pads of paper, pencils and a calculator.  This is going to be good.  He starts out asking how much beer we have, then alcohol, then wine.  Then he gets going on his calculations.  He punches numbers, he writes numbers, and he consults different charts.  This is taking forever, and both of us are completely stymied by what he is doing.  It is nothing as simple as 10 cans of excess beer carries a 15% excess duty fee.  Multiply that.  You owe $1.50.  No, there are calculations and then calculations within calculations.  He comes up with a number.  We express dismay.  He sympathizes and says that he knows, but, not to worry, he can make it lower.  He disappears from the room, and we are left cooling our heels and shaking our heads.  Both of us are completely puzzled.  Does he expect some kind of bribe?  Surely not right here in the Customs office? That does not sound like what we have heard of Fiji.  Our young official returns, sits down at his papers, notes and calculator, and asks us again how much of everything we have.  He then crosses out the number we give him and writes in a lower number.  The calculations and manipulations begin again until finally he comes up with a fee for the beer, the alcohol and the wine.  Add that all together, and Voila!  we now have a duty fee that is lower.  Not great, but it will do.  We certainly are not going to sit here and go through this painful process again.  We pay.  They don’t call it the Department of Revenue and Customs for nothing!

We run into a much bigger problem getting our outbound clearance.  When they enter us into their computer, they cannot find the required advance notice of our arrival.  Fiji requires all cruising yachts to give advance notice of their arrival 48 hours ahead of time.  How did we send them our notice?  We and all the other Rally boats heading on to Fiji gave our paperwork to John, who had them all faxed to Fiji.  We know our advance notice had been sent in, but Fiji Customs says they do not have it.  We have heard that the fine for not sending in this advance notice can be as much as $1000.00.  We give them names of other rally boats, and they are able to locate some of the advance notices, but only a few.  Ours is one of the missing.  Not to worry.  They are sure they will find it eventually, but it is now closing time.  We are told to return in the morning.

We want to leave tomorrow morning.  We still have 3 full days of travel ahead of us in order to reach the Denarau Marina where we plan to leave Avante during our return to the States.  We are now on a tight schedule and do not have days to fool around with this, but, of course, we cannot tell them that.  So much for an easy clearance.

Savusavu is a relatively little town, but it is filled with the friendliest people.  Everyone smiles and says “Bula”.  Hello, Hello, how are you?  It is great to feel so welcomed.  The population is a mix of Fijians and Indians with a few Chinese thrown in judging by the number of Chinese restaurants that we see. 

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The marina has only a handful of slips, but they have plenty of mooring balls located in the channel which, to our delight, is deep enough to not cause us any worry.  The separation between mooring balls does, however, cause us and other boats angst for when the wind changes and we all start coasting around in different directions, the possibility of bumps in the rump is very real.  We put out our fenders as do the boats around us. 

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The Captain orders a fish dish, and The First Mate chooses a Chicken Curry.  She likes curry, though not the hot, hot kind.  The Captain does not tolerate any kind of curry which is one of life’s little frustrations for her.  From Mexico across the Pacific to these Fijian shores, she has enjoyed experimenting with the foods of the local cuisine.  The cuisine to experiment with in Fiji is Indian, but that is one cuisine that The Captain will not eat.  He will not be her guinea pig for this one and has made that quite clear.  In the local market today, there were rows and rows of colorful spices.  How she would love to ask about them and to get creative with them!  No way!  If she did, there might be a first in naval history:  A Captain’s Mutiny!

Tuesday, June 21st – Eager to get this Advance Notification paperwork issue cleared up so we can be on our way, The Captain is back at the Customs Office at 8:30 when it is supposed to open.  It takes a while, for nothing happens quickly in Fiji.  Eventually, the records are found.  Paperwork for our trip to Lautoka is typed up and given multiple official stamps and a special seal.  We are cleared, finally, to head on our way.

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Arriving from the east, Savusavu on the more northern island of Vanua Levu (great land) was our port of entry.  Port Denarau Marina, where we intend to leave Avante, is in Nadi, approximately 150nm to the southwest on the second largest island, Viti Levu (great Fiji).  Nadi may be our destination, but before we show up there, we must first go to the port city of Lautoka to check in and officially register our arrival in this district.  We have three full travel days ahead of us to reach Lautoka, and then another round with officials before we can finally pull into the Port Denarau Marina.

