It’s midnight, and we’re boarding a flight in Melbourne, Australia. We’re completely exhausted, having only been married the night before, and already I’m starting to question whether this was a terrible decision for our “tranquil” diving honeymoon. The seats in front of, behind, and next to us are filled with the kind of Australians usually seen wearing fake watches and braided hair on Kuta Beach in Bali.
You see, depending on where you choose to stay, Fiji can be a completely different place. For Australians, it can either be a quick and cheap getaway with all-you-can-eat resorts, kids clubs, and cocktail menus that look like they were dreamed up by a sugar-fueled parrot—or, if you’re brave enough to take one more flight in what is essentially a 19-seater flying tin can, it can become something else entirely: a real paradise.
The Tiny Plane to Paradise
We are the other type of Australians. Our second flight is headed for Taveuni, Fiji’s third-largest island. The Twin Otter plane seats 19 people, and while the cockpit remains open to the passengers, our particular flight carries only four other travelers. Ironically, this tiny plane is where no one batted an eye at my oversized camera gear or my mountain of dive luggage, especially considering just 12 hours earlier I was nearly assaulted at Melbourne’s check-in counter for being 2 kilograms over in my hand luggage. (Try fitting an underwater camera rig into one of those laughably small “carry-on” measuring boxes.)
The flight to Taveuni is breathtaking. Below us, the coral reefs shimmer in greens and blues like tie-dye patterns across a canvas of turquoise. Manicured-looking islands rise gracefully out of the warm water, basking in the early morning sun. Our pilots recline casually, reading newspapers as we glide over scattered clouds. It already feels a world apart from the bustle of Nadi, which we had just left behind.
And then there it is. To the left, 14,000 feet below us, stretches Rainbow Reef. It glows just beneath the calm surface of the ocean, running the length of Vanua Levu’s peninsula. The plane banks slowly to the right, and through the salty windows of our flying tin can, a massive island emerges from the sea, its mountainous peaks wrapped in jungle mist. Taveuni.
Touchdown on Jurassic Terrain
Matei Airport in Taveuni is no more than a three-room building surrounded by locals resting in the shade. Located on the northern tip of the island, the airport connects to a single coastal road that runs around about three-quarters of Taveuni’s perimeter. A handful of resorts dot the island, ranging from “fairly affordable” to “if you have to ask, you can’t afford it.” Having poured most of our funds into the wedding and a few new pieces of underwater photography gear, we opted for a modestly priced resort with clean, comfortable rooms and accessible dive facilities.
The drive from the airport to the resort takes about an hour. Our driver, full of stories and local knowledge, talks us through the history of Taveuni's villages, the political relationship between the island's two chiefs, and various cultural insights. One village even proudly announces via billboards that it is “Entirely Smoke Free”—a concept I wish were more widespread.
As we turn inland to bypass a coconut plantation, our driver gestures toward the rising mountains cloaked in mist. The jungle canopy fights a daily battle for sunlight, with thousands of plant species jostling for space and light. Our driver smiles and says, “We like to call this Jurassic Park.” That was all he needed to say.
A Warm Welcome to Paradise
Our arrival at the aptly named Paradise Taveuni Resort feels like the beginning of something magical. The volcanic rock driveway leads to a place built with respect for the land it inhabits. Winding footpaths guide us past traditionally constructed bungalows with woven roofs, each one private and secluded—a perfect honeymoon retreat.
“BULA!” shout a cheerful line-up of resort staff and owners as they greet us. We receive flower leis, cold towels, and genuine smiles that instantly recall the warmth and joy of our wedding day, just 48 hours earlier. We’re given a tour, greeted by name by every staff member, and eventually handed a glass (or rather, a bottle) of champagne while enjoying a foot massage in front of our bungalow, “Papaya,” which will be our home for the next two weeks.
The Journey to the Reef
While the resort is located toward the southern end of Taveuni—an hour-long boat ride from the renowned Rainbow Reef—it quickly becomes clear that we are exactly where we should be. The journey to the reef is a gentle cruise through calm waters. Along the way, we spot pilot whales, manta rays feeding at the surface, and turtles navigating a sea of flying fish that shoot across the surface like aquatic rockets.
The resort’s dive boats are modern and well-kept. The dive staff are meticulous with safety and site briefings, and underwater, they’re experts at spotting creatures we would never have noticed on our own.
A Kaleidoscope Beneath the Surface
Unlike many destinations where different dive sites feel eerily similar, Rainbow Reef offers true variety. “Mini Cabbage Patch” is a forest of plate corals shaped like giant cabbage leaves, rising from 18 meters to nearly the surface. “White Wall” provides a thrilling high-speed drift dive, with endless fields of white soft coral resembling an underwater snowstorm.
