Of Orange Doves

Nothing embodies the human spirit like setting sail toward unknown horizons. The earliest Pacific voyagers showed a boldness that rivaled the moon landing, armed only with the stars. My journey began more humbly: after settling in Sydney, I walked the coastline one Sunday, imagining what lay beyond. A single National Geographic photo lingered in my mind, prompting me to buy a Fiji guidebook and plan a quest to see a (somewhat) special bird.

Getting Lost in the Pacific

A few months later, my good friend J and I found ourselves being welcomed by the sounds of Ukuleles and tour operators touting their trips to the popular island groups close to the nations most important airport in Nadi. We decided to try our luck off the beaten path and on a shoestring. We took a bus to Suva and checked into the South Seas Private Hotel, a beautiful, palm perched wooden building close to the center. Laid back and situated in the greenest part of Suva, we felt taken back in time and the hotel would turn out to be our basecamp for explorations along the island. Our first stop would be Caqalai, a decently remote island, off the coast of the main island Viti Levu that promised to give us a taste of the life of a postcard-like remote south sea island. We celebrated our birthday, and realized the next morning that we would still need to cover significant ground to our pick up spot at Waidalice Landing. From there, we would take a speed boat out through a thick mangrove forest before the river opened to the Pacific.

Underwater Tigers

Caqalai was everything we wanted it to be. Just a few simple huts, mostly without electricity, spread among a beautiful coconut grove. Due to a somewhat strenuous trip to get there, it did not attract many visitors and the time and those who came all turned out to be from the most curious walks of life. We spent the days exploring the island both above and underwater, playing volleyball with the local staff and a lot of sitting around. We walked around the island several times a day. There would always be something to see - Sharks and mackerels hunting in the shallow waters, sea kraits searching for prey and the views of the open Pacific crushing into the Fiji outer reef just a few kilometers away. Under water, the wildlife was pristine and the ocean around Caqalai was teeming with life. We explored snorkeling including a large school of Barracuda and the occasional shark. One of the days we decided to take a boat out to the aforementioned outer reed, where the wildlife and forces of nature both promised to be much more exciting. The reef was in perfect condition and given its remote location, it seemed like the pressure on local fish populations was less than in virtually any other place I had seen. There were sharks hunting on the drop-off towards deeper waters and we were constantly trying to stay away from the strong currents as well as the surf that would push us directly into the spikey corals. Nevertheless, I spiked my foot on a tiny piece of coral and was now bleeding, if only a little bit. I was on the edge between thoroughly enjoying the moments and being alert. A feeling that further intensified when I spotted a much larger shape swimming alongside me in the depth of the reef dropoff. I was exhilarated as I was fairly certain that this must be a Tigershark. However, I did not feel the desire to investigate further but rather resorted to the shallowest part of the reef in the probably unfounded hope that this would save me in case the animal had any hostile intentions.

In the evening, everyone would convene for the traditional sipping of Kava, telling stories and playing music while slowly getting more sedated together with people from all walks of life. On the day of departure, I woke with a horrible feeling in my stomach and overall pretty incapable of anything. I dragged myself onto the boat and back to the South Seas Hotel, where my sickness would kick-in full. I spent two days in the heat of the day struggling to get hydrated and quietly cursing the dirty rag that we used throughout our Kava ceremonies over the past few days getting weaker by the day. After two days and narrowly escaping a trip to the hospital, I gained just enough strength to move on to the next chapter of my adventure. In the morning, I packed my bags with a heavy heart, knowing that I would have to say goodbye to J after many weeks of traveling together and he wished me farewell as I entered the ramp of a worn down, sketchy looking Greek ferry headed further out into the Pacific.

Across the Archipelago

The fairly rusty piece of metal was supposed to take me to Taveuni. Dubbed the Garden Island of Fiji, Taveuni is covered largely by the 1241 meters high Mount Uluigalauthat, a wild, forested extinct volcano that looks east towards Polynesia. Tavenui not only used to mark the international date line but also marks the confluence of Melanisian and Polynesian culture and language. All of it wanted me to go and made me see past my raging stomach bug as I entered the ferry. The journey to Taveuni would take 36 hours for which I had booked a reclining seat. An unnecessary expenditure as I soon realized while all local families were finding places on the decks floor, preparing a proper camp and setting up an astonishing array of snacks and food for the ensuing journey. I was invited to sit with them and was happy to make my way to what feels to me like the end of the world. After the sun had set I returned to my seat for some rest. Luckily, my stomach bug left me alone, something that can not be said about the endless parade of roaches that would wake my sleep every few minutes when crawling onto my face. Needless to say, I was ecstatic when the sun came up and we could see the hills of Vanua Levu rising in the distance. We entered Savusavu bay and could already see Taveuni across the famous Somosomo strait. When we finally made it to Taveuni, another reality hit: I had made zero provisions for my next step, I did not have a smartphone and it was Saturday evening. I started hitchhiking and made my way to Matei on the northern tip of the island. Although being exactly what I came there for, I was a bit naive with regards to the island's infrastructure. Matei was home to the island's airport and while I could not really afford any of the accommodation offered in town, it felt nice enough to just sleep on the beach and figure the rest out the next day. The next day was Sunday and in the South Pacific, Sundays are a serious deal and you can't really expect anything to happen. Hitchhiking was slow and at times, I walked for hours mentally preparing to cover the whole 20 km walk to Lavena with my backpack. The landscape was of unreal beauty. Tropical forest was occasionally opening to small farms, Taro growing in shallow clear water, streams rushing down the mountain and Fiji’s national bird, the Collared Lory glowing in the distance. I was still relieved when a pickup truck stopped next to with kind souls driving me all the way to Bouma despite not having headed there themselves. Lavena is the gateway to the Bouma Heritage Park, a protected area that was managed by the local villages and was home to pristine rainforests and a number of endemic species. The lodge was a simple three bedroom building by the sea. Dinner was provided by local villagers that shared their daily life with us guests and I would swiftly make arrangements to keep my room for longer than anticipated. Lavena felt like heaven on earth to me, a tight-knit community in one of the most beautiful places one could imagine. However, on my way there, I also saw impoverished settlements and people that were far less joyful. I was told by locals that some of the villages along the coast were gradually gaining access to TV and with it, greed, misery and ultimately alcoholism would increase. While hard to verify myself and surely more complex, the apparent difference was striking and kept me thinking for many days.

