Yasawa Island, Fiji
Amid calm seas, still air, and a monochromatic sheet of cloud cover, we began the day with a cautious and well-planned approach to a pass that leads into one of the northern Yasawa group’s inner bays. The National Geographic Endeavour was drifting just off the southeast corner of Sawa-I-Lau Island while a couple of Zodiacs, dispatched from our mother ship, took thorough soundings of the channel. All the islands in the area are skirted by potentially dangerous fringing reefs. Once the bridge officers were satisfied that the channel had been properly scouted they took our ship inside.
The Yasawas are a chain of sixteen large volcanic islands and dozens of smaller ones, stretching 80 kilometers in a north-northeast direction, roughly 35 kilometers off the west coast of Viti Levu. In the lee of Viti Levu, the Yasawas are dry and generally sunny with beautiful isolated beaches, cliffs, bays, and reefs. The waters are quite clear and virtually shark-free. The islands’ appearance is reminiscent of California hills in the summer months.
It was from the north end of the Yasawas that two Fijian war canoes, loaded with cannibals, sailed forth and gave chase to Capt. William Bligh and his eighteen companions in 1789; this was less than a week after the famous mutiny, through what is now called Bligh Water. His men pulled their seven-meter longboat desperately, headed for open sea, and managed to escape. They later arrived in Timor, finishing one of the most celebrated open-boat journeys of all time. More than two centuries later, increasing numbers of ferries and mini-cruise ships ply the islands, but there are no motorized land vehicles or roads, adding to the islands’ raw and rugged tropical appeal.
Once through the channel and safely at anchor off the western shore of Sawa-I-Lau Island, we landed on a slice of coral sand that edges the tiny village of Nabukeru on the southern end of Yasawa Island proper. This little human enclave amounted to a few thatched huts, a small church, and a well-kept school. The whole place was steeped in the languid, sun-drenched romance of the tropics. The villagers were pleasant but not overtly friendly. They appeared more interested in selling us their wares – necklaces made of shells and plant seeds, nautilus and triton shells, and wood carvings – than they did in singing and dancing or leading us through their settlement. By mid-morning the low, gray ceiling of sky, swollen with moisture, unleashed a steady stream of rain. The deluge hastened our return to the National Geographic Endeavour.
During lunch the skies began to clear, and the rain ceased. It was under a canopy of sunshine and an awakening blue sky that we spent our last few hours on the sandy shore of Sawa-I-Lau. Left to our own devices, we wiled away the time soaking up the sun and/or enjoying the marine life snorkeling or through the viewfinder of the glass-bottom boat. The coral heads just off shore were rich with tropical fish, and the corals themselves, both soft and hard, were lush and healthy. Other invertebrate species, including crinoids, tunicates, and even some shrimp dotted the bommies. However, it was the island’s large limestone cave, illuminated by a crevice at the top, which provided the most unique experience of the afternoon. Just up from the beach’s southern end and up a flight of concrete steps was the opening to this rather famous grotto. In the 1980 film The Blue Lagoon, Brooke Shields runs away to this very cave. A Fijian legend tells how a young chief once hid his love in this cave when her family wished to marry her off to another. Each day, he brought her food until they could both escape to safety on another island. With torches in hand we snorkeled through the first cave, then dove underwater and through a sub-aquatic short tunnel of rock before surfacing in the darker, inner cave. Even the sounds of heavy breathing reverberated through the chamber. The echoes, though not the last things we would hear on our voyage, were some of the most memorable.
Amid calm seas, still air, and a monochromatic sheet of cloud cover, we began the day with a cautious and well-planned approach to a pass that leads into one of the northern Yasawa group’s inner bays. The National Geographic Endeavour was drifting just off the southeast corner of Sawa-I-Lau Island while a couple of Zodiacs, dispatched from our mother ship, took thorough soundings of the channel. All the islands in the area are skirted by potentially dangerous fringing reefs. Once the bridge officers were satisfied that the channel had been properly scouted they took our ship inside.
The Yasawas are a chain of sixteen large volcanic islands and dozens of smaller ones, stretching 80 kilometers in a north-northeast direction, roughly 35 kilometers off the west coast of Viti Levu. In the lee of Viti Levu, the Yasawas are dry and generally sunny with beautiful isolated beaches, cliffs, bays, and reefs. The waters are quite clear and virtually shark-free. The islands’ appearance is reminiscent of California hills in the summer months.
It was from the north end of the Yasawas that two Fijian war canoes, loaded with cannibals, sailed forth and gave chase to Capt. William Bligh and his eighteen companions in 1789; this was less than a week after the famous mutiny, through what is now called Bligh Water. His men pulled their seven-meter longboat desperately, headed for open sea, and managed to escape. They later arrived in Timor, finishing one of the most celebrated open-boat journeys of all time. More than two centuries later, increasing numbers of ferries and mini-cruise ships ply the islands, but there are no motorized land vehicles or roads, adding to the islands’ raw and rugged tropical appeal.
Once through the channel and safely at anchor off the western shore of Sawa-I-Lau Island, we landed on a slice of coral sand that edges the tiny village of Nabukeru on the southern end of Yasawa Island proper. This little human enclave amounted to a few thatched huts, a small church, and a well-kept school. The whole place was steeped in the languid, sun-drenched romance of the tropics. The villagers were pleasant but not overtly friendly. They appeared more interested in selling us their wares – necklaces made of shells and plant seeds, nautilus and triton shells, and wood carvings – than they did in singing and dancing or leading us through their settlement. By mid-morning the low, gray ceiling of sky, swollen with moisture, unleashed a steady stream of rain. The deluge hastened our return to the National Geographic Endeavour.
During lunch the skies began to clear, and the rain ceased. It was under a canopy of sunshine and an awakening blue sky that we spent our last few hours on the sandy shore of Sawa-I-Lau. Left to our own devices, we wiled away the time soaking up the sun and/or enjoying the marine life snorkeling or through the viewfinder of the glass-bottom boat. The coral heads just off shore were rich with tropical fish, and the corals themselves, both soft and hard, were lush and healthy. Other invertebrate species, including crinoids, tunicates, and even some shrimp dotted the bommies. However, it was the island’s large limestone cave, illuminated by a crevice at the top, which provided the most unique experience of the afternoon. Just up from the beach’s southern end and up a flight of concrete steps was the opening to this rather famous grotto. In the 1980 film The Blue Lagoon, Brooke Shields runs away to this very cave. A Fijian legend tells how a young chief once hid his love in this cave when her family wished to marry her off to another. Each day, he brought her food until they could both escape to safety on another island. With torches in hand we snorkeled through the first cave, then dove underwater and through a sub-aquatic short tunnel of rock before surfacing in the darker, inner cave. Even the sounds of heavy breathing reverberated through the chamber. The echoes, though not the last things we would hear on our voyage, were some of the most memorable.
