May 5 – August 7, 2025
“Fijians are not interested in interacting with anything they can’t eat.”
Not my words. Rather, the musings of Jenny, a Fijian woman and co-founder of Nukubati Resort and Dive Shop, whom we met during our circumnavigation of Vanua Levu, one of the two main islands that make up Fiji.
Jenny’s observation was a response to a question she had once been asked by a diver as to why the extensive variety of nudibranchs (a very popular marine creature and photography subject in the scuba diving world) present in Fiji are not more talked about?
Her answer addressed not only the nudibranch conundrum, but possibly also addressed how Fiji had been a culture of fierce warriors who practiced cannibalism until the mid-nineteenth century. Ratu Udre Udre, a powerful warrior chief (Ratu means chief in Fijian) of the 1800’s has been credited with eating between 872 and 999 people! Obviously, he was quite fond of interacting with outsiders.
Why the same first and last name? Apparently…a Fijian tradition. We cleared in at the town of Savusavu. When you see someone, nine out of ten times you are greeted with “Bula bula” (technically bula is a wishing of good health, but is universally used as a substitute for “hello”). When you arrive at a new anchorage, you go straight to the village chief and present sevusevu (a gift requesting permission to visit). While circumnavigating around Vanua Levu we anchored in a bay called Nokanoka. We would pass by Bukabuka Reef on our way out of Fiji. When one is good…obviously, two is better.
Given Jenny’s insight into Fijian thinking, I couldn’t help but ponder why, despite Fijians having forsaken feasting on other human beings for nearly two hundred years, it appeared that they had still maintained an insatiable appetite for interacting with visitors. In fact, over the course of more than four months, we found the friendly enthusiasm and unbridled hospitality we encountered time and time again in Fiji surpassed almost every other place we had ever visited.
If our previous time in Tuvalu had felt like existing at the edge of the world, this certainly felt more like the end of the rainbow.
After first arriving in Fiji, we had one week at Nawi Island Marina to get Exit settled in before our scheduled departure to the States. We hadn’t been off the boat for more than a few hours in fourteen months – since we had splashed after a five month haul out in Puerto Peñasco preparing for our Pacific crossing.
We hadn’t visited family and friends in even longer. Consequently, we were enlisting a much more efficient mode of transportation to whisk us all the way back across the Pacific Ocean for a five week return to the Palouse.
Ironically, the initial inter-island puddle jumper we hopped on was not much bigger than Exit…
…however, it did give us a vastly different perspective and view of the area we would soon be exploring once we returned to Exit.
Fortunately, the planes that actually carried us between Fiji and Washington State were substantially larger and had just a bit more legroom…even if some had a distinct lack of design class or taste.
After five weeks with family and our dearest lifelong friends —- as well as a detour to a well timed rally allowing us to vehemently declare to our current orange colored, sex-pest, tax-evading, business fraud, insurrection-stoking, self-entitled, felony convicted, twice impeached, history-rewriting, psychopathic, malignantly narcissistic, chronically lying, vindictive, petty, moronic, uninformed, cankle afflicted, whiny bitch of a leader and his imbecilic, boot-licking, authoritarian-empowering, cult-following drones that: WE ARE NOT FUCKING AT ALL OK WITH THE BULLSHIT THEY ARE ENGAGING IN ON A DAILY BASIS (I had to edit down the list for space) — it was time to return to Fiji so we could set Exit free and set out on a new adventure.
Once back in Savusavu, it was time to (yet again) re-provision. By US city standards, Savusavu would certainly qualify as remote and limited. By South Pacific standards, we found it to be quite a Mecca of shop-portunities and provisioning options.
And, as always, there were repairs to be done. The manifold system connecting our two propane tanks in the bow locker to the galley was at least ten years old, probably closer to thirty. It had slowly rusted and disintegrated into oblivion and the relay would no longer switch on and off our propane from the galley. Instead of just replacing the relay, it was time for an overhaul.
Anticipating the inevitable, and having spares already aboard before stuff breaks, is a key element in the strategy of minimal headaches and short downtimes. In truth, we should have a completely equipped spare boat in tow for backups, but that would place us in the same category as pretentious mega-twat. But contraire mon frere…we are not twats. We are sea gypsies. We just try to be prudent and well prepared sea gypsies. Cruising is, after all, repairing shit in exotic locations.