The Captain calls Fiji a four-letter word that begins with the letter “R”.  “R” is for REEF.  Volcanic in origin like its Pacific cousins, the islands of Fiji have risen up and are sinking down leaving vast expanses of reefs, some exposed, some nearly exposed and many completely hidden.  The warning heard by every cruiser going to Fiji is “beware the reefs”.  Beware and good luck!  What is the big deal?  We on Avante have encountered reefs all across the Pacific.  We know to exercise caution, to follow the charts, to keep a bow watch, and to be careful.  Why is Fiji so different?  One reason is because there are reefs everywhere one ventures.  We are used to a reef surrounding its own sinking island, but here there are reefs inside of reefs.  There are reefs where no one would suspect a reef.  Okay.  One can deal with that, but the real terror of all these reefs is that the charts are poor and not accurate.  Nothing on the charts can be relied upon as fact.  Buoys and markers shown on charts are seldom still in place, and there are plenty of areas that have never been charted.  Even those areas that are charted cannot be trusted. A former cruiser who now lives in Fiji has developed a system to help cruisers compensate for the poor charts. He has plotted GPS waypoints to guide boats along some of the more common routes. Follow the waypoints, and you should be safe. The Captain has obtained several typed pages with this waypoint information to assist us, and he enters the waypoints for our route across Fiji in our chartplotter. This system is helpful, but not foolproof. What if some numbers are transposed on the typewritten pages? What if we make an error entering these coordinates into our chartplotter?

The trick to sailing around reefs, especially when one cannot rely on the published data, is to use one’s eyes.  One stands on the bow of the boat or as high as one cares to climb on one’s boat.  From there, one scans the horizon looking for telltale wave action or changes in color from dark blue of the ocean to green or a lighter blue depending upon the depth of the reef.  Sunlight is important.  The best visibility is when the sun is up and over one’s shoulder.  Heading straight into the sun blinds one to the reef.  Overcast skies are also a hindrance to visibility.  Thus, navigating around this island nation of reefs tends to mean that one waits until the sun is well up to depart, and one plans to be entering an unfamiliar reefed area no later than 3:00 in the afternoon for optimal visibility.

There is nothing to be done about our paper-work burdened late start.  Resigned but determined, at 1020, we slip off the mooring ball to motor back out the channel and be on our way to our first stop, the island of Makongai.  Within an hour, we turn south to round the Namena Barrier Reef.  Winds are light and from the south.  We are not going to get any help from the wind today, and we are in a hurry.  The Captain increases our engine speed to 2700 rpm, which is a speed we do not often press the engine.  The last time The First Mate remembers going at 2700 rpm was when we were bashing into wind, waves and current on our passage north along the coast from San Francisco to Seattle.  Then, we were only able to make 4 to 5 knots against the bashing.  Here in much calmer conditions, we are going 8 knots and glad of it, for we have a lot of water to cover. 

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1355 – We round Namena Barrier Reef and head directly for Makongai.  Wind has been building and is now at 10 knots.  We raise the jib, and with its help, our speed increases to 8.5 knots.  (Captain’s Log): “We are hustling to get to Makangai with good daylight left.” 

1455 – Zing! Another beautiful Mahi Mahi is on our line.  The Captain slowly works him toward the boat hoping to tire the fish so that he will not have as much fight left when we get him near the boat and ready to bring aboard.  The First Mate now holds the rod (tip up so the fish cannot spit the hook), and The Captain steps down on the sugar scoop to gaff the fish.  He brings it aboard, slips the noose around the tail and lets him loose behind the boat.  This method effectively drowns the fish and significantly reduces the mess on the boat.  Our big, beautiful Mahi Mahi thrashes his tail right out of the noose and is gone and free to fight another day.  We decide our method is effective on the smaller fish only.  We pull in the line for the day.  Enough daylight wasted on fish.

