We decided to do a bit of exploring the next morning so put on our walking shoes, headed ashore and hit the road. In the area surrounding the resort, there are blocks of land being sold to persons wanting an “island getaway” or perhaps an escapist lifestyle. So far, at least a dozen homes have been built, some quite posh, and others pretty basic.
Koro is far from a weekend retreat, in fact, it is far from everything. We stopped to chat with one American couple from Denver who were finishing their home, which was perched on top of the highest hill in the development. They were happy to take a break from sawing and nailing to describe to us what it was like to live on Koro.
The “roads” are mostly unpaved and turn into slip-n-slides whenever it rains, which is often. There are NO utilities. Each home is self-contained. Electricity comes from solar panels and/or a generator. It is stored in golf cart batteries, much like on a cruising yacht. Water comes from the heavens and is captured on the roof and channeled from the rain gutters into a cistern. If there is a drought, then you must drive to a spring and fill jugs. To make a phone call, one must go to the post office in the nearest village and wait in line. Most of the island’s population have never seen a computer or heard of the Internet.
There is no grocery store on Koro, only 15 small villages whose people survive by fishing and subsistence farming of fruits, veggies and root crops. The couple we met told us that they did their shopping at the grocery store in Suva once a month. This involves a nine-hour ferry ride, each way, and an overnight stay. The ferries don’t run when they break down or if the weather is bad. In the odd event that the ferry is on schedule, it arrives at Koro at 2 am. By the time they get everything home and put away, it is 5 am. If they need to borrow a cup of sugar, their closest neighbor is a half-mile down the road. The closest Starbucks is 1100 miles away. Koro is one of the few final frontiers on this planet, a beautiful tropical island surrounded by deep blue water where one can still come and own a slice of paradise, light years away from reality. It’s the kind of place that is (and has been) the setting for one of those trendy “Survivor” type TV shows.
We set sail on Thursday for Savusavu, 35 miles to the north. Along the way, the southerlies faltered, so we ended up motorsailing about half the way. Returning to “civilization,” we all enjoyed being tied to the Copra Shed Marina, plugging into shore power, having a long shower, a drink at the Savusavu Yacht Club, a meal out and some concrete under our feet again.
Savusavu is a busy little town that has it roots in the copra (coconut) trade. Since that has waned a bit, like many parts of Fiji, it is slowly shifting to tourism. In the case of Savusavu, it’s eco-tourism. This is great hopping off spot that’s close to remote islands, world class SCUBA diving, jungle hiking and a host of other “eco” activities. Savusavu has a small marina complex, an airstrip, one decent grocery store, three banks (one even has an ATM inside), a farmer’s market, a few cafes, a dozen churches and an assortment of other small retail businesses. The social center for the local expats is the Planter’s Club, and for the yachties it’s the Savusavu Yacht Club.
Savusavu Harbor
The big event of the week is the local dance on Friday nights at the Hot Springs Hotel. Everybody that’s anybody in town shows up. The cover charge is $5, the drinks are expensive and weak, the DJ is hopeless, but it’s “people watching” at its best. And just like at a hockey game, every now and then a fight breaks out.
Savusavu seems to attract a lot of expats, as the area offers about 80% of the freehold (outsiders can buy and own free and clear) land available in Fiji. The expats generally fall into two categories; people wanted by someone, and people not wanted by anyone. Hang out here for a week and you can generally figure out which are which. This seems to be a place where retired marijuana farmers, tax dodgers and those running from a business deal gone bad, come to disappear and live in peace. Some call themselves “real estate brokers.” It’s places like this that make cruising interesting.
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