The initial request for the services of the new American Team, 1st-Special Response Group, based out of Miami, FL came on Monday 1/4/99. I was called on Tuesday morning to see if I could possibly respond with Merak. I was a little hesitant about responding with a dog that was acclimated to below zero temps and no humidity to an area of the world where it is mid-summer. But my vet assured me it would be all right provided I watered him frequently and monitored his vital signs (pulse, respiration's, capillary refill and moisture content of his gums, etc.). Wednesday morning we were at the vets getting the necessary paperwork and procedures completed in order to be allowed into Fiji, per a fax from the Fiji government. All procedures were to be done by a USDA certified vet (which ours is), and documented along with his general health certificate that allows them to fly domestically. After a few last minute glitches with getting a few more days off from work in the event we couldn't get home until Wednesday or Thursday, things were on their way to getting done!

I was still getting the last minute things together Wednesday night (you must understand that my SAR pack is completely outfitted for winter rescue right now, so I had to completely strip it out and figure out what summer things I needed. Hard since Fiji summers are MUCH warmer and more humid than Montana summers) when the call came at 11 p.m. to tell me that I needed to be on the 6 am flight out of Kalispell. Since I had only had 4 hours of sleep in the last 36 hours, knew that I would be trying to catch up on the way.

Merak knew something big was up the moment he started seeing the SAR stuff in the house, and was anything but help in my attempt to pile, sort and organize for the trip. Every time I walked passed him, the undercoat rake came out in an attempt to brush yet a few more handfuls of hair from his coat in hopes of getting it to start loosening up. Not much came out unfortunately.

At 4:30 am on Thursday 1/7 we are at Glacier International Airport ready to check in. Unfortunately, the airport didn't open for another half hour, so the big bad Belgian boy and I walked the parking lots to stretch our legs and burn off nervous energy (mine) and excited energy (his). I kept going through the mental checklist of what I had, hoping that I didn't forget anything. Knew where Merak's papers were for the flight. I didn't have a passport for the trip, but the American Embassy in Fiji had assured us that they would take care of everything and would get us down there and back without problems.

The Delta crew was more than accommodating when it came to allowing Merak to fly passenger. In order for a SAR dog to fly on top, they must be on their way to or from a mission or training, be attired in their SAR dog vests and have a photo ID. The flight was far from full, so Merak was allowed his own seat next to the window (FAA regulations prohibit dogs from being next to the aisle or in the fire exits). The flight was scheduled to depart at 6:10 am with my connecting flight in Salt Lake City at 10:10 am. No problem I thought, only a 1 1/2 hour flight, which will give us time to get to the gate and get Merak cleared for passenger status on the next leg.

Upon time to board the aircraft, the elderly boarded first then they allowed Merak and I to board before the general boarding call. At 6:10, after we were all settled in, the pilot announced that due to snow (falling fast), we were going to have a delay in take-off since there was now a need to plow the run-way and de-ice the wings (3 times!). At 8:15 am, we were finally taxiing down the runway and toward Salt Lake.

At approximately 9:50 am we set down in the Salt Lake City airport. My connecting flight was due to depart at 10:10 and fortunately the un-boarding gate was close to the gate I needed to be at. So with boarding pass in right hand and Merak's leash in left hand and carry on pack on my back, I headed over to check in.

At the counter they informed me that the flight was sold out. There were stand-by's so there wasn't going to be any seats for Merak to sit in. This was going to pose a problem. I knew that there was no way that they could get the crate to the counter in time to check him in as cargo so I boarded in hopes that he might fit on the floor under the seat. No way. Had the window seat in economy (not horribly big to begin with) and just couldn't get him in between and under. My boy was just too big, so we unloaded (against the current of people loading). I must admit the people who were sitting around me were great, volunteering to move around so that people with shorter legs would be able to sit with Merak under them.

At the counter, the attendant told me to wait until the doors were about closed to see how many seats were left. In the event there were none, I asked to be bumped to the following flight into Los Angeles. At 10:05, there were 4 seats left and we quickly ran onto the plane. The passengers knew what was going on and two people moved seats voluntarily to allow Merak and I to sit together. The stewardesses on the Delta flight were great and everyone loved Merak. For the first part of the trip he sat backwards in his seat with his head over the back and watched everyone in the back of the plane. Needless to say the guy in back of him for petted him over an hour. Then, once I put the armrest up, he curled up and slept for the rest of the flight into LA. Upon unloading in Los Angeles at noon, I was met by the team leader out of Miami, Fl. We proceeded to the baggage claims department, and as he was unloading the crate, I got my first glimpse of LA in over 10 years. I have always heard horror stories regarding LAX airport, but I never had a problem the entire time I was there. Do you think the fact that I'm walking next to an 80 pound Terv has anything to do with it? After a quick potty break, water and half rations of dog food, Merak and I settled down to rest in baggage claims while awaiting the rest of the team.

At 2 p.m. (LA time), 4 of the 5 of us were together. The other dog/handler team (a beautiful Siberian Husky with cadaver, trailing and urban SAR qualifications) came from Dallas and Merak was in LOVE. Of course Shadow was a flirt and the two of them got along famously. From baggage claims we headed to the Customs department to make some phone calls and get some
clearances (thanks to a LAPD K9 trainer things went very smoothly for us). From there we headed to the USDA office to get a letter to allow the dogs BACK INTO the U.S. (the Fijian government requires this letter in order to accept the dogs into the country...guess they figure if the U.S. is willing to take them back then they are good enough to enter Fiji).

Once all was said and done, it was back to the airport to get our gear compiled and meet with the organizers out of San Diego. Walking through the International section of LAX with two dogs dressed in SAR orange was a memory unto itself. People coming and going from all over the world, sights, smells foreign to me and undoubtedly blasting Merak's senses were overwhelming. He pranced through the throngs with his "holier than thou" attitude, never faltering for a second. Along the way people reached out and touched the dogs, asked lots of questions and wanted to know what breed of dog he was.

We gathered in front of the Quantus terminal where the Quantus staff immediately ushered the dogs into the office for a quick party. Shadow with her bright blue eyes and Merak and his mahogany coat were indeed the talk of the day. After cooing, petting and getting doggie hugs by the two (Merak is NOT shy in the least, and loves to hug if it means his ears get rubbed), we exited the Quantus office within the half-hour. Supplementary gear was showing up (we took several cases of bottled water and MRE's <military meals>), and the Quantus staff was stowing it away for us for safekeeping.

While waiting in the terminal, we met a very nice family from New Zealand, one from England and one from India who couldn't stop petting Merak. An American family heading to Australia was in line and the son (about 10) was petting him as I encouraged their daughter (6) to scratch his ears. The little girl hesitantly approached, fear in her eyes and reached out to touch him. Merak voluntarily lay down in his most unassuming position and she sat in front of him, on the floor and petted his head. Only after this, the mother came and thanked me stating that her daughter had been bitten by a large dog only a few months ago and had been terrified of them to this point.

