On October 3rd, still with the sparkling images of Fulaga — a truly one-of-a-kind island — fresh in our eyes, we set off again for Ogea, just a few miles away to the east.
The Fulaga pass
Once out through the Fulaga pass, in conditions considerably more favourable than on our way in, we reached Ogea after a couple of hours of pleasant sailing. The next morning, following the advice of a friendly French solo sailor on the best time to reach the village, we left with the tide ebbing, but not yet at its lowest: this allowed us to get within about 500 metres of the first houses of the village by dinghy, and then continue on foot.
We noticed that the row of houses facing the beach was abandoned; we were later told that storm surges had gradually reached and damaged the lower part of the dwellings, pushing the population to move further inland.
After getting directions to the village chief’s house, we completed the sevusevu ceremony, and politely declined a lunch invitation for the following day, since we were planning to leave the next morning.
After a short walk through the village, we bought 5 litres of gasoline at the only little shop around.
The village left us with a lovely impression, thanks to its well-kept houses painted in vivid colours and the presence of essential services.
Ogea’s Post OfficeA typical Fijian bathroom
In the afternoon we took the dinghy out to the RFNS Puamau, a modern Fijian Navy patrol boat, now abandoned and tied with ropes to the nearby rocks. The vessel, only just delivered by Australia under the Pacific Maritime Security Program, tragically ran aground on Fulaga’s barrier reef in June 2024, during its very first patrol mission in the Lau Islands. After weeks of complex salvage operations, carried out with the help of specialised Australian teams, the boat was recovered from the reef and towed to the calmer waters of Ogea for damage assessment — but it has remained there ever since, the silent wreck of a career that lasted only a short time.
RFNS Puamau
Near the wreck, the coastline was densely covered with mangroves, a precious ecosystem: their aerial roots filter sediment before it reaches the reef, protecting it from pollution and turbidity, and they serve as a natural nursery for countless fish species. They are also a natural barrier against coastal erosion, absorbing wave energy, and are among the planet’s most effective carbon sinks, capable of storing extraordinary amounts of CO2.
Lush mangrove vegetation
On the morning of October 5th, we moved to anchor off Ogea Driki, the smaller island, to enjoy the spectacle of the “sea waterfalls.” At low tide, Ogea Driki’s barrier reef reveals one of its most striking sights: driven by the swell, the ocean spills over the reef and pours into the lagoon below, creating small cascades. We then spent a lovely day soaking up the sun on one of Ogea Driki’s beautiful beaches.
Little sea “waterfalls”A stunning deserted beach on Ogea DrikiZoe in the distance
On October 3rd, still with the sparkling images of Fulaga — a truly one-of-a-kind island — fresh in our eyes, we set off again for Ogea, just a few miles away to the east.
Once out through the Fulaga pass, in conditions considerably more favourable than on our way in, we reached Ogea after a couple of hours of pleasant sailing. The next morning, following the advice of a friendly French solo sailor on the best time to reach the village, we left with the tide ebbing, but not yet at its lowest: this allowed us to get within about 500 metres of the first houses of the village by dinghy, and then continue on foot.
We noticed that the row of houses facing the beach was abandoned; we were later told that storm surges had gradually reached and damaged the lower part of the dwellings, pushing the population to move further inland.
After getting directions to the village chief’s house, we completed the sevusevu ceremony, and politely declined a lunch invitation for the following day, since we were planning to leave the next morning.
After a short walk through the village, we bought 5 litres of gasoline at the only little shop around.
The village left us with a lovely impression, thanks to its well-kept houses painted in vivid colours and the presence of essential services.
In the afternoon we took the dinghy out to the RFNS Puamau, a modern Fijian Navy patrol boat, now abandoned and tied with ropes to the nearby rocks. The vessel, only just delivered by Australia under the Pacific Maritime Security Program, tragically ran aground on Fulaga’s barrier reef in June 2024, during its very first patrol mission in the Lau Islands. After weeks of complex salvage operations, carried out with the help of specialised Australian teams, the boat was recovered from the reef and towed to the calmer waters of Ogea for damage assessment — but it has remained there ever since, the silent wreck of a career that lasted only a short time.
Near the wreck, the coastline was densely covered with mangroves, a precious ecosystem: their aerial roots filter sediment before it reaches the reef, protecting it from pollution and turbidity, and they serve as a natural nursery for countless fish species. They are also a natural barrier against coastal erosion, absorbing wave energy, and are among the planet’s most effective carbon sinks, capable of storing extraordinary amounts of CO2.
On the morning of October 5th, we moved to anchor off Ogea Driki, the smaller island, to enjoy the spectacle of the “sea waterfalls.” At low tide, Ogea Driki’s barrier reef reveals one of its most striking sights: driven by the swell, the ocean spills over the reef and pours into the lagoon below, creating small cascades. We then spent a lovely day soaking up the sun on one of Ogea Driki’s beautiful beaches.