Minerva Reef - The Big Blue Eye

Minerva Reef - the Big Blue Eye

Minerva is the "big blue eye," as Francois calls it, the rim of an extinct volcano, sitting in the middle of the Pacific over 800 nautical miles north of New Zealand. It emerges at low tide, and offers refuge to sailors en route to Tonga or Fiji. Stopping there is much like stepping onto a glittering alien planet, a surreal place to rest and explore.

The first day at the reef, we found old shipwrecks, which mostly pre-date modern navigation technology. These ruins are slowly transforming from ships into brilliant underwater flower gardens and fish havens. 

One massive ship had cracked completely in half with its bow blown 100 feet from the stern, etching a long scar into the reef where it had dragged. Someone had had a BAD night. Ben dove under to examine it, re-surfaced and made us all laugh, saying, "I see what happened here. The front fell off." We also found an industrial-sized metal anchor, completely intact, but embedded flat in the coral.

Still recovering from a rough NZ passage, we walked in a semi-daze along the turquoise ring - the volcano's rim - stepping through the brilliant glass flower gardens of coral that emerge at low tide, and climbing through the white tidal bowls that stretch as far as the eye can see. On the lagoon side, the edge of the reef turns into a small waterfall as the tide comes in, and tiny falls gurgle for miles. Clams with incandescent blue, green, purple and orange lips that are threaded with gold close with a creak as we walk by, and the bigger ones shut with the sound of grinding rock. Schools of aquamarine parrot fish dart about in the inches of low tidal wash. We feel like we are walking through another dimension perhaps. As the tide comes back in, much of the reef will disappear again, so we hustle back to the dingy in the deepening water.

The second day at Minerva, we set out to hunt giant lobsters that live in underwater ravines on the ocean side of the reef's edge. These ravines, or cracks, can only be approached at the lowest tide with a maximum of two meter swell. Many cracks are still too close to the pounding ocean waves to safely explore. Even carefully timed, it is a risky business jumping in. After diving under, you have to get a handhold on the coral as fast as possible, so as not to get sucked through the ravine by the swells. In between all the waves and bubbles and colourful fish, you look for the tell-tale feelers of the lobsters hiding under the coral ledges. Once spotted, it becomes a wrestling match -- human versus lobster -- and these creatures are STRONG. Sometimes we were holding on with both hands to one's back like a spiny anchor, while our feet and legs were being dragged through the ravine by the swell or hurled back onto the reef ledge by the waves. 

Ben did it first, and disappeared into an underwater crack during a pause between waves. I was tempted to worry, but then I remembered that he is a diver and former pearl-harvester from Western Australia. This doesn't even make his list of top 100 most dangerous activities. Francois and I got up the courage afterwards and plunged in, and after much splashing and wrestling, as well as the loss of one snorkel (mine), we emerged victorious, clutching our own buzzing and clicking aliens. We dove over and over into different cracks, and by the end, we had a few scrapes from the coral, but a sack full of lobster. We lugged it back, talking about bbq lobster, lobster with wine, and seafood pasta and curry. 

Later in the week, the winds picked up, and we hunkered down with popcorn and binged on Game of Thrones to wait out a passing storm. We kept a careful eye on the anchor, and a handful of other weather refugees, some newly arrived from the Pacific, anchored near us like a flock of frightened birds. Occasionally, Francois pulled out his harmonica and I brought out my fiddle, and we played tunes in the cockpit. 

A small warship from the Kingdom of Tonga had showed up in the lagoon several days before, and we assumed they were taking shelter from the blow like the rest of us. But during a brief pause in the windy weather, a RHIB arrived at the stern of Kintaro, carrying five armed soldiers. Three came aboard and made sure our paperwork was in order and that we weren't carrying drugs. Tongans are the most beautiful people - so welcoming and warm. When we were in Tonga last year, I'd never encountered anyone more poised or gracious than Tongan women. The soldiers were very formal, of course, but Francois instantly charmed them with his friendly, easy-going ways while some of them replied shyly to my questions. Meanwhile, Ben took care of the formalities with their captain. After they left, my crew-mates teased me that I must be the first woman the navy boys have seen in weeks, hence the shyness. 

Minerva is disputed territory between the Tongans and the Fijians, and the Fijian military has been known to arrive and make everyone leave, so we were lucky.

After waiting out the blow, the weather finally improved and that was our cue to prep the boat and leave. We raised anchor at dawn and motored the 2.5 miles across the heart of Minerva to reach the exit. There is a pass in most lagoons that must be approached at high or slack tide to go through safely. We timed it to perfection for high tide and slipped out into the big ocean swells. 

We are officially Fiji-bound -- our destination is four hundred miles (or approximately three days) to our northwest. Compared to the lumpy sail from NZ, this feels like a walk in the park.