Last fall, the local diving season in New Zealand was abruptly halted by the early arrival of a cold, wet El Niño winter. The grey skies and biting chill left me longing for a tropical escape. Fortunately, Fiji lies just a short flight away, and with several daily departures, it’s an ideal destination for a quick, sunny getaway. I set my sights on the Suncoast, a region known for its radiant weather and stunning underwater landscapes.
My destination was Volivoli Beach Resort, nestled near Rakiraki township. A long-time favorite among New Zealand divers, this resort is more than just a place to stay. It offers easy access to the Bligh Strait’s world-renowned reefs and a community atmosphere that feels like home. The staff is always welcoming, the environment relaxed, and the diving opportunities range from novice-friendly dives to complex technical explorations. The convenience and comfort offered by Volivoli make it an obvious choice for any diver seeking quality underwater adventures.
I had last visited this vibrant reef paradise in 2013. The images from that trip still sit fresh in my mind: golden sands, sunlit skies, warm blue waters, blooming soft corals in every color, and the effortless joy of diving in a 3mm wetsuit. This time, I was joining a group expedition led by Global Dive Auckland. However, the situation was different now. Cyclone Winston, one of the most powerful storms ever recorded, had swept through Fiji just months before. As I prepared for the journey, I couldn’t help but wonder: what would I find in the aftermath of such devastation? Would the reefs still be teeming with life, or would Winston’s wrath have stripped away their beauty?
The Impact of Cyclone Winston on Fiji
Cyclone Winston was no ordinary storm. It tore through Fiji with winds exceeding 375 kilometers per hour, becoming the second most powerful cyclone ever recorded in the Southern Hemisphere. The Ra Province, where Volivoli is located, bore the brunt of the storm’s fury. Unlike the fictitious “Winston” from the Tom Hanks film Castaway, this Winston was nothing short of a nightmare. It arrived with brute force, moved through the region, and then doubled back to cause even more destruction.
Volivoli Beach Resort didn’t escape unscathed. While the Deluxe and Ocean View rooms, where guests and staff had taken shelter, suffered only minor damage, other parts of the resort were less fortunate. The Premium Ocean View Villas were left in ruins, and the main restaurant and bar were significantly damaged. Despite this, there was a sense of collective relief — all the resort’s staff and their families emerged unharmed. Tragically, the storm claimed 44 lives across the country and left over 35,000 people without homes.
At the time of my visit, the resort was only partially operational. The Darling family, who manage the property, had closed sections of the resort for repairs and improvements. They planned to officially reopen the resort on November 1st, turning the tragedy into an opportunity for renewal. Their resilience and commitment to rebuilding mirrored the spirit I was to witness across the island.
First Impressions Post-Storm
As we made our way to the resort, the signs of Winston’s destruction were immediately visible. Damaged buildings, missing rooftops, and uprooted trees painted a somber picture. Yet, amid the wreckage, there was hope. Locals were working tirelessly to rebuild their homes and their lives. Shortages of building materials had slowed the process, but there was an unmistakable sense of determination and optimism in the air.
Arriving at Volivoli Beach Resort, I braced myself for the worst, but what I found surprised me. The gardens still flourished with vibrant bougainvillea, and the air was sweet with the scent of frangipanis. The iconic headland view was as spectacular as ever, with the setting sun casting golden hues over the tranquil waters. The resort was alive, recovering, and still very much the haven I had remembered.
Yes, there were scars — villas under repair, construction workers rebuilding roofs, and trees showing fresh new growth after trauma. The resort staff were apologetic about the work in progress, but they didn’t need to be. Simply being there, experiencing their perseverance and dedication firsthand, was a privilege. The minor inconveniences we experienced as guests were nothing compared to their daily efforts to restore and rejuvenate their home.
Diving the Reefs of Fiji After Winston
Our diving plan depended on weather conditions, and the early days brought some wind, which limited us to the closer local reefs. I had mentally prepared for damaged coral and sparse marine life. But once beneath the surface, my concerns faded. The reefs looked vibrant and intact. One of our first dives was at “Neptune’s Rhapsody,” a site bursting with life. We explored winding swim-throughs surrounded by schools of fish, graceful clownfish nestled in anemones, and glimpsed white-tip and grey reef sharks. At “Golden Dreams,” bright yellow soft corals draped over every surface, accompanied by gorgonian fans, black coral, and an explosion of Anthias — their vivid hues turning every safety stop into a visual celebration.
