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18th September - 26th September, 2005
With the magical atoll of Suvarov slowly slipping away from view behind us, we pointed Skardu’s
bows towards Pago Pago, American Samoa, and prepared for the 450Nm passage. Despite
the relentless rainy squalls we had good tradewinds again and quickly set upon our normal
routine of sailing and fishing. After a large school of leviathans snapped all three of our fishing
lines at once and took two of our lures, we decided that it was probably smarter to start looking for
some smaller fish. After all, since our fridge had been turned off to save power, there was no
easy way of storing extra fish… or was there? As soon as we’d landed a mahi-mahi small
enough to qualify for dinner, we used a combination of Norwegian recipes we’d been given to
dry-preserve the fish on deck “the old Viking way”. Our first attempt left room for improvement,
the result resembling a smelly leather insole for a hiking boot rather than a sumptuous
Scandinavian delight… but it showed promise.
Amid all the fishing, we had also been trying to organize our engine repairs in American Samoa.
After a few phonecalls on the satphone and some intel from the yachts ahead of us, it quickly
became apparent that American Samoa was not the place to get an engine fixed. The only
repair facility there is for the large Pacific tuna-fishing fleet and it was booked up for the next
month. So after consulting our charts we decided to change course for Apia in Independent
(formerly Western) Samoa instead. With hindsight, this turned out to be one of the best decisions
we could have made. Later reports of American Samoa from other yachts were less than
flattering, and seemed to emphasize the fetid smell of the tuna canneries, the dirty harbour and
the ubiquitous fast-food chains, to the exclusion of almost everything else.
“Malo” (Hello) Apia
By comparison Apia, Samoa’s capital, was a sleepy Pacific island city full of old world colonial
charm. However, before we would have a chance to explore any of it we needed to anchor
under sail again. This time we had arrived at noon, and so offered welcomed lunchtime
entertainment to the many onlookers. Fortunately most of them were yachties who were
cheering us on and some even had dinghies on hand in case anything should go awry. Happily
it was another textbook entry. The dried fish had not done much for our appetites, so after a good
siesta, we were ready to experience one of Apia’s highlights that evening; none other than the
reputed fia fia (Samoan feast) at Aggie Grey’s famous hotel.
“Fia Fia” Fit for a King
Aggie Grey started out from a small hut serving hamburgers to US serviceman during World
War II, and went on to develop the most renowned hotel in Samoa, which has become famous
for it's weekly Samoan feasts. Here locals and tourists alike converge to watch a traditional
dance show and appreciate all of the Samoan culinary delights in one place. Now, Samoans
are big people: not only gregarious, but also physically large. You’ve got to love a country where
every man looks like a rugby player, and their wives look like their opposite number. Indeed, it’s
said that while most of us eat until we are full, Samoans eat until they are tired! So, never ones to
shy away from local custom we tucked into most of the local delights on offer, from suckling pig
to the delicious palusami (onions, sweet potato and thick coconut cream, baked in taro leaves),
and made dinner a multi-hour event. Between courses, we were entertained by many of the
hotel’s employees who performed traditional Samoan dances and songs with great enthusiasm.
While the quality of the dancing may not have rivaled that of the dance competition winners in
Tahiti, they looked like they were enjoying themselves far more.
Although we had originally planned to stay in Samoa for at least two weeks, our engine troubles
meant that we had to cut our trip to an all-too-short 5 days, barely enough to get a sense for the
country. We planned an itinerary that would give us some idea of the local attractions, but also
give us an opportunity to explore more of Upolu, Samoa’s main island.
The Other Side of Apia’s Attractions
One of Apia’s, and indeed Samoa’s, most famous residents was none other than Robert Louis
Stevenson of “Treasure Island” fame. He moved to Samoa for medical reasons in 1889, and
was soon revered by the local chiefs who came to call him “Tusitala” or “Teller of Tales”. His
old colonial house has recently been turned into a fine museum, and on the morning we visited,
we had it almost to ourselves. In fact, when we turned up, the only sounds we could hear were
laughter and cheers emanating from somewhere in the surrounding grounds. When we asked
what was going on, we were told that the gardeners and tour-guides were playing volleyball on
their break. Without any prompting we were encouraged to walk through the flower beds to the
hidden volleyball court to join them, and were quickly welcomed into the game. Forget rugby, to
our surprise, we soon found out that volleyball was the national sport of Samoa. This was a far
cry from our no-rules games on the beach in Suvarov. Skinny and large Samoans alike could
jump 3ft off the ground and spike the ball as if they’d been born to it. However, the best part was
that the whole crew would laugh and cheer no matter whether you scored a point or skied the ball
into the surrounding vegetation. With new friends in tow, we were given a personal tour of the
museum, and then invited to visit the village of our young guide the following day. Sadly, we had
already made other plans, but it further exemplified how friendly Samoan culture really is. After a
hike to the top of the nearby hill to enjoy the views over Apia and see Stevenson’s final resting
place (it took 200 sorrowful Samoans to cut this path through the jungle) we grabbed a cab to visit
one of Apia’s other sights: Papase’ea Sliding Rocks. Our timing was perfect because, as we
arrived, a large group of people were just leaving and again we had the place to ourselves.
These natural rock pools are nestled into the surrounding hills, and the idea is that you can slide
down the worn face of three different falls, some as high as 5m, into the pools below. As exciting
as the sliding part may have been, we were far more enthusiastic about plunging into a pool of
fresh water…. our first fresh-water dunking since the Marquesas 3 months before.
