Archives: 20th September 2001

Having discovered that the dive shop was based at the Outrigger all along, we strolled up there to book diving for the following day.

We took the bus into Sigatoka, where we did some shopping for souvenirs. Actually, we found we had no option but to buy some souvenirs, for as soon as we got off the bus, we were led firmly into the market by an Indian trader, keen to show us his ‘unique’ carvings. The carvings were by no means unique, but rather than appear rude, John agreed to buy a small statue.

Seizing on our gullibility, a women from the next door stall grasped Brigid by the arm. “You come from London? I have a cousin in Southall. You look at my stall.” Short of resorting to violence, Brigid had no choice but to ‘look’ at the woman’s collection of trinkets.

Slightly ashamed of our lack of willpower, we left the market with a bag full of odd wooden carvings, and a small pendant.

The cafes on the main street did not look particularly appealing, especially as it looked as though it was going to rain any minute. Our guidebook recommended the Sigatoka Club for curry, so we felt quite smug as the heavens opened just as we reached the door.

The guidebook did not lie. The curry was superb value for money. We had chicken curry, rice, dahl, pickle, and soup for F$5.50 (less than £2).

After Hawaii, we were keen to book some diving in Fiji, so armed with a brochure from Tubakula, we set off in search of a dive shop in Korulevu, about 30 minutes drive down the coast. As we waited for the scheduled coach, a minibus pulled up, and the driver offered us a lift. Although the minibus was already fairly full, we accepted. It was only after one of the other passengers got off, that we realised that this was some sort of taxi service, and we would be expected to pay. We got off at Korulevu ‘Airport’. (Korulevu Airport was a bit of a mystery to us. There was no sign whatsoever of it ever having catered for air traffic, other than a dilapidated control tower amongst the group of shops on the side of the road. The ‘runway’ was clearly overgrown with bananas and other thick ground cover. But the airport had originally been built to service a five-star resort on the coast. It transpired that it had, in fact, only seen two aircraft. The first conveyed the proud owner to his new resort, and the second carried him away some months later … with a suitcase full of cash … after a typhoon devastated the coast, and wrecked his enterprise – he was never seen again, and the airport, together with the resort, went back to nature!) There did not seem to be any dive shop, or indeed much else, in Korulevu. So, after a drink in the bar of the sumptuous Warwick Resort, we caught the bus into Suva, Fiji’s capital city. At this point we realised that the taxi driver had charged us at least double the going rate for our trip to Korulevu.

The bus ride to Suva took a couple of hours. The bus was at least as antiquated as the one that brought us to Tubakula … and the seats were harder!

Fiji’s capital was a bit of a disappointment. We had been warned about the aggressive peddlers selling carved wood masks, but didn’t really expect to be targeted as soon as we stepped off the bus. But, sure enough, no sooner had we hit the streets than John was approached by a large, and rather over friendly, man carrying a tell-tale canvas bag. (These people get you talking, ask your name, and then hastily carve it on a hideous mask, which, of course, you are expected to buy. Tourists are warned that the peddlers can turn nasty if you refuse.)

We asked at the Tourist Office for a recommendation for lunch. The assistant looked at us and said, “For you, Macdonnalds.” Then she explained, “it’s clean”! Well, we hadn’t come all the way to Fiji to eat a Big Mac, so, against her advice, we found a Chinese restaurant that had obviously once been quite grand, but was now a little yellow at the edges…! The meal was good, but it was spoilt by a little drama that was taking place on the next door table. To cut a long story short, another tourist was being accused of having passed a dud F$100 (which was being ‘retained’ by the restaurant), and was being asked to pay again …

It was nearly 4pm, and we had to be back on the Pacific Express bus. But picking our bus from the hundreds of other wrecks in the bus depot was going to be quite a feat. Luckily, our friendly conductor spotted us, and escorted us to our seats.

On the way back to Tubakula, we were treated to an appalling tape of Fijian music. The lyrics of one song stick in the mind. “… and the Hibiscus is always in bloom … and the Gardenia, my favourite one … and the new hotels on the beach blend with the scenery … take your glass of wine, and relax in beautiful Fiji …”

After dinner, we wandered up the beach to the Outrigger Reef hotel (whose architects had determined that Fiji’s natural scenery should be invisible from within its secure and landscaped grounds).

Arrived at Nadi (Fiji) at about 7am. As per the guidebook, we caught the Pacific Express (“As sure as the sunrise”) bus to Tubakula. The bus was a delight – a British Leyland model circa 1960. We bumped and jolted for about an hour and a half, past sugar plantations, hindu temples, and rural villages. Every now and again we would get a tantalising view of the sea and a white sandy beach.

Our A-framed bungalow was a pleasant surprise. It had all the essentials, and was only a stone’s throw from the beach. We stocked the fridge with food for breakfast, and slept until 3pm … zzzzzzz

Tubakula has a cheerful communal dining room with an adjoining TV lounge. Each evening at 7pm, following the news, there was a video film (always a ‘B movie’, and never worth watching). Tonight we shared our table with Alasdair and Chloe Jackson, who’s dream honeymoon was being more than slightly eclipsed by a large quantity of classroom work (and prep) for their PADI Open Water certificate.

