Sam Snaaps

Some of my fondest memories of my family are going to buy a Christmas tree from the garden center, wishing I could experience the thrill of passing myself through the aluminium funnel that wraps a tree in mesh. The following days were always the most exciting of the year, slowly training my digestive system to handle more and more shortbread, roast potatoes, and my all time favourite, mum’s brussel sprouts.

The festive celebrations were held in Sekawa this year, a small estate to our west hidden in a valley between two jagged volcanic peaks. The dirt road partitioned the curtains of jungle foliage which had been left in its most natural state, blocking out the blue sky above and removing all sense of orientation.

Looking across the bay from Savusavu to Sekawa, it seems to always be raining on their side of the water, and my first impression was how all this rain was supporting a rainforest so full of life. The air was heavy and humid, but it was well circulated by the forest so it remained fresh, holding the sweet fragrance of wild flowers and ripening fruit. Pollen and nectar was transported from plant to plant by buzzing battalions of insects, which in turn supported a choir or chirping birds hiding above between the branches that only the corner of your eye could glimpse.

Bees and wasps are common pollinators here, but the butterflies are the most eye-catching!

You would not easily stumble across this settlement, as the diverse shapes and colours of tree and flower, and uninhibited growth, block any outline of a house from the outside eye.

If privacy is ones objective, Sekawa should be on ones radar. Stepping out of the car, I felt like all my connection to any part of the outside world was severed. We were inside a tall green box that fluttered in the wind and permitted only the sun to case its gaze on the house from above. There was absolutely no way to guess how many other houses were hidden away inside their own private green boxes.

Socialisation has been a very tough void for me to fill here in Savusavu, so I was worried about spending my Christmas alone, however it was a relief to meet some new people who somehow also made their way into the same tiny clearing of jungle in the middle of nowhere.

We ate a festive lunch; which was mostly salad based for vegetarian me, but tasty nevertheless, we tested out the salt water swimming pool, and closed the party through a rather rude game of cards against humanity. Overall it was lovely to meet some new people who I know I can learn a lot from, and try to bring some Christmas spirit to lonely Savusavu.

Reunited with Tui Qamea.

My first Christmas in Fiji was 5 years ago. Our first and only ever on a sandy beach and warmed by the southern hemisphere sun together as a family, and what a gorgeous memory that was. I had the most amazing time telling me family stories of all my new marine experiences, which at the time was a brand new world for me too.

We had some amazing time snorkeling together, watching the fish and the corals, and one of my fondest memories was seeing an eagle ray hover effortlessly over the reef, with my brother.

On this family Christmas trip, we had snorkeling trips to more distant reefs aboard one of the best boats I have been on in Fiji, named Tui Qamea. I sincerely cherish this experience; taking my family into the environment that I dedicate so much of my life towards learning about, and so perhaps the boat that took us there together has a place in my heart too.

Fast-forward, 5 years later, and my boss tells me about his plans to have a new boat built in Australia and delivered to us in Savusavu by a boat builder who crafted two models for Fiji already. This would have been a long an expensive process, and so we continued to monitor other options that would improve our boating situation in a much more economical way.

We received a call from a bloke who can only be described as the second-hand boat market oracle, who seems to have the inside scoop on every vessel in Fiji. His news was that one of the so called master-craft boats – which was build by the Australian boat builder who my boss was in contact with – was inviting offers.

Only two weeks after I heard about this apparently irresistible opportunity for a new vessel, our bid was successful, and I found myself tying up to our pontoon, and I couldn’t help but notice a sense of familiarity with this boat. Tui Qamea was back in my life, a wonderful coincidence to be reunited after all these years.

Tui Qamea needed a bit of TLC as a result of being totally out of action since covid stopped all operations at its previous home, so I have spent nearly all my time prior to Christmas working on getting it seaworthy before our very busy period moving into the new year. Engine maintenance, electronics, and the removal of almost an entire beach worth of sand have kept me busy, but finally she is ready for me to take some new families on experiences just like the ones that I had with mine one Christmas.

Meeting Antonio.

Unfortunately sea trials of our new Tui Qamea have been limited by some undesirable weather. Typically in Fijian summer, south easterly winds cease their persistence, leaving behind an ocean as flat as a mirror – ideal diving conditions. This year seems to be different, however, as the gusts continue to build large seas well into the supposed ‘calm’ season.

As a result, I have made a regular return to our backup dive sites. The enclosed bay area has clearly suffered a somber fate, just like many other reefs who were exposed to scorching summer temperatures at the beginning of 2023, in excess of 30 Celsius. The main victim has been the branching acropora corals which have lost their sharp definition, lost their colours – chocolaty brown and frosty peaks, and lost their place on the reef. Instead, their hollow skeletons are swamped by furry brown algae.

Though lots of the acropora are lost, enough structure remains, as well as enough coral that have found a way though the heat, for the fish life to persevere through the tribulation. I am learning that the seemingly simple vertebrates are one of my most powerful tools in providing people with a memorable experience lined with enough hope to inspire people to want to protect what is left from future devastation.

The star of the show: Antonio. A solitary clownfish who I have been observing for many weeks now. Usually one anemone is populated by many fish, and even shrimps, who serve their cnidarian home with the upmost loyalty. Not Antonio, this little tomato-looking fish has sworn allegiance to TWO anemones, and upholds his end of their symbiotic relationship with both of them, all alone.

Anemones are actually animals! They belong to the same phylum (cnidaria) as corals so are distantly related. They come in so many variations but one thing they have in common is their symbiotic relationships with other reef creatures, like clownfish, and shrimp.

Antonio seems to be working his hardest to preserve the health of anemones here while he waits for more anemone fish to return, but for now he captures the attention of me, and many other divers like we are moths to his beam of light. He will seek out our attention, following our hands around as we wiggle our fingers, and even putting his eyes up to our masks as if to grab a closer look at us and maybe even convey a message though his body language.

Interaction is so powerful because it creates a connection between creature and diver, enforcing their positive memories of the underwater experience. It also creates a talking point for when we resurface and I get to go into science and conservation mode, which is the purpose of my time here.

Antonio is not the only interactive critter on our reefs. We have corals that flash different colour when you get too close, shrimps that will clean whatever part of you that you offer them, even going inside your mouth to clean your teeth! Even down to the colourful christmas tree worms, which are appropriate for this time of year, that have the most ornate colours and geometrical spiraling patters. When you waft water (definitly a technical diving term) towards them, they retract into their burrow in a flash, becoming invisible, and slowly reemerging after a few minutes.

Everything that provides some feedback adds something so unique to a dive that many people don’t expect, and I hope to continue to use interactive tools in the future to strengthen people’s connections to our beautiful ocean.

Bye bye 2023.

December has been a tricky month to round off a long year, but looking back, the lessons I have learned, and achievements I have earned throughout both month and year have really helped me grow as a person. I will take some time in the next days and weeks to reflect upon this year, and how I will move forward stronger, healthier, and happier – prioritising what really is important for me.

Just like many other occasions in Fiji, it will surely be up to me to make anything happen, and for this reason, I will likely spend the time treating myself to some food or a coconut roll, and watching a feel-good movie. I hope everyone else has a wonderful new year celebration, and I will be thinking of you all dearly. Sending you all love, and happy new year!! ❤