I thought some might enjoy reading this. It made her elderly aunts laugh and giggle a lot. (they know all the roads in these remote parts.)
Mrs Talasiga in her Diary wrote:
We set out at 7 am – early for us – with two aims: buy 50 kg of potatoes from the [Regional Town] Farmers’ Markets and attend the Aikido class near [Highland Village] at 9 am. [Talasiga] had studied the map and decided that this was achievable within 2 hours by taking the road which runs from [Regional Town] to [Picturesque Plateau] and across to [Highland Village].
“That man in the service station was stupid”, he declared as we left [Regional Town], “he says it’ll take 2 hours to get to [Highland Village].” “Well” I ventured hesitantly, “he could be right.” It was 8.15 am – we had under an hour to get there. Apart from some flute music on the cassette player, we drove on in peaceful contemplation of the surrounding farmland.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about” he mused as we climbed ….. up onto the [Picturesque Plateau], “this road may be winding but look at it – its sealed, has a gutter between the road and the cliff and a safety rail between the road and the drop-off.”
“What?” I asked – given that I hadn’t actually said anything to prompt this declaration.
“You said that the road from [Picturesque Plateau] across to [Highland Village] is steep, winding and difficult: this road is luxury compared to the roads we had in Fiji when I was a kid.”
“Yes, that’s right – I’m referring to the road on the other side of the plateau – not this one.”
[Talasiga] remained unconvinced. Having passed through [a township] we took a left hand turn and commenced our journey down the valley between the [two] Plateaux. The road twisted and turned but generally behaved itself. After about 10 mins we had reached the bottom and turned right. The tar disappeared after a few kms but [Talasiga] was unperturbed: “In Fiji the roads were only single lane and didn’t have guideposts – this road is fine.”
And then the guideposts stopped. We hurtled on: less than half an hour to go and the road was deteriorating.
“Are you sure this is the right road?” the seed of uncertainty had sowed itself in [Talasiga]’s consciousness “This isn’t a forestry road is it?”
“No,” I assured him “this is the road I was talking about.” And then a ‘Road Narrows’ sign appeared and the road became single lane – no place to pull over – a steep cliff on one side and a jungle drop off on the other. Bronze-winged pigeons flashed through the rainforest canopy which draped lazy lianas onto the car roof.
“Ah – this takes me back!” exclaimed [Talasiga] as we swerved and jerked around potholes the size of small lakes.
At 9 am we emerged onto the [Highland Plateau], only short one wheel cover, and headed out of [Highland Village] in search of the Aikido class. More potholes but no cliffs.
“Keep your eyes peeled”, warned [Talasiga] “the hall is below the road on the right – you can only see its roof.”
Fortunately, the hall was also well signposted……. An hour after setting off we pulled in amongst the half dozen cars already there – including a hire car, which struck me as odd. Removing our shoes we made our way up to the stage and watched silently as the class went through their exercises. A man with a long dark ponytail sat on the other side of the stage intent on studying the class. At the end the teacher invited [Talasiga] and the other man to join in a ‘mini class’
“Since you’ve come all this way”, said the teacher.
“Yes, we’ve been on a long journey” [Talasiga] exclaimed.
“This chap has come further.” The teacher noted. “Where has he come from?” I asked.
“Canada” said the teacher.
……
That was fun - I do like the pictures !
