Tivua Island

Today’s adventure was an optional cruise to a private island. Most of our group signed up for this option. We were picked up at the hotel and transported to a port in a more up-scale, somewhat more developed area known as Denarau. From there we boarded a large motor catamaran that took us on a roughly 1.5 hour cruise to the small island of Tivua.

The first order of business was to claim one of the many small, thatched-roofed “cabanas” on the wide, white-sand beach. Once we had put our bags down, we went to be issued snorkel gear — mask, fins, and snorkel. There was some confusion about what was going to happen when, but we finally got word that we should take our snorkel gear with us for a ride on a glass-bottomed boat on which a guide gave us some background about the ocean in this area.

This is a rather shallow area. The coral here suffered serious damage from a category 5 cyclone here several years ago. It has been unable to recover in the way it normally would due to rising sea temperatures (global warming). A third factor, said the guide, is that this area is visited daily by “a very dangerous boat” — the one we came on, loaded with humans and all of the activity and chemicals they bring with them, especially sunblock lotions that acumulate in the water.

We observed that in many areas the coral was entirely dead, while in other places, primarily where the water is a little deeper, there is at least some living coral of various types. There were, nevertheless, a large number of colorful tropical fish. These usually are found where coral is healthy, but the island operators compensate by feeding the fish to keep them coming back, even when the coral here is not healthy.

After the boat ride, we were invited to snorkel. Unfortunately, the “instructor” for this activity was a young man with very little idea of how to instruct. First, he kept addressing most of us as “grandmother” and “grandfather” — probably terms of respect in Fijian culture, but a bit offensive to Americans (even those of us who happen to be grandparents). Second, he didn’t really offer any instruction beyond telling people to get into the water. Some had snorkeled before, so had not problem, but many were unsure and a few completely panicked. I was able to help Mary get started, but some in the group simply bailed out.

After some time in the water, enjoying the colorful fish, we were called to lunch. It took awhile to swim back to the dock, then gather our gear and get to the buffet. The food was basic, but plentiful, and the bar was open with as much beer, wine, or soft drinks as we wished.

We were looking forward to taking out some kayaks after lunch, but a rain squal blew in and the deluge kept us under the cover of the dining area. We discovered that we had been misled with the information that these storms only last briefly. Fortunately, we were under cover in the vicinity of the bar! After an hour or so of watching rain, and attempted entertainment by a Fijian guitar-player and folk-singer, it was called a day and we headed back to the boat.

Before heading out on the dock, we had a moment to experience the daily feeding of the baby sharks. These little reef sharks are pretty harmless (though one young woman who ignored the advice to keep fingers out of the water got a small bite). They swarm to the table scraps from the daily lunch, and rub against ankles like kittens to show their appreciation.

The return boat ride was uneventful, except for being serenaded by the crew, and we are much less tired than the previous evening.