Xmas travels part II...Christmas and the Devil

We spent three days in Munda, allegedly one of the Solomon Islands’ most populous towns, but to my eyes nothing more than a small village strung along the water on the edge of the magical Roviana lagoon: sleepy, immaculately tidy, very friendly, and peaceful. Before I left England I found myself repeatedly quoting the fact that there are 992 islands in the Solomons (practically the only thing I knew before I left), but only when I arrived in the West did I realise the implications of this. All around, stretching as far as the eye can see, are hundreds of small, lush green islands, most fronted by thin stretches of sandy white beaches. Christmas Day we spent on just such an island, with Fiona’s auntie Alice and large extended family. A day of relaxation, gentle exploration, paddling about in the wobbly dugouts, a slap-up barbeque including motu pigpig (a whole pig roasted underground – rapidly becoming my favourite local delicacy), and capped off by finding myself face-to-face with the devil.

Now everyone has always told me that the first time you encounter sharks it is a magical experience. How they are serene and peaceful, gliding below you like shadows. Well, all I can say is…Not for me. I had swum out over the shallow reef to the lagoon drop-off, where the reef drops down one hundred-odd metres to the deep ocean beyond, and where warm rising currents carry nutrient rich waters that attract a boggling variety and quantity of fish. Merrily snorkelling around alone, and a good 500 metres from land, I turned at one point and to my horror found a shark less than a metre from my face. Now I’m not going to get carried away and say that it was a monster, but it was as big as me and that was enough. I shat myself, needless to say, nearly swallowing my snorkel in shock. Then as I splashed my legs to get away it turned towards me, perhaps attracted by my bright blue flippers or blood red swimming shorts, and rapidly darting its head from side to side as it zigzagged closer I thought I was a goner. But I could see in its eyes it was as scared as I was, and when I kicked out again it took fright and darted off like an arrow. Thank f***, I thought, as my heart slowly descended from my mouth. I tried to carry on enjoying the spectacular snorkelling, but somehow it wasn’t quite the same after that. Ten minutes later when I saw the same shark circling me about 20 metres away I decided to call it a day and I swam back to shore, retrieved my dugout and paddled back to the main island for a Crimbo feast, sitting on a jetty at sunset (see photo). Fortunately, since that first close-encounter I have seen sharks on a number of occasions. Reef sharks in particular I now find as cuddly as kittens and each time I see them feel an insane urge to roll them over and tickle their belly.