It was now around 6 p.m. and 4 of the 5 team members were together. The last was to fly in from San Jose, CA a bit later, so we decided to go and get some dinner at one of the airport restaurants. The family and the organizers of the search met us from San Diego and the lot of us went to find someplace to eat.

To clarify a little for those of you who might be wondering, SAR is a volunteer, non-profit entity. We were going to Fiji as volunteers and did not get paid one red cent for taking days off work to deploy. My friends joke that during my free time from the dogs, I work as an RN at the local hospital, but the fact of the matter is, employers have to be willing to find replacements for those of us who need to respond quickly. Fortunately, Kalispell Regional Medical Center has been good to me. Our trip was funded mostly through the family in this instance. They paid for the meals, vet bills, supplies and most of the domestic flights. The US Embassy paid for 2 of the international flights and Quantus Airlines donated the other 3 seats. There was also a big fund-raiser in San Diego (where the victim was from) to help offset the costs of the operation. During disasters, the Embassy and other official organizations that I’m really not sure of pick up most of the bills.

We found ourselves a little open-air restaurant in the upstairs of the airport (had to find the stairs since Merak had never been on an escalator and pre-mission was not the time to get a tail or foot caught in the thing), and the dogs laid on the inside of the fence that separated us from the rest of the airport. The restaurant staff was great (first off in allowing the dogs in) and once they found out what was going on were willing to prepare a meatloaf, mashed potato and broccoli dinner for each of the dogs (Merak's 3 favorites and too big for even him to finish!). We talked to the organizers, the last of our members arrived then the family showed up to get pictures and video of everyone and the dogs. Jerry (the other dog handler) and I and the dogs headed outside for a romp in the grass and doggie potty break before the time came to load.

At 9:45 p.m. we headed down the stairs to the Quantus counter to find that they had already loaded our gear, including the dog crates (can't complain about the efficiency!). After a quick trip back to the cargo hold to retrieve the empty crates, we got the dogs loaded after a quick kiss on the heads and a hug. I had put my jacket from Montana into the crate with Merak along with his towel so he would have something of mine with him during the flight. The Quantus crew allowed Jerry and I to accompany them as far as legally able and then we were set to board. After boarding the flight, the stewardess came back to assure us that the dogs were on, and strapped down and our 10 hour and 15 minute journey to Fiji began.

I have to admit that this is the first time ever I have been out of North America and the 4th time to ever fly, so the experience was wonderful. Quantus gives you all kinds of neat little things, serves great meals and is very hospitable. There were 2 in flight movies (slept through both of them), and makes every attempt to make your flying experience memorable.

At 4 am Montana Time, we crossed the International date line, which threw us into the time warp and ahead 20 hours and one day into Fiji time (so it was really midnight the following day). A few hours before we were set to land, the stewardess came back to inform us that they were allowing us upstairs (a double decker airplane!!), so that we could be the first off the plane to collect the dogs. Have to say the upstairs lounge/business class was a very elegant sight to behold. Very plush, huge seats and tons of leg room! We had our briefing meeting there and watched the sun come up over the South Pacific. Since I was the team member with the most medical training and experience, I was made the medical officer for the mission, and we put together an additional list of supplies that needed to be picked up to supplement the 1st aid gear that I already had on me.

At 6am Fiji time, the 747 landed and taxied up to the unloading dock.

Laying on the floor using Merak as a pillow I can still smell the sand and surf in his fur...of course I can smell pineapple juice to, but that's all right...

Now then, where were we? Oh yes...

It was 6 am Fiji time and the plane had just landed in Nadi on the island of Vita Levu (considered to be the mainland by the islanders) and arrived at the loading dock. The Quantus staff had us down from the upstairs business class within minutes and it was then that we found out that one of the stewardesses was related to the Chief of the tribe on the island that we were staging the search from.

It is here that I inject your Fijian language lesson...

A "d" is pronounced as an "nd", therefore Nadi is actually pronounced Nandi. "Bula" is a general greeting meeting "hello" or "how are you" and "Vinaka" is "thank you". "Vinaka vaka levu" is "thank you very much".

I don't care how many travel guides tell you that English is the primary spoken language in Fiji, it’s all a lie. The Fijians speak enough to get by, understand a little less and have this sing-song language that sounds like a cross between French, Spanish and Polynesian (actually a Malayo-Polynesian language closely related to Samoan, Tongan, Hawaiian and the languages of the Solomon Islands). Keeps you guessing as to what they are actually saying about you. Also keep in mind that the Fijian Islands are compromised of approximately one-half Indians and one-half Fijians. There used to be quite a turf battle at one time, but now for the most part they all live together pretty quietly. Why is this important? Because you greet the Fijians with "Bula", but not the Indians (see it as being offensive), one group uses the "Vinaka", the other doesn't. So my next question was "how do you tell the difference between the two types of residents?"

Fijians are big people. Both the men and the women are strong looking with wide shoulders and big bones. Indians on the other hand are very fine boned and much smaller. Got it?

So, Jerry (the other dog handler) and I are accompanied off the plane to the tarmac to get the dogs out of cargo. The only thing on our minds at this point is letting the canine kids out of their crates to relieve themselves. It seemed to take forever for the airport staff to unload the dogs. The temperature was hovering in the 80's and the humidity was already in the high 80% range. Finally we saw the crates hit the ramp and down to the luggage carriers they came.

The Fijian Agriculture Inspectors from customs were supposed to have met us at the plane and as desperate as we were getting, could not make the staff understand that the dogs needed to get out to relieve themselves. I must have conjugated the sentence "to go to the bathroom" ten times in 3 different languages (make that 5 once I was finished with American slang) and they still didn't understand me. No way, no how were the dogs getting out before they had went through customs. So Jerry and I threw our hands up in dispair and headed for the airport terminal.

The rest of the team had already gone through the formal stuff, and we stood there looking rather lost for about 2 minutes before a nice Indian gentleman helped us through the gate (without paperwork mind you) and to the baggage terminal. It was there we met up with the rest of the crew, collected our bags and headed out the door to figure out where the customs and agriculture department was. Once through the doors, an American woman who was helping the family organize everything from Fiji greeted us. She had lived there several years, was familiar with the customs and the people and helped give us our 5-minute lesson on the ways of the Fijian
people. Tina, the representative from the US Embassy in Suva was also there and between the bunch of us we found our way to customs to get the dogs.

We had finally arrived at the Agricultural Customs section of the airport, a good 1/4 mile from the airport. Our two dogs, plus a little dog from New Zealand were sitting in their crates on a dolly. It was the first time in over 10 hours that I had the opportunity to see my boy. He was standing there, panting, but not stressed in the least by this last new adventure.

