International photographer (Jan-Dec 1941)

The City of Suva, cross-roads of the South Seas. SOUTh Of ThE EQUATOR Some of these days when you are wandering around down in the vicinity of the International date line and just a little south of the equator, I'd like to have you drop in on me for a few days' visit — or make it a week or a few months, just as you wish, but anyhow, I think you will like this little island paradise of mine. The upper picture on pages 14 and 15 I Exhibit "A") will give you an idea of your first glimpse of it as you arrive after a 50-mile boat trip from Suva, a trip that will hold you spellbound every foot of the way. Casting off at high tide from the rock wall that holds back the sea from the Grand Pacific Hotel on three sides, you can practically step from your room into the boat. Slipping out to the inter-island boat channel that runs just inside the barrier reef you may see the surf breaking mountain high with a terrifying roar on the outside as you glide safely along on glassy smooth water. For a few miles you circle the mainland past heavy mangrove jungles and seemingly endless native fish traps, finally swinging up the Rewa River. Here is one of the places where the Colonials as well as the natives catch their famed food delicacy, "white bait," the tiny spawn of the white fish, which in season may be seen in teeming billions along the banks of the Rewa. Their countless numbers literally turn the water white along the shore and they can be dipped up by bucketsful. The tiny fish are about one-quarter of an inch long and are cooked just as they come from the water, except for possibl) a slight rinsing, and when mixed with the proper batter and baked or fried are just about the best sea food you ever 12 tasted, excepting a half a dozen or more others I might mention later. After a few miles you turn into the Wainabocassi (wine a bo cassi ) a river, the likes of which they have attempted in many a jungle film, but which I have yet to see faithfully reproduced. Winding right angle turns, U turns, S turns and after miles of travel you find you are passing on the opposite side of the same village you passed hours before. In fact, you had better keep pretty close to the middle of the stream, for if you go off exploring through the tangled maze of mangrove roots and vines under which your boat will easily pass, you may find yourself hopelessly lost. Sliding past native villages — a studio art director's dream come true; — you round a turn to see a mass of vines swinging from overhanging cocoanut trees actually loaded down with beans six feet long — wow! and on opening a pod you find the beans are square — now ain't that sumpin! Just think of the years they have been trying to develop square peas! Just about the time the stream gets so narrow you fear you have lost it, you pop around a bend and into a canal dug ages ago by the cannibals under King Thackambau, the fiercest and most bloodthirsty cannibal of them all. Old King Thack used to send his men out to hide in the coral heads along the reef and at low tide when women from the neighboring villages came out to gather crabs and such, the men would jump out and bop the gals on the head, which meant a feast and lots of bicarbonate for the King. The neighbors got sore eventually and laid for the King's men, disguising them selves as women. They made it so hot for the King and his gang that they couldn't get out to the reef any more, so he had to dig the canal, for military reasons, you might say, and as an outlet to new hunting grounds. The canal opens out to sea over about two miles of mud flats and it is here among the scattered mangroves you may see that marvel of marvels: the tree climbing fish! In fact, on my last trip to Bali and the South Seas, I stopped off here on the way back and took a party of our scientists out to this spot and gathered a few of these fish for the edification of our fellow passengers on the S.S. Monterey who had scoffed at this and other fantastic tales I had told them. Needless to say, during the next few days our bath tub became a Mecca for nearly everyone aboard ship, including the passengers and crew. After leaving Thackambau's canal you will head out to sea over twelve miles of coral lagoon which I would advise you to traverse during the daylight hours, otherwise you may find your boat impaled on a coral spearhead which will snap off when the tide goes, leaving you stranded in fifteen or twenty fathoms of nothing under you but nice clear water and razor sharp coral. Of course, if you are traversing this stretch in an out-rigger canoe with a native pilot, you are perfectly safe at any time. Anyhow, Exhibit A is the view of this little paradise as you approach it from the mainland, and you can either beach your boat on the quarter-mile white strand or drop anchor in deep water where you (Continued on page 26)