As the wind died down, we ventured farther out to the outer reef systems, enjoying a full day of three dives followed by another two-dive day. The water clarity was remarkable, with visibility reaching 20 to 30 meters or more. To my amazement, the reefs were pristine. There was no sign of damage from the cyclone. Marine life was abundant — schools of fish swirled around us, soft corals swayed gently with the currents, and every dive brought fresh encounters with nudibranchs, vibrant reef fish, and the occasional shark.
One dive that stood out was “Instant Replay,” a fast-paced drift dive that swept us past a stunning underwater world in what felt like seconds. At “Purple Haze,” black coral lined the walls, intertwined with giant gorgonian fans that danced in the current. “Heartbreak Ridge” was filled with magnificent swim-throughs and towering fan corals, while “Mellow Yellow” — a 30-meter-wide coral stack plunging to 60 meters — was a breathtaking showcase of every soft coral hue imaginable. It was the kind of site that left photographers torn between wide-angle glory and the intimate detail of macro shots. Every frame was a masterpiece.
As our diving came to a close and a no-dive day brought a welcome chance to relax, I reflected on what I had seen. Despite the destruction on land, the ocean seemed almost untouched. The reefs were thriving, the marine ecosystem undisturbed by the storm that had ravaged the surface. There was life after Winston — and not just survival, but vibrant, flourishing life. It was inspiring.
Meeting the People of Fiji: Resilience in the Face of Loss
While the natural beauty of Fiji’s reefs was uplifting, what truly moved me during the trip was the strength and spirit of the Fijian people. The aftermath of Cyclone Winston had left scars beyond the physical; homes were lost, communities were disrupted, and families were left to rebuild from the ground up. Yet, everywhere I turned, I encountered smiling faces, warm welcomes, and an infectious optimism that made it clear why Fiji is so beloved by those who visit.
During my stay at Volivoli Beach Resort, I made a point of talking to the local staff whenever I could. Their stories were sobering. One young dive assistant told me how his family’s home had been destroyed, yet they had all managed to survive by sheltering in a concrete structure nearby. Another staff member shared how they spent days clearing debris and assisting neighbors before even checking on their own house. There was no sense of complaint or bitterness in their voices. Instead, they spoke with gratitude — for life, for safety, and for the chance to rebuild.
Community support was everywhere. I was impressed by how the resort and its staff pulled together not just for the sake of the business, but for the entire surrounding area. Supplies were shared, accommodation was offered to displaced families, and resources were pooled to help those most in need. It was clear that Volivoli wasn’t just a diving destination. It was a community hub, a source of livelihood, and a symbol of what can be achieved when people come together in times of crisis.
Daily Life at Volivoli Beach Resort
Life at the resort, despite the post-cyclone reconstruction, was remarkably comfortable. Much of the resort had already been restored, and the team had made extraordinary efforts to minimize the disruption to guests. Meals were served in a temporary but cozy dining area, and the kitchen team managed to prepare delicious dishes using fresh local ingredients. I particularly enjoyed the seafood — grilled fish caught the same morning, tender calamari, and rich, flavorful coconut-based sauces that spoke to the heart of Fijian cuisine.
The rooms were clean and comfortable, offering stunning ocean views and direct access to the beach. The sunsets each evening were particularly magical. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the sky exploded into shades of gold, orange, and pink. Many evenings were spent on the veranda, sipping local beer or fresh fruit juice, chatting with fellow divers, and watching the colors fade into twilight. It was a peaceful end to exhilarating days underwater.
Rebuilding was ongoing, and construction sounds were occasionally audible during the day, but they were never intrusive. Watching the process of recovery felt like a reminder of the resilience and industriousness of the people around me. New villas were already taking shape, trees were being replanted, and stone paths were being carefully laid to reconnect the resort’s various spaces. Nature, too, was reclaiming its place — flowers were blooming, birds were returning, and the air was filled with the scent of renewal.
