Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
It wasn't too long before he was sitting in with the resident band at the Paradise Hotel,
playing blues and accompanying them with their local music. Maria would sometimes get
up and dance in front of Giorgio while he played with the band. She was lithe, healthy, and
happy and very much in love with her gypsy husband. They would befriend the band and
take them sailing around to the outer islands, and the guys in the band would show them all
the good spots for shell diving and fishing. I could never figure out who adopted who.
The outer islands, mostly made from coral or limestone, were numerous, low, and a shell
collector's heaven. Most had large, golden yellow, fluffy beaches that spilled out into the
cool, clear, blue water and beckon you on to explore the atolls and sea caves just a few
feet below the surface. We were informed that we had to get a permit to travel to these is-
lands, and we came away from the officials one morning with written permission and a map
of about twenty of these islands, all quaintly numbered instead of named. It was decided
amongst Gavin, Penny, her parents, and I that the following week we would all head for
some of the bigger motus and perhaps spend a week exploring these beautiful coral atolls.
Penny was excited about sailing again, and we were all looking forward to rendezvousing
with her laidback family.
One of the cruising couples, South African Mike and his Norwegian wife, Eva, overheard
that we were on our way out the following week and could not tell us enough how great
it was amongst the islands, deserted or inhabited. They were coincidentally heading back
again sometime the next week as well. Eva gave us good advice about looking for shells
and how to spot them; she also impressed upon us the fact that it was totally uncool to bring
up living shells, but that it was okay to take the recently abandoned or eaten ones. We did
agree with this sentiment and for the most part put the advice into practice. For the most
part….
We loaded up on Saturday at the market with as many fresh vegetables and fruit that we felt
were practical. Sunday we lounged around at the pool and saved our energy, and Monday
early saw us hauling up our two anchors and puttering out of our safe haven, adventure
bound. As we left the anchorage we spotted Penny's family getting their boat ready. They
were giving our smaller boat a head start. I looked at the little map the officials had given
us and guesstimated a general course of west southwest. Leaving Vava'u astern, with her
mountain peak of Mt. Talau hidden in the white clouds, the wind unusually picked up from
ten knots to at least twenty. The water was surprisingly flat and protected, and because of
that, we fairly skimmed along in relative comfort. The self-steering vane was the only one
of us taking things seriously, and he steered us a course truer than a London barge pilot.
Predictably, the fishing line was produced and a new and smaller dolly and skirt lure was
set. Within the hour we had caught a very large tuna which was swiftly gutted and filleted
and placed in a plastic bag in the cool icebox. The line was thrown overboard again, more
