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Remoteness

Click the 'Oceania' map on the left and click 'large' to see where the island is... It's basically between Australia and New Zealand.

There's no phone, no mobile, no internet... But there are lots of fish on the coral reefs (snorkelling and diving), good surf, and I will get good at card games and get through some serious reading material, perhaps attain nirvana somewhere along the line in between making sure my little cousins don't get eaten by sharks or gouge themselves to pieces on the coral.

According to this link the number of visitors is limited to 393 at the most at any one time by law, as it's a heritage reserve. It's controlled by the fact that you have to tell them where you're staying before you get the flight.


We arrived at the airport looking like a Samoan family going on an exodus to darkest Africa. Certainly we hadn't left much of our consumer appetite over for any local shops or industry that might be on the island. So our bags were stacked high, we had several surf-boards, an umbrella, a couple of deckchairs, a case of wine and even a pair of speakers carefully stashed as an after-thought in their own carry bag.

Our clothes themselves were pretty minimal, we had about 12kgs each. There's not really much need for anything apart from board shorts and a rash vest, and a good pair of walking/rock climbing shoes, wearing anything more is just showing off really.

Needless to say our pile of baggage didn't wash at the check-in counter. The limit was 20kg per person, which we just managed by the skin of our teeth, but there was a limit of one item checkable per person. Each of us had one main item, but the other stuff would have to come on the next plane, which was the following day. The guy saw our problem, and thinking laterally, he packed our various loose items into one large plastic bag for us, which reduced the count. He explained there was no way to refuel on the island, so if there was too much weight on the plane, the plane would have to carry double fuel tanks to make sure it could get back to the mainland safely. The other stuff, including our boards would have to come out on tomorrow's plane.

Out on the tarmack we heard that there were strong tropical storms coming in off the coast. This meant that we would have to take the double fuel-tanks, and the extra weight of the fuel meant we had to offload some of the bags, which meant some of us would have no bags when we arrived. Fortunately the climate on the island is good enough that you could probably get away with wearing the same clothes for the whole time. You might just want to take some industrial strength deodorant.

Alex was fairly convinced that she saw Di's bag getting taken back to the airport and grinned broadly.

I sat next to Tsering on the plane and watched Sydney, its beaches and the coastline gradually slip out of view, replaced by the vast blue ocean and the occasional sparkle of the sun on the crests of the waves. On the plane I read my book "The Psychology of the Seventy Stanzas on Emptiness" which features commentary by my childhood friend Geshe Sonam Rinchen and translations by David Komito, who looks familiar, although most people with a beard would. I have vague memories of interrupting their work on this book with boysterous comments and attemps to join in on the philosophising.

I also have a copy of The Da Vinci Code, which looks promising. The first book shop I asked at had said it was sold out everywhere and it would be hard to find. Eventually when I found a copy at another, the ladies at the till both started a virtual tirade on the book and how fascinating it was. There should be a list somewhere of books like that, it's a shame to read so much rubbish to find the rubies in the dust. Although I wonder if you would be able to appreciate the rubies without the dust.

The rude 6:30am awakening that morning eventually caught up with me and I found myself drifting in and out of sleep, until I heard a voice say we were about to reach the island. It reminded me a little of somewhere in New Zealand, with steep cliffs, overgrown and with some of the flax that tends to do well in windy locations. There were lagoons with turquoise water and large sea birds circled in the skies above the island. The weather was obviously dark and gusty as parts of the cliffs were obscured by swirling mists and the plane was being tossed from side to side as we approached.

As luck would have it Di had her bag, but Alex didn't, along with Hayley, Charlie and Al. The chances of seeing our surfboards the next day weren't looking great. It wasn't especially bothered, there were mountain bikes, we had some snorkel gear, and we could go body-surfing.

A girl by the name of Honour met us and drove us to our home for the stay. It was at the top of a hill, surrounded by forest and lush overgrowth, about 5-10 minutes walk from the beach and within crawling distance of one of the only restaurants on the island, which as it turns out also serves excellent cocktails. Alex, Tsering and I shared a bungalow, with the girls taking the double bed and me keeping guard on a single bed in the lounge.

So after a visit to the beach and a dip in the surf and a trip to get some groceries, beers and general supplies, we had dinner at the restaurant, which was just awesome. I had antipasto and Kingfisher and some good cocktails and goofed around with the kids.

Pretty soon the drinks and excitement of the day caught up with me and I was overcome by a strong sleepy feeling and had to Joe out. I found out later that Sez (Tsering) had had less luck, the red bull she had before dinner kept her up for a while, and by extension Alex too.

I had weird dreams, of people I hadn't seen since I left Europe.

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