Despite the fact that Nawi Island Marina, a fabulous new business with great staff and facilities, had a bar that continually beckoned to us, eventually our fuel tanks and lockers were once again full, and we were ready to get back to anchoring. By this time, it had been seven weeks that Exit had been leashed in the marina slip. Tied to a dock in a boat parking lot, acting as the corrosion anode for every other object in the marina, is as against her nature as can be imagined. So to say she was chomping at the bit, rearing to go, would be a brazen understatement.
To be fair, we too were ready to get out and start exploring Fiji outside of the marina and the town of Savusavu.
The Republic of Fiji, an archipelago in the South Pacific Ocean volcanically formed 150 million years ago, has been inhabited by people for over 10,000 years. It can be broken into six current main areas – Vanua Levu, Lau Group, Koro Sea, Kadavu, Viti Levu, and finally Mamamnuca & Yasawas.
Seventy five percent of the nearly 900,000 people who populate Fiji live on Viti Levu, a round-ish island approximately 60 miles in diameter and one of the two major islands on which the capital city of Suva is located. Around 120,000 people live on the other major island, Vanua Levu (almost 100 miles long and 30 miles wide). The remaining 100,000 or so people are scattered among the more than 330 islands (only one third with permanent residents) and over 500 islets that make up Fiji.
An abundance of minerals, forests, and fish have helped Fiji to become one of the most developed countries in the Pacific, although it’s main sources of contemporary revenue come from the tourist industry and sugar exports.
Picturesque islands, lush forests, endless anchorages, stunning marine life, friendly and welcoming people – all of the pre-requisites for a perfect cruising destination…aside from the menacing, and often poorly charted, array of coral reefs that not only lurk just below the surface of the waters throughout the archipelago, but create an actual barrier encircling nearly the entire country.
After clearing in at one of the two main islands, most cruisers soon head for the outer islands of the Lau Group or the Yasawas, seeking the remote and isolated paradise experience that those areas are legendary for. However, the reality is often that, while these sparsely populated and undeveloped regions are truly the remote corners of Fiji, they are also the areas most highly overrun with visitors. Ironic, to say the least, that some of the most off the beaten path locations also contained the highest density of visiting sailboats.
While our initial plan, like so many others, had been to spend a bit of time in all six of the aforementioned areas, it became apparent that following that strategy would require a lot of: wind cooperation or diesel consumption, schedule keeping and adhering plans, potentially having to share anchorages with lots of boats, as well as far more engaging in social interaction than suited us.
We had arrived at Vanua Levu and, in true Exit fashion, by the time we cleared out of Fiji we had never left the area. While the island is the second highest population base of the country, we managed to find numerous remote areas that were just as stunning and isolated as anywhere else.
The fact that nearly everyone clears in and out at Viti Levu and the fact that Suva has all the comforts and luxuries of urban sprawl seemed irrelevant. Savusavu is a port of entry as well. With a population of only about 3500 people, its small town charms and limited dining options were exactly what we needed; it had far more provisioning variety and abundance than we had seen since leaving Mexico. Almost everything seemed surprisingly inexpensive, as well. Things appeared pricey only until you remembered to do the currency conversion – the Fijian dollar is only forty cents in US currency…so that $50 meal that included plenty of drinks actually only cost US$20. Nice.
The fact was that, as far as civilization was concerned, Savusavu had everything we needed. And, as for adventure, the area around Vanua Levu had plenty of places to explore as well. We never regretted our decision.
Just four nautical miles outside of Savusavu is Jean Cousteau Resort. While it seemed intriguing to dive with them (we had dived at one of (sp?) Jaques Cousteau’s original crew member’s dive shops at Rapa Nui, or Easter Island, and found him a fascinating person), the diving rates at Jean Cousteau Resort were astronomical. Nevertheless, it made for a good anchorage stop and launching point into and out of town.
Twenty three nautical miles from Cousteau Resort lies Namena Island, inside the Namena Reef. The one resort on the island was wiped out in a cyclone and, consequently, the only current inhabitants are a handful of workers and caretakers that are in the process of attempting to rebuild. It is far enough away from Vanua Levu and quite exposed to the weather, so the number of visitors are very limited. Accessible only by boat, the anchorage is quite tricky (a minefield of coral bommies in the shallows or eighty to one hundred foot depths), and often uncomfortable due to swell and winds that wrap around the island. Any winds over ten knots or so make even moving around in the dinghy very difficult. On the plus side, Namena has been a marine reserve and no-take zone for nearly thirty years, and is considered to be one of the country’s premier diving locations.
