Tonga — The Ha’apai Group
The Ha’apai Group is a sparsely populated scattering of low-lying, mostly atoll islands. Life on these dry island is barely above subsistence, and it shows every time one sets foot on any island with a small village. The people have next to nothing, but they are neither starving nor homeless. The sea and the land provide them with food, and a simple shed-type structure serves adequately for shelter in a climate where most of the living is done outdoors. Given that this is all they have ever known, these islanders appear happy or at least resigned to their lot in life, but what bothers The First Mate most about what she has seen on these islands is the general apathy of the islanders. (Refer back to the 2010 entry “Kava? He wants Kava?”) There is very little activity. Mostly she sees people just lying around or sitting, just sitting. This is what life has been for them, and they do not appear to know any differently. They have just enough food, just enough shelter, and they do just enough to stay alive. The First Mate sees the trash to be picked up, the fences to be repaired, the holes in clothing to be sewn, but they either do not see or do not care. To her, this is a most discouraging kind of poverty, but after all that is said, for the cruiser, the Ha’apai Group offers interesting and challenging sailing. Reefs are everywhere, and the charts are not good. The abundant reefs offer good diving and snorkeling, and the low-lying islands with their palm-fringed beaches offer up images of classic South Pacific paradises. We are off to the Ha’apai’s with hopes to see more of the islands than we were able to the first time we sailed here last fall.
The ICA Rally that we are with is not highly structured. There are dates set for key events, and boats can chose whether to attend or not. In fact, John and Lyn encourage boats to go off on their own for a while. The Rally is made up mostly of New Zealanders with a few other nationalities thrown in for fun, and after being pretty much on our own on this big ocean, we are now finding the readily available information from the Rally organizers and the enjoyment of having other yachties around to be a neat change of pace.
Tuesday, May 24th – Our first stop is to be Nomuka Island. In order to arrive there with plenty of daylight, Rally boats are leaving at various times in the middle of the night depending upon one’s boat speed.
.
On Avante, we pull anchor and motor out at 0400. We pass a number of the Rally boats along the way and after a speedy, double-reefed sail in 18 – 23 knot winds, we drop anchor off Nomuka at 1255. Two Rally boats are already there, and 11 more arrive during the afternoon. We launch the dinghy and head ashore to explore the island.
.
Later that afternoon, a radio call alerts everyone to head ashore at 1600 for “Sundowners” on the beach. Isn’t this what cruising is all about?
.
Sitting in front of the rusting hull of a shipwrecked boat are some of the Australians in our group: Chris and Cate with their 2 girls off the s/v Equinox. They have been cruising the Pacific for the last few years with plans now to return home this season to get their girls back in school and into the social scene they now need as teenagers.
.
Wednesday, May 25th – Heading off on our own today, we sail to a group of islands with unbelievably long names: Uonukuhahki and Uonukuhihifo. The First Mate finds that she has no linguistic talent. She just cannot wrap her tongue and mind around all these vowels, and her line of vision skips around and gets lost somewhere in the middle of these long words!
.
It is another great sail on a beautiful day. We anchor off Uonukuhihifo with one other boat anchored just northeast of us off Uonukuhahe. We know her! It is the s/v Larabeck with Sharon and Michael Graf. We had met them at the end of last season at Big Mama’s when we were all waiting for that weather window to New Zealand.
.
Thursday, May 26th – Last night was a rough ride at anchor. The gap between the above mentioned unpronounceable islands funneled an easterly wind right down on us churning up all the water around us in the process. We know we are going to have to move to a more sheltered area, but first we launch the dinghy to invite Sharon and Michael over for dinner on Avante this evening and to inform them that their peaceful island solitude is about to be broken with the expected afternoon arrival of a number of Rally boats. Noting that their anchorage is more sheltered by Uonukuhahe, we return to our boat and decide to move a little further north to explore a few other spots mentioned in our books.
Motoring carefully around the reefs, we head over to Tofanga, the northernmost island. (No trouble pronouncing this name.) Living up to its short name in this string of islands, it proves too small to block us from the wind, especially as the extending reef does not allow us to get near enough to obtain any possible shelter. Turning back, we end up anchoring off the northwest side of Uonukuhahaki.
.
That done, we head ashore and hike completely around Uonukuhahaki. It is a beautiful day with water so clear that we can see the encircling reef far off the shore.
.
Returning to Avante, we are dismayed with how uncomfortable the anchorage has become. Winds are up, the boat is rolling, and the reef is just too near for comfort. Larabeck still looks comfortable so we decide to head nearer to her. She is just north of the gap that was funneling the winds down on us and getting just enough shelter from the island. We had not wanted to encroach on their spot earlier, but now that a few of the Rally boats have arrived and are anchored not too far away, we will not be invading their privacy. Up anchor and away we go. The anchor goes down and is set just off Uonukuhahaki Island. At least, Sharon and Michael will not have far to travel for dinner this evening!