From Garden Island…

I spent the next few days along the Lavena coastal walk, exploring the rainforest by myself. The coastal walk leads through coconut groves, small farms, along beaches and strange rock formations. At the end of the walk, beautiful waterfalls wait at the end of a crystal-clear river. While the first is easily accessed, I left my bags behind to swim further upstream and exploring deeper inland. To date, this tiny stretch of land is among the most blessed I ever witnessed. Further inland, Lake Tagimauca is the only home to the national flower of Fiji and endemic parrots fly among the large ferns and palms of this primeval landscape.

My goal is to find the Fiji Orange Fruit Dove. An endemic bird that features the most striking contrast between bright orange and green colors. After a few hours of looking around the forest, I see an orange glimmer in the distance, but it is just a glimmer. New people turned up at the Lodge, among them K & R, avid birders that were kind enough to let me join some of their well-prepared quests for Taveunis unique wildlife. After finding and observing the Fiji Orange Dove for a long time, I turned back to the lodge to find a familiar face. A friend I had made in Nadi few weeks earlier came to Lavena by chance and asked if I wanted to join them on Qamea, the largest island off Tavenui.

The short trip across the channel turned more adventurous than anticipated. The open ocean pushing through the narrow strait between Taveuni and Qamea created powerful waves that threatened to capsize the boat several times. Not the last of these tales as would turn out. The days on Qamea were spent exploring the island, turning up a rare Fiji Boa (Candoia bibroni bibroni), fishing and surfing. The island is somewhat well known as a great surfspot with the open Pacific crashing onto the reef. One day, the swell looked especially good, peeling cleanly for right to left. Despite just having tried my luck with surfing a few times before, when asked if I wanted to get in a boat and check it out, I was eager. What looked easy enough to handle from shore soon turned out to be less so as our boat covered the mile or so out to sea. When getting into the water, all of us were sucked in by a huge set and its waves held us underwater for much longer than comfortable. The current was stronger than anything I had experienced. As all of us ended in a similar position and were swiftly picked up by the boat. The more experienced surfers shrugged it off while I did not want to leave without a small success and convinced myself that I could handle it now that I knew what I was in for. That was only somewhat true, not wanting to nearly drown again, I paddled further out for every set of waves rolling in. Not realizing it, this caused my to slowly loose sight of the boat, disappearing more and more often among the big surf. I trusted my fellows but after a few minutes of drifting in the open Pacific, I started to wonder. Lying flat on a board, I would be hard to spot. In the distance, dark storm clouds were forming, adding further chop to the water around me. While my worries grew, I quickly realized that there was very little I could do to better my predicament. I tried not to get into any obvious currents and waited, wondering a few times what was waiting in the thousands of meters of depth below me. The relief when my eyes met those of my friends among the waves seemed mutual. On the way in, a mobula ray jumped out of the water and we celebrated in and with high spirits.

…to the Secret Garden

We paid the price the next day when making our way back to Suva, first back to Taveuni and then by car to the other side of the island. Back on the ferry, I started feeling a pain in my shoulder and overall tiredness. By the time we got back to Suva it had turned into a full blown boil. I realized it needed medical care, tried it myself, was quoted a ridiculous price by the public hospital and swiftly found a taxi driver that took me to his personal doctor. Three bucks for patient care and a pack of antibiotics later, I was on my way back to the South Seas Hotel, ready to reflect on the intense weeks behind me and ready to kick back with a beer. I got talking with a curious man from Sweden, a former translator that had come back to Fiji again and again throughout his life. He was in his 70s and was eager to tell his tale. It turned out that he had survived several strokes and got his motivation for getting up for making it one last time. He was invited to visit the King of Fiji, a rare privilege that few foreigners are lucky to receive. This was when we met. He asked me if I wanted to see the beautiful garden. Knowing the place, I was irritated, I felt like I had seen everything and a beautiful garden was not part of the premise to my understanding. I followed him hesitantly along an overgrown path that seemingly ended in bushes when it suddenly opened to a beautiful meadow surrounded by tropical flowers. I assured him of the beauty of the place, still confused as to why he wanted me to come along. With a grin on his face, he finally pulled out a big joint. Something that I understood was extremely illegal in Fiji at the time. I was extremely pleasantly surprised as he shared the story about how he had seen a Tiger Shark off the coast of Caqalai. This memory is what kept him coming back again and again.. I told him of my encounter with the shark off Caqalai. He smiled, knowing that I would also always have something to come back for.