“The Zoo” lives up to its name, teeming with zebra-striped sergeant majors and dozens of colorful, textured species. The entire reef system is a wide-angle photographer’s paradise. Coral structures, bommies covered in schooling fish, and endless vistas make it ideal for capturing expansive, dynamic images. Macro opportunities do exist, but the currents make lingering for the perfect shot a challenge.
A Hidden Gem at Our Doorstep
Rainbow Reef is rightly famous, but it becomes clear that much of the buzz around it stems from the fact that most resorts lack access to another secret: Vuna Reef, which lies just offshore from Paradise Taveuni. Paradise is the only resort on the island with a true house reef—something that would prove invaluable.
In our second week, Cyclone Pam moved west of Fiji, stirring up strong winds and making the journey to Rainbow Reef impossible. While other resorts found themselves landlocked, their guests sighing with disappointment, we continued diving without a hiccup. Paradise’s house reef came alive with swarms of fish, macro photography subjects, and coral-covered bommies that danced in the shifting light.
Night dives were equally magical. The reef transformed into a living cityscape, full of activity. Tiny shrimp eyes glowed red in our torchlight, while moray and ribbon eels slithered through coral mazes. Porcelain crabs, sleeping fish, and hulking crabs on nighttime hunts became our subjects as we hovered in the darkness just steps from our bungalow.
Discovering the Hidden Wonders of Vuna Reef
With Rainbow Reef temporarily inaccessible due to rising winds, we shifted our attention to the lesser-known yet profoundly rich Vuna Reef. Located just off the shores of our resort, Vuna was a surprise treasure. Unlike Rainbow’s famous names and charted paths, Vuna felt untouched, untamed, and waiting to be discovered. Each dive site along this reef presented an entirely different marine personality, sometimes subtle, sometimes bold.
The topography of Vuna was dramatically distinct. While Rainbow Reef was open and flowing with broad coral gardens and strong currents, Vuna was dense and structured—filled with overhangs, caverns, channels, and intricate rock formations. It was an explorer’s paradise. We often found ourselves navigating narrow swim-throughs where the only light came from the glimmering surface above, punctuated by shafts of sunlight slicing through the blue.
One particular dive, which came to be known among the dive team as “Ghost Drift,” stood out. As we descended, the sunlight dimmed and the current slowed to a gentle crawl. We drifted slowly past towering coral heads encrusted with soft corals, sea fans, and sponges. Every few meters revealed new life—an octopus camouflaged among rocks, a lionfish fanning its delicate spines in slow motion, and a school of glassfish that moved like a single creature, parting just in time as we passed.
Vuna was also a haven for macro photography. It was on one of these slower drifts that I captured one of my favorite shots of the trip: a small, perfectly poised ornate ghost pipefish hovering upside down near a crinoid. Its fins mimicked the feathery texture of its host so closely that spotting it had taken the careful eyes of our divemaster and the patience of a macro-focused mind.
What made Vuna special wasn’t just the variety but the intimacy of the dives. We weren’t checking off a list of famous sites; we were immersed in a living ecosystem, experiencing the unpredictable and raw patterns of nature. This authenticity and remoteness made every dive feel personal, and every photo felt earned.
The Night the Reef Came Alive
Of all the adventures we had underwater, it was the night dives that etched themselves most deeply into our memories. The reef, so vibrant by day, transformed under the veil of darkness into an entirely different world—quiet, secretive, and electric with life. With torches in hand, we stepped into the water behind the resort, only meters from our bungalow, and slipped into blackness pierced by narrow beams of light.
As soon as we descended, the reef began to sparkle. Tiny bioluminescent organisms lit up in green-blue flickers each time we moved, like underwater fireflies dancing in the dark. Beneath a ledge, two crabs the size of dinner plates scuttled out of view, and beside them, porcelain crabs swayed in the current, filtering plankton from the water with feather-like appendages.
The sheer density of life at night was astonishing. Moray eels slithered out from rocky crevices, emboldened by the darkness. A sleeping parrotfish lies wrapped in a mucus cocoon—a natural defense against predators and parasites. Shrimp eyes shone like rubies under torchlight, glowing from within every nook and cranny.
But the true magic happened when we switched off our lights entirely.
With nothing but the ambient glow of the moon reaching through the water, we waved our hands gently and watched the water erupt in phosphorescence. Every movement left trails of shimmering light in our wake. For a few silent minutes, suspended in warm, still water, we were surrounded by stars, floating through a galaxy of our creation.
This connection with the reef at night was something difficult to describe. It was humbling. It stripped away the noise, the chatter, and the rush of day dives. It left only breath, movement, and the awareness that this reef was not just a dive site—it was alive and watching us too.
Above the Surface: Culture, People, and Island Life
Taveuni isn’t just about what lies below the surface. The island itself is a tapestry of vibrant culture, history, and natural beauty that deserves equal attention. On days when the ocean grew too rough for diving, we ventured inland and discovered a side of Fiji many tourists overlook.
