“Grab a drink”, shouted the woman at the stall, waving what looked like tomato juice at us. We had just finished talking to the New Zealand Biosecurity officials about the requirements for getting the boat into New Zealand, and were settling in on the beach to watch a round of hobie cat races.
David grabbed a glass, taking a bite of the crunchy celery stick.
He took a sip and winced, unprepared for the hit of vodka, his tastebuds not quite ready for the onslaught of alcohol at 8 am in the morning.
“It’s not too strong”, said the woman.
It was regatta week in Musket Cove, in the Mamanuca group of Fiji. The normally calm bay was transformed from a mellow anchorage abutting a moderately empty resort into a heaving mayhem of drunken festivity for one week. Most of the yachties in Fiji were here, taking part in not-so-serious racing and very serious drinking. Each day a plethora of activities were on offer, from hobie races to hairy chest competitions, each attended by scores of bleary eyed boaties happy to have an excuse to party.
We had come to Musket Cove to go kitesurfing, on the flat water next to the sandbar edging the bay as well as on the nearby Namotu break, a world famous wave. Our participation in the regatta events was unintentional, but as it turned out that several of our boating friends with kids were there, we happily joined in for a bit of post kitesurfing fun and games.
Our old pal Andrew from Raglan joined us in Musket Cove for a day, having just delivered a superyacht from New Zealand. Tempted by the wind, Andrew managed to find one day in his busy schedule where he could grab a ferry from Nadi, so we picked him up and went to Namotu for the day on the wave.
By this stage we had perfected the boat launch, slowly feeding out the lines to send the kite out behind the anchored boat and gently manipulating them until the kite sat nicely on its side, bobbing up and down on the water surface, fastened to a carabina on a piece of line hanging off the boat, ready for one of us to jump in the water, hook in, and get going.
Next to us on the sandbar was the superyacht owned by one of the Google executives, a great monstrosity of gleaming powerboat housing tired uberrich people for their week of relaxation and kiting in the tropics.
And so the week went, kiting alternating with watching pseudo races and judging dinghy decorating competitions. The kids had a ball catching up with their boat kid friends, roaming along the beach in thick gangs, fired up on lollies and icecream from treasures found buried under the sand.
When not roaming on the shore, the kids took turns flying their new trainer kite, swooshing it around in big figures of eight, feeling the pull of the kite in the light breeze.
SV Bob The Cat 