Deep breath ... Lalomanu Beach, Samoa.Credit: Peter Hendrie/Lonely Planet
Robert Louis Stevenson made Samoa his final resting place. James A. Michener's Tales Of The South Pacific was inspired by the author's time here during World War II. It's remote, romantic and sometimes reviled the famously grumpy traveller Paul Theroux once described it as "crumbling".
What better place to consider my own crumbling? I do this sitting atop Samoa's famed Papasee'a Sliding Rocks.
I'm afraid of heights and facing a five-metre drop over a waterfall. It's my sister's fault I'm here. "Fifty isn't too far off," she reminds me, again, as she has since I turned 45. "We've got to travel while we still can."
As annoying as these reminders are, she is right. It is easier to travel when the body still functions roughly as intended. And the approach of the half-century prompts the big questions: have I achieved what I wanted to achieve, spent enough time with offspring, jumped off a waterfall?
The answers have brought two mothers and two sons to the edge of this precipice. It's a childhood dream come true to slide Tarzan-like down a waterfall into a jungle pool. Sure, five metres feels a lot higher than it sounds but it is hot (is it the equator or the onset of menopause?) and the pool beckons.
The sweaty 200-step descent to the rocks is sufficient impetus to jump. I take a deep breath, push myself over the lip of the waterfall and bump and slide my way down. I emerge energised, slightly bruised and contemplating a hip replacement. A young Brazilian woman at the base of the pool claps.
After that debut, it's an easy afternoon at the Sliding Rocks a must-do in Samoa. After we conquer the big rocks we head to the smaller ones further down, which aren't so scary but are just as much fun. Surrounded by rainforest, it's a lush escape from the ramshackle capital city of Apia.
On the main island of Upolu, this is a bustling town where it's best to stay alert. We arrive during the day and note the trenches beside the roads, more than a metre deep, designed to cope with the torrential downpours of the wet season. Unsuspecting travellers stepping out at night onto the dark streets could fall foul of these trenches, or any of the manholes that appear unmarked along the footpaths.
Maketi Fou, the busy central market place, is the main attraction in town. Here are a plentiful supply of coconut-shell jewellery, artefacts and an abundance of tropical produce. It is too hot to explore for long, even with the help of some locals who have taken to following us with fans. The market is open 24 hours a day. This, with the heat, might explain why many of the stallholders are flat on their backs, asleep.
We set aside an afternoon to visit the nearby Palolo Deep Marine Reserve, one of the best snorkelling spots on the island. It's a short swim from the shore over a shallow reef to "The Deep", as our sons call it in an ominous tone. A thin stick, difficult to see without reading glasses, marks the drop-off point. Beyond is a deep, inky hole lined by coral walls and populated with schools of brightly coloured fish.
Yet another afternoon is whiled away easily under blue skies in clear water but we have not come to Samoa to stay in the capital. Our aim is to stay in fales, Samoa's traditional thatched huts, in a more remote part of the island. For 100 tala ($47) we hire a taxi for the two-hour trip to the eastern-most Aleipata District and our destination, the village of Lalomanu.
This is where the most pristine tropical beaches are, with ample snorkelling spots. We are booked into a resort a cluster of fales (no ensuites, toilet block across the road) surrounding a communal dining and bar area and overlooking white sand and turquoise sea. Friendly staff show us to our open-walled fales, perched on low stilts right on the beach. We can lower leafy blinds for privacy around our mattresses draped with mosquito nets.
The beach curves around to the point where, at low tide, we can walk to an uninhabited island. But we don't have to walk that far for excellent snorkelling. The water is only a few metres away from our sandy doorstep. From Lalomanu it's possible to organise tours to all parts of the island. We decide on a trip to the renowned To Sua Ocean Trench, huge sunken waterholes swept by an ocean current that enters through an underwater passageway.
The tour is run by a sun-bleached hippie named Iliki, whose original German name was Walther. He has been in Samoa for 14 years; the villagers are his family. He tells us this as he hugs our driver, Hugo, a Samoan with a German name a reminder of past German colonial rule.
The Trench is set in a flowering, almost manicured, garden high above the shoreline. To get to the lagoon below we must climb down a 15-metre ladder. Fortunately the rope ladder of previous years has been upgraded to a more sturdy wooden structure but my legs shake as I take the first step down. Iliki scampers down without a backward glance. He sits on the wooden jetty at the base in a relaxed Samoan pose, waiting for the laggards. I arrive, trembling, and watch my sister negotiate the ladder. She's veering too far to the right. We shout a warning. "You're doing fine," says Iliki. "Just get down your own way."
The boys descend without a problem. Jumping from the ramp into the crystal, cool waters, we float on our backs watching clouds flutter over our heads. Without a hint of a breeze, silence is the only thing that permeates our consciousness. It's hard not to feel insignificant next to the massive walls of the trenches, created over thousands of years. I watch the ripples in the water made by my paddling and realise that turning 50 is not as important as I had imagined.
On our last night in the Pacific, we treat ourselves to dinner at Bistro Tatau, one of the finest restaurants in Apia. Australian owned, it has Western-style dining with some Samoan influence on white linen tablecloths at moderate prices.
So efficient are the bare-footed staff that when my sister decides to snaffle a coaster as a souvenir, they rush to the table to provide her with a clean one. She has been acting a bit strangely. When a grey-haired couple arrive at the restaurant, she points at them and says, too loudly: "Look, there are old people here."
Back home she is whisked to a doctor. I think back to her waterfall descent, jumping from rocks into the sea, climbing down deep trenches and all the time complaining about the heat.
We had blamed the hot flushes of "the change" and the unsuitability of the equator as a destination for perimenopausal women. It turns out, however, she has a tropical virus and a fever.
Which goes to show there's still some life in the old girls yet.
FAST FACTS
Virgin Blue charges $399 one way including tax to Apia from Melbourne, with a change of aircraft in Brisbane or Sydney; there's a fare of $329 non-stop from Sydney. Air Pacific flies to Apia, with a change of aircraft in Fiji, and Air New Zealand flies with a change in Auckland. Australians must obtain a visa upon arrival for a stay of up to 60 days.
Taufua Beach Fales has accommodation from 60 tala ($30) a person, including breakfast and dinner; see samoa-hotels.com/taufua/index.html. Litia Sini Beach Resort is an adjoining set of fales in Lalomanu with similar accommodation and price; see www.litiasinibeach.ws. Both "resorts" are run by well-known local families.
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