1700 – We take down the jib as we approach the western entrance through the reef around Makongai Island.  Waves breaking over an outlying reef make it readily visible, but we cannot yet see the main reef.   We keep looking for the channel marker as indicated on the charts, but it just is not there.  As we head through the passage, the reef to the south is visible, but not the one to the north.  The water is so clear that The Captain standing at the bow can see depths down to 40 feet, which is reassuring.  As we creep across the centerline of the channel keeping our speed to a knot or less, depths drop to 25 feet and then finally rise again once we clear the entrance. 

1755 – We anchor off the southwest side of Makongai in 65 feet of water.  Subjected to the swell that is wrapping around the southern tip of the island, this is going to be a rocking anchorage tonight.  There is a more sheltered anchorage around the bend, but the way in is pockmarked with coral heads.  At this late hour, we are not going to try it.  We are right now just relieved to be here and anchored as darkness falls.  The Captain’s Log states that the only reasons we were able to get through this reef and into this anchorage this late in the day were because:

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1. the prescribed entry course was noted on the charts and the Admiralty Pilot Guide (the British Navy used this place)
   
2. the charts were accurate
   
3. the entry was east with the sun behind us
   
4. the sun was shining
   
5. there were no hazards in the bay between the entrance and this southwest anchorage
   

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We know we may not be so fortunate the next time.  Sailing Fiji is going to require a great deal of planning ahead if we are to reach our intended anchorages with enough sunlight to see the reef or multiple reefs that lie in our way.

Wednesday, June 22nd – 0800 – The sun is up and shining, but more than that, we can leave this early because our inbound track is clearly shown on our chart plotter.  All The Captain has to do is line the helmsman up on the dotted line.  10° right, 5°left, now 3° right, and we’re on it!  Now just “follow the yellow brick road” out the channel and through the first reef.  Then, we swing around Vatu Vula, the outlying reef, to enter Vatu-I-Ra Channel.

0850 – Zing!  It takes half an hour to bring this guy aboard.  We have a real nice Mahi Mahi — finally!

1225 – At the northwestern end of the Vatu-I-Ra Channel, we motor into the Bligh Water, the body of water to the west of the two large islands of Vanua Levu and Viti Levu.  Though stories of the “Cannibal Isles”, as was Fiji’s gruesome claim to fame, had spread through tales told by the natives of other islands to early European explorers, by the mid to late 1700’s, no European had yet sailed into and through the Fijian islands.  In 1789, in an unprecedented fashion, Captain William Bligh and the 18 or so sailors set adrift in their small boat after the famous mutiny on the Bounty were the first Europeans to sail through Fijian water and return to tell about it.  At that time, however, most of them could probably have cared less.  They were rowing for their lives to outdistance the Fijian cannibals who were chasing them across what later became known as the Bligh Water.  A timely squall and a unexpected opening in the Great Sea Reef saved them from being the main course for dinner that evening.  Across this same stretch of water, we are now sailing.  No cannibals in sight. 

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After several earlier attempts to fly the jib, we finally have enough wind to fill the jib and gain a little assist in the 10 to 12-knot wind.  By 1540, winds have built to 18 knots, but we must take down the jib as we are about to cross the waypoint into Mulake Passage on our way to Mulake Island for the night.  Without the waypoint and our GPS, it would have been very difficult to find this entrance.  All of the buoys and markers shown on the charts are missing.  The First Mate is amazed at what she sees as we approach the reef.  There is no water breaking anywhere.  This is a totally submerged, but still boat sinking, reef. 

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Heeding his warning, we scan the water to find the end points where the lines of green fade back to dark water indicating where the reef falls away to deep water.   We enter this passage, keeping well clear of the green, head for the second waypoint and turn south as the passage bends.  To our relief, the passage is about 1/4 mile wide, and for much of its length, it is over 200 feet deep.  It would be nice if all reef passages were this wide and deep and even nicer if they were marked with buoys, lights, sticks, anything! 

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Thursday, June 23rd – 0800 – On our way again!  It is a good thing we have our inbound track from yesterday to follow for, though the west side of the reef passage is visible, it is very difficult to spot the other side of the reef lying to the east at this early morning hour.  By 0910, we are clear of the reef and raise sails in 13 – 15 knots from the east.  We sail northwest to get a little farther from the reef and then gybe to head west parallel to the coast staying well outside the reef line.  Just before our next reef crossing at Yavena Passage, we turn into the wind and drop the mainsail.  The wind has built up to 20 knots, but we do not want to go through an unfamiliar passage with limited chart detail while flying along at 8 knots with sails up!