Underwater Encounters: Macro and Wide-Angle Delights
Returning to the water each day was the highlight of the trip. The variety of dive sites and the sheer volume of marine life made every descent an adventure. For photography enthusiasts like myself, Fiji offers a playground unlike any other. From grand reef walls adorned with technicolor coral gardens to tiny nudibranchs nestled in crevices, the visual possibilities are endless.
On one dive at a site called “Tornado Alley,” I encountered a swirling mass of barracuda that formed a living vortex around our group. The school was so dense that it blocked out the light momentarily, turning the reef below into a scene from another world. I hovered just above the corals, watching in awe as the silvery fish twisted and moved in perfect synchrony. It was the kind of moment every diver dreams of, and I was grateful to capture it on camera.
Another memorable dive was at a spot known as “Black Magic Mountain,” a site famous for its strong currents and high-adrenaline drift diving. The reef structure was otherworldly — sharp ridges, towering coral spires, and deep ravines that seemed to lead into the abyss. Large pelagic species often make appearances here, and I was lucky enough to spot a pair of eagle rays gliding effortlessly through the blue, their wings flapping in slow, graceful rhythm.
Macro life was just as exciting. During a slow dive at “Coral Corner,” I took my time exploring the crevices and rubble patches, where I discovered a host of tiny wonders. From colorful nudibranchs to rare ghost pipefish and tiny crabs camouflaged perfectly against their surroundings, each encounter felt like a hidden treasure. I used my Sony RX100 II to shoot several close-ups, and the details were stunning — textures, colors, and shapes that the naked eye barely registers came to life on the screen.
Night Diving in Post-Cyclone Fiji
One of the most thrilling experiences during my stay was a night dive organized by the resort. I had some reservations at first. Night dives can be challenging, and I wasn’t sure how the reefs would respond to the combination of storm damage and nocturnal activity. But my concerns were soon put to rest. As we descended into the inky blackness, our dive lights revealed a bustling world that had simply shifted its rhythm with the setting sun.
Crustaceans dominated the scene. Lobsters and crabs emerged from their hiding spots, their eyes reflecting our beams like tiny red jewels. Octopuses slithered across the coral in search of prey, changing color with each movement. A sleeping parrotfish nestled inside a mucous cocoon, safe from predators for the night. Bioluminescent plankton sparkled in the water, adding a magical shimmer to our movements.
The silence of the night ocean is profound, broken only by the sound of our bubbles and the occasional distant snap of a shrimp claw. The reef seemed to glow under our lights, with soft corals swaying gently and fish darting in and out of cover. At one point, a large moray eel slithered past, giving us a curious glance before disappearing into the darkness. Night diving in Fiji offered a new dimension of exploration — intimate, mysterious, and unforgettable.
Exploring the Surrounding Communities
Between dive days, I had the opportunity to visit some of the nearby villages to get a broader sense of how life was unfolding beyond the resort. The journey took us through winding coastal roads lined with banana trees, hibiscus flowers, and small homes with corrugated iron roofs. Many of these homes had been badly damaged or completely flattened by Winston, but signs of recovery were visible at every turn.
In one village, we were welcomed with a traditional kava ceremony. The chief and elders gathered under a thatched-roof meeting house and greeted us with grace and dignity. The kava, made from the root of the yaqona plant, was prepared with care and shared among all present. We sat cross-legged on woven mats, sipped the earthy drink from coconut shells, and listened as villagers shared their stories of survival and recovery. It was humbling, emotional, and a true privilege to be included in such a personal ritual.
Children ran barefoot through the village, laughing and waving as we passed. Despite having so little, they radiated joy. Some had lost their schools, others their homes, yet they welcomed us without hesitation. We visited a temporary school building made of timber and canvas, where local teachers were doing their best to maintain education routines. One teacher told me that volunteers had helped rebuild classrooms using donated materials, and that international support had been essential in keeping the community functioning.
Marine Conservation and the Role of Divers
One of the most encouraging discoveries of the trip was the level of commitment to marine conservation in Fiji. Cyclone Winston had reinforced the importance of protecting ecosystems, not just on land but also below the surface. The damage could have been far worse if the coral reefs hadn’t been as healthy and robust as they were before the storm.
