Kava and Jim Morrison

We leave Fiji in our wake, headed to the isle country of Vanuatu with truly a sense of having stepped into and been welcomed by the people of Nirvana. Is Fiji as amazing as everyone says? No. It's a thousand times better if you take the time to get to know the people, do the rituals, and explore the waters and lands. Sorry to have been so long without writing a blog for you loyal readers of this truly amazing experience. One has to realize the Fiji experience is, at times, like feeling you are at the end of the earth. Communications, as one travels around the outer isles, even with a SSB radio is truly unreliable and furthermore, to be in a place where one is forced to get away from these "things and necessities" is actually a nice cleansing of the soul for an internet and radio junky like me.

To arrive in Savusavu, a large city by Fijian standards (40,000) and to immediately be welcomed to dinner and a Kava ceremony by a Indian-Fijian family was a heart-warming experience. To understand a people, of course, one must get to know them and the best way is to accept an invitation to a Kava ceremony. Your notion of what that might be may be quite different than what the reality is. So let me explain, before you all start imagining us dancing around like Jim Morrison on a peyote trip in a south-west desert and chanting ridiculous things about a snake being seven-miles long. First, Kava is in the botanical pepper family and the root has a mild toxin that when grounded and mixed with water produces a bitter drink that numbs the lips and mouth within seconds of ingestion. What happens next, varies slightly from person to person, but its medicinal qualities produce the effect of a mild muscle relaxant. Imagine a strong aspirin that provides the calming effects of tea. That's basically the physical effect. But what a Kava ceremony is truly about is sharing, talking, showing respect, and making an offering to the inviting family (usually unground Kava root). The powder is mixed in a wooden bowl by the Chief of a village or patriarch of a house. We were fortunate enough to experience both on sperate occasions. After saying a prayer in Fijian for the visitors and the family, the bowl made from coconut shell is passed to the patriarch or leader of the visitors. The bowl is to be drunk in one constant tip of the shell at which point, once consumed, everyone else clap hands (usually three times). At any point when someone is offered and they have had enough they can decline but must stay within the group and socialize. Since families in this region can be quite large and members of the extended family are often invited, one spends more time socializing than drinking the bitter, light green liquid. I'll be frank with you. I've been on a boat now for seven months and that can make a body sore and mine has been and the Skip's has been pretty beat up in some harsh weather and the non-stop rocking motions of the boat. The Kava came at a good time, socially and medicinally.

After Savusava, we sailed to the island of Mokangai, an island known for its great diving and being home to the giant sea clams that get to be several hundred pounds. Upon arrival, one must make way to find the Chief and present an offering of Kava roots, which we did and then were invited to a Kava Ceremony where the Chief blessed us and wished us safe passage in a beautifully rhythmic chant with his family members. Once you join a Kava ceremony, you become a member of that tribe or family. Neat experience. It was such a nice way to be greeted and accepted to the isle. But we couldn't spend too much time partaking in the ceremony as the waters were calling us and we needed to see the great giant sea-clams.

Some of you have probably heard stories of free-divers sticking their arm inside and being drowned as the clam forcible shuts its shell. I haven't be able to confirm or deny these stories but having swam around them and made these iridescent green and blue-lipped giant clams shut their massive shells, we tend to believe that one would be in a world of hurt should they ever make that mistake. When they shut their shells, it is so forcible it can be felt and heard through the water. Amazingly beautiful creatures and the island has a reintroduction program where one can tour different tanks and see the various life-stages of the clams, including the mother clam, plus two green-sea turtles that loved feeding on a six-foot moray eel that dad shot for them and produced to the Chief. After spending a couple nights here, we had to unfurl the sails. Dad blew on the conch and the Chief came out and waved his arms profusely to say good-bye. I think he may have been wearing our boat's t-shirt that the Skip presented to him.

Next we made way to Nadia where we could deal with a slew of issues that went awry and that we dealt with accordingly. Nadi has the best marina we've yet to see as far as availability of good mechanics, a tremendous social scene and the comfort of knowing the security guards are doing their work. On this last passage our water-maker's solenoid went shutting it down, a circuit breaker caught on fire, hydraulics on the autopilot went and shut it down. Re-wiring needed to be done due to compounding issues. In all probability, some of the breakdowns were do to the fact that, in the past, someone wired our 24 v cooling fans in the engine room with 12 volts. Twenty-four volts will kill a 12 v motor and vice-versa. We are a good-way into the trip and we have had tremendous luck with things running smoothly but this last passage was hellish in the break-down department. Luckily, our temporary 2nd Mate, Fabien, was as diligent a worker as I have ever seen and a classically trained engineer. At twenty-six years of age, he's wise well-beyond his years and was able to diagnose a lot of troubles so when we made it to port, it made it easy for the electricians to do their work. The amazing thing about him is that he did what he was able to do and confident enough in his skill that he didn't have to praise himself or seek praise from others. The man just did what he was trained to do and did it extremely well. Furthermore, he is a helluva' guy to have around and socialize with and spend time. He works hard and plays hard. When the work is done, he makes it a point to pull out the ukelele and I the guitar, and we'd play a little Izzy and sing "Somewhere over the Rainbow" Hawaiian-style. I like that. The man understands the important balances of life. We will miss you, Fabien! Bon voyage, our friend! We shall meet again. As always, love and miss you all. Te amo, Merce. Brown-Eyed Girl out.