Fiji has a 14 day quarantine and in order to get the dogs in, we had to work with the Fijian government, the US Embassy, the Agricultural department and I'm sure a half dozen other officials who I don't know. So every "i" had to be dotted and "t" crossed before we could take them out of their crates (easily another half-hour). When all was said and done, the dogs burst out of their crates and my wild man was free. We headed across to parking lot to a small grassy park and Merak and I together got our first glimpse of Fijian flora and fauna.

The flowering trees were overwhelming and came in every color imaginable, low lying shrubs, broad-leafed bushes, color everywhere. Add to that little black birds with yellow, black and red beaks that had no fear of anything. I was trying to absorb it all and Merak was trying to sniff it all. After pottying (half dozen leg lifts and one big job, which MUST be picked up in a plastic bag and given to the Inspectors for disposal), we converged with the rest of the group to discuss our game plan. The sun was making headway into the sky and the temperature and humidity were steadily rising. It was there we met Adi (remember "d"'s are pronounced as "nd"'s so pronunciation is Andi), the tribal leader of the village we were going to stay at. She kept saying "Bula" to Merak, although would never touch him. He would sit at this new word and cock his head back and forth trying to figure out this new command.

The one thing Jerry and I immediately noticed as soon as the dogs were unloaded was the fact that here, unlike the U.S., no one was petting the dogs. They all stayed back 10-12 feet at all times and simulated the parting of the red sea whenever we came by. True, we had been in the same clothes for over 24 hours, but we didn't think that was the reason. Those Fijians that did talk to us at the airport expressed great fear of our dogs. Hmm, I said, we're gonna have to work on this one.

This trip is the one that has confirmed in my mind that I would be lousy as a political official that must be watched constantly by the Secret Service. Because the dogs were in the country without going through the proper quarantine channels, each dog was issued an inspector that was with us 24 hours a day for the entire time of our trip to make sure the dogs didn't come in contact with the island dogs. Good if the whole plan would have worked.

So with that little announcement, we gave Tina, the US Embassy official a gift of thanks and loaded our American liaison and ourselves into a 7-person van. Our gear was spread out between 2 trucks and we were heading to the town of Lautoka, about 15 miles away. According to my team members, Fijian drivers have nothing over anyone else in a large city. Personally, I thought for sure that this trip would be the end of me.

Fijians drive on the left hand side of the road (which took some getting used to, then add the fact that the van door is now on the opposite side as I kept standing in front of a solid panel trying to figure out how to get in). They believe in passing on either side of the road, and usually wait until the last possible second to initiate a pass (I could count every dirt particle on one guy’s bumper). As you merge, the object is to clean the dirt off of the oncoming vehicles drivers side door with your doors. I know my new gray hair is a result of the few hours spent driving around, back and forth from Lautoka.

It was only a few miles from the airport that we had discovered that we had lost the inspectors. Oh well.

Lautoka is a bustling city right on the sea and our departure site for Waya Island. The 15-18 mile drive from Nadi took us approximately 20 minutes due to a few stops made by Adi to pick up people and supplies to take to the village by boat.

Our American liaison, Christine was busy giving us our Fijian customs lesson the whole way and gave us a packet of Kava to give to the chief of the adjoining village once we arrived. A sudden stop revealed a corner newspaper vendor with his pile of papers and we all purchased a copy of the Fiji Times with the story of the lost U.S. tourist gracing the front page. A picture of two Fijian policemen with a mixed breed tracking dog also adorned the page along with a blurb about the "American Tracking Team". By now it's about 10 am, 85 degrees and hovering in the 90% humidity range. Wow.

Our first necessary stop was at the Laukota hospital to see if we could pick up a few more supplies for the mission. Health care in Fiji is free, and the government donates supplies. I, being in healthcare was interested to see what services they had available and supplies that they might have on hand. Christine and I peeked in a half door and called for assistance. The nurses were Indian, dressed in red and white striped dresses with white aprons and white bandannas covering their heads. They directed us to the front door and we asked to see the director since we knew that we would never get waited on should we stand in the back of the very long line that we had seen coming in.

The director showed us the backdoor and we entered into a dimly lit building with a few dirty windows. The floors were concrete and pretty scrubbed, curtains separated the beds in the exam rooms and the sheets were soiled, but overall I was impressed with my first experience with a third world hospital. Things were organized, neat and in some order. I then met the doctor who was working. Remember when I mentioned the importance of knowing what race you are talking to? Well, I hadn't a clue. The doctor, who spoke relatively good English, was taller than most Indians, but lighter boned than most Fijians. I was at a loss so reverted to English only in my request for supplies. Fifteen minutes later we exited with syringes, needles, saline flush, suture kits, Lidocaine and a knowledge that they had anti-venom should we need it. We also confirmed that Australia was only 3 hours away and New Zealand 2.5 should anyone (human or dog) need to be air-evacuated for medical purposes.

A quick stop at a corner juice market gave us our first taste of Fijian juice. Mango! Of course it was tepid, as is most things on the island, but couldn't be beat for the taste. Then we were off to Adi's house on the mainland to collect some scent articles for the dogs from the victim’s pack that had been placed there for safe keeping. During this entire trip, both dogs sat in their seats with heads out the window and the air conditioner going full blast.

It was during this hour or two that we began to become aware of a few things; 1) our little entourage was definitely becoming the center of attention and 2) people were absolutely amazed by the dogs. We got to Adi's home and unloaded the van, giving the dogs another opportunity to stretch their legs. What was normally a lazy neighborhood all at once was abuzz with people, standing in their doorways and on the verandah’s watching the dogs and us. Sure, we realized that Caucasian tourists were probably few and far between in parts of Fiji, but enough so to create this kind of reaction?

It is customary and polite to take ones shoes off before entering a home, whether it is your own or someone else's. For Fijians this poses no problems since they either are barefoot or wear flip-flops. For American SAR personnel this was more of an endeavor since we were fully clothed in hiking boots and moisture wicking socks. So while the others went in, Jerry and I opted to stay outside in the shade of the stairs with the dogs.

Another thing I learned quickly is how caring, gentle and kind these people are. Very giving. They have no concept of the word "no" and will never use it. Even if they don't want to do something you ask, they will since they are afraid of offending you. They also like to feed you constantly. Adi's sister was there at the house and brought out a HUGE bowl of fresh fruit picked off the trees in their yard. I thought my eyes would pop out of my head since fresh fruit in Montana in January is indeed a treat. This bowl was filled with bananas, mangos, pineapple and papayas and decorated with a beautiful, very fragrant white flower native to the tropics (I believe the same ones they make lei’s with, although the name slips me at this time). Jerry and I sat there eating fresh mango's with the juice dripping down our arms and the dogs licking our hands and faces (Merak has decided that Mango's are to be put on his favorite food list).

It was then that the Inspectors finally caught up to us and we received a 5 minute scolding in English/Fijian mix about having the dogs out of the vehicle since they weren't supposed to be in contact with any ground between Nadi and Waya...oh brother, this is going to be a long trip with these two.

