Ross Thorby: After all, there were ex-cannibals – what could go wrong?

And finally there was land. We had to miss Samoa and Tonga, but more about that in another column.

We had sailed on from the Hawaiian Islands, making it in record time. Finally, we had docked in the hastily organised bonus port of Lautoka.

We sailed along a coast of lucious forest with very little in the way of buildings or landmarks other than a huge mountain towering high above the skyline.

An organised ship excursion had caught my eye – ziplining, with the added bonus that it was situated on a mountain owned by ‘ex-cannibals'.

This harkened back to when speed and danger were the ingredients of any good excursion for me so why not? After all, there were cannibals and, as I have often said, “what could go wrong?”

There was a party of eight of us, quickly uniting to admire the courage of ‘Judy' who was, until yesterday, seen around the ship in a wheelchair. Today she sported only a walking stick and Nikes.

It amazes me the risks some of my comrades will take well away from the careful eyes of their minders. How she figured she was going to climb a sacred mountain was anyone’s guess.

A two hour bus ride along unpaved roads and we were at the village of Tau, occupied by the descendants of the fierce Navatua tribe who once ruled the area and used the caves at the mountain’s peak for despatching their enemies on what was called the 'Killing Stone’.

So it was with some trepidation we were delivered into the hands of the tribesmen and given a rudimentary lesson in ziplining before we began our trek up the mountain’s slippery steps.

Judy, our game and adventurous octogenarian, promising a hearty tip, had garnered the services of two strapping Fijians keen to carry her up, although what they planned to do once we had reached the top, we did not know.

Climbing up through the rainforest, we could hear the high-pitched scream of wheels on wire mixed with inhuman shrieks making us look at each other in horror.

And then, it was our turn. We had reached our first stage, straddled into a harness and, without ceremony, pushed off into the abyss.

It didn't take long for us (me) to join the chorus of screams as feet and body brushed against the tops of mountainous trees, streams and waterfalls slipping below in a blur of color and exhilaration.

It was almost a relief that the cannibal caves were closed to us kaivalagi (white people) due to flooding deep within and would keep its secret of the 'Killing Stone' for another time.

On one of the longest zips we were warned not to brake as we could be stuck in the middle of the run and have to be rescued. Braking wasn't a problem.

I had gotten hooked on the speed that the zips could reach along the wires, but Judy, who had left her two minders (all brawn and lava lava) back at the station, did decide to brake.

She stopped in the middle of the line and was left hanging, impotent and dangling, over the canopy of the forest.

I, of course, was behind her and bearing down fast. I had no way of avoiding her; the look of panic in her eyes and noiseless scream were palpable as we both imagined being trapped in a human Newton pendulum, forever more bouncing back and forth into eternity.

With no choice but to brake, I managed to stop just in time, but then, of course, we were both stuck.

‘Setu', who stood on the tower shaking his head and presumably muttering some unmentionable Fijian words, sent the boys down the tower to prepare for rescue.

How? I had no idea, but I wasn’t waiting to find out. There was nothing for it but to let go of my safety harness and pull us both, hand-over-hand, along the 200-odd metres back to safety.

I made sure that I rode before her after that.

We arrived exhausted but exhilarated at the bottom of the mountain. No-one was more thrilled than our adventurous Judy, hand delivered by her strapping escorts looking very pleased with themselves after receiving a sizable tip.

Following a final headcount to ensure no-one was ‘retained' for a 'Killing Stone' ceremony, we returned to the ship by more conventional means, safe in the knowledge that even though Fiji is in our own back yard and oft visited by us, there are still hidden surprises to discover — together with the odd ex-cannibal. (ROSS THORBY

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Published 3 July 2023