It was here that we got our first taste of the underwater magic that is Fiji.
Our first visit was a period of acclimation. We learned the subtleties of anchoring there and grew to respect its challenges. Picking the anchor spot carefully, floating our anchor chain, anticipating and coping with wrap around wind and swell as well as shifting currents, respecting the coral by recognizing the damage that could be inflicted by careless behavior. All these became factors that helped us to form a better understanding of how to enjoy Namena.
Time and time again, we watched boats simply drop their anchor and dump out a pile of chain without even getting in the water to inspect their gear. Very few bothered to float their chain. Others insisted on being near the shore or were only satisfied with shallow depths, only to end up too close to a bommy or the shore. So many boats ended up requiring two, three, four, five, even six attempts before getting their anchor properly set…each time causing untold damage to the coral and marine life below them. Even worse were the ones that found themselves hopelessly stuck, chains wrapped around who-knows-what. The careless destruction was mind boggling, especially given that they were in a marine reserve.
Given the often depressing shows we witnessed in the anchorage, we were certainly glad that the number of boats visiting were as limited in number as they were.
The recognized dive sites are actually a mile or more away from the anchorage, on the outer side of the reef that surrounds the island, as well as in and near the passes that allow access through the outer reef into the lagoon. Very few of the dive sites are even accessible to anyone other than dive boats that occasionally venture out from Cousteau Resort or Savusavu, or potentially the Fijian dive liveaboard that can be seen out there regularly.
From the anchorage, the areas around the passes are truly the only feasible options. And by dinghy, even these are a real challenge in the most benign of conditions. Consequently, during our first visit to Namena, we chose to play it very conservatively and only dive around the island, near the anchorage.
Despite all of the logistical challenges, Namena would not disappoint us in its underwater glory. In fact, we savored our time so much that we would end up visiting Namena on three different occasions – in July, August and September.
As our baptism into diving in Fijian waters, our first dive Namena was spectacular. We were absolutely blown away by the health and diversity of the coral as well as the volume of marine life. It had been nearly a decade, since SE Asia, that the diving was so impressive. After sailing through dozens and dozens of countries, in the Caribbean, Sea of Cortez, and across the Pacific Ocean, only the Caymen Islands had come close to what we were now seeing. Especially after nearly five months in the desolate lagoon of Funafuti, Tuvalu, we found ourselves back in a diving paradise.
Of course, we had not brought our GoPro in its underwater housing on this dive, so the entire experience was recorded only in our memories.
Unfortunately, as the weather began to kick up and threatened to deteriorate even further, we were forced to abandon Namena to find better shelter. However, we vowed that we would return. The diving was too good to pass up.
We had only been anchored at Namena for three days; one of those days had been wasted after another sailboat had motored right up next to us and dropped anchor, forcing us to remain aboard Exit to make sure he didn’t swing into us. Idiot. We ended up relocating the following day; having to move ourselves because he was either too stupid, too oblivious, or just too much of a dickhead to care. It’s hard to overemphasize just how much we fucking hate snugglers.
It had only taken one day of diving, but we had the fever again – we were instant converts to the Dive Church of Fiji. We urgently needed to revive our compressor. Our old friend Craig, aboard SV Russula, had kindly brought the needed replacement cooling pipe when he sailed all the way from New Zealand, and had left it for us at Nawi Marina. We could sort out the compressor in a day, but we had no control over the weather. We needed to leave. Still, we already had something else in mind. We’d just have to come back.
The colorful reefs here had reminded us of a rainbow. And yet, just sixty miles away, lay another reef system even more famous and well known than Namena. World renowned even. Actually called Rainbow Reef. Home of “The White Wall“. Could it even be better?
We picked up anchor and, after sailing through the northern pass of Namena Reef, bashed our way through an area we would learn is almost always riddled with steep, confused swells and uncomfortable seas.
Our destination? Viani Bay, on the southern side of Vanua Levu, where we would hook up with the fine folks at Dive Academy.
Even with all the dive gear, tanks, and compressor aboard Exit, sometimes we find it is simply better to ante up and pay to go diving with a dive shop. The complicated logistics that accompany every dive all become someone else’s concern, you gain the benefit of local knowledge from people who dive the area every day, and you support a business and community that, hopefully, has the same diving passion and conservation mindset as you. A win, win situation.