Local dive operators, including those at Volivoli Beach Resort, are actively involved in reef monitoring and coral restoration programs. Divers are encouraged to participate in data collection, reef cleanups, and citizen science initiatives that help track changes over time. I was impressed to learn that the resort partners with marine biologists who regularly conduct assessments and educate guests about the delicate balance of the reef ecosystem.
Our dive group took part in a coral ID session, where we learned how to recognize various species of hard and soft corals, as well as signs of bleaching or disease. It was an eye-opening experience that deepened our understanding and appreciation of the reef. By the end of the session, we were all more aware of how our presence and behavior underwater can impact the marine world.
The dive guides were meticulous about environmental best practices — no touching, no harassing marine life, and careful buoyancy control at all times. Briefings before each dive emphasized reef-safe sunscreen, avoiding fin contact with corals, and never chasing or feeding marine creatures. This respect for the environment was evident in every aspect of the diving experience, and it fostered a sense of shared responsibility among guests.
Cultural Immersion: Finding Warmth in Fijian Traditions
One of the most profound aspects of my journey through Fiji was the deep sense of cultural connection I developed with the people. While the diving was world-class and the natural scenery was unforgettable, it was the everyday moments spent learning about Fijian traditions and values that left the most lasting impressions. Despite having recently endured one of the worst natural disasters in their history, the locals opened their hearts and homes with kindness, gratitude, and grace.
During a day off from diving, I was invited by one of the resort staff, Semi, to visit his home village inland from Rakiraki. It was a small community of about sixty families, nestled among gently rolling hills and thick greenery. The road to get there was rough and unpaved, lined with banana trees and sugarcane. Along the way, we passed several rebuilt homes and makeshift structures still under repair. Life was not yet back to normal, but no one was waiting for perfect conditions. Everyone was doing what they could with what they had.
Semi’s family welcomed me like an old friend. His mother prepared kokoda, a traditional Fijian dish made of fresh fish marinated in lemon juice and coconut milk. We sat on the floor of their rebuilt home, eating with our hands, surrounded by laughter and conversation. His father told me stories about his childhood, fishing with hand lines off the coast before the days of scuba tanks and dive boats. We talked about Cyclone Winston, and how it brought not only destruction but also a sense of unity among neighbors. When one house fell, others sheltered its family. When food ran low, they shared. That spirit of collective endurance was evident everywhere.
After the meal, the village children put on a small meke, a traditional Fijian dance performance that combines storytelling, singing, and rhythmic clapping. The dancers, dressed in colorful sulu skirts, moved with practiced precision. Their chants echoed through the village, celebrating ancestors, bravery, and the beauty of their land. It was a beautiful reminder that even in recovery, culture continues to thrive — perhaps more vibrantly than ever before.
The Emotional Landscape: Stories of Loss and Hope
While much of my time in Fiji was filled with joy and discovery, there were also sobering moments that brought me face to face with the emotional aftermath of the cyclone. I met families who had lost everything — not only possessions but loved ones too. In a neighboring village, I spoke with a schoolteacher who had returned to work only two weeks after burying her husband. She taught during the day and rebuilt her home at night. Her courage was humbling, her eyes filled with quiet strength.
One afternoon, I visited a temporary health clinic set up by international aid organizations. There, I spoke with a nurse who had helped deliver a baby in the middle of the storm. The roof of the clinic had been torn off, and they were forced to finish the birth in a neighbor’s kitchen, lit by torches and candles. The baby survived, and they named her Maraia, after a Fijian word for endurance. The story spread throughout the village and became a symbol of survival. That child, now five months old, had already seen more resilience in her short life than most experience in decades.
At the edge of the same village was a church that had been reduced to a skeleton of pillars and broken beams. Still, each Sunday, the community gathered there for prayer and song, bringing plastic chairs and woven mats to sit beneath the open sky. One morning, I attended a service and listened to hymns sung in perfect harmony. The voices, strong and unshaken, rose into the air like a promise — a vow that no storm, no matter how fierce, could erase their spirit.
These moments of emotional vulnerability added a deeper layer to my experience. Fiji, in its raw and recovering state, became more than a travel destination. It became a teacher of empathy, humility, and gratitude. The people were not asking for pity or charity. They simply invited me to witness their lives, to walk with them for a while, and to understand the meaning of community in its truest sense.
