Repeating a day you’ve already lived through is a little confusing. It wouldn’t let Nicole do the wordle game for today because the NYT thinks she already did it. And don’t even get me started on that effing green Duolingo owl. He keeps taking away perks I’ve earned by keeping up on my streak. That owl is unhinged. We had given ourselves plenty of time to get to our morning flight from Pago Pago, but we barely made it.
You see, the airport is only a five minute drive from the Tradewinds. Check-in cutoff was at 815am for a 845am flight. We were in the lobby of the Tradewinds around 750am. But they were . . .slow. Then the shuttle was . . .slow. We arrived at the airport terminal around 8:14am and nobody was manning the Samoa Airways counter. Not a good sign. Nicole ran to their office around the corner where they told her check-in was done and then she couldn’t expect to check in for an 845am flight at 845. She showed the actual time on her phone, and then it was all jokes and smiles. I guess island time must have gotten all shaken up with the time warp we went through yesterday. They were able to check our bags no problem and someone even wanted to shake my hand to say, “Have a good flight, Captain.” I guess because they saw the crew tags?
It was a quick hop over to Ofu island, where we walked for the grand total of 30 seconds from the airport terminal to the Vaoto Lodge. There is no airport fence or security to speak of, so one could have a foot race down the runway if they felt so inclined. The Twin Otter would be our last link to the outside world for the next few days. And when the outside world is just the rest of American Samoa, one could say that we’re pretty isolated right now.
We checked into our unit — lodge 7, led by our host Ben, who is presumably high as a kite 24 hours a day based on his laid back demeanor and casual mention that he’s into “growing things.” Furthermore, the population of Ofu island is 132, so there’s not a lot going on. I suppose picking up a hobby (drugs or otherwise) is a good use of time. The place is a little beat, but that’s to be expected on an island that’s so cut off. With planes only arriving twice a week, I don’t think Amazon Prime is really a reliable option.
Why would we desire such isolation you ask? Well, To’aga Beach is one of them. We borrowed some bicycles from the lodge and rode a kilometer or two to a pull off for the beach where we did a bit of swimming in the clear water. There was a bit of a current and it was low-ish tide, so we didn’t go out too far over concerns of getting ourselves scraped on the coral. The light was good, but not quite right for getting a good shot of the mountains in the distance from the beach. We would go back for some lunch and return later in the afternoon.
Lunch must be made in house. I made spam musubi and Nicole fixed herself a peanut butter and banana sandwich with the provisions we brought from the market yesterday. Purists will note that I did not wrap the musubi in nori. Well at $8 per packet, you would have forgone this musubi belt as well. Anyway, after our lunch, we relaxed for a bit away from the direct sun while Nicole perused the guestbook that went back to the 1990s. She wondered about the guests who were here on 9/11 as well as the guests who had come from Barrow, Alaska — one isolated extreme to another.
Eventually we returned to the beach, to find the light finally illuminating the green hills in the distance with the blue waters in the foreground. Not too shabby. Also, these are not crowded beaches — as in we were the only people there other than the elderly Asian couple that arrived by plane when we did. Harry and Joanne, as they call themselves remind me a lot of Salt, everyone’s favorite senior travel couple . . .except Asian. You can spot them in the earlier photo at the airport. The outfits, the mannerisms, their admitted reluctance to drive vehicles with right-hand drive — clones of Salt…but Asian.
This is again part of the National Park of American Samoa and it is not well attended. We saw a few stray dogs that followed us for some time, but they were not aggressive at least, and didn’t appear to have mange or rabies. They were considerate enough to not get in our shots, though I had to reprimand one for trying to trot off with one of my local slippahs that I had left by our bikes.
You may recall from an earlier post that the national park exists in part to protect the Samoan fruit bat, which they also call the “flying fox.” They were numerous, but difficult to photograph well as they are dark, quite fast, and flying in a very sunny environment that added a lot of contrast. We walked along the beach for a spell observing the bats with one eye while keeping another eye on the pups. Eventually we rode off back to the Vaoto Lodge to make our dinner. Pasta was the order of the evening. And while it may seem like a hassle to make one’s own food on vacation, Nicole would tell you that the pickings have been mighty slim or inexplicably laced with curry. This might have been the best dinner of the trip for Nicole.
With no major towns or centers of light on the island, darkness came swiftly. It was difficult to find our way back from the main building to our lodge. We are here a full day tomorrow. Not sure what we’ll do tomorrow, but surely it will be an adventure.
passports & pepto bismol 