We lost today completely – how careless! (International Date Line)

The rental car was returned to Kihei at 11am, and the car hire people then drove us to the airport. Despite tales of queues and delays, the 12.20pm flight to Honolulu was on time. We didn’t notice any additional security at Kahului.

We had plenty of time to kill in Honolulu, so we dumped our luggage at the airport, and took the bus out to Waikiki Beach. We whiled away several hours just watching the surfers, eating our sandwiches, and writing our postcards. At last, at about 5pm or so, we started to make our way back to the airport. We still had a couple of hours before we could check in.

Since we were due to leave Hawaii on Sunday, we spent the morning doing some essential housekeeping.  In addition, we booked a beach bungalow at Tubakula on Viti Levu (Fiji) for the following week.

Our new-found enthusiasm for diving found us back on the beach with our masks and snorkels in the afternoon.  Unfortunately the surf was up which meant a) that the visibility was not all it could have been, and b) our landing (after a very brief swim) was not very graceful.  Brigid came off worst.  Having tripped over her fins in the surf, she bounced up against some submerged rocks … adding to her earlier bruises!

We ate in the Outback Steakhouse. We were both in reflective mood.  Though the airports had reopened, travel was far from returning to normal. On the eve of our flight to Fiji, Brigid was wishing that we weren’t quite so far from home.

Even John was eager to be up and ready to dive at 5am this morning. Our first boat dive was to be in the Molokini Crater, on the list of ‘must see’ for any diver, but a real treat for us beginners. (When the Molokini volcano erupted, half the crater collapsed into the sea, leaving only a crescent-shaped island visible above the water. A reef formed in the submerged crater.)

Lauren got us to do our compulsory CESA immediately in 20ft of water. Once that was out of the way, we were free to explore the reef with her as our guide. As novice Open Water Divers, we are only qualified to dive to 60ft. However, when we returned to the boat, our computers recorded a depth of 80ft … We agreed to put this down as a ‘malfunction’, and dutifully recorded 60ft in our Log Books. Whatever. We were thrilled to have seen our first white-tipped shark, a manta ray, and a zebra eel!

After a short surface interval, the boat moved on to a site known as ‘Five Graves’, where we were treated to a whole city of turtles. Without a waterproof slate, communication under water can be a bit ‘hit and miss’ – especially for novices. Lauren had briefed us as best she could on what we could expect to see at the two sites. She had demonstrated the sign-language that she would use to indicate sharks, rays, turtles, eels, etc. But needless to say, she could not cover everything. On more than one occasion, we found ourselves staring dumbly at some strange new creature, while Lauren tried to explain in mime what it was. Frustrating … but amusing at the same time!

We were back on shore by 10am, ready for the rest of the day.

We met Amy at B&B Scuba at 9am.  Brigid realised that it was already too late to call her sister, Sarah, to wish her a happy birthday.  We hastily bought a new phone card, but then realised that we didn’t have a note of her new telephone number.  Will have to wait until this evening.

Our first two open water dives were off Mokapu Beach.  Before donning her wetsuit, Brigid smothered her grazed leg with antibiotic ointment and wrapped it in cling-film.  This had the dual effect of preventing infection and making sure that the injury was not exacerbated when she pulled the wetsuit off after the dive.  Brilliant.

Amy got us to do all the essential exercises (mask clearing, mask removal, regulator retrieval, alternate air source, etc.) during these dives, leaving only the CESA (controlled emergency swimming ascent) for the following day.  Despite the focus on the compulsory exercises, we were captivated by the reef – and (despite being occasionally surprised by duck-diving snorklers) amazed at the diversity of marine life so close to the beach.  Brigid even saw a turtle swimming off into the distance!

Unwittingly, we made a potentially serious error in the afternoon.  Having dived to about 26ft in the morning, we decided to visit the Haleakala Crater at 10,023ft (thereby risking decompression sickness!).  Oops.  Luckily, we suffered no ill effects, but learned an important lesson.

After the horror of yesterday, we did our best to shake off our depression by booking the four open water ‘check out’ dives that would complete our PADI Open Water qualification.

We packed ourselves a picnic, and set off on a drive through the rainforests of the north coast. We had intended to reach Hana, but after 20 miles or so of twisty coastal road – in some places so narrow that we had to give way to vehicles coming in the other direction – we gave up. We found a secluded beach at Honomanu Bay, waded through a stretch of shallow water and ate our sandwiches on the stony shore, watching the surf.

That evening we drove to Lahaina, where we had arranged to meet up with Mark Atilano, who was working on Maui.

Naturally, the events of yesterday dominated the conversation as we ate in Bubba Gump’s (yes, honestly, the restaurant is themed around “Forrest Gump” …). Still, Mark was obviously looking forward to Gina’s visit later this month, when – hopefully – the airports would have re-opened and travel would have returned to normal.

When Brigid logged into AOL for our e-mail, she was amazed to find what appeared to be stills from some new action movie.  A huge ball of flame billowed from what was clearly one of the World Trade Centre towers. Headlines beneath the picture read, “America under attack”, “Hijacked planes hit New York and Washington”.  John looked at the computer and concluded that this was a hoax and AOL must have been hacked.  Just to be sure, he switched on the television.

For most of the rest of the day we watched, aghast, as the news of the terrorist attacks unfurled: hoping that no-one we knew had been affected …