.
Friday, May 27th – Another day in the same spot! The First Mate is delighted. In the morning, we hike around Uonukuhihifo. It, too, is a gorgeous sandy island surrounded by a shallow reef.
.
The First Mate does not particularly like coconut water. All that watery liquid that comes out of a young coconut is an island staple so she figures they ought to at least know how to harvest it. Apparently, only the young, green coconuts still attached to the tree are the ones that have the watery liquid that is drinkable. When the coconut matures more, it has further uses, but the juice is no longer good as a drink. Picking a green coconut still attached to the tree is not as easy as it sounds. These palm trees typically grow high. Higher by far than The Captain can or ever intends to scale. To The First Mate’s delight, Uonukuhihifo Island has low-growing coconut trees, and the green coconuts are just an arm’s reach away. At The First Mate’s enthusiastic request, The Captain picks a good-looking green coconut.
.
Now to crack it open to get at the juice. Long before European explorers arrived on these island with their metal implements, the islanders were getting into coconuts. They must have used sharp rocks. We are surrounded by big rocks. Picking a sharply pointed one and finding a comfortable seat, The Captain sits down to crack the coconut the “old fashioned way”.
.
The First Mate is concerned that when The Captain does crack the coconut, all the juice will just drain out before she can even get a sip. Unbothered by that thought, The Captain keeps whacking away. It’s a contest: coconut against rock.
Over and over again, the coconut is brought down sharply on the pointed hard rock. The Captain works up a sweat, but the coconut shows hardly a dent. It’s now man against coconut
.
Coconut wins! Those islanders of old must have had another way to crack a coconut. The Captain’s Navy Pilot Survival School training taught him that one never expends more energy at collecting a food than the intake of that food will give. Definitely the amount of energy expended in this exercise was way out of line!
The First Mate resolves that we need a machete. The Captain agrees.
.
Returning to the boat, we pick up our snorkeling gear and head out to the surrounding reefs. We find one spot with a severe drop off that intrigues The Captain. He enthusiastically dives down again and again to see who or what is hidden in the crevices. Of a less exploratory nature, The First Mate is content to quietly hang from the dinghy line which is tied below to an outcropping of rock. From there, an area of reef that at first froze at her arrival gradually forgets about her hulking presence and comes back to life. She is amazed at the amount of movement she sees in the coral itself. Some sway in the current. Some actually seem to open and close small pockets. The multicolored tropical fish swim within mere feet of her drifting body, some singly and many in tight schools that in a blink of an eye shift and change direction as one entity. She is fascinated.
By the end of the afternoon, 7 Rally boats have joined us. Someone initiates a call for a lobster hunt. 1930 that evening is deemed the appropriate time. Lobsters come out from their crevices to feed at night. The Captain volunteers that he knows just the spot, remembering the drop-off with all its crevices. Resources are pooled. Who has spear guns, good underwater lights? How many dinghies are needed? Who drives and who picks up who? All is set. At 1930, the hunters depart. An hour passes. From Avante, The First Mate can see flashlights bobbing away in the distance. She has her large lobster pot ready to store our catch for the barbecue the next day. Finally, motors are heard in the distance. Eagerly, she peers into the dark. How many lobsters? From the cries of dismay from the first boat dropping off a would-be hunter, it is obvious that pickings were few. Few? There were none. Well, they had fun anyway!
Saturday, May 28th – We are going to move up to Uoleva Island today where some good drift diving is promised as well as another Tongan Feast. At 1130, with The Captain getting plenty of exercise going between bow watch and the nav station charts below, we slowly motor out of the anchorage and head up along a string of islands. Rain showers are around us, and we finally get caught in one just prior to entry into a tricky pass. Visibility is so reduced that we turn off the engine and just drift waiting for conditions to improve.
Three Rally boats come up behind us just as the weather starts to improve, but this is short-lived. With another squall coming on, we all decide to anchor off the island of Tatafa to wait it out. Finally, with a let-up in the rain and much better visibility, we all pull anchor and wend our way through the pass.
.
By 1550, we are anchored in the large, beautiful southwest bay of Uolave Island. An extremely long sandy beach beckons us to take a late afternoon stroll, and off we head to explore.
.
Sunday, May 29th – With a bright sun overhead, John and Lyn lead a group of dinghies out and around the reefs to a spot they have found for drift snorkeling. The seas prove a bit rough and the current a bit contrary for drifting along, but Lyn knows an area away from the surge where we can just float along quietly with the coral and sea life a mere 2 feet below us. The is more to The First Mate’s liking than coasting around in or near the pounding surf and current.
.
Later in the afternoon, we head ashore for the Tongan Feast. An impromptu volleyball match draws in a number of enthusiastic players.
.
Two year old, Eva, the youngest child in our group, prefers the blue Pacific Ocean. Dad is trying to watch her and play volleyball – two activities that don’t go well together!
.