After being reprimanded by the Fiji Agriculture Inspectors, it was time to take off and get a few of our members off toward Waya via helicopter. So, being the senior dog handler (in number of years working a dog only), I went to collect the scent articles from the pack.

Let me quickly add here that until this time, we really had no idea what had happened to the missing tourist. Ideas had been thrown out that perhaps he had snuck off the island, might be trying to avoid searchers or other possibilities. However, when digging through the contents of his pack we knew that he hadn't done any of those things. I found three articles of clothing that I felt sure were impregnated with his scent, collected them in plastic bags and stored them in the packs for safe keeping.

We were then off to the wharf were the helicopter was waiting to take 3 of our members and Christine to Waya. Getting to the wharf we were met by a gaggle of television reporters (the mainland has one free channel and one pay-for-view channel), so it was amazing how many reporters it took to operate one camera and hold the microphone.

After the rest of the crew took off, Adi, Lima (Adi's nephew who was now driving and even wilder than Adi), Jerry, the dogs and I proceeded into town to pick up yet more supplies. Because Waya has no electricity, food is purchased and brought over from the mainland on a very regular basis. Waya is pretty self-sufficient as far as vegetables and fruits, but things such as bread and meat need to be purchased fresh. Because Adi operates the "resort" (term used loosely), she brings the groceries over for her village and the neighboring village whenever she brings tourists over to stay.

We parked in a large parking lot next to an open-air market resembling a typical Farmers Market in the U.S. however, there was everything one could possibly imagine. I wish I could have had the luxury of shopping to my hearts content, but alas, we only had a half-hour to get everything we needed. So with that, Lima took off for a copy shop to get forms copied for the team with money that we had exchanged (current exchange rate is $1 U.S.= $1.85 Fijian). Adi took off to get supplies needed for the island and Jerry stayed with the dogs in the van while I was escorted across the street by one of the Inspectors for a few things that we needed. Due to the heat, we decided we were in dire need of some flip-flops, so a shoe store was high on the priority list. We ambled in and a young Indian gentleman asked me what I was looking for. I told him, he motioned toward a table filled with sandals and asked me "what size". I told him the sizes and he dove in to the center of the pile to retrieve two of each. I never touched a thing. The shoes were then whisked off, wrapped and sacked all in a matter of minutes. Is this customer service or what??

Then we headed down the street to find some bandannas. The city square that we were shopping in had a little bit of everything. Most stores appeared to be owned and run by Indians and it was overwhelming how many custom clothing stores there were. Before long we walked into what would probably be described as a general store and my Inspector asked the woman to see some scarves (there is no Fijian word for bandanna). The only scarves they had were beautiful silk ones and I knew that they would probably be ruined over the course of the weekend from mopping sweat and wetting the dog down, but I couldn't resist. So I bought a blue one and a brown one with beautiful tropical prints swearing to save one to take home.

On the way back to the van I noticed something rather odd. Natives 3-4 surrounded the van deep all the way around. I started to panic worried about Jerry and the dogs and thinking that something must be wrong, so broke out into a trot, which rather surprised my escort. Upon arrival, there was poor Jerry sitting in the back seat with Shadow on his lap, Merak in the seat in front of him and definitely the focus and entertainment of the locals! Now we know what it's like to be the caged animal. No one was making any attempt to pet the dogs, even though their heads were hanging out the windows and all were pointing and talking whenever one of the dogs moved.

The seas parted once I arrived and got into the van, and the path filled in with more bodies.

Not long after arriving back to the van after my shopping expedition, Adi came back with two intricately cut quarters of fresh pineapple for Jerry and I to eat. The vendor had peeled and carved the fruit, and had cut it so that you held on to the stalk while eating. What a treat! While attempting to eat the juicy fruit without dripping all over the dogs, the Fijians would occasionally laugh, point and obviously talk among themselves as to our plight.

Within the half-hour, Lima and Adi were back and we were on our way to the wharf and off to Waya. It was then that I asked Adi the reason for everyone's hesitancy about the dogs. Jerry and I would tell the villagers that it was all right to pet the dogs, an occasional few would be brave enough to try and were obvious heroes among their peers after performing the canine touching routine. Adi explained to us that at the present there is a terrible feral dog problem on all the islands, which have resulted in many bites, injuries and a few fatalities. Poisoning of the dogs on the main islands was common practice and those who had dogs for pets kept them secure in fences. Add to that the fact that these people had never seen a dog with blue eyes before (Shadow) and long hair (Merak)!

The temperature was heading gradually upward, as was the humidity. It was now 12:30 in the afternoon and the dogs had each drank 2 bottles of water during our shopping adventure. They were hot, we were tired and the next leg of our journey was about to begin. Lots of horn honking later we were at the dock edge looking down upon the little boat that was to take us to the island. All of a sudden a large throng of people came running toward us. As Merak stood there watching this spectacle, I didn't know whether to jump into the boat or back into the van, sure that a riot was about to ensue and that we Americans would be caught in the middle. As a microphone was shoved into my hand, I realized it was the television crew, catching up to us for the rest of the story. Poor Jerry meanwhile was trying to deal with the newspaper crowd on the other side while Lima and Adi got the van unloaded and the gear into the boat. All the dogs wanted to do was to get into the water and cool down.

I never did get to see the final results of either the television news story or the next day's paper. The Fiji Times normally sells out by late afternoon and we heard that the Sunday edition with the American dogs on the front had sold out by 9 am. No one was willing to give us a copy after they had read it, so I'm hoping that maybe one day I'll get a chance to go back and check out their archives and get a copy.

There was a young English couple waiting on the boat to go out to Waya with us. They were planning on staying at the resort for a few days before heading on to New Zealand for a few months holiday. They filled us in on what had happened on the wharf before our arrival, about the crews hesitantly approaching the dog crates that were on the dock waiting for us with the cameras rolling only to discover that the dogs weren't there. They said it was highly entertaining to say the least, as each of them would do the same thing as they arrived.

The little boat we were on was about 15-20' in length with a closed cabin (open on the back) and shelf seats. It had a little 75hp engine and was painted white with bright yellow trim. We had several hundred pounds of gear stashed under the front deck, 9 people inside, 2 dogs and 2 crates lashed to the top of the cabin. A site to behold I'm sure. It took us just about 2.5 hours to reach Waya and in that time I was treated to my first experience with flying fish and dolphins. The dogs were uncomfortable due to the lack of air movement in the cabin, so we moved around as much as we could so they could put their heads out the window. The smell of the gasoline from the outboard motor was also a little nauseating to me, so know that it had to be overwhelming to Merak.

We had very little background on the terrain of the islands before landing in Fiji. All anyone ever told us is that the little island of Waya was 4 miles long and 2 miles wide. No one could believe that the victim hadn't been located by now. For the dog handlers, we thought that other than for the heat, the search was a shoo-in. After all, we work area that large all the time. The further away from the mainland we got and the closer to the adjoining island chains the farther our mouths opened.