Such is the case with Dive Academy.
Right away, we got a good vibe from Marina, the German instructor who owns and runs both the dive shop and small eco-resort. Likewise, the dive and resort staff, all locals, were exceptionally friendly as well as hard working. As ex-managers of a dive shop and resort, we always maintain a critical eye of the daily goings on, but also recognize the challenges and are quick to appreciate a well run business. As with Scuba Junkie, Dive Academy seemed very professional and passionate regarding not only their diving, but also marine conservation, as well as commitment to giving back to the community and offering opportunities for locals.
Less impressive was having billionaire Eric Smidt, owner of Harbor Freight Tools, appear in the bay with his nearly four hundred foot $350 million mega-twat. What is the other behemoth next to it, you ask? Why, it is his other $40 million support super-twat, of course… the vessel that accompanies your ridiculous testament to excess when it can’t quite fit all of your obnoxious toys, like a helicopter and submarine. Basically, a $40 million floating garage.
What do the most disgustingly entitled and richest parasites on Earth do when they realize they have far too much money to spend in a lifetime or three? Share their wealth? Give back to the planet? Hell no. Are you kidding? Apparently they conclude they just have to start spending more money even faster.
A giga-twat on his mega-twat with a super-twat in tow. Unfuckingbelievable. At least they were gone by the following day. Good riddance.
On the other hand, as for the Rainbow Reef…once again, Fiji (as well as Dive Academy) did not disappoint.
Over the course of ten days, we did far more dives with them than we ever anticipated, which is always a good sign. The legendary “White Wall”, a sheer cliff face covered with white soft coral and one of the most famous dive sites in Fiji, was phenomenal. In fact, none of the dive sites were disappointing.
One day the resort held a conservation presentation complete with a tour to their coral transplant area and tridacna clam nursery, where we were able to participate in the actual transplant of some young coral. It felt reminiscent of our days at Scuba Junkie. Ironically, the tridacna clams were the same species we had been searching for in Tuvalu on behalf of the Fisheries Department. In Viani Bay, we saw more clams in the first sixty seconds underwater than we saw in our entire five months at Tuvalu.
As a finale, that night they hosted a feast of local foods prepared in a traditional Fijian cooking pit, called a Lovo, complete with kava drinking and live music.
Kava, a root that is ground up and turned into a beverage through the process of passing water through a cloth sack filled with the kava powder until the sacred kava bowl is full of a muddy looking concoction ready for consumption. The resulting drink can cause slight numbness of the mouth and is mildly intoxicating, though nothing as powerful as alcohol. It is a South Pacific tradition, used both for celebrations and social gatherings. We had first tried it in Tonga, but this was our first evening of drinking and playing music with the locales.
Over the course of many days at Academy Diving, we developed a good enough rapport with Marina and the dive staff that we were even invited to go for a complimentary day’s diving to assist Marina with the final training dives for two of the divemaster candidates, who had to actually guide divers at a dive site. Our job? To be problem divers, challenging the DM candidates to respond and react to various issues we randomly introduced. Not only a hilariously entertaining prospect, but also a great dive when they shine, as both DM candidates did in this case.
During a brief period of down time while in Viani Bay, we made it a priority to get our compressor up and running again. After minimal coaxing and swearing, the new cooling pipe was installed and the compressor was ready to test. Hallelujah! It fired right up and…voilà, we were filling tanks again. It reiterated what we already knew. You gottum broken shit and no parts…you gottum big problems. You gottum spare parts…you only gottum little problems.
Not surprisingly, at the end of the day, we frequently found ourselves in the resort’s small restaurant/bar, either just for drinks or even the occasional dinner.
While in Viani Bay, we even got to reunite with our old friend Craig, of SV Russula, who had brought our compressor parts to Nawi Marina earlier. After Honduras, Guatemala and Panama in the Carribbean, Mexico in the Sea of Cortez after crossing the Panama Canal, five thousand nautical miles across the Pacific Ocean would now make Fiji the fifth country in which our sailing orbits had once again randomly intersected. It was a reunion celebrated with numerous drinks, laughs, stories, and dives – including accompanying Craig on his first night dive experience
The good times in the bar that night were shared with not only Craig, but also the first wine drinking Gekko we had ever encountered…
However, after nearly two weeks, our bank account said enough is enough. One of the difficult balances of cruising as sea gypsies – the constantly swinging pendulum of knowing when to cough up a few extra freedom chips to maximize your experience while also knowing when to call it quits so you can retain enough of those freedom chips to keep going. Traveling with a tourist budget and mindset is either for people on a short term time frame or an unlimited bank account.
