Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
Gavin made some hot coffee with condensed milk, and we sat in the cockpit in the pale
moonlight, sipping the extra sweet beverage, taking it all in. Gavin lit a cigarette, and I ad-
mitted I could well have done with one right then. My nerves were raw from the past few
hours, as well as being very tired with all the sailing we had done since leaving Tonga a
few days earlier. I don't care what anyone says; it's very rare that one ever get's a good
night sleep when sailing.
Dawn arrived, and the pale full moon sank into the island as the sun broke the horizon
on our east. The ocean suddenly became a much friendlier place. We could see clearly for
miles around, and our previous night's terrors soon evaporated. The trade wind that had
been fluffing up the ocean waters soon filled the sails, and I turned Déjà vu's nose about,
heading her towards the harbor entrance and setting the steering vane.
Within the hour we saw the red and green breakwater markers and made a beeline for them.
We definitely could still feel the effects of the lunar pull as we motor sailed in between the
entrance breakers. I had the engine assisting us and kept her speed up as much as possible,
giving us much more steerage way.
We were amazed at the sheer size of the natural harbor of Suva, and all the multi-storied
and large buildings on this island. The sun was rising over the large bay, shining blue and
silver with a lush, green backdrop of Viti Levu's tall mountaintop. We had no idea how
built-up Fiji was. There was a hive of activity, even at this hour. Fishing boats were racing
for the harbor entrance; yachts were motoring about every which way, and we could see
some huge tankers and freighters over at Kings Wharf, their crew bustling about with their
duties.
Following the chart of the bay, we headed for the Royal Suva Yacht Club and dropped an-
chor in the spacious anchorage, hauling up the yellow quarantine flag up to the spreaders
on the little burgee halyard. On the starboard side of the spreaders we hauled up the South
African flag. It was a Friday and, when I called up the port authorities to clear in, I was in-
formed in no uncertain terms that it was a public holiday, and we were to remain on-board
until Monday morning. “But that's three days without fresh food or anything!” I began to
argue.
“That's too bad sir, I can't help that. Monday morning we are open to the public, and it is
illegal for you to disembark your boat until a routine inspection is done on your vessel,”
the official stated firmly in a coldly professional voice as I replaced the handset.
“Well! That's that!” I said, looking at Gavin who had overheard the conversation.
“Fuck that!” he exploded. “I'm not staying cooped up on this boat the whole bloody week-
end, no fuckin' ways!”
