We’ve just left Fiji, having spent almost two weeks travelling to various ports on various islands. The final two days should have been spent in Wallis & Futuna (or Wallis & Gromit as some of the onboard Brits renamed it), but this was changed owing to a SNAFU (if you know, you know) with the port. I suspect that if I listed all the Fijian islands and ports we visited, you’d be none the wiser, and anyway I’m feeling lazy, so I’ll just give you the highlights of what I did in this beautiful country full of friendly people, along with photographs.
It is said that there are many things that can kill you in Australia. I’ve discovered the same to be true of Fiji. In Australia it’s creatures, it’s the wide variety of deadly species; in Fiji it’s the wide variety of deadly man-made activities. The first one I tried was river tubing.
River tubing
15 of us left the port in a minibus, arriving at the river an hour later. We then quickly sped upstream for miles in long motorised boats. Our guide shouted above the engine noise that there are many anacondas in the river. Some people discreetly drew their hands inside the boat. “We have lots of them and they only like white meat!” he said with a wide grin.
We visited a village – this is almost obligatory for any excursion in Fiji – where we were greeted by shy villagers who kept their distance but called “Bula”, which means ‘life’ and is basically a substitute for hello. Our guide pointed out flowers on the ground outside some of the rather dilapidated properties. He told us “If you are single and are looking you put the flowers to the left of your house. If you are married and have somebody cooking you put them on the right”. “What if you’re married but still looking’? said a wise guy. “Put them in the middle” was the instant response.
After the village we were given lunch and then issued with our large inner tubes. Each had a smaller tube fastened within to sit on. The ‘safety briefing’ was indeed brief, and somewhat vague also. Legs were to go up and over the front and be kept up when we hit rapids, which we would do twice.
I climbed into mine and promptly fell out of it, perhaps a portend of what was to come. Someone held the tube for me while I tried to recover my dignity and climb back in. It was at this point, as I looked at my companions – all American, with confident smiles and perfect teeth, that I realised they’d probably all done this before. I was a tubing virgin.
As we set off and quickly went through the first set of rapids, I was unconcerned, floating along in the middle of the group as we continued downstream with glorious scenery all around us. “This is amazing”, I thought. It was so relaxing, so different, so peaceful. However, I noticed that I and another guy had become detached from the main pack, and soon I fell even further behind. I tried to paddle in an effort to catch up, but this didn’t seem to have much effect. “Typical”, I thought, “I’ve probably got the tube with a slow puncture”! Try as I might, I couldn’t make up any ground (water) on my fellow tubers. I wasn’t too concerned, as the current was going to keep me moving inexorably. The guides did call several times encouraging me to catch up, and at one point I was encouraged to grab onto one of the motorised boats which were following us. This caught me up with the group, but I soon drifted apart again.
I saw the group connect together each hanging onto one another but had no idea why; no mention of this had been made in the briefing. They were serenaded by some beautiful singing from the guides. And then I saw them hit the second rapids; much more powerful than the first. They sped up and shot through, their stability and buoyancy obviously assisted by their interconnection. “Oh bugger”, I thought as I followed on all alone.
I hit the rapids and was immediately tipped out of my tube. I had positioned myself facing forward with feet out and up as briefed, but this didn’t help. I managed to keep hold of my tube, one arm slung over it like a life belt. To this day I don’t know if that was the correct thing to do. My baseball cap flew off and I briefly – and ridiculously given the context – thought “Drat, I’ll have to buy another one” but it floated past a few seconds later so I grabbed it and stuffed it down the front of my life belt, where, I remembered, I’d also tightly stuffed my phone, in its waterproof pouch. Amazingly these items together with my spectacles survived the trauma.
The rapids became more, well, rapid! I estimated I was being pulled along at 10-15 mph. I went under a couple of times and got a lungful of water. I started to worry. I had no idea what the length of these rapids was. Then my coccyx and ankle simultaneously bashed hard against an underwater rock. I started to become very concerned. What if I hit more rocks? Should I let go of the tube? Would that slow me down or would I then lose control completely and be tossed and turned through the waves, perhaps striking my head? I clung on, at least this kept my head above water. Perhaps 15 seconds later (although it felt much longer) the last of the backup boats appeared behind me. I wasn’t sure if he could see me, so I cried out for help. With some difficulty and skill, he got the boat close beside me and I managed to grab and hold onto the side. He pulled the tube in (priorities, I thought!) then encouraged me to loop my legs over the side first, which then allowed him to pull me aboard.
I didn’t appear to be any the worse for my adventure; bit of bruising and scraping, and shaken up a little, but nothing that a couple of stiff drinks combined with a long sit in the hot tub back on the ship didn’t sort out. However, it gave me pause for thought. I was booked to go on the longest zip line in the South Pacific a week later. I chatted with a close friend back in Blighty. She wisely pointed out that in this part of the world health and safety is probably not really a thing, (where were the helmets that should normally accompany river tubing?) and that I should proceed with caution. I cancelled the zip lining the next day and a week later was regaled by shipmates about the horrors they’d encountered. Faulty equipment, excessively strenuous, several minor injuries.