It was time to return to Savusavu. It had been nearly a month and, once again, the task at hand was topping up the provision lockers and fuel jerry cans.
Our return was slightly delayed by a stop at the Cousteau Resort anchorage. A month previously, we had said farewell to two other cruising friends Owen and Tara, aboard SV Solstice Tide. They had undertaken the massively ambitious adventure of sailing non-stop from Fiji all the way back to Canada. However, some five hundred miles into what would be something like a seven thousand mile journey, equipment problems had forced them to turn around and return to Fiji. We stopped and waited at Cousteau while they precariously sailed back towards Savusavu in minimal winds that threatened to leave them adrift near Fiji’s menacing reefs. Able to offer more morale support than actual help, we could only wait, prepared to try to provide concrete assistance if they got into trouble trying to enter Savusavu Bay. In the end, tenacity and skill helped deliver them to the Nawi Marina doorstep where they were towed for only the last mile or so. What a relief.
From Cousteau, we headed back to Savusavu. However, as Solstice Tide’s experience had emphasized, boat life is not entirely unicorns and rainbows. Though much lower on the drama scale, we had our own challenges…the recurring fixing shit in exotic locations situation. One of our winches had completely seized up, requiring disassembly and servicing.
Even more elusive in terms of a solution, and certainly more concerning regarding our well being, was a not insignificant volume of water which seemed to keep reappearing in the bottom of our stern lockers. This would turn out to be a much longer term project, both in terms of determining the source of the water incursion as well as the means to resolve it.
For the time being, this would have to remain a “monitor the issue and bail as necessary” situation.
After another provisioning re-run and one more farewell to Owen and Tara, who were now opting to fly home, we once again pointed Exit towards Namena Island.
With full tanks and a functional dive compressor, this time there would be no holding back. Conditions were perfectly calm two days after our arrival. Neptune and Poseidon were being generous. We decided to take the Mothership to the edge of one of the passes on the reef’s west side, about two miles from the anchorage, where we would attempt to find a spot to anchor close enough to dive. Either we could dive straight off Exit’s transom, or use the dinghy for a nearby excursion.
It only took about ten minutes to get there, but an hour later we were still struggling to get the anchor set in a place that was clear enough to not damage any coral but dug in enough to feel confident leaving the boat unattended. Cautious patience and persistence eventually paid off. With Exit securely anchored, we loaded the dinghy with dive gear and headed through the pass.
After a substantial amount of time repeating the process of assessing and locating a secure location, this time to anchor the dinghy, we were ready to go diving.
This location was even more spectacular than near the island, where we had dived during our first visit. And this time we brought the GoPro.
It was now already August. Three months since we had first arrived in Fiji and nearly two months that we had been on the move after departing Nawi Island Marina.
With another spell of high winds forecasted, it was time to once again depart Namena. We had only been able to get Exit to the edge of the outer reef for one day of diving, but that day had been staggering. Here in Fiji, each day of diving seemed to outdo the previous days.
Our next destination would be Yadua (pronounced Yan-dua) Island. It lies about the same distance from Namena as Viani Bay. However, in this case it is in the opposite direction, just off the western coast of Vanua Levu.
On the way to Yadua Island, we stopped in Bua, a large bay on the western edge of Vanua Levu about forty five nautical miles from Namena which gave us a very sheltered anchorage to spend he night before making the final jump to Yadua Island, about eighteen miles off the western coast.
It was so sheltered that the water looked like glass at the surface, giving us the opportunity to see exactly what it looked like when the sky melted seamlessly into the sea.
As the sun began to set, the view was no less stunning. You could literally watch the transition occurring across the horizon…
Moments later, the entire sky looked like it was on fire. Just when you think you have seen the most breathtaking sunsets ever, Mother Nature reminds you that she is always full of surprises.
Two days later we departed Bua bound for Yadua Island. As it turns out, Mother Nature would have some surprises in store for us there, as well.
sv-exit.com 