The Dugongs live here, where we are right now.

No, not the family that run the takeaway. The Dugong, aka a weird looking "sea cow", is so ugly only a mother could love it. The Dugong, almost on the endangered list (apparently they're quite tasty) mooches about the anchorage chomping on sea grass and occasionally coming up for air, and presumably the odd fart. All that grass you know.

We had a snorkel beside the old girl but to be honest, it wasn't the most exciting of sea creatures. Like watching a cow eat grass. Just doing it underwater. Surprise, surprise.

And that zoological highlight brought to a close our months in the Barefoot economies of the western Pacific islands. Next up is Port Vila, the capital of Vanuatu, to replenish stores then, next weather window, off to New Caledonia where the French have apparently created mini France out here in the Pacific, doing for palm fringed atolls what they did for ski resorts. Highways, high rises and no doubt high prices await.

I'm glad we've seen the unspoiled, traditional outlying Pacific islands while you still can. While I did feel a bit uncomfortable gawping at the villagers and how they lived, pretty much everyone seemed to welcome our company and have a giggle at those weird white folk from the yachts. Being here 15-25 years earlier would have been even better but on many islands, probably not much has changed. When people younger than me only have one tooth, a couple of mangy torn T-shirts, live in mud floored, palm thatched huts, cooking on logs on the floor venting smoke through the roof and are happy as sandboys, you do sometimes wonder if they've got it right and all the rest is just all bollocks.

One big laugh is that our buddies Trevor and Jan were recently continually hassled and told to up anchor and move on from bay after bay while in the Yasawas, to the east of Fiji. The Australians were in town filming the next episode of "Australian Survivor". Apparently it's a syndicated show and several different nations send their TV crews and a bunch of contestants to the Yasawas to film their country's series. I've never seen it but from the adverts it seems to involve having hot young girls clad in not very much arguing with some bronzed, tattooed bloke, probably a Yoof, whose steroid enhanced pecs show a cleavage some of the girls would appreciate.

The objective I believe is to see who can survive on a desert island without outside assistance....,.,other than the evening meals Trevor saw being boated in each night. I suspect most viewers simply watch in the hope of a "wardrobe malfunction" or perhaps some nocturnal activity and I don't mean fruit bats.

The ironic thing is that the 10 year old villagers we've met, for a couple of quid, could show them all they need to know in an afternoon saving us from the tedium of weeks of idjits trying to catch a fish with a bent pin.

There's no question tourism and progress, not to mention cyclones will keep changing these island communities. Only in the most remote were you unable to get a phone signal and in most, a TV is available at least either in the chief's house or the school.

Here's hoping that when the villagers realise that even with 200 channels, there's nothing on.

Other than Survivor.