The Natural Resilience of the Reefs
While the resilience of the Fijian people was deeply inspiring, I was equally struck by the resilience of the reefs themselves. Before arriving, I had prepared myself for barren seascapes — broken coral, silt-covered seabeds, and a scarcity of marine life. Cyclone Winston, with its brutal winds and wave surges, had passed directly over some of the reef systems I was planning to explore. What I found, however, defied expectations.
In many places, the reefs looked virtually untouched. Brightly colored soft corals bloomed from every crevice, and the fish life was astonishing in both number and variety. Schools of snapper, trevally, and fusiliers surged past in silver waves. Butterflyfish flitted among coral heads. Clownfish peeked from their anemones. The visibility was often thirty meters or more, making every dive a panorama of movement and color.
Marine biologists later explained that Fiji’s reefs have a natural capacity for recovery. The reef systems are not only vast but also diverse in depth and structure, which helps them withstand severe weather events. Some of the deeper or more sheltered areas were minimally impacted and acted as reservoirs for repopulation. Moreover, conservation efforts — including marine protected areas and sustainable fishing practices — had played a critical role in preserving the health and biodiversity of these ecosystems even before the storm.
On one dive, I explored a lesser-known site called “Dancer’s Ridge,” a series of undulating reef ridges covered in golden sea fans and delicate whip corals. As I hovered above the reef, I watched a green sea turtle glide gracefully by, completely unfazed by our presence. Beneath me, a juvenile manta ray did lazy barrel rolls over the sandy bottom. These were signs not just of survival, but of flourishing.
I kept returning to that thought throughout the trip: the ocean heals itself, given the chance. It doesn’t happen overnight, and human actions can either help or hinder the process. But if we act as stewards — if we protect instead of exploit — then places like Fiji will continue to offer sanctuary not only for marine life but for the human soul.
Photography as Witness and Storytelling
My Sony RX100 II had been with me on every dive, capturing the moments that words couldn’t quite express. Underwater photography isn’t just about getting a good shot. It’s about telling a story, about bearing witness to a world that many will never see firsthand. In Fiji, that responsibility felt even more profound.
Some of the images I captured were scenes of surreal beauty — coral gardens bursting with color, curious reef sharks circling in the blue, a pair of cuttlefish in synchronized courtship. Others were more intimate: a single feather star gently swaying in the current, a blenny peeking from its hole with a hint of shyness, the silhouette of a diver framed against a cathedral of light filtering through a swim-through.
I took hundreds of photos during the trip, and as I reviewed them each night, I was struck by the emotional arc they formed. The early images showed cautious exploration, uncertain expectations. But as the days progressed, the photos became bolder, more vibrant, more celebratory. They told a visual narrative of discovery, resilience, and joy.
Back at the resort, I shared some of my favorite shots with the dive team. The response was overwhelming. Several staff members asked for copies to use in community projects, school presentations, or simply as reminders of how beautiful their home remains, even after the storm. It was a small contribution, but it reminded me of the power of photography to inspire, connect, and preserve memories.
Supporting Sustainable Travel and Responsible Diving
As I prepared to leave Fiji, I found myself reflecting not only on what I had experienced, but on how we, as visitors, can contribute to recovery and long-term sustainability. Travel, when done carelessly, can do more harm than good. But responsible travel — travel that respects local cultures, supports communities, and protects natural environments — can be a force for healing.
Volivoli Beach Resort embodied that ideal. Their rebuild efforts incorporated environmentally conscious design: solar power, energy-efficient lighting, and plans for greywater recycling. The dive operation used aluminum tanks, reef-safe soap and sunscreen, and minimized plastic waste. The staff were trained not only in hospitality but in marine stewardship. Guests were gently educated on how to enjoy the reefs without damaging them.
I realized that each decision I made as a tourist — where I stayed, what I ate, which operators I supported — had a ripple effect. Choosing local over imported, handmade over mass-produced, respectful over intrusive — all of these choices mattered. In the wake of a disaster, every dollar spent can help rebuild homes, fund schools, and support families.
Supporting sustainable tourism also means telling these stories when we return home. Sharing not just the beauty of a place but the truth of its challenges. Encouraging others to travel thoughtfully, to engage deeply, and to give back when they can. Fiji doesn’t need sympathy. It needs solidarity — the kind that comes from seeing its people, its reefs, and its culture as resilient, radiant, and worthy of respect.
