Tuvalu is remote, very remote. It’s often referenced as the least visited country on earth. And the only way to get there is on one of the four weekly flights from Fiji.
Our time in the Solomons was drawing to a close, and we’d already had our fair share of dodgy boat journeys. So, when the morning of our departure from Roderick Bay dawned clear and relatively calm, we were more than a little relieved.
Sadly, our relief didn’t last long. As we sped through the sheltered passage between islands, each slight hint of a wave sent a small spurt of water up through a crack in the boat’s hull. The skipper sounded genuinely surprised when we pointed this out. But he revved the dinghy forward, regardless, into the open ocean between Nggela Sule Island and Honiara, the Solomon Islands’ capital.
As the waves grew, so did the spurts of water frothing through the crack in the boat’s hull. The splitting sound as we crashed over the waves suggested imminent sinkage, with the dinghy seeming to drag itself bodily through the water rather than over it, tipping sideways and slipping down the wave crests at alarming angles. The ocean was calmer, but the ride was no less hair-raising than our outward journey from Honiara earlier in the week.
The following day, we returned to the airport somewhat refreshed and ready for a convenient early afternoon flight to Nadi in Fiji. There was only one international flight departing that afternoon from Honiara International Airport, so we joined the back of the only queue in the oversized departure hall. And that’s when things started to unravel.
The news travelled down the line faster than the Solomon Airlines representative sent to deliver it: Our Air Niugini plane had mechanical issues, and they were instead sending a smaller plane from Port Moresby. This meant not everyone in the queue would be able to board, and we were at the back.
Rumours rippled up and down the line as the clerks continued to check everyone in for a flight that not everyone could board. The Air Niugini plan was this: check everyone in, take their bags and passports, make them wait outside the airport, and decide later who got to board.
By the time we reached the front of the line, we had no hope of getting a seat. With the next flight to Fiji days away, that meant we’d miss our flight to Tuvalu, too.
“Did you check in online?” ventured the check-in clerk after scanning our passports.
“Yes”, Rico responded, unsure of the significance.
After tapping at her keyboard and calling a fellow staff member for confirmation, she smiled and said, “I think you are lucky; you have boarding passes.”
Unlike the passengers ahead of us, she didn’t keep our passports. She took our luggage, dumped it with the rest of the bags and suitcases compounding behind the counter, and handed us our passports and boarding passes. We hadn’t noticed anyone else pass through security (mostly people were loitering either inside or on the grass just outside the airport), so it was only after she’d confirmed multiple times that we felt comfortable crossing the threshold into security.
The few other tourists watched with envy as we emptied our pockets and removed our belts for scanning. The immigration booth was empty, and we waited until a worker could be found to stamp us out of the Solomons. He skipped the usual questions and jumped straight to “Do you have a pen?”, incomprehensible until the third iteration. When I held up the pen I keep handy for immigration forms, he leapt at it. And he didn’t want to give it back. So I waited for Rico and another lucky passenger to pass through before the pen was returned with the offer, “If you want to leave for food, come to me”.
The plane was smaller than planned. It was also delayed. And the 14 of us lucky enough to be allowed into the departure lounge sat and waited for over six hours without a single announcement. I took the passport officer up on his offer, left my passport with him and crossed back into the Solomon Islands to have dinner in the arrivals hall. Others did the same, and minor updates filtered back into the departure lounge with them. None of us were sure we could board, and everyone who hadn’t made it through security was still waiting on the other side seven hours later.
After the plane finally touched down from Port Moresby (it makes a short stop in Honiara to pick up and drop off passengers before continuing to Nadi), we got the first official announcement of the day,
“For those people outside who might not have heard, Port Moresby is telling us this flight is cancelled, but we are waiting for confirmation from the pilot. We’ll get back to you in five minutes.”
It was 7:30 pm, and we’d been waiting for over seven hours. The lucky 14 weren’t so lucky after all.
And then they announced the boarding. The 14 of us went first, and over the following hour and a half, other passengers boarded in dribs and drabs. The flight departed a full seven hours late, and we landed in Fiji at close to 1 am the following morning.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t the end of the saga. The pile of baggage in Honiara, belonging to those who could board the flight and those who couldn’t, had been sorted by hand. But not well. So, as the other passengers strolled away from the luggage belt, we were left waiting until the belt stopped moving.
Thankfully, even at 1 am, the lost luggage counter at Nadi airport was still open. So, along with most of the other 14 passengers allowed on the flight first, we filled out the necessary forms before getting a lift to our homestay for the (by that point, very short) night.
In what seemed like no time, our host at Save’s Homestay, Save, was driving us back to the airport. We checked with the lost baggage counter, “Ah, Air Niugini, they can take a long time,” before boarding a bus bound for Suva.
Suva’s Nausori airport is the main domestic terminal in Fiji. It’s over four hours by road from Nadi, the main international airport. Or a 35-minute flight. We were on a budget, however, so it was late afternoon before we stepped off the bus into the bustle of downtown Suva.
So when we checked in to the flight to Tuvalu the following morning (yes, the international flights to Tuvalu depart from the domestic terminal), we had the world’s smallest checked bag. For the first time island hopping through Oceania, the flight departed without a hitch (if you ignore a 30-minute delay), and we jetted north towards the least visited country on earth.