After four days at Tetapare, the simple Matakuri lodge seemed like luxury. The journey there took us over the open ocean, past towering limestone cliffs and through a narrow mangrove channel carved out by the Americans during World War II. A lone homestead signaled our entry into the enormous double barrier Marovo lagoon, the largest of its kind in the entire world.  Peppered with hundreds of lonely islands, it felt like a precarious lifeboat sinking into the endless Pacific.

Ben, the owner of Matakuri lodge, was there at the dock to greet us after the long and blistering ride in the equatorial sun. Our bungalow was built half over the lagoon and the roving squid and thrashing bands of bonito were the only other visitors. At night we watched the phosphorescent plankton glimmer below the surface, microscopic fireflies of the sea, the world completely still for a moment from the frame of the wooden deck.

Ben's languid hospitality was disorienting at first, time there was reduced to a slow crawl under the midday sun.  We had run of the place – we fished, kayaked, played with puppies and held raucous card games with our host and his family by lantern light - just a few things we missed for the rest of our trip.