A few days ago we left Vulaga for Ogea, its sister island just eight miles away. Once we were through the pass it was a lovely sail over but, as we've come to expect, there was no success in fishing. The charts of this area are all a bit sketchy but the entrance to the lagoon was clear to see and easier than it was shown. We headed to the north side of the lagoon to enter an ‘inner sanctum' of an anchorage, negotiating our way between the mushroom-shaped limestone islets. We are now five boats anchored in a perfectly protected bay, surrounded by wooded hills and small islets.

There is quite a lot of wildlife to see, and much of it quite new to us. High in the trees there are fruit bats (flying foxes), swamp harriers and quarrelsome honey-eaters and darting around closer to shore are lots of white-rumped swiftlets. We took the inflatable kayak (known as Gnu) for an outing at low water, and on the sand flats there were hundreds of small fiddler crabs, with their one huge red claw held over their heads - all scurrying to hide themselves in sandholes before we got too close. The winding water channels provide plenty of small fish to feed the host of herons - white, mottled and black - and frigate birds.

Yesterday morning, we took an exploratory walk on the island along a track through the jungle for a look around. We knew the track led to the village but were being careful not to go too near; although we have to do sevusevu on arrival, we had been told to wait until we were approached. However, later on at low water we saw some people on the shore. The locals - Sera and Riki - had spotted us, and had come to find out about us. We masked up and went ashore to meet them; they told us that the chief was waiting for us to come to the village and do sevusevu. So an hour later, all ten of us from all five boats assembled at the track we'd found earlier, and made the hour-long walk to the village.

It's a clear and easy track, especially with a machete, through bushes, trees and palms. As we got closer to the village we passed heaps of copra. Soon we found ourselves passing some cleared areas where cassava, sweet potatoes and pandanus were planted, with bananas, papaya, breadfruit and mango trees; there was a pigsty under the trees. As we came into the village itself it was time to mask up, and for the ladies to hide their knees with sarongs. It's a large settlement with fairly scattered houses and at first we only met children, who either shouted ‘Bula' or hid and giggled. Then we were given directions to the chief's house -" but first, we had to present ourselves to the village nurse, who wanted to see our 'Blue Lanes' flags, showing that we had met the Fiji health protocols for visiting yachts. The nurse, along with Sera, then took us to the chief's house for our first sevusevu.

The chief, a middle-aged man in a blue t-shirt, ushered us into a large room where we sat in a circle on pandanus mats on the floor. We presented the chief with our offerings of kava roots and powder; he inspected them closely and then made us a speech in Fijian. No idea what he said, except that our sevusevu was accepted and we were now adopted as part of the community and free to roam the island.

Under a tree outside two men were sitting carving four-legged kava bowls. Just beyond them, the low tide showed a wide expanse of white sand, and four men pushing a fishing panga out to sea. Back in the village, there is a small but well organised shop selling petrol and diesel as well as basic supplies. There is a nurse's station, a primary school and a church. Houses are simple with corrugated iron roofs and either wood or iron walls, but bright paint and in some cases solar panels. Cooking generally is done over open fires, outside, and most houses have a water tank and an outhouse shack. The village has (satellite?) internet - everyone was excited about last night's Fiji vs All Blacks game - and there is a village phone and a radio.

As you can imagine we are in no rush to leave this beautiful place.

We usually gather on one of the boats in the evening for sundowners. There are ten of us here now, so we just about fit into a cockpit to relax and compare notes on the day. Yesterday's was one of the best we've had.