Now back up to the type of terrain that I'm used to working in. I live right outside of Glacier National Park where mountains were formed by moving glaciers many, many years ago. We are used to working at 6000-foot elevations, but in much less heat and certainly less humidity. The mountains on Fiji were formed by volcanic activity. They are straight up, sharp and provide a lot of contrast against the tropical green vegetation surrounding them. As we neared Waya we could see why they hadn't found the missing hiker yet. For what we could see, the only flat parts of the island were right around the shoreline, from there it headed straight up hill. From sea level to 1500 feet in less than 1/2 mile. This was going to be far from easy.

We finally got to the island, got the boat secure and bailed off into the ocean for the 20 foot walk to the beach. I didn't have time to take my boots off, but at that point I was so hot I didn't care. Merak was thrilled in the fact that he was allowed to get his feet wet and jumped from the boat like any good retrieving dog. The look on his face was priceless when he went to drink the seawater. One lap of water then stuck his tongue out 6-7 times to get rid of the taste! The ocean there is easily 80 degrees, so the dogs getting wet gained not a lot of relief.

I took the first load and Merak to the hut where we were staying. The huts have wooden frames and wooden walls and a thatched roof. Our hut was 2 side rooms and one main room with 6 beds. There was enough shade to tie the dogs out, so I long-lined Merak with some fresh water from the island (the island water is potable and collected in pools formed by the rain. Very good water actually as I drank a bit of it also. No one, dog or human suffered any GI problems as a result. Unfortunately, none of the water is very cold). The boots and my SAR shirt (was white before this all started) came off, tank top on and I proceeded to the beach to collect the next load of gear and crates. After getting loaded, I found out the importance of the flip-flops. Even though the sand is white, it was HOT! It was probably the fastest I've moved in years when the pain receptors in my feet finally connected with the neurons in my brain and I danced, none to gracefully up the shore to the grass. It was then that we met the infamous village dog by the name of "Banjo". Banjo was the dog that had accompanied the hiker up the trail and came back 7 days later, no worse for wear.

Banjo loved Caucasians and hated the natives, so none of them got to close to him except for a few of the children who he liked. Banjo was definitely an island dog. He had a wider head, similar to a pit bull, with drop ears. He was powerfully built, was red with a black saddle and a white patch on his chest. About 18 inches at the shoulder and maybe 45 pounds. A very non-descript dog at that. We later met a little white and liver spotted bitch and another, younger dog who I assumed to be a Banjo puppy. She was white with black spots. Banjo had a nasty open wound on his leg that he suffered when attacking one of the villagers who had a machete, but it was clean and not draining, so we decided to leave it open to air.

The others in the group had already eaten lunch, a curried stew of some sort, so our very generous hosts fixed Jerry and I some lunch before we headed out for the day. For an island that has no electricity, and a very limited usage generator, I must admit I was impressed. Lunch consisted of a double decker sandwich of some kind of dry cheese (goat cheese? Looked like shredded Parmesan) and tomato and lots of fruit and juice. Very satisfying and filling. Due to the heat, we opted not to feed the dogs before setting out and gave each of them a couple of dog cookies.

The team leader wanted to head out as soon as Jerry and I were finished, but we expressed concern over the fact that the dogs were hot, tired and we had just gotten off the boat, so we agreed that we would start at 4:15pm with Jerry and Shadow and a flanker (and local guide) starting up the trail that the hiker was known to take and myself, Merak our flanker and guide being helicoptered to the top of the peak to intersect the same trail and work down. The part of the team that had flown in by helicopter already had a bird's eye view of the area and had determined some areas of higher probability. Looking at the map on the wall, we could see the amount of effort the villagers and the Fijian police had already put into the search effort. Each night for over 2 weeks they had come down to put the areas they had walked on the map in pen.

At around 4 p.m., I went to the hut to get my gear together and change into some different clothes. Jerry and Shadow were geared up and starting up the trail and I got Merak’s bell that he wears on his SAR collar out of his bag and velcro'd it on the D-ring. He was ready to go. The light dancing in his eyes and his expression told me he would do absolutely anything for me, even after all that we'd just gone through. I stopped to give him a bear hug and a kiss on the nose and to tell him how much I loved him.

With that, Merak, Steve, my flanker and radio tech., Mukoo (sp?) our guide and myself headed over to the waiting chopper. The pilot, Nick was from Australia and had taken helicopter flight school in Washington. Neat guy and later we found, awesome pilot. He had taken the doors off the craft and we all loaded with me on the right outside and Merak sitting next to me. It was our first time in a helicopter without sides and let me tell you, I was more nervous than the dog. At this point, I don't think anything could have fazed him. Take-off was effortless and up we went to the top of the mountain. On the way we saw several herds of wild goats, about Nubian size grace the rock faces and outcroppings. I have never seen any place so green and lush as I did then.

Nick settled the helicopter on a grassy knoll half again as wide as the chopper, our gear was unloaded and he took off toward the village leaving the three of us there to admire the view for a few minutes. Ocean everywhere dotted with tiny green islands. What a site to behold. It was also hotter and more humid than anywhere else I had ever been before, so we loaded up quickly and decided to get to work.

Let's back up quickly for a moment at this time. First off, remember when I mentioned that we had Agriculture Inspectors that were supposed to be with us at all times to keep the local dogs and our dogs separated? Well, that never happened. Within 5 minutes of hitting the island, Banjo had come over to greet the dogs and us. Fortunately he wasn't overly aggressive toward these new creatures on the island, but then again doubt he's seen something that smells like a dog with long hair either. I had a few worries over what Banjo's reaction would be since I was brining an unneutered male on to his territory, but he really didn't seem to care other than some lip lifting. The few villagers that were able to pet him would chain him to a tree whenever we were around, so that helped to avoid any potential problems and to keep him from marking our gear!

The second the Inspectors found out where we were going on our search, they stated that they didn't think we'd have any problems and found themselves a shady spot on the beach to take a nap. Must have been nice.

Also in the village we met the victims brother and sister and a family friend. They confirmed that they also had been through the pack that had been at Adi's house, so our scent articles were in fact useless.

Now back to the top of the mountain...

After Nick had taken off and we were there on the knoll by ourselves, we devised our plan of action. We would follow the trail as far as we could north, until the jungle swallowed it, then turn around and head down toward a junction where we would rendezvous with Jerry and Shadow. From there someone would head south and the other would head toward another village on the east side of the island. We weren't hoping for much due to the intensity of the heat, but we were hasty searching to get a feel for the terrain, and possible areas that would need to be searched further within the following days.

The winds were swirling at the top of the ridge, coming off the ocean for the most part from the SE and SW, but occasionally we'd get a blast from the north. You could feel the breeze on your cheek and that was the extent of our air movement. Better than nothing. We headed up the hill, Merak under command and moving out nicely, me thinking I should have left at least 10 pounds of gear at the village and brought another 20 pounds of water, when Merak gave a beautiful alert and went crashing into the jungle. All at once we heard a scream and Merak emerged from the canopy. Our guide was yelling something in Fijian, and I made out United States of America as Merak came barreling into me for the re-find. Come to find out we had just found the guides grandfather and friend who were up on the knoll looking for the victim also.

