A remote beach picnic on your own private island is a must-do excursion at Yasawa Island Resort, Fiji. Photo / Supplied
Courtney Whitaker escapes reality at the Yasawa Island Resort
"It's called the pregnancy cave."
Smeagol, our guide, grins mischievously as he perches in a sheltered corner of the beach, gathering us close to tell the story of the Sawa-i-Lau Caves.
Beads of sweat run down his forehead but he remains resolute. Today, he wears many hats: tour guide, lifeguard, storyteller - and he is itching to share with us the secrets kept inside the caves.
He continues, "Is there anything anyone wants to tell me? I can't come in and rescue you if you get stuck." Laughter swells among the group as he pretends to inspect the bellies of a few men for pregnancies. After all, becoming lodged in the Pregnancy Cave permanently is not on the itinerary today.
Sawa-i-Lau Caves in the remote Yasawa Islands group does indeed house a cave that, according to legend, would reveal a woman's hidden pregnancy when she became stuck in the cave and unable to get out. Today, however, we would be only visiting the main cave and a smaller sister cave with less controversial reputations. The film The Blue Lagoon, starring a young Brooke Shields, was famously filmed here in the 80s, and tourists still flock here because of it.
Our group of 10 is ushered single-file down narrow steps into the main cave and we take turns to duck under a precarious low-hanging rock. Inside, the limestone cave walls rise to cathedral proportions and light filters in from above, illuminating the turquoise lagoon. It's ethereal and intimidating.
There is no time for hesitation as we plunge one by one into the water. It is not as cold as I had imagined it would be and makes for a refreshing change from the 30C heat outside. Through our snorkel masks we are able to spot red snapper hovering below, which indicates there is more sea water than fresh water filtering into the cave today, and I exhale a sigh of relief.
A higher concentration of fresh water would have meant we would have been keeping rather less appealing company - freshwater eels.
It is as if nothing has changed when we arrive.
Beautiful broad Fijian smiles, a sudden thick heat, the familiar smell of frangipani, a man strumming a happy tune on a ukelele.
We are finally in Fiji and the heavy years of a global pandemic are shed as quickly as our warm jumpers as we disembark the plane. It has been more than two years since we'd left New Zealand and, after so many previous attempts to visit Fiji had been scuppered, it feels surreal to be buckling ourselves into the little Sunflower Air plane that is to whisk us off to our remote home for the next four nights.
We leave Nadi and skim low across the ocean, bound for the Yasawa Islands. The sun bounces off the twinkling sea and atolls became more and more frequent the further we fly. Lagoon pockets inside the reefs are fifty shades of aqua and teal, and we are so mesmerised we almost miss the Yasawa archipelago coming into view.
Made up of a long strip of around 20 islands, the Yasawas are sprinkled with volcanic mountain peaks, clear waters, white-sand beaches and lush vegetation. Laden mango, guava and banana trees are everywhere on the island, which, along with the versatile cassava root, provide food for locals and visitors alike. Farming and fishing make up the 27 villages' other sources of trade.
"You won't find any traffic jams here!" laughs manager Kerry, as she drives us over rugged, potholed terrain from the airstrip to our resort. Roads don't exist here in the Yasawas but beauty is in abundance.
Arriving at the Yasawa Island Resort is nothing short of euphoric. The reception and restaurant buildings are designed to exude tasteful luxury and are built using local materials, while the inviting infinity pool looks fit to languish in and drink in the unspoiled beach views in front of it. The resort's staff gather to welcome us "home" in song while we sip on fresh coconuts.
Our traditional Deluxe Beachfront bure is one of only 18 at the resort and a pleasant walk from reception, down a lush garden path and past a few other bures - all nicely spaced out for privacy and each a few metres from the sea.