Long-Term Reef Monitoring and Recovery Initiatives
Following the devastation of Cyclone Winston, numerous marine conservation organizations and local communities launched long-term reef monitoring projects throughout Fiji. These initiatives were not just about assessing the immediate damage but aimed at understanding the broader, long-term effects of the cyclone on coral ecosystems. The purpose was to gauge the resilience of reef systems and develop strategies to help them recover more effectively over time.
Long-term monitoring included methods like fixed-point photography, coral transects, fish counts, and water quality testing. Marine biologists revisited specific dive sites at regular intervals to photograph coral colonies and document any changes. By comparing images and data over months and years, they could track regrowth, bleaching events, coral recruitment, and biodiversity fluctuations.
One of the key programs launched was focused on involving local dive operators in the process. Dive guides and instructors who frequented the reefs were trained to log their observations using standardized methods. This participatory science approach ensured consistent data collection even in remote areas and fostered a sense of ownership and responsibility among those who rely on healthy reefs for their livelihood.
Communities that had long depended on marine resources began embracing reef management more deeply. Traditional knowledge and practices, such as "tabu" areas where fishing is temporarily forbidden, were integrated with modern conservation techniques. These efforts gave rise to co-managed marine protected areas, with both scientific oversight and community engagement contributing to reef recovery.
The early signs of coral regeneration were promising in some areas. Especially in the central and southern regions of Fiji, fast-growing coral species began recolonizing damaged reefs. However, certain slow-growing and highly sensitive species struggled to recover, indicating the need for ongoing support and protection.
Divers' Role in Supporting Reef Rehabilitation
As diving resumed in the months and years after Cyclone Winston, a new kind of eco-conscious diver emerged. Many who came to Fiji weren’t just seeking beautiful dives but wanted to contribute to reef restoration and research. Dive tourism gradually integrated conservation into its offerings, giving divers the opportunity to assist in reef surveys, coral planting, and citizen science.
Dive resorts and liveaboards began offering packages that included conservation dives. These dives often included orientation sessions on coral health, reef ecology, and proper buoyancy techniques to avoid contact with delicate marine life. Divers would assist in laying out transect lines, counting fish species, and taking underwater photographs to add to monitoring databases.
The involvement of recreational divers in reef recovery offered multiple benefits. Not only did it help scientists gather more data, but it also educated a wider audience about the fragility of coral ecosystems and the impact of climate change. Some divers returned year after year to the same sites, observing firsthand the slow but hopeful process of reef regrowth.
Several resorts introduced coral nurseries where divers could participate in coral farming activities. Small fragments of coral, broken during the cyclone or naturally detached, were collected and attached to nursery frames underwater. These corals were nurtured in controlled conditions until they reached a suitable size to be replanted onto the reef. This method helped accelerate regrowth in severely damaged areas and allowed divers to engage directly in reef restoration.
By turning dive tourism into a force for good, Fiji showed the diving world how economic activity and conservation could work together. Tourists left with more than just photographs—they left with a deeper understanding of reef ecosystems and their role in protecting them.
Climate Change, Cyclones, and Coral Resilience
Cyclone Winston was a stark reminder of the increasing intensity and frequency of tropical storms, fueled by rising ocean temperatures and climate change. As sea surface temperatures continue to climb, the likelihood of super-cyclones making landfall in regions like the South Pacific grows significantly.
For coral reefs, this poses a major threat. Warmer waters can lead to coral bleaching, and strong storms can physically break apart reef structures that have taken centuries to form. This dual assault makes it harder for reefs to recover naturally, especially if disturbances occur in close succession.
Scientists in Fiji have turned their attention to understanding coral species that exhibit resilience under stress. Some corals, especially those in shallow, high-turbulence environments, showed better survival rates after Winston. These findings are guiding new conservation strategies that prioritize the protection of resilient coral types and promote genetic diversity in coral restoration projects.
There is also increasing interest in assisted evolution techniques, where corals are exposed to higher temperatures in controlled environments to develop tolerance before being reintroduced to the reef. While controversial, such methods may become necessary as natural resilience may not keep pace with the rate of environmental change.