1235 – We cross our first waypoint at the entrance to Yavena Passage.  The chart is accurate, and, for once, there are markers where they should be!  After exiting the passage, we unfurl the jib and are able to make 6 knots sailing downwind on the jib alone.  That is fast enough for navigating around islands and reefs.  We are pleasantly surprised to discover that navigating inside the reef here is far easier than expected.  The channel is wide and deep. The charts continue to be accurate, and though the markers are nothing more than crude stakes, they are in place.  We spend the rest of the afternoon sailing until, just north of Lautoka, the wind drops.

1645 – We are anchored in Lautoka Harbor at the eastern end below what used to be the Neisau Marina.  Our guidebook states that “this marina complex has a friendly atmosphere and helpful staff, but sadly, the infrastructure has deteriorated over the past few years.” Deteriorated?  There is nothing there.  It is totally gone.  So much for useful information from an outdated, though still one of the few available, cruisers’ guides.

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Our next stop is the Immigration Office which is located in town.  We have to go there to obtain an official letter that will allow us to come back into Fiji from the States in September without a return ticket.  We will not have a return ticket because Avante will be our means of eventually exiting the country.  No ticket needed there, but as Fiji is not interested in foreigners hanging around indefinitely, one must show a confirmed means of leaving before one is allowed into the country.  A taxi takes us to the office.  As we enter the compound, we meet the official whom we are there to see.  He is off to a morning meeting but tells us the name of the woman in the office who can get us the documented letter.  We find the office, enter the office and sit a while waiting for someone to show up.  Our woman finally appears.  At first, she sullenly tells us that the official who does the letters is at a meeting.  We tell her we know because we met him outside, and he told us that she would do the letter for us.  She tells us to return later in the afternoon.  We tell her we have to sail down to Port Denarau today.   During this lengthy conversation with this rather unpleasant woman (the first we have encountered in Fiji), we are silently wondering how hard can this letter be?  What we are asking for is not an uncommon occurrence.   Yachties come and go all the time to and from this nation, especially from boats taking on new crew that have just flown into the island.  According to our way of thinking, there should be a simple form letter that just needs names and dates filled in and then, to be completely official, stamped at least 5 or 6 times on the front and back.  Done!  Five minutes at most.  We do not know what changed her mind, maybe our sweet smiles, maybe our insistence that her boss said she could do it, but she finally agrees to get the letter.  Have a seat and wait.  The First Mate is very good at sitting and waiting provided she has something to do, a book to read, her knitting, anything to keep her mind off the sitting and waiting.  She has nothing with her.  She reads all the official documents aging and decaying on the walls in all the varied languages in which they are written.  She walks outside into the parking lot where our taxi is waiting.  Maybe there is a store or two to browse in out here, but there is nothing but noise, traffic and heat.  She returns inside to sit and wait.  Finally, our woman returns.  She is in a much better frame of mind.  Whatever caused that?  Maybe the doing of some meaningful work?  Who knows?  Our personally typed (not a form letter) is given to us.  We are now cleared to return to Fiji from the States this September with Avante acknowledged as our outbound ticket.

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The channel into Port Denerau is well-marked but narrow and shallows to under 9 feet in areas if we are not careful.  The harbor itself is also quite shallow.  The section of the harbor where there are a number of mooring balls is off limits to us unless we want to end up firmly grounded in the mud at low tide.  We, however, have reservations at the secure dock in the marina.  Well, we had reservations.  Yes, they were expecting us today, but they will not have a slip available for us until Monday.  We are flying out on Tuesday so that will work.  In the meantime, we can med-moor on nearby Dock A.  That we do with a miserable 18-knot wind blowing us askew the dock.  Fortunately, there was only one other boat on the dock.  We rarely med-moor, but we did a fair enough job, though The Captain thought we could have done better. It was a simple matter of cross communications.  Later, another boat attempts to med-moor in the stiff breeze.  Even with 4 people on board, they make a mess of it, and while aborting, they manage to dislodge our anchor in the process.  Our anchor grabs again, but it is obvious that we are now too close to our neighbor in this wind.  To The First Mate’s dismay, we have to repeat the mooring process.  This time we are well rehearsed and even get a helping hand with the stern lines from 2 people on shore.  What a relief! 

