The next stage of our trip takes us to the Solomon Islands for a day dive adventure aboard the MV Bilikiki. This has been a long-time ambition of ours and the trip was carefully planned around these dates and Christmas in NZ; for dive boats such as this you have to book a year in advance. The Solomons played a critical part in WW2. In addition Japan lost planes and pilots and aircrew. We arrive in Brisbane to a smoky haze from the terrible bush fires ravaging Australia and after a comfy night in the airport Pullman, where we leave a bag, we board our Solomon Air flight to Honiara.
Even on the plane the lazy pace of island life is apparent with no rush to board or disembark, a total antithesis to our western obsession with being first in line. The Bilikiki is an old coastal vessel converted some 25 years ago. Likewise the food is plentiful, tasty and fresh and but not haute cuisine.
To our relief all appear to be liberally-minded Democrats bar one — there is always one! Our cruise directors are a delightful couple, Pato and Fernando from Barcelona and Sao Paulo respectively, and the crew all Solomon Islanders — shy and quiet but great fishermen who catch wahu and tuna off the back of the boat. We chug out of port in a grey drizzle. We know the rainy season is close, and we are in the topics so expect a fair amount of rain on the trip and we get it.
The jungle is so dense you can hear but not see the birds. When the sun comes out the lagoons are azure blue and the sea a deeper indigo. The plan is to island hop, diving en route. Ross is more adventurous mostly doing at least four. We get a taste for island life with the revictualling of the boat on the second evening. Canoes appear laden with fruit and vegetables — papayas as large as cannonballs, spiky pineapples, big sheafs of spinach, great orange pumpkins, sweet and Irish potatoes, cassava, tiny red tomatoes, spring onions — paddled by mothers and children, several with peroxide blonde hair as a result of a recessive gene and smiling giggling girls.
All pile up their produce in the tinnies and the market begins. Fernando has a money pouch and buys from almost every person, spreading the wealth. Apparently the Bilikiki gave the locals seeds years ago to set up this symbiotic cottage industry. Pato has brought batteries and hair-bands for the women, which she also dispenses fairly.
