Minding Monkey's Business

 

I left Araby in Saweni Bay—the same bay I've been in for nearly two weeks now.   I hitched down the road five kilometers to Vuda Point Marina where Monkey's Business was docked.

Laurel had recently headed back to the States for personal affairs and Jason had the boat to himself for a five days.   We decided it would be fun if I came on as crew until he had to fly out.  The idea was that we could head back to Musket Cove and go surfing and diving.

 

I generally jump at the opportunity to sail on other yachts.  It is so interesting to see how other sailors do things, see how other boats behave—the experiences serve as proverbial yard sticks, measures of myself, my boat, and my seamanship.  Of course, you can't overemphasize the allure of cold milk, cold beer, chicken, and motorsailing. 

There was no wind.  Dead still.   Good for Araby, good for motoring.  With the radio humming we passed out the marina entrance and entered Nadi Bay.   A friend had told Jason to look out for a tall mast across the bay, which we found.  I didn't care at the time, but later I found out that the yacht was Endeavor, one of only three or four J-boats left in the world, a 120 ft. sloop.  I got to see her and race against her in Antigua years ago.  Very cool to see her again, a very special yacht, beautiful.

Musket Cove was much more packed this time around.  We anchored and visited with friends who were in the anchorage.   More and more boats are turning up from NZ now and nearly every one got hammered coming across.  Another friend had to run the bucket brigade after having three bilge pumps fail.   Another changed his alternator five times!  The stories go on and on.  We all agreed that a surf expedition was needed for the morning.   Wilkes Break was about three miles off and we'd set off at dawn to beat the resort surfers who show up at nine-ish.

Of course, I don't have a surf board. . . space, money, and I've never found a good deal.   I do, however, have a wakeboard.  I figure it is a decent way to learn waves, and it fits far more easily into V-berth.

It turned out to be a light day, very small waves.  I thought, Man I didn't realize surfing was such a chill sport.   I never thought about how much time was spent just sitting on your board in the sun, chatting with your mates, waiting for waves.

It was a great time.  The weather was beautiful.   I caught a few decent waves.  Most Fiji surfing is along reefs—no nice soft sand beaches.  Coral, hard coral.   So one must be careful.  But, as I said, it was a peaceful. . . small. . . day.  The next day, however, was not.

The wind had picked up in the afternoon and had blown through the night into the next morning.   So the sunrise surf was a pass.  But by the afternoon the wind had calmed and we loaded the dinghies and headed out once again.  And Wow!   They rose like a cobra to its flute—from nothing to a rearing, teetering wall, hanging for a moment at climax before striking, rolling like thunder into the reef leaving foam and froth before retreating back to the sea. And then again. . . and again.

There were a couple of Kiwis already out there.  I was rather amped about the whole deal.   All peacefulness of yesterday forgotten, I was ready to work for some waves.  With one exception, my mates (yes, I've gone Aussie.   Curse me if you will.) were all beginner surfers.  So they were a bit reluctant.  But it is much easier to hop on a wave with a boogie board than a surf board, and safer over the reef.   So I headed to the thick of it.

And I caught a wave too.  It was a monster and I've never ridden a thing like it.   It wasn't clean really, it closed out a bit I think, but it was fast, and I had to hang on for dear life.  Luckily, and by some miracle, I was able to paddle back out with little trouble.   The wave I rode was at the end of a set I suppose.  But such luck wouldn't hold out.

Unfortunately, I was still nursing the juvenile conceptions I'd acquired the day before and the sea prides herself in healing ignorance.   As floated along with the two Kiwis I watches as the both took to paddling.  I glanced around and noticed what seemed to be a fine wave.   Perhaps they were preparing to ride it, but they were paddling more toward sea, and across the wave.  For a moment or two I pondered the wave, Should I ride it?   No, I don't think my position is very good; I'm too far in.  But then, if that is the case, I need to paddle OUT (as the two Kiwis had done moments ago).   I wouldn't catch them. . . and the wave caught me.  I tried, belatedly to dive, but it was too late. I got the full washer-machine action.  I came up short a fin in that wave.  The next wave took my other fin.  Kicking is not the same without fins and the water was strong.   But I managed to recover a fin, and seeing as these were my good fins I figured I'd bide my time until I could recover the other fin.  But a fierce set was coming in and I was pushed all the way onto the reef where I simply stood up and washed the other waves coming in, now just large foamy rollers.

It occurred as I looked for the fin that this day was not as it had been the day before.   These were fair waves and perhaps the reef was not the best place to fool around looking for a fin for which I have numerous replacements.

Without the fin paddling out was too much the chore so I paddled across into the pass and then around and back out to the dinghy (which was anchored beyond the break).   I received quite the applause for my escapades.  But of course, no one else had fared much better.

 

The lesson was: One must always keep a keen eye on the waves coming in.  Constant Vigilance—I should have known.  Just because most waves are breaking behind you doesn't mean they all will.   The lesson cost me a mighty fine fin.  But I got one fine wave out of the deal. 

With only one fin I was done for the day.  My mates weren't far behind.   The sun was drooping and the sky was preparing for the sunset.  While motoring back, the sky went red and the water was as calm as peaceful lagoons can be.   Jason stops the dinghy—It was time for dinghy surfing.

I was new to the sport.  Essentially it is wakeboarding with a surf board.   A Zodiac and a 10 hp outboard is strong enough to get you out of the water.  Getting up is the trick, but since I had wakeboarded years ago it wasn't a great hurdle.

But the reward was absolutely wondrous.  The surrounding were surreal—Everything was red, the sky, the water, they all faded into each other, nearly indistinguishable.   Just faint outlines of reef here, Malolo Island there, the masts slowly approaching beyond.

And the motion!  Absolutely incredible.   Like snowboarding in powder, powder still untouched in the brisk morning in the backcountry.  The water had no ripples, none.  And somehow I could manage the board.   Back and forth. . . back and forth across the wake. . . left to right and back again. . . effortlessly.  I wanted it to never end.   It was a perfect moment.  Something new, but with the easy feel of a matured hobby.  And the sunset went on and on and on and on.   This was Fiji.  This was sailing.  This was fine!

 

 

What else need be said beyond that?  We ate good meals.   The conversations were great.  The milk was cold and perfect (especially when I slipped in a bit of vodka and Kailua).  We motored away for another island with a resort called Beachcomber.   It was a small, small island with no anchorage to speak of.  I am not a fan of resorts, but it made for interesting people watching.   The water there was protected from fishing so the diving was excellent.

But before I knew it the week had passed and we were once again motoring back to Vuda Point Marina .  I helped Jason clean the boat.  I met his neighbor and she and her boat Ventana had spend part of last season up in Kiribati and met Herbert.   This brought a great smile to my face.  Herbert should be down here soon.   Herb—You remember Elisabeth?    I bet you do.

 

I found Araby just as I left her but with a few more neighbors than before.   The season is getting well underway now.  I need to get some work done and work on getting underway myself.