Submarine Golf
After a busy day of sightseeing, we decided to have a typical boy’s day out: a round of golf
followed by watching the Samoan national team play rugby league against a visiting Australian
team. First we headed to one of Apia’s two golf courses and after much banter in the car about
how good each of our golf games had become since we’d last played each other, we walked
right on to the course. Amazingly, green fees and rented clubs (only one set available to share
between us, and half the clubs were women’s!) came to less than US$15… a bargain at twice
the price. Despite the course being empty, we were warned that a couple of “regular groups”
teed off later in the morning. Fortunately we were half way around the course before we
discovered what these groups were. Imagine an almost empty golf course, and then on each of
two holes, 12 large Samoans in 4 careening golf carts, shouting and laughing as they played
their way around. The only thing to slow them down was the large rain clouds approaching
overhead. The skies soon opened, and within just a few minutes there was enough rainfall to
drown our golf balls 2/3rds under water as they sat on the green, proving our putters useless.
Only a few minutes more and we were wading almost knee deep in water across the middle of
the fairway in search of our lost balls. New rules we instituted stated that balls must be played
where they lay unless they were at least an inch under water, which made for a very interesting
last hole. For those at all curious, we actually ended the round perfectly tied…. a diplomatic, but
honest result. Sadly, it appeared that the rugby match had been rained off, because the stadium
grounds were empty in the downpour.
Tour around the Main Island of Upulo
On our penultimate day in Samoa, we decided to rent a car (actually a pick-up truck) with our
friends Eric and Berit on the Norwegian yacht 'Fruen Fra Havet' to explore around the island.
Up until now, we had ventured no further than the outskirts of Apia, but it quickly became
apparent how rural the whole island, and indeed country, was. We passed village after village,
each a few miles apart, all approximately the same size, and each sharing many of the same
characteristics: a local church or two (more on this later), lots of 'fales' (pronounced fa-lay, these
are thatched open-sided structures with a floor covered in mats), the odd chicken or goat, and
tons of children playing outside. Village life, and in particular a sense of family community, is
incredibly strong in Samoa. Each extended family has a fale that is used as their main house.
During the day it’s used as a common living area, and at night each family member chooses a
spot to sleep on. Driving around on Sunday morning we saw quite a few piles of children
sleeping on top of each other in their fales; probably catching up on sleep before they were
rushed off to church. We had heard about a couple of villages off the beaten track, and made a
beeline straight for them. At the end of the dirt road we came to the sleepy little village of Saletele,
where we stopped to ask a man if we could take some photographs. It turned out he was the
head of the village, and warmly welcomed us onto his land to have a look around. As some of
his children were busy lighting a fire for lunch, he explained the significance of some of his tattoos
to us, all part of the Fa’a Samoa, or “Samoan way of life”. In Samoa, one of the rights to
becoming a man includes going through many painful sessions of tattooing, and indeed, inking
the large area from naval to knees is seen as a visual badge of courage. Traditionally a
sharpened bores’ tusk is used to pierce the skin, and consequently it takes between 2 weeks to
a month to complete the job. Once the tattooing has begun, it cannot end until completed, or the
person will be permanently marked with dishonour. No chance of getting away with an anchor
or “mother” tattoo here!
The rest of the day was spent driving around the island, admiring church-goers in their finest
Sunday white clothes, and stopping to give rides to any and all locals that were hitch-hiking. It felt
good to finally regain some “positive karma points” after all the rides we have accepted in out of
the way places over the past year, and at one point we had as many as four extra passengers
and their luggage crammed in the back!
A quick note on religion in Samoa: Missionaries were particularly zealous in this part of the world
and the whole country has a strong religious upbringing. In most cases this has been very
effective at reinforcing the already strong family bonds. However it does have its downside. The
churches put continuous pressure on the parishioners to donate money, even announcing each
family’s weekly donations during the church service. It’s not unheard of for people to take out
loans just to be able to tithe to their local church. This leaves many poor families struggling to
make ends meet while the various churches build increasingly larger buildings and pastors
enjoy an affluent lifestyle at the expense of their parishioners. Furthermore, although the
community spirit is admirable, it also makes it very hard for an individual to get ahead, as any
extra earnings are always pumped back into serving the family and village community. We
heard this all directly from some overseas Samoans who had emigrated to New Zealand to try to
escape this vicious cycle.
Police Band in the Rain, tra, la-la, la la.
On our last day in Apia we made sure to get up extra early to be able to watch the daily flag
raising ceremony. True to colonial form, every morning at 7.45am the Police Band of Samoa,
dressed in matching blue shorts and knee-high socks, marches the few hundred meters down
the boardwalk from the police station to the city’s main government building. Vehicle traffic stops,
passers-by are expected to pause in deference, and the national anthem is played as a huge
national flag is formally raised. If only the large rain cloud overhead hadn’t dumped on us, this
could have been a great photo opportunity indeed. We waited outside the police station from 7.30
am… and waited, and got wet, and waited some more, until we looked down the street and
noticed that the flag had been raised already! On questioning one of the local policemen, it turns
out that the marching band didn’t want to get wet, so a couple of policemen had driven up to the
government building on the sly and raised it themselves! We found ourselves with some spare
time so instead we paid a visit the colourful local market to stock up on supplies for the next week.
Quick departure
On the way back to the yacht, we checked the weather forecast and discovered that we had a
decent weather window to head down to Tonga. We had been in contact with a boatyard in the
Tongan island group of Vava’u, and determined that they were our best bet to get our engine
repaired, so we didn’t want to waste any time in getting down there. We raised anchor on a calm
afternoon, vowing to give Samoa a longer visit next time around, and were gliding gently out of
the harbour with full sails up when out of nowhere a great squally wind picked up and ejected us
out past the breakwater with our sails straining hard. By the time we had put a reef in the sails to
cope with the gusty conditions we were being propelled towards Tonga at 8 knots!