Local adaptation efforts include better coastal planning, reforestation of mangroves to reduce coastal erosion, and improved agricultural practices to limit runoff that can damage reefs. By addressing both climate and non-climate stressors, Fiji is working to give its reefs the best possible chance of survival in a warming world.
At the global level, Fiji has become an advocate for climate action, voicing the concerns of small island nations in international forums. The country’s leadership in the UN climate negotiations highlights the direct link between climate justice and the survival of coral reef ecosystems, not only as natural wonders but as life-support systems for millions of people.
Cultural Reflections and Emotional Healing
The ocean has always been central to Fijian life—not just economically but spiritually and culturally. The destruction of reefs after Cyclone Winston was not only an ecological loss but a cultural wound. Many villages rely on the sea for food, identity, and stories passed down through generations. When the reef suffers, so does the heart of the community.
In the aftermath of the cyclone, ceremonies were held in coastal villages to honor the sea and ask for its healing. Elders spoke of the importance of respect and balance between human activity and nature. These reflections became guiding principles in how communities approached recovery—not as a return to the past, but as a chance to rebuild with greater care.
Youth engagement became central to this cultural revival. Schools incorporated marine education into their curriculum, blending traditional wisdom with scientific understanding. Young Fijians participated in reef cleanups, coral gardening, and storytelling events centered on ocean stewardship.
Diving also played a therapeutic role for many locals who had witnessed the storm’s fury firsthand. Returning to the water and seeing signs of regrowth gave hope. It reminded them that while nature can be violent, it also holds immense capacity for renewal. Divers shared stories of the first fish returning, the first coral polyp blooming, and the silence beneath the waves transforming once again into vibrant marine life.
For visitors, diving in Fiji after Winston was often a profoundly moving experience. Seeing the juxtaposition of destruction and recovery left many inspired to support marine conservation more actively. Some even changed their career paths, dedicating themselves to environmental science or sustainability advocacy after witnessing firsthand the fragility and resilience of nature.
A New Chapter in Fiji’s Diving Story
As years passed after Cyclone Winston, the narrative around diving in Fiji evolved. No longer just about untouched beauty, it became a story of survival, adaptation, and renewal. The reefs that had once drawn divers from around the world were now symbols of resilience, and diving became an act of connection and responsibility.
Dive operators who once focused solely on the best coral formations and big fish sightings began highlighting reef restoration sites and ongoing conservation work. Dive briefings included updates on coral regrowth and how guests’ visits were contributing to marine recovery. The idea of responsible diving took root and became an expectation among visitors.
Technology played a role as well. Underwater drones, AI-based reef monitoring systems, and data-sharing platforms allowed for more precise assessments of reef health. Divers began using apps to log their underwater observations, contributing valuable data to marine scientists. This blending of tech and tourism created a dynamic ecosystem of learning, contribution, and stewardship.
New dive sites were also explored. Some of the previously untouched or less-visited reefs became accessible as infrastructure was rebuilt and expanded. These sites offered a glimpse into areas that had naturally recovered faster or had been spared the brunt of the cyclone. They became case studies for resilience and a reminder that no two reefs are alike in how they respond to environmental pressures.
Diving in Fiji thus became not only about seeing marine life but about witnessing the ocean’s story—its fragility and strength, its silence and song. Every dive became an opportunity to listen, learn, and leave with a deeper appreciation for what lies beneath the waves.
Conclusion
Cyclone Winston marked a turning point for Fiji’s marine ecosystems and the diving community that surrounds them. The storm’s power left a visible scar on the reefs, but it also ignited a wave of resilience among corals, communities, and conservationists. What followed was not just a story of natural recovery, but of human adaptation, commitment, and transformation.
Through long-term monitoring, scientific innovation, local stewardship, and the passion of divers around the world, Fiji's reefs began to heal. While challenges remain—especially with the looming threats of climate change and ocean warming—the lessons learned from Winston have equipped Fiji with the tools to face the future with resolve.
Today, diving in Fiji is a testament to nature’s ability to rebound when given time, care, and protection. It is a living classroom for sustainable tourism, a sanctuary for marine life, and a sacred space for cultural connection. For every diver who enters its waters, Fiji offers not just beauty, but a chance to be part of something meaningful—a shared journey of recovery, respect, and reverence for the sea.