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trip logs

Lost in the Islands of Tomorrow

Why hello there.

I’ve stepped out from underneath the palm trees we’ve been lounging under here in the Vava’u Group of the Kingdom of Tonga for a few minutes as it’s rather time to send you an update.

First off, the most exciting thing to happen on our sail here was that we got to skip Thursday and sailed straight into Friday which the girls where thrilled about (being Friday movie night after all). Somewhere along the way here we crossed the International Dateline moving us a day ahead of all of you back in the U.S. While you’ll be waking up to Friday morning it will already be Saturday here and well into the weekend.

Which means nothing here to us, of course, excepting that I have to remember to get to the amazingly fresh and gorgeous (and we’re talking California-gorgeous) produce market before it closes by noon as it does on Saturdays. Other than that, we’re living the old cruiser’s life of “every night’s a Friday night, every day’s a Saturday.”

This amazing scattered group of islands – there are 60 of them – are nestled together like puzzle pieces in an area only 16 x 18 nautical miles. You weave through them, around them, through channels and there’s a spot to anchor about every few miles. The whole group is surrounded by reefs that keep out any annoying ocean swell and it’s like sailing and anchoring in the Gulf Islands again. Only with palm trees and turquoise water and the soft warm breezes I think I’ve written about before. You can reach just about every anchorage in two hours or so. In the past two weeks, we’ve been to three of them.

This place doesn’t affect everyone the same way, but to us, it’s called us to slow down, stop for a while and just experience the life and place around us without the sense of movement we’ve become so accustomed to. Our first few days in Neiafu, the main town here, were spent catching up with boatloads of friends, some of whom we hadn’t seen for months. Just about everyone heading west passes through Tonga sooner or later and there have been grand kid-boat reunions here.

With Wondertime loaded down with delightful fresh produce from the local market, the likes we haven’t seen since La Cruz, we headed out to the islands. Or, one island in particular, that of our amazing longtime friends Ben and Lisa who we met in California while we were all on our way to Mexico in 2002 and sailed all over with that winter. They continued on to Tonga in their boat Waking Dream in 2004 and have stayed here ever since, opening up a number of businesses over the years and becoming a true part of the community. They currently have a lease on an adorable 2.5 acre island where they are busy living and building a small restaurant and eco-lodging amongst the palm trees. In their spare time they run the non-profit Regatta Vava’u coming up here in a few weeks.

We’ve been anchored off their island for the past week and have had a blast watching them get to know our new crew members as well as hearing their stories of life on a Tongan island. The girls, of course, adore Ben and Lisa as well as their island home. Countless hours have been spent just talking and pontificating and reminiscing and watching the palm trees sway. We’ve shared many meals together with Ben and Lisa, their local friends, and our cruising friends that have stopped by as well. We’ve danced under the clear light of the full moon while Ben – still the party king — spun tunes on his DJ gear. Michael has helped out with several of the countless projects underway on the island. The girls and I have napped in a hammock. We’ve read, daydreamed, had scavenger hunts. The beach has been combed for shells, many times. The girls have swung on the “hip ball.” We’ve messed around in boats. One clear night, we sat on a roof watching enormous flying foxes swoop overhead in the dark and listened to the crickets sing.

You never know what will pass by when you stop and watch and listen for a while.

The Wondertime Girls in Neiafu, Vava’u

Westward, One Last Time

I felt like tears would well up at any moment as we pulled away from Niue yesterday. I don’t remember that happening when leaving a new place before, except for when we left our home of Olympia a year ago of course. The girls didn’t want to leave either; they had grown to love this little place too with it’s tidy cozy seatracks, the ice-cream boat (a boat that had washed ashore in the cyclone and the owners decided to fix it up and serve ice-cream cones in it, they theorized), the playground, the yacht club where Holly always found a smiling someone to listen to her rattle off about her adventurous day.

The place felt familiar, like it could be a home. The people here, so kind and funny and rugged and resolute could be good friends for a long time. The place had all the qualities of our favorite small Alaskan towns only with cyclones instead of blizzards. On Saturday we were up at the crack of dawn to head to one of the village’s yearly festivals. We ate taro and pork, watched local kids dancing, laughed along with the blindfolded women weaving baskets, cheered when the men throwing spears made it all the way over the crowds’ heads and across the grassy field, hearing all the time the beautiful Niuean language being kept alive. We found at least another 50 reasons to love Niue that day.

Today, we are sailing to the Kingdom of Tonga, our last tropical port before we unpack our fