The Playground at the End of the World

We stayed for almost three weeks, and not a single day went by without being in the water. Towing, wingfoiling, exploring – it became our daily rhythm. I had never really done much tow foiling before, but during our stay Adam Bennetts was there running a coaching week, along with several amazing riders and coaches. Watching them ride, learning by observing, and being surrounded by that level of skill was incredibly inspiring. It pushed me to try new things and trust myself more in the water.

Although Namotu Island had always been a dream destination for me, we stayed just next to it and traveled daily by boat to different breaks around the area. Each day felt different. Some days we explored nearby islands, other days we focused purely on riding. The wind wasn’t always consistent, but when it showed up, we made the most of it and wingfoiled until we were completely exhausted.

The waves themselves were incredible – powerful but clean. Surprisingly, the waves didn’t scare me much. What really got into my head was what was underneath. Foiling alone over such clear water, seeing fish and marine life everywhere, made me very aware of how small I was. Sharks were always somewhere in the back of my mind.

One moment especially is burned into my memory. I was towing a friend when suddenly, he started screaming, shouting, and waving at me. “SHARK!” he yelled. I rushed back to him, my heart racing. He jumped onto the jet ski, and I was shaking so badly I could barely hold the handle. We spent the next ten minutes scanning the water but never saw anything. Eventually, he asked me to drop him again about 200 meters away and continue towing – even though it was just before sunset, prime shark time. That day, I was done. I didn’t go back in the water.

In the days that followed, I did return – but the thought never fully left my mind. Still, the adrenaline and excitement of riding those waves always won. Fear fades quickly when you’re flying over water in a place like that. I stayed cautious, though – especially coming from a landlocked country, where the ocean already feels like another world.

Looking back, the trip was a solid 10 out of 10. A last-minute decision turned into one of the most memorable experiences of my life. And the best part? We’re already planning to return – this time during the windy season, ready to experience Fiji all over again, even better.

Chiara

Some trips start with a plan. Others start with a feeling. Fiji, for me, was both.

I had already been there once, and I knew exactly what it was: a playground at the end of the world. Remote, raw, uncrowded – the kind of place that stays with you long after you leave. When I started planning this trip, there was only one thing I was sure about: Paula had to come. I kept telling her, “You don’t understand. You’ll see it and something will click.” She trusted me.

The journey itself already felt like a transition into another reality. Long flights, time zones blurring together, that strange feeling of moving further and further away from everything familiar. But nothing prepared me for the moment we landed. And especially not for the boat ride to the island. I’ll never forget Paula’s face. Standing there, quiet, eyes wide open, completely overwhelmed – in the best possible way. That moment alone was worth the whole trip. Fiji does that to you. It doesn’t need to impress you loudly. It just exists, and you feel small in front of it.

What makes Fiji so special is its remoteness. Being far away means fewer people, less pressure, and a completely different rhythm. The ocean feels untouched. The islands feel alive. And the local people – I still struggle to find the right words. Welcoming, warm, generous, always ready to help. There’s a spirit there that immediately makes you feel at home, even when you’re on the other side of the planet.

From a riding perspective, Fiji isn’t the easiest place – but that’s part of the magic. The main breaks are concentrated around tiny islands like Namotu and Tavarua. Incredible places, but not always accessible, and often fully booked. We stayed on Malolo Island, which already felt like another planet, and reached the spots by boat or jet ski.

Everything revolves around the ocean: tides, swell, wind. Your entire day is built around forecasts and water levels. Sometimes it works perfectly, sometimes you wait, sometimes you explore. On low-wind days, we took the chance to visit nearby islands, walking through landscapes that genuinely felt like Pandora from Avatar – lush, unreal, silent. The waves themselves are something else. Namotu and Tavarua are basically round islands wrapped in reef, which means swells can arrive from almost any direction. If one side doesn’t work, you just move. Somewhere, there’s always a perfect wave waiting. Glassy, powerful, clean.

I knew it wasn’t the windiest season, but I wasn’t worried. I told Paula, “Trust me. We’ll ride.” And we did. We winged when we could, but what really changed everything for me was discovering tow foiling. I had never really done it before. Flying over those waves without a wing, just board, foil, and ocean – it unlocked something completely new. The water was so clear and so smooth that I started calling it “toe snorkeling.” While riding, you could see the reef five or six meters below, coral colors, fish moving beneath you. It was surreal.

Most people focus around Namotu and Tavarua, which makes sense – legendary waves. But coming from Malolo gave us the freedom to explore. Following the reef, reading the lines, we found a spot near Castaway that became ours. Same distance as the famous breaks, but completely empty. Day after day, we had it to ourselves. No crowds. Just endless lines rolling in. Some rides felt like they would never end.

One of the biggest surprises of the trip was Cloudbreak. I had always thought of it as one of those waves you dream about, not something you actually ride. And yet, there we were. Not massive conditions – but still Cloudbreak. Still powerful. Still unreal. Riding it for the first time, especially on foil, was something I never expected – and something I’ll never forget.

Looking back, Fiji gave me a new addiction, a deeper connection to the ocean, and that rare feeling of having experienced something truly special. No rush. No noise. Just water, rhythm, and space.

Some places give you sessions.

Others give you memories.

Fiji gives you both – and then stays with you, quietly, long after you’re gone.