The feast itself is a disappointment, but that has been our usual reaction to Tongan Feasts. The food is often bland and tasteless leaving The First Mate looking around for a salt shaker, though she knows by now that one is never to be found. The umu-roasted pig is always tough and dry. This The First Mate cannot understand.
.
She is now reading “Toki, The True Adventures of William Mariner” by Brian K. Crawford. In 1806, 15-year-old William Mariner finds himself enslaved on the Tongan island of Lifuka in the Ha‘apai’s. Petrified but resourceful, he eventually is adopted by the king, learns the language and rises to the rank of nobleman to become lord of his own plantation. It is a fascinating recording of early Tongan society, its language, religion and customs. His descriptions of the food served are mouth-watering. Their umu-roasted pigs are so succulent that tender, juicy strips can be pulled right off the roast. Nothing is juicy or tender about the pigs we have been served at any Tongan feast! Whatever has happened to the pig over all these generations? Thinking of all the live pigs she has seen walking around the islands or miserably penned up, none of them have been what one might call a “porker”. Most are rather scrawny looking representatives of the porcine species. It takes fat to render up a succulent pork roast. These poor islanders can barely feed themselves, let along their pigs! Maybe, too, they have lost the art of good cooking as well as their taste buds. Anything left to cook too long, even in a moisture-trapping underground oven, is going to have all the fat and juice cooked out of it. That certainly appears to be the case with any umu presentation we have been offered. The Captain and The First Mate vow once again not to partake of another Tongan Feast!
After the feasting, a dance presentation is put on for us by 2 men. One is a “fakaladi”, a male who from childhood has decided to be a female. This is very common throughout Polynesia where homosexuality is accepted. The First Mate thinks that given how very war-like these early societies were she can understand why certain males would prefer the alternative! She also wonders at her country’s senseless, religious-based fight over sexuality. Regardless of who is what, The First Mate enjoys watching traditional Tongan dance.
.
The men are much more active, stomping out the beat with aggressive war-like maneuvers and battle cries. The women dance with their hands, slowly and rhythmically. There is little body movement, and very often, women dance from a sitting position.
.
Both male and female have this quick, little chin twist that they do at the end of a stanza or a series of movements. Nothing moves but the head. No shoulder, no neck, nothing but the head. This little movement or nod fascinates The First Mate. Standing in front of the mirror on the boat, she has tried to copy it. She can’t. Too much else moves. She decides it must be one of those things one must learn from childhood, like how to roll one’s “R’s” which she cannot do either.
.
The ancient Polynesians used coconut oil liberally to soothe, soften and protect their skin. They applied it to their hair to smooth and make it shiny. Today, performers will smooth on a thin layer with the hope that their presentation will be good enough to motivate the audience to come forward and stick a monetary token of appreciation to any exposed oily body part. Our dance team was well received.
.
Monday, May 30th – Even though we are cleared into Tonga, it is expected that we check in and out with Customs when we cruise to a new island group. Here in the Ha‘apai’s, the place to do this is in the town of Pangai, which we can see off the end of our island. It is a nuisance to have to do this, but we must. Our friends, Cyndy and Stephen Everett, off s/v Salacia, a sister ship to ours, have told us that they left their boat anchored where we are now and motored over in their dinghy. It was only a 20 to 30 minute ride and saved the hassle of winding one’s way through the reefs to anchor below the town. That sounds great to us, so we set forth in the dinghy to report into the Pangai authorities. A mile from the boat, the motor dies. There we are bobbing in the middle of the bay, sun beating down fiercely and a long row to anywhere. The Dingbat, as we unaffectionately call the thing, refuses to function.
.
The Captain takes off the cover, tinkers with this and curses that until it finally starts and runs but only under continual full choke. Not wanting to tempt fate, we return to Avante, resigned to having to thread her through the reefs and coral heads into Pangai.
.
Pangai: what a discouraging little town! Hamlet is a better description. No one is around. The main drag is deserted. The few people we do see look listless and half asleep. This may be the main town in the Ha’apai’s, but it is no different from any other small village we have seen out here — just bigger.
.
A local sign give us no help in finding the Customs office. In fact, with no arrows to point out directions, it give no help at all to anyone. Maybe its creator just had a sense of humor.
.
We find the government office, but they are closed for lunch. The people who offered up yesterday’s feast run a restaurant which is supposed to make good hamburgers. We head over there. Our dancing fakaladi is tending the grill. We order lunch and try to stay cool in the still, hot afternoon air. Finally, the clock ticks around to the close of the lunch hour, and we head up the hot, shadeless, dusty street to the government office.
.
Duly signed and stamped both in to and out of the Ha‘apai Group, we are free to leave and resume our travels.
.
By 1400, we are back on aboard Avante, stowing the recalcitrant Dingbat and preparing to head off. It takes us about an hour to wind our way slowly through a series of reefs, but once well clear, we raise sails, turn off the engine and continue sailing north through the Kingdom of Tonga.