FIND 'ME' TIME ON A DESERTED ISLAND
Remote islands offers chances to share the love, writes Deborah Dickson-Smith.
So, this is what it’s really like to be on a deserted island. The ocean gently lapping at my toes as I gaze out over an infinite expanse of ocean meeting the pale blue sky at some distant unbroken horizon. I can hear waves rippling as they meet the sandy shore, a few sea birds calling out to each other, and far in the distance, the kids, splashing about in the water, happily being supervised by somebody else.
This particular deserted island is called Wailagilili, in Fiji’s Lau Group, a chain of islands that arcs from Taveuni in Fiji’s north, down to the east of Kadavu in the far south. I’m here with Captain Cook Cruises Fiji — who visit these islands four times a year.
There are a dozen or so islands in the chain, some completely uninhabited, others home to a single village. Although some shore excursions are an opportunity to meet the locals who live in this remote archipelago, this afternoon’s excursion is more about enjoying the serenity of an uninhabited island surrounded by white sandy beaches and a turquoise lagoon.
To my left a beach fringed with coconut trees stretches out of sight and to my right, a rocky coastline entices some snorkellers into the turquoise waters. A couple of young kids are playing on the shoreline with their
Fijian nannies and some older kids are trying to see how many of them will fit on a paddleboard without it tipping over. As they play, a bird sweeps down a few times and tries to join in the fun. I’m simply enjoying being here.
That’s the beauty of small ship cruising. As there are fewer than 100 people on board, your fellow passengers easily melt away on the island so everybody can enjoy their space — their "me" time.
On village visits too, the guests disappear in ones and twos for a tour of the school, or the gardens or even villagers’ homes. Village visits in this remote location are a real treat. The locals see so few outsiders they’re almost overjoyed to have guests. When we first arrive, however, there is a shy awkwardness but it melts away quickly as the kids all go and dance to Fijian music, then chase each other through the surf. We hand out some second-hand clothes and a few school things, almost embarrassed that we brought so little, but the kids are grateful and immediately don their new clothes and parade around as if it’s Christmas Day.