We liked Bavatu Harbor for it's lovely protected water and the village people who are so friendly and kind. In addition to that though, we loved walking and hiking around the beautiful plantation grounds and tried to go for an hour or two each day. The land is divided into large sections with each section connected to the next by a 2-3 foot thick stone wall about four feet high topped with barbed wire planted with a plant that Benny described as the 'vomit plant'. He said when he was a child, if he didn't want to go to school he would eat a few leaves of this plant and being sick his mother would keep him home :) Anyway, each fence also has a large wooden gate that, when unchained, swings wide open, large enough for a small tractor or maybe a large ATV to pull through. If a gate was open when we got there we left it open, ditto for if it were closed. There are cattle and horses and sheep milling around the place; you didn't know what you'd encounter around the next turn. As we walked there were several interesting looking gates off in the distance beckoning you over to come for a look see. Often we'd walk thru a little valley and twenty cows, some with calves, stopped eating and watched us carefully as we walked by. We saw maybe eight horses in total, a few with young foals, also keeping a close eye on us. Here and there you'd see an area where they grow their 'taro', easy to spot with it's giant elephant ear leaves, or maybe the taro just grows where it wants to. There are fruit trees of various kinds all over the place, even avocados and mangos but unfortunately both are out of season right now. There are often small fires here and there smoking away, proof that the young men of the village had been here earlier than us and were clearing the dropped palm fronds and other organic materials from the area. Between the cows, horses, and sheep, the large grass areas always appear nice and trimmed, giving the appearance that a rider mower had just been through. We saw a few young men trying to get a lawn mower started in the village section but I think the animals keep the green areas nicely mowed. One day we came upon two young men gathering fronds and old coconuts, lighting fires and generally cleaning up the area. We stopped and said hello and Don had a nice conversation with them. I walked further along the path and a few minutes later I heard a coo-ee. I turned and saw one of the young men coming up the trail and bringing me a drinking coconut. We met halfway and I took the coconut, had a drink and said vinake. Our conversational skills were not stellar but it was a pleasant moment anyway. Many of these young men have been educated locally through high school, learning english along with fijian, and some are even lucky enough to go on to trade school in Suva. Benny is studying for his 'Fitter and turner' (lathe and machinery) certificate and his cousin would like to be an architect. I believe they would have family on the big island where they live while they go to school. Then, unless they can find employment in 'the big city' they'll probably come back to their home island and live simply. Walking on, the coconut palms are scattered willy-nilly about the place, not planted in rows as I thought they might have been when I heard the word plantation. As you're walking along, it's good to have the presence of mind to not stroll too slowly or sit down directly under a coconut palm. If a coconut dropped and hit you on the head, well, that would be bad! It looks like they work one or two sections at a time, cleaning up with small fires as they go. Once a week the entire group of folks from the village, maybe a dozen in all, go to the coconut oil processing shed and together they make the oil. We walked up to the shed in the morning. It's an open sided workspace about the size of a triple garage, good strong roof and one small enclosed room off in the corner. Benny and his cousin were out in one of the sections of the plantation gathering the coconuts. Benny drove the small tractor towing a trailer that was a big metal basket. When it was about half full they hauled it back up the hill to the shed. They tossed each coconut into an open bin on an inside wall, sorting the nuts as they went. Another two young men husked each nut by repeatedly jamming it with some force onto a large metal spike and pulling off the outer covering. The nut went onto the pile in a wheelbarrow and the dry husk went on a pile to be added to the oven fire. Once there were so many nuts in the wheelbarrow it was moved about 15 feet over to the next area. One person, man or woman, standing over a big open barrel used a machete to cut each nut in half allowing the coconut juice to empty into the barrel. The half nuts were then given to one of two people who each sat in front of a coconut grinding machine. This is the only part of the process that required electricity and a generator ran in the room in the corner for this purpose. You sit in front of the machine, there is a fist sized grinder tool spinning in front of you in the center of what looks to be a large stainless steel bowl. You press the half coconut onto the grinder and grind out the white part of the coconut letting the meat drop into the bucket between your knees. One of the cruisers tried to do it and it was clear that it takes alot of practice to get good at it, not to mention a good amount of upper body strength. Then the bucket of coconut meat goes to the next station which is a long griddle, maybe four feet by about twenty feet long. They stoke the fire at one end with the dried coconut husks and the smoke exits the chimney at the other end. Two of the older men attend the coconut drying over the griddle, making each bucket full of fresh coconut into one batch. Using very large spatulas, they dry the coconut, moving it in batches along the griddle being careful not to burn it. When the batch has moved along the griddle and all of it's moisture has been removed it is then shoved into a long tube maybe 4 inch in diameter. When the tube is full and packed down it is removed and taken to the next station, the press. The tube with dry meat is dropped into a stainless steel tube with holes on the side. They put a round block at the top and a man pulls down a long handle which forces the round block into the tube. As more pressure is applied, small amounts of oil seep out the holes on the side and drip into a container below. When the man can no longer hold the handle down on his own, he attaches a foot strap and then steps on it and puts all of his body weight onto the press. At this point the lead woman holds a piece of string in each hand and puts it around the top of the tube, slowing sliding it downward to assist every little bit of oil down the outside of the tube and into the container. Then she puts the string away for next time and grabs the container with the fresh oil. She goes to the table along the back wall and weighs the oil. With the head man Bui looking on she notes in a ledger the results. Then the oil is poured through a cloth filter into another container, removing any last debris. This last container is a 5 gallon bucket which is then shipped to Suva for further filtering(not sure) and then bottling for sale. I think they said each 5 gallon container is worth $500. It is precious stuff! Oh yeah, the final part is the dryed up meat that has been through the press...I think they add water and feed it to the pigs. Every single bit of the coconut is used and except for the electric grinder the entire process is by hand. Impressive.