We are not pleased with this dock, but it will do for a few days.  This is the tourist part of the island.  On shore, there is an arcade of restaurants and stores.  People are coming and going all the time.  Small cruise and supply ships depart daily to the near-by islands.  It is noisy and crowded. Though it is enjoyable to be in such a lively place, we are not comfortable that the entrance gate to our dock is right in the midst of things. There is no night lock on the gate.  We would never leave our boat here unmanned for any length of time.  A second negative is that we cannot access the electricity on this dock because we do not have the proper plug.  The dock we have reserved is locked and has outlets that take an electrical plug which we have from New Zealand.  Thus, for the weekend, while we both clean and prepare the boat for our departure, we are going to have to run the generator to charge up the batteries.

Monday, June 27 – In the morning, The First Mate happens to look at the temperature of the freezer and notes that it is reading 34°, and the motor is not running.  This is very strange because the “Killer”, as we call it, rumbles into action when the temperature rises to 31°.  What is going on?  The Captain inspects and discovers that the compressor is not working, and there is nothing he can do to make it work.  This is not good news, for how does one get a boat refrigeration system fixed or replaced here in Fiji?  There is a company called “Yacht Help” located here that provides service and assistance to yachts in the marina.  We are signed up with them, and they will be watching and monitoring our boat while we are gone.  The Captain tells them our problem, and they connect us with a reputable Indo-fijian refrigeration company who show up at the boat within hours.  The Captain shows the servicemen our system, and they tell him, as we expected, that we need a new compressor which they don’t have.  However, they do tell him that if he can get the replacement parts, they are capable of doing the necessary work, and they have the required refrigerant to get a new system up and running.  That is somewhat of a relief.  At least, we know that if we can get what we need in the States, we might have refrigeration for the rest of our time in Fiji and for the passage to New Zealand.  If not, we will have to wait until New Zealand.  The First Mate ponders the ramifications of this predicament.  The refrigerator and freezer both could serve as ice chests.  We have cruised with ice chests in the past.  Granted it was only for a week or so and in much cooler water with more frequent access to ice replenishment, but she is familiar with the requirements of ice box cruising.  Mainly – do not open the ice box unless absolutely necessary and slam it shut immediately.  She thinks of all the cans of chicken, turkey, tuna, soups and veggies she has on board.  Add pasta and rice, and one can come up with some decent meals.  Not her usual fair, but they would keep us nourished.  It would all be manageable, she decides, if we cannot repair the refrigeration until we land in New Zealand, but oh, how she will miss her gin and tonics, The Captain’s rum punches, the cool glass of white wine with dinner and the occasional sip of The Captain’s beer at anchor at the end of the day! 

To our relief, they do have a berth for us on the secure dock as promised.  We motor over, and they actually have crew out to help us with the lines.  It would have been nice if we had had such help during our med-mooring exercises.  We slip into our berth.  To our left is a large motor boat whose silly name of Elvis on Tour is plastered in big print under a greater than life-sized headshot of the man himself.  Nobody is on this boat, but they have managed to take up every near-by electrical plug.  We have to run our line across the dock itself to get to a free connection, but at least we now have electricity and do not have to run the generator.  One of managers from Yacht Help tells us that this will not be good for our electrical line, but he will take care of the problem.  That is fine with us as long as we have electricity running to the boat to keep the batteries charged.

Tuesday, June 28 – After a final day of work, we leave tonight for the airport.  State-bound.  Back to the Arizona desert first.  Back to see how the water damage repairs on our Scottsdale house are proceeding.  Then, back to our ranch and the mountains of Telluride.  Back to our dog, Jake, and our 2 barn cats turned house cats when we’re around.  Back to family and to friends and back to having everything we need and want right at our finger tips!  “Heavenly,” sighs The First Mate.