I must stop here and compliment the tenacity of these people in their attempt to find the lost individual. For over 2 weeks members of the three villages on the island would go out and look for any clues of the victims whereabouts. There are a lot of tales on the islands about the earth opening up and swallowing people, many sacred areas on the islands that one is not to walk on, but still they were out there looking. Absolutely nothing to be gained, but a want to find him and return him home.

After our find on one of the locals, we turned south and down the mountain to meet the other team. Let me describe the local terrain here so you get a feeling of what we were up against in addition to the sweltering heat and humidity. Contrary to popular belief, not all tropical islands are covered in palm trees. This is one such case. In fact trees were few and far between except on the very tops of the mountains. The Elephant grass (Saw grass) was very high and nasty. It averaged anywhere between 8 inches to 6 feet in height and was very thick. Add to that it has razor sharp sides that do cut skin not unlike a paper-cut. There were also ankle grabbing vines that would trap you constantly if you weren't high stepping, and several times I had to free Merak from one that would wrap around his chest and front legs (to get an idea of how thick, in a few areas I did a directional send out with Merak to have him check out a bluff. He routinely pulls 1000+ pounds when competing in weight pulls, so is very strong. In these areas he was only able to penetrate the foliage a few feet before he was physically unable to push himself through any farther). Because this is volcanic rock, there were a lot of depressions that were covered in vines
that you didn't see until you stepped into them. At one point I completely lost site of Merak only to find him in one such hole, about 3 feet deep. The trail that we were on was very steep and the footing was poor. I only thank the Almighty that it didn't rain when we were up there for I could see where someone would have injured themselves in the muck. In areas of canopy, the downfall was so bad that I had to clear a path with my flankers machete to get Merak over, around and under the trees. Jumping over and down 6 feet would have for sure resulted in an injury should he have attempted it. We were also on a ridge top, which meant that the trail we were on was between 3-5 feet wide with a cliff on either side. Should Merak have been ranging farther, I would have put his tracking harness and long line on him for safety.

While Steve, my flanker and I were struggling with the local terrain (sitting on our butts and sliding), our local guide nimbly found his way down dressed in shorts, t-shirt (sporting a Billy Joel logo) and flip-flops. It was at this time that the helicopter had taken off and was proceeding back to the mainland with the victim’s family and friend.

For the most part, the two teams had good radio contact with each other and with base in the village, but on several occasions we would lose one another. So with that, once the helicopter came back, the team leader decided to take to the air to ensure radio communications between the three groups and to start mapping out areas for our search the next morning.

Due to the heat, Merak wasn't ranging nearly as far as he normally would and because he was sporting his full winter coat I would call for breaks every 3-5 minutes to allow him to rest and to water him. I have to admit he was a good sport about the whole thing and when he was cool, moved out in Merak fashion. I constantly monitored him for signs of heat distress, knowing should he go down that there was no real veterinary care for a thousand miles and all we would have to help him was between us and the what supplies the village had.

After the worst part of the trail, we found ourselves on a relatively flat plain that ended in a rock outcropping. It was time to call for a break as Merak had worked pretty well for about 5 minutes. I called for him and he was nowhere to be seen. I was getting a little worried and since there was no wind what so ever where we were, we decided to head to the rocks. It was there we found Merak in a shallow pool of water that was just the right size for a Terv! Rainwater had collected in a 2-foot depression that was just long enough for Merak to lay down in and he was one happy boy! So off with our packs, and we sat there letting Merak decide how long he needed to cool down (of course, like all the other water on the island, this was tepid. But better than nothing in his books.). From our rock outcropping we had a great view of the island and the village and glimpses of the other dog team as they made it to the junction.

Jerry decided to head due south to the end of the ridge once they arrived at the pre-destined rendezvous site then would head back to meet up with us once we got there. After about 5 minutes, Merak was ready to go back to work and we covered the next 1/8 mile quickly. Merak was showing quite a bit of interest due west (from where we were, we were looking directly down to the village which is what I feel he was indicating on). Once we got to the junction we made the decision to head back to the village to give the dogs and ourselves a chance to rest, then we would hit the trails again early in the morning. It was then that the team leader called in to report that they had located the remains on the side of the hill while flying low over the bottom trail.

The chopper landed and Jerry and I stayed put while our support crew loaded to help secure the area. A tropical rainstorm could be seen moving toward the island and we were greatly hoping it would dump buckets of rain on us since we were hot, sweaty and dusty. While we were sitting there with our guides and the grandfather and other villagers, a family came up the trail to go the village on the other side to take their baths in a waterfall. It was there that Merak met a little girl whose name we never got. She was about 10 years old and immediately fell in love with Merak, and he with her. She too was a little hesitant about petting him, but with little encouragement started with his ears and nose and worked up to the rest of his head and neck as he leaned against her asking for more.

After they left, a few more villagers came up the trail with another dog. This one was black and white with erect ears and reminded me a lot of a Canaan dog, although a little shorter in leg and a little longer in ears. We asked the name of this dog and the owner informed us his name was "Douglas" which was met by a lot of laughter by the rest of the group (they did a lot of talking among themselves in Fijian which is rather frustrating when you know all of 2 words).

Base camp radioed to Jerry and I that the helicopter would be up to get us as soon as they had delivered the Fijian police (who were already on the island) to the site and to hang tight. Our storm was moving in so we moved closer to the one and only tree in the area for shelter in the event we got wetter than we hoped. But alas, at the last moment and after no more than 10 raindrops, the storm broke and went around us, still no relief from the heat in site. I should probably be glad that we had the heat we did. We didn't have one problem with mosquitoes while on the island and only a few flies. I was expecting all sorts of bugs, but never saw or felt any while
we were there.

Within the hour, Nick came back for Jerry and I and the dogs and set us down on the beach by the village. Because so few Caucasians visit the island, you are immediately the center of attention when you get there. There are always at least 20 villagers sitting under the palm trees in front of the huts during day light hours watching everything you do. When you sit on the grass or on the beach, they will slowly move closer until they are able to touch you, not maliciously, but because they are curious about the color of your skin. News of the find quickly spread through the village that we were staying at and the adjoining one and the natives streamed onto the beach awaiting our arrival from the mountain. Our new English friends said it was amazing to watch as they all came the short distance and sat on the sand singing songs and waiting.

As soon as we exited the helicopter we were greeted by cheers and clapping from about 200 people, which made me a little uneasy not being accustomed to a hero's welcome. The villagers were singing, some were crying and all wore smiles as we got off the beach. It was definitely beyond words.

We headed to the hut to get rid of our gear, water and wet down the dogs and wait for the rest of our team members to join us. Meanwhile our cook, Joe, was telling us that it was time for dinner (like I mentioned before, they like to feed you!).

It was now 7 p.m. and all of the team members were off the hill and joined once again. I think I failed to stress how much time actually passed when we were out searching. Bravo team (Jerry and Shadow) left base at 4 p.m., Alpha team (Merak and I) left at 4:15 p.m. and the body was discovered at 6:10 p.m. All in a days work. Joe, the cook had prepared for us a fabulous hot stew (the last thing we wanted was something warm, but it was great. Remember, they have no electricity on this island. Everything is kerosene) with breadfruit, pineapple and rolls. I must admit I had never heard of breadfruit previous to this adventure, and didn't really care for it. They seem to use this fruit much like we use potatoes...kind of starchy. It looks like a stretched out honeydew melon, yet the taste is rather bland and fibrous in texture.

As we were eating, our team leader headed over to the adjoining village to place a phone call to the mainland. The only source of communication on the island is a radiophone, which must be powered by a generator, but I never wandered over to check it out to be sure. The Fijian government (at least that's who I think is in charge) has placed an 8 minute limit on phone calls made from any of the islands so you really need to do some fast talking when you have lots of important information to convey. As to be expected, he was cut off mid-sentence but figured the most important of the information had been relayed to the family. Once back with the rest of us, we realized that we had not yet offered the chief of the adjoining village with the presents we had brought.

When in LAX, I was put in charge of purchasing a suitable gift for both Tina of the US Embassy in Suva and the chief of this particular tribe. Tina was easy. Any woman stuck on an island must be craving Godiva chocolates (and I was right!) The chief on the other hand was far more difficult. What in the world do you purchase for a tribal leader? I kept asking my teammates for advice and they finally told me a "California" t-shirt would just have to do. Good call since the Fijians on this little island seemed to like their logo t-shirts! When we first arrived in Nadi, Christine the American liaison handed us a small brown package and told us not to lose it. She explained that it was Kava and that we must give it to the chief or he would be offended. We took her word for it and packed it in among everything else we were toting around.

Because we were staying in Adi's village, Adi could make up her own rules regarding dress codes. Since her village was also considered a resort, women could wear shorts and tank tops without any problems. However that was not the case in the adjoining village. In order for me not to offend either the chief or the residents I would have to wear a sarong (which Christine nicely loaned to me with a quick sarong tying lesson before she left the island) and a shirt which covered my shoulders. Since I didn't feel like changing right away, the team leader, Jerry and one of the other members headed to the village to present the chief with his Kava as Steve and I stayed behind to set up the four room tent we had brought.

By this time it was dark so I went and put my headlamp on so we could tackle the job of setting up the tent. We brought it along in the event there was no where for us to stay when on the village. Since Adi was so generous in letting us use a hut there were no other rooms available for the groups of people coming in from the mainland for church services on Sunday. So we decided to put up the tent so they would have someplace to sleep. Now, remember a few chapters ago when I told you that Fijians have a limited understanding of English and an even smaller English vocabulary? Here poor Steve and I were trying to direct a combination of 9 villagers and policemen in setting up this huge tent. Had someone had video camera capabilities we would have won an award of some sort to be sure. After 2 hours (and no other team members) the tent was up even if a tad unlevel. It was then that Adi started collecting a huge wooden bowl and smaller half coconut shells. We had no clue what was about to happen, which was probably for the best.

Our other 3 team members came staggering down the path from the other village with grimaces on their faces. David was fuming about disease and the fact that he needed to get on antibiotics as soon as we hit the states. When questioned, they told us about the Kava ceremony that the chief insisted they partake in. Kava is ground up root powder from a pepper plant (tree?). There is a very long history and story behind it, too long to submit here (without this story becoming 20+ chapters), but the gist of the whole thing is that by drinking the potion, you begin to reflect on your inner self and become happy (come to your own conclusions here). Members in the Kava ceremony sit in a circle around the leader with the left leg folded over the right leg. The person to the right of the leader pours the Kava (brown powder) into a sack resembling a cheesecloth which the leader pours water over. Then the leader of the ceremony takes and massages the bag and works it around the inside of the huge wooden bowl (about 3-4 gallons large) until the drink is of the right consistency and color. Of course, I didn't add how much sweat actually goes into the process. While the leader is massaging the giant tea bag, he/she is wiping the sweat off their brows/arms/chests with their hands before going back to work inside the bowl.Yeah.

Once the right Kava strength has been attained, the leader pours about 1cup of the mixture into a coconut bowl, which is then offered to someone in the circle. The recipient has to clap their hands and say "bula" while taking the bowl. Then the rest of the group claps three times while the recipient downs the contents in one mighty gulp (and that's one heck of a shot). Then the recipient gives the empty bowl back to the leader and claps three times loudly as the bowl is refilled to be offered to someone else. Interesting concept. So while I am being filled in on the intricacies of the ceremony, Adi comes over and informs us that she would be honored if we would join her and her brother for Kava. Oh boy.

The others of the group had already gone through three cups of Kava with the chief of the next village and were already pretty happy and reflective, but so as not to offend Adi they needed to sit in on another few bowls. Steve and I needed to be broken in on this new ritual. Being invited to partake in the ceremony a little disgusted by the method of mixture, but willing to go along with the whole thing for the sake of the experience honored me. For any of you that might have tasted Kava, I think you will agree with me...it's gross. Imagine if you will a bowl of water that you have just soaked your dirtiest socks in and throw in a handful of dirt and a few shakers full of pepper and you come close. Add to that the fact that it makes your mouth immediately numb after the first bowl (which is good since then you can't taste the next 2-3 bowls that your expected to
drink) and you get the picture.

After 3 rounds (and I made it through all three without laughing, gagging or throwing up mind you), we were able to bid our adieu without hurting Adi or her brothers feelings. Of course between the 7 of us we were only able to finish half the bowl, so David (the one who was fuming about antibiotics) decided to help Adi and her brother finish things up. I think he was the only one that slept that night and now had been nicknamed "The Kava Kid".

The dogs were still outside tied out to the hut as we made our hasty retreat from the Kava tent. Neither one was too excited as it was starting to cool down a little and they were tired from the endless activity of the day. We decided to head in and get bedrolls out and call it a night. The temperature had fallen to an almost chilly 80 degrees and the humidity was easily under 90%. Walking into our hut I could hear the gecko's who live in the rafters (gecko's are a good thing...they eat the bugs in the hut. Kind of cute also) chirping. I happened to look down and in the soft glow of my headlamp SAW THE BIGGEST SPIDER OF MY LIFE!!!

Of course I shrieked and jumped a distance that would have made any Olympian proud as I yelled at my teammates to KILL IT! JUST STEP ON IT! The thing was easily the size of a small saucer and all legs. I swear it looked at me and barked as it swiftly ran from the pursuers and under the bed. They informed me that it was a Banana Spider, I told them I could have cared less what it was, it was big and alive and in the hut. My shoes went on quickly and I escaped to the outdoors to bring Merak in, knowing that he was bigger than the spider and would protect me from it's evil glare (yeah like the dog wouldn't be in my lap faster than I was on the bed if he would
have seen it). At this point a combination of the Kava and the events of the last 24 hours was catching up to me quickly and the spider didn't seem to be much of a threat anymore so I headed to my bedroll which I laid on top of all night.

Bright and early at 5:30 the next morning the local rooster informed us that a new day had begun. Since I hadn't slept much that night anyway and the hut was hot and stuffy, I woke up my teammates and we headed to the beach to watch the sun come up over the ocean and play in the surf. Our Agriculture Inspectors we assumed were still on the island, but we hadn't seen them since we had journeyed up the mountain the day before, so we let the dogs loose to play in the ocean. Merak had a blast. The tide was out and there was tons of coral, which had washed up on the beach from the day before. He kept trying to dig the coral up and bring it to me, but couldn't quite figure out how to accomplish the task. Then the water would lap up and bury his prize. Well, he couldn't have that, so he would go into avalanche dog mode and dig until he found the piece he was after which would promptly get buried again by the water seeping up from the hole. It must have been a terribly frustrating experience for him, but very entertaining for the rest of us.

About an hour later, Merak's new friend from the hill the afternoon before showed up. She was no longer fearful of Merak and approached him boldly saying his name (she rolled her "r's" and lengthened his name to Merrrrrrrrrrick. It was cute and he would cock his head at her every time she said it). In between chasing waves and retrieving seashells, Merak would come and sit next to his little friend as she rubbed his ears and head. Activity was starting in the village, so we decided that it was time to head back to the hut and decide what we were going to do for the day. I clipped Merak’s leash to his collar and his new found friend proudly walked him back to the hut via the village. She was immediately the hero of the day. Before she left that morning I asked her if she would like a picture book from America. She of course said she would and I gave her my last Smithsonian magazine that I had lugged across seas to read. She was thrilled with her new treasure and I knew that she would be the envy of the village. She told me that she too had a present for Merak and me and would give it to me before I left the island.

Breakfast that morning was something to behold. Joe brought each of us our own plate of pineapple, oranges, mango's and banana's which hit the spot and then some. Then as he cleared those plates, out came the coffee, eggs and toast! The magic one can do with a kerosene stove!! During breakfast we could hear several guitars and numerous people singing. There seemed to be several different groups of people praying and celebrating their religion in different ways. The women in the tent were very loud and emotional in their prayer. The men were quieter and there was more singing. The music was beautiful and very harmonious. A fitting beginning to the day in this beautiful place. During breakfast we decided that since our job on the island was done that we should head back to the U.S. in order to help save the family money. Although we all wanted to have one more day in Fiji, our hearts told us that this was the right thing to do.

Steve was going to head back with the gear in the boat and the rest of us (4 team members, 2 dogs and the Inspectors who once again showed up) would go back to the mainland by helicopter. So we got all our gear together so that we could have it loaded by 10 am at which time Adi was planning on leaving to the mainland. The tide had come in and David was in the boat
stowing gear underneath as I was hauling load after load from the beach over about 30 feet of water. As I turned to head back for another load I caught a glimpse of a very pretty black and white stick floating...no swimming toward me. A SEA SNAKE! Sea Snakes are the only poisonous snake left on the Fiji Islands (a fact we didn't know until after leaving the mainland) and are terribly venomous. However, because their fangs are placed so far back in their heads, you literally have to force your finger into their mouths to get bit. This particular one was the size of a fairly large garter snake, but none of that entered my mind as I performed an amazing vertical leap into the boat. Needless to say, David was none to sympathetic with my plight and just about laughed himself off the boat (I would have liked to see his reaction had it been swimming toward him!).

At this point, the gear was loaded, Steve was ready and he, our dog crates and Adi (with a group of other villagers) were off toward the mainland.

We had over two hours to wait until the helicopters were due to arrive, so we decided to do the tourist thing and lay in the sand. Of course if got too hot within a few minutes so we retreated to the shade of the palm trees on shore. Our local villagers were still there watching every move we made, so we decided that it was a good time for some U.S. dog PR. I put Merak in a down stay in the shade on some sand and backed up a few feet to sit in the grass. His little friend was they’re petting his head and you could see the longing in the eyes of the other villagers, yet they were still too cautious to approach either of the dogs. Before long, and inch by painful inch, the villagers started moving closer to the scary beasts.

As they tested the waters so to speak, a few of the braver adults ventured forth and started to pet his head and ears. When he didn't do anything, others came closer until they were all within arms reach. Suddenly Merak groaned and rolled onto his side which caused the villagers to leap backwards about 5 feet. He was just repositioning to get the greatest amount of mass petted at once. Once they had assessed the situation the people clustered around and started to pet him. It was obvious that the people of the tribe had never seen a longhaired dog before. As they petted him, they would pick through his coat. It almost reminded me of monkeys when they preen each other they were so thorough. Merak was in a state of bliss and had his head resting on his little girl’s lap the entire time. When I was sure everything was fine with Merak, I walked away a few feet to meet the police dog that had been brought over from the mainland in an attempt to trail the victim.

Although he was a very viscous boy, once his handler held his muzzle he wouldn't fight you when you went to pet him. He was an amazing Irish Setter red in color with a collie like head (almost no head planes) and long drop ears that were between that of a Retriever and a hound in length. He also had a natural bobtail that was about 2 inches in length. He stood about 24-25 inches at the shoulder and perhaps weighed in at about 60 pounds. An odd, but very pretty dog.

As noon approached we didn't see any sign of the helicopter and figuring that since it was Sunday that perhaps it would be a bit longer. At that point we didn't know that there had been some difficulties and the helicopters wouldn't be out to get us. At 2 p.m. (after quizzing each other on the words to Gilligan’s Isle since we felt rather stranded), we called the mainland to find out that a boat was on it's way for us. Finally!

Once loaded on the boat (different boat this time, much more airflow) we headed for the mainland. Now on our way over, the ocean was calm and almost still. This day however we had 3-4 foot swells the whole way. The dogs did great, laying down and sleeping through the long ride. We, on the other-hand, were getting nervous when we discovered that there were no lifejackets, a radio or lights on the boat. For sure we would be stranded should the boat flip!

We made it to the mainland no worse for wear and Lima and Adi met us to take us back to Nadi in hopes of being able to change our flights home (we weren't scheduled to come back until Wednesday it was currently Sunday). Things just kind of fell into place when we got to the airport and the airlines assured us that they had plenty of seats. Since we weren't scheduled to fly out until 10pm, we opted to feed the dogs at the customs counter and crate them where they would get some breeze before we went to find something to eat. It was now 6 p.m. Merak ate a good dinner and was more than willing to hit his crate for a nap, we were fighting over who got to hold the cold Coke that we bought from a vending machine that we found in customs. Once all was said and done we were off to find a restaurant.