Our bure has majestically high thatched ceilings, a generous lounge and bedroom area, an outdoor shower and an expansive deck, perfect for enjoying birdsong and the sound of waves lapping on the beach. The decor is traditionally Fijian - a piece of local wall art here, a beautiful wood carving there - all totally unpretentious but it is space not lacking in creature comforts. The gorgeous coconut-scented Pure Fiji products in the bathroom are in sustainable, refillable pump bottles and we are also supplied with refillable drink bottles, to make the most of the resort's desalinated drinking water.
Importantly, Wi-Fi is not available in the bures but can be found in the pool area and reception. The overriding message here is to disconnect from reality and unwind into a slower pace of life. As the locals say, things here are on "Fiji time ... no hurry, no worry".
That evening, we find our private beachfront daybed to be the perfect spot to watch the sun setting on the ocean. Guests from a neighbouring bure join us to bask in the magnificent red glow; Mother Nature's nightly reminder that it's time for dinner.
"Whatever I cook, it's only things I love," says head chef Manasa Tiko. He has lived on the island his whole life and tells me he is so "proud to be born in paradise". As is tradition on many of the outer islands like this one, he tells me some of his children have gone to the mainland to attend secondary school and they also have aspirations of becoming chefs.
Chef Manasa is passionate about teaching us about his home through food, and it shows on the plate. On the dinner menu one evening is a traditional Fijian lovo - meat, fish and vegetables have been carefully prepared and then slow-cooked in an underground pit on the beach, similar to a hāngī. The tender deliciousness of the slow-cooked food is well worth the effort that goes into its preparation and is a big hit with the guests.
As well as the famous Blue Lagoon Caves, fishing is a popular excursion for some guests, who rise early the next morning to join the locals as they head out for the catch of the day. We watch as the fishing boat returns, replete with happy guests and an impressive haul. A massive barracuda is unloaded off the fishing boat and on to some industrial scales; it's a savage-looking 15kg beast with a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. He's whisked off to the kitchen for dinner.
We head out for a snorkel excursion, hopeful we'll be swimming with some slightly more benevolent creatures. My snorkel mask is an oily melange of saltwater, sunscreen and sand, yet through the blur, success. I am able to spot parrotfish, red snapper, lobster, clownfish and electric blue reef fish. At the "Paradise Wall" our guide points out the different varieties of tropical fish, diving deep to inspect the coral for unfamiliar creatures, and then guiding us toward them.
It wouldn't be a visit to the Yasawa Island Resort though, without the most popular of excursions: a secluded beach picnic. On our final day, we haul ourselves into a speedboat with a chilly bin packed to the gills with lunch supplies, cold water and plenty of bottles of "Fiji Baby" (Fiji Bitter). We are deposited at "Lovers One" - a stunning private, white-sand beach that could be straight from a movie. It's everything I could ever want in a beach: clear warm water, swaying palm trees, no (visible) sea snakes, and complete isolation; I half expect to see an unkempt Tom Hanks walk out from behind a tree.
The resort's daily Sand Paper newsletter that morning had printed a Fijian "word of the day" for us to learn: Lomalagi. Heaven. And I think we found it here, on Lovers' One.
On our final evening in paradise, we dine on an unbelievable seafood platter. It is a bounty of lobster, mud crab, bugs, crayfish, prawns, fresh fish fillets and my all-time favourite, kokoda (raw fish in coconut milk). The crustaceans are stacked high like a Jenga tower and it is a feast you would find at any extremely posh sea-front restaurant but, everything just seems to taste so much better because it has all been caught locally. We don't know how we'll manage it all, but it's a happy dilemma.
The next morning, the sun is searingly hot and the sore, reddish tinge deepening on my shoulders is not yet uncomfortable enough for me to want to board the seaplane home. But as the staff break into Isa Lei - the traditional Fijian farewell song - the realisation that reality awaits us so soon, starts to hit.
Five days of "Fiji time" have really been the tonic we were searching for, and it's just far enough from home so as to feel completely removed from reality - spoilt and sunsoaked. The staff pull us in for farewell hugs. "Ni sa moce," they say. See you again.
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