A Favorite

Dear People of Vulaga,

Thank you. 

In over forty thousand nautical miles of sailing, there are very few places we have departed with truly heavy hearts. Vulaga tops that short list. Perhaps our chest pangs are born from uncertainty; as the most remote village in Fiji’s Lau Group, we don’t know if we’ll ever make it back. 

Your home is not easy to reach. Without an airport, one needs not only a boat, but an elusive weather window to sail east against the trade winds. We were lucky to snatch an early-season southwesterly. We were blessed. 

For weeks, we had you and your islands all to ourselves—our host family, the school children (who are so content with their piece of the world they’ve never even heard of New York), the quiet anchorages, and the empty beaches. 

Then, another boat arrived. Then one more, until there were twenty. Suddenly, friends, foilers, and banana bread were everywhere all at once. Clive set up a course, and every afternoon the Vulaga Foilers raced. Boat work and different flavors of “real” work were sandwiched between morning coffees, game nights, and beach bonfires. An endless stream of laughter seemed to permeate it all. 

Mornings were the exception. Everyone paused in silence as the sun stretched its rays across the horizon. Day after day, light fluttered through the sculpted coral islets until a burst of brilliance cracked the sky open, washing the shore in color. Only once did I wake before dawn. Then, it was just me and the moon.

A part of us is yours,

Jill & Michael