Our first land-based adventure was a guided hike to Bouma Falls, a set of three cascading waterfalls nestled deep within the rainforest. The path wound through thick jungle where vines clung to towering trees and birds called out from the canopy. As we climbed, we were rewarded with progressively more stunning views—each waterfall grander and more powerful than the last.
At the final waterfall, we plunged into the freshwater pool beneath it. The cold water was invigorating after days of salt and sun. Behind the roar of the waterfall, the world faded into a kind of peaceful silence broken only by the sound of our laughter echoing off the rocks.
But Taveuni’s cultural experiences proved just as unforgettable. One afternoon, we were invited by resort staff to a nearby village for a traditional kava ceremony. Kava, a mildly narcotic drink made from the root of a pepper plant, is central to Fijian social life. Sitting cross-legged in a circle on woven mats, we were offered bowls of the muddy drink in a ceremony rich in song, prayer, and community spirit.
The locals were warm and welcoming, eager to share stories, songs, and smiles. We danced to guitar-led Fijian folk songs, clapped along with children, and watched the older women prepare traditional foods over open fires. There was no trace of tourism here—only genuine hospitality and an invitation to participate, not just observe.
Taveuni’s charm is this balance. Adventure and stillness. Depth and elevation. Culture and nature. Every moment felt like stepping into a new layer of paradise, one that could only be uncovered through time, humility, and a willingness to stray from the beaten path.
Living with the Sea: Challenges and Resilience
No paradise is without its trials, and Taveuni—beautiful as it is—exists at the mercy of nature. During our second week, Cyclone Pam passed to the west of Fiji. Though we were spared the full force of the storm, the island still felt its presence.
The wind began as a gentle breeze but quickly escalated into something stronger and more persistent. Palm trees bent low, waves slapped harder against the volcanic rock shoreline, and the air grew heavy with moisture. The sky remained gray for days, dimming the island's normally vivid colors into monochrome stillness.
Travelers at other resorts were confined indoors, unable to reach the dive sites due to choppy seas. At Paradise Taveuni, however, we fared better than most. Thanks to the resort’s location and its sheltered house reef, we could still dive. Even with limited visibility, the reef revealed wonders to those patient and cautious enough to look.
The experience reminded us that life here is inextricably tied to the ocean—its moods, its cycles, its tempers. The people of Taveuni live with this reality daily. We saw how the resort staff adapted with grace, adjusting schedules, checking on guests, offering indoor activities, and constantly checking weather reports to ensure everyone's safety.
There was a quiet resilience in their attitude. Storms come and go, but life continues. It’s a lesson we took to heart. The ocean may not always be calm, the skies not always clear, but the spirit of the place endures, and so does the beauty—sometimes hidden, but never lost.
The Photographer’s Playground
From the moment I first dipped my camera into the warm waters of Taveuni, I knew I was in for something special. The photographic opportunities were endless—not just because of the subjects, but because of the clarity, lighting, and unique seascapes that Taveuni offered.
Wide-angle lenses were king here. Coral formations towered like underwater skyscrapers, and clouds of fish swirled above them in choreographed chaos. Soft coral blooms in every imaginable hue hung delicately from walls and ledges. Nudibranchs crawled slowly across sponges, their bodies adorned with patterns that looked painted by hand. Every frame felt like a masterpiece in the making.
Natural light played an important role. On clear days, sunbeams pierced through the surface and painted the reef in layers of gold and blue. I spent many dives just waiting for that perfect alignment of fish, coral, and sunlight—those fleeting moments where everything came together in harmony.
But photography here wasn’t without its challenges. The current on Rainbow Reef could be brutal. Trying to shoot macro while drifting past your subject at one knot is like trying to take a portrait of someone on a moving train. You learn quickly to anticipate, to read the water, and to shoot fast. Many of my best macro shots came not from hovering motionless, but from learning to shoot on the glide—timing my approach just right before drifting out of range.
Back at the resort, we’d review our photos each evening, sharing images with staff and fellow divers, trading stories about missed shots and lucky captures. It created a sense of community, a shared appreciation for the beauty we’d witnessed and managed to preserve in pixels.
By the end of the trip, my memory cards were full, but my appetite for capturing Taveuni was far from satisfied. This wasn’t a place to check off a list and leave behind. It was a place to return to—again and again—with new eyes and new light.
The Heartbeat of Taveuni
As our journey moved into its final days, a new rhythm began to take hold—slower, more attuned to the natural tempo of the island. With the early excitement of exploring new dive sites behind us, we settled into a quieter, deeper experience with Taveuni. It was no longer about discovering as much as possible. It was about appreciating what we had already found.
Every morning began the same way. The sunlight filtered through our bungalow’s thatched roof and danced on the wooden floorboards. Outside, the ocean’s hush mingled with the early call of birds. With coffee in hand, we would sit on our veranda and watch the tide shift along the volcanic shoreline. Even the air felt richer, carrying the scent of papaya trees, hibiscus, and ocean spray.
This was the Taveuni we had grown into—a place not just for exploration, but for connection. Every corner of the resort held a familiar face. The dive team greeted us like family, often calling us by nicknames they had affectionately coined. The kitchen staff prepared our favorite dishes without needing to ask. Even the local dogs, who lounged lazily beneath palm trees, wagged their tails when they saw us coming.
We had stopped being visitors. In a subtle, beautiful way, we belonged.
Returning to the Water One Last Time
Despite having logged more than twenty dives during our stay, each descent still filled us with anticipation. There is something addictive about diving in Taveuni—the mystery that lies just beneath the surface never truly diminishes.
On our final full day, we chose to return to Vuna Reef for one last dive. The wind had calmed, the sun had returned, and visibility was near perfect. As the boat pulled away from the dock, we watched our footprints in the sand vanish behind us, carried away by the sea.
The dive was serene. No rushing, no specific goal. Just a final chance to drift and absorb. A hawksbill turtle glided beside us for several minutes, its flippers moving with effortless grace. We passed by a towering coral pinnacle that buzzed with life—schools of fusiliers, triggerfish, and a lone barracuda patrolling the edge.
Near the end of the dive, we stumbled upon a surprise—a pair of reef sharks resting motionless beneath an overhang. We hovered nearby, careful not to disturb them, and for a full two minutes the world held its breath. No movement, no sound, only the weightless presence of two beings from different worlds sharing the same space.
Back on the surface, the quiet continued. There was no need for words. The dive had said everything for us.
Farewell Rituals and Lasting Memories
As is tradition at the resort, the final night brought with it a farewell ceremony. It wasn’t grand or touristy. It was heartfelt and deeply human.
The staff gathered in a circle on the lawn beneath the stars, guitars in hand and flower leis in full bloom. With gentle harmonies and island rhythms, they sang traditional farewell songs, their voices rising like smoke into the night sky. A few guests had tears in their eyes. I wasn’t far behind.
We were presented with shell necklaces, symbolic tokens of gratitude and remembrance. In return, we spoke a few words of thanks, our voices catching as we tried to convey what two weeks in paradise had meant to us.
Then came the kava. One final bowl, passed around the circle with shared laughter and lingering eye contact. As the night wore on, stories flowed freely. We talked about the dives, the wildlife, the laughter over breakfast, and the quiet moments between. We laughed at inside jokes only two weeks in close company could have created and toasted to the friendships we had made.
It wasn’t a goodbye. It was a soft promise: that we would carry this place with us, and perhaps one day return to find it still waiting.
Lessons from the Island
What began as a honeymoon diving trip unfolded into something much more meaningful. Taveuni didn’t just offer escape—it offered perspective.
There’s something profound about living at the edge of the world for a short while. Removed from the digital noise, from the clocks and schedules, from the endless demands of modern life. On Taveuni, we measured time by the tides, by meals shared under open skies, by the hum of cicadas at dusk and the splash of a distant diver breaking the surface.
We learned to slow down. To notice more. To listen, not just with ears but with our whole selves.
We also learned resilience—from the staff who continued to smile and serve even as storms rolled in. From the coral, which flourished in pockets despite a world of rising temperatures and ocean stress. And from the island itself, which stood proudly between sea and sky, offering its heart without expectation.
In a world where travel often feels rushed, commodified, or consumed in snapshots, Taveuni stands apart. It is a place that asks nothing of you, except that you be present. And in return, it offers everything.
Conclusion:
It’s strange how memories anchor themselves—not always in the grand moments, but in the quiet details. The warmth of volcanic stone beneath bare feet. The sound of flip-flops echoing on a bamboo walkway. The sudden appearance of a clownfish peeking from its anemone home. The echo of distant waves under a sky crowded with stars.
Taveuni is not just a destination. It is a feeling—a place where Jurassic wilderness meets the lull of the tropics, where mountains kiss the sea, and where every dive becomes a meditation on beauty, fragility, and wonder.
In the end, “Jurassic Park meets the Beach” wasn’t just a witty phrase tossed out by our driver. It was the perfect summary of this unique place. A land that feels ancient and wild, but also gentle and nurturing. A land where dinosaurs may not roam, but where the spirit of untouched nature still survives.
As our plane lifted off from the tiny Matei airstrip, banking once again over the patchwork of reefs and forested hills, we looked down not with the sadness of departure, but with the gratitude of experience.
We came seeking adventure. We found paradise.
And somewhere, hidden between the coral gardens and the echo of distant waterfalls, we left a small piece of ourselves—forever drifting with the tide, waiting patiently for our return.