Waya Island - a proper resort

A traditional Fijian Meke
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We left Nabua Lodge (again) to the strains of Isa Lei, the traditional and beautiful Fijian farewell song. Ron’s singing wasn’t quite as world class as most Fijian’s but it nonetheless brought a tear to everyone’s eye as they sung to us on the white sands of Nacula island.

Our next stop in the Yasawa chain was Waya island, the largest and highest of all the islands. We were reunited with the Danish family aboard the Yasawa Flyer, John managing to squeeze three beers into the hour journey we were with them. Although we were ready for new lodgings this time round we were nonetheless sad to say goodbye to the Danes again and, of course, to the wonderful Canadians. The last glimpse of them was a collective signature Chief salute melting into the horizon.

Hammock world record

Beautiful Waya Island
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Arriving at Octopus Resort on Waya Island it became clear that this was a very different outfit to Nabua Lodge. We were seated with the other new arrivals next to a freshwater pool (a POOL!) and provided with a fresh iced juice and then giving a comprehensive briefing about the resort before being taken to our accommodation. The only thing available when we had booked had been a double tent. Needless to say we had been a bit worried about surviving four nights in a tent in the relentless Fijian heat but we were greeted by the site of a huge family affair equipped with double mattress, and fresh towels.

Playtime Fiji style
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It took us a few days to get our head around it and we felt like we shouldn’t really be there, at this seemingly five star resort. Each dinner time we waited for a Chief to stand up and repeat the same joke about no naked swimming and a few times I had to restrain Chris from taking up the gauntlet himself. And they cleaned our tent! The poor lady was nearly wrestled to the ground as we saw her loitering inside the porch of our tent but we soon relaxed when we saw that all she was armed with was a dustpan and brush.

However, unlike our brief flirtation with Manta Ray we were ready to give up the ghost of Nabua and immerse ourselves in what was on offer at Octopus. The first night was movie night and in the faint glow eminating from the pool we enjoyed a viewing of Pirates of the Caribbean II on the huge projector screen. At Octopus the clientele are slightly different, there is a cross-section of guests encompassing retirees, honeymooners without backpacks, families, and solo travelers. It is easy not to mix if you don’t want to except at mealtimes when you dine on large wooden table and are treated to gourmet fare. Activities are run daily (morning and afternoon) ranging from snorkel safari’s and village visits to basket weaving and introduction to diving courses. After our dive debacle in Nacula with Westside Diving (8m visibility, 14 divers and crumbling coral) we thought we would give diving with Octopus a go. The omens were not good as the boat broke down and the nobody picked up the radio at two resorts. We then entered the water at the wrong end of a reef drift dive and the visibility was 5-8m. As we surfaced Becs informed me that “this would not happen at Nabua”…..that’s because they don’t offer diving but I knew what she meant.

Most days we enjoyed snorkeling with the schools and schools fish that are in abundance just off Octopus beach and even managed to take a guided hike to the third highest viewpoint on Waya which enabled us to enjoy an unspoilt view of the Yasawa chain, some of the Manamucas and even the distant shores of Viti Levu, the main island.

We had kept ourselves to ourselves for most of the stay, that was until games night. With free bottles of champagne on offer we made sure we got fully involved. We won 3 out of 5 bottles of champers on offer, me finally finding I had a talent for the limbo (this is Becs again now, I think those who know Chris well can picture him trying the limbo) and shared them with some other keen campers who had helped us win. Needless to say we partied into the night and ended up in the swimming pool, Chris and I sheltering the single women from the dodgy American sailor who circled like a shark. Chris and I were so hungover the next day we slept a full seven hours on a hammock. Seemingly everyone in the resort came and had a look at us dribbling and couldn’t wait to tell us that night.

I never thought as an English woman I would get sick of sun, sand, sea and hammocks but after two weeks of island living we were itching to leave. So we waved goodbye to the islands, vowing to return one day, certainly to Nabua and headed back to Nadi.