sv evi

On our way from Viti Levu to Vanua Levu, across the Vatu-i-Ra passage, we ran out of water in the tank. We hold 64 gallons in our tank, and carry about 20 more in water jugs that we use for washing diapers and showering and baths for Wade. When we ran out of water in the tank, we had about 3 gallons left (our emergency reserve Nalgenes  and other containers stowed away). It is not a fun feeling to run out of water. Suddenly you become very thirsty! And you are very aware of your finite supply of that life-giving liquid. Do I have enough to cook rice? To brush my teeth? To wash the dishes? We were only 10 days out of Denerau, but hadn’t caught any rainwater because it hadn’t rained. Also, we have no foot pump so we lose a lot of water out our faucet stream (it pours out more than we need). Many boats sailing in the Pacific have water-makers; not us.

We figured we could get through the night but would need to go into the town in the morning before we carried on. In the morning, we dressed up in our traditional Fijian clothes and brought our yaqona (kava root) to do a sevu sevu, figuring we would ask for water after the sevu sevu. We put our water jugs (18 gallons worth) in the dinghy & Riki rowed us to shore. We clambered out onto slippery rocks and climbed up the rocks to the pier. We asked some fisherman where where the chief’s house was, and they pointed their fingers to the top of the hill. Hmm. It was already hot.

At the end of the pier we saw a little restaurant. We walked in and explained our situation, asking for water. The nice Indo-Fijian woman showed me to the kitchen, where I began filling my big jugs with a small pitcher. Meanwhile Riki was chatting to people while holding Wade. After awhile we switched roles, and I sat down on the stoop outside to breastfeed Wade, next to a Fijian woman who was also breastfeeding (sucu is the Fijian word).

The restaurant owner said, “I can’t take money for water” when we offered, but she did accept our yaqona (we had decided to abandon the sevu sieve). I ran across to the market to get some limes and mangos. In the market young teenage girls swooped in with kisses for Wade too quickly for me to fend them off. The restaurant owner’s husband was a taxi driver, and he drove us back to the dinghy and carried the water jugs over the slippery rocks to hand to Riki in the dinghy. I don’t think many yachts stop there, because we were definitely a major attraction for everyone in town.