I nod back to sleep but was awoken by voices at the door. Outside is a bunch of locals in dugouts coming to visit us. After a chat we are invited to visit the village. The locals are stoked and are very interested in surfing. When Mick explained to them what it is we do they were completely blown out. They stared at the surfing mags on board for ages just mystified at tube riding. No doubt they would have seen so many waves but not ridden them. The chief and a few more lads row out to the boat, sitting proud and tall in the dugout. They were obviously stoked to have us in the bay. Captain Martin discusses fishing and the like with the chief and they exchange conversation about the voyage and its purpose.

The chief is a fairly young man, but is well dressed and seemingly well educated. He talks of the system of government and the meetings of chiefs to discuss various island issues.

A few more locals paddle out to visit, chewing masses of beetlenut with black teeth and orange spit. (I actually had to go and have a chunder when one spits in front of me.) There are a couple of lads who are just plain out of it, and constantly giggle and yell. One says later on, "Beetlenut is our staple food ... We eat the nut, lime from the coral and the leaf." I wasn’t keen to have a crack at it. The last time in Indo I nearly threw up.

A couple of the lads take us ashore and are proud to show us their village. One bloke, with orange all over his face, is most inquisitive and constantly asks questions, he is eager though to share with us the village. We are shown huts and group ovens and are explained their cooking techniques. We are shown a "custom" pillow (everything is "custom" from meals to houses etc). They have a small copra facility. Numerous pigs are tied up to trees which we assume are just waiting to be eaten. Chicken roam all over the reef at low tide and the people seem very laidback as they laugh at Mick making chicken noises.

An Unfortunate Incident

One man stands proud in front of the village and into Don’s camera recalls the tale of a man being eaten by a crocodile a few months before. The man, who had sailed into the area, was chomped while swimming in the bay about one kilometre away. He swam down to release the anchor from his yacht and then went to a beach where he was taken. His wife on board their boat was apparently in all sorts. There was a grave for the man in their cemetery.

A little further down the road Jeff is treated to some local customary dancing and singing about various stories. They have that typical island sound with almost choir-like voices. They create rhythm by beating hollow timber instruments on the ground, while the rest dance around in a circle. We are rowed back to boat in a dugout and the lads come aboard. The inquisitive one, "Marco" I called him because I couldn’t pronounce his real name, was on a roll. He wanted to know everything about everything. What I did for a job, whether I was married, were the others married, etc. He wanted to know all about the "water motorbike" on board; how fast it went, what type of petrol did it use, etc. He also sat down with us and busted out a few numbers from his island collection on the guitar. His mate (who was a dead ringer for Eddie Murphy) just sat and gawked in awe at everything. Marco also went in and questioned the Captain about everything else, and he watched in awe as crewman Dave fixed the radio.

The chief wanted a ride on the jetski so Martin was obliged to give him a thrill. The chief eagerly jumped on and hung on for dear life as Martin hammered it in the lagoon. Later on Martin complained of sore ribs from his vice-like grip. The chief was rapt and insisted on more turns. There was a massive crowd on the beach and the kids were screaming madly as Martin and the chief whizzed around. It was a pretty awesome sight. They just couldn’t control their excitement. Then we started freeboarding behind it and they went mad, clapping and cheering. On my go I fell right in front of them and later on Martin said that it made their day. I actually got whipped. The other fellows had a few goes each and the whole time the crowd went ballistic. Later on a few inquisitive kids paddled out in their dugouts to suss it all out. They hung around and yelled and screamed in excitement – more and more kept coming out to inspect. They were all pretty excitable. Some sunk their dugout but showed us how to right it. The chief was still around, not leaving until he had to - he was so stoked. When it was time for us to motor on, he seemed a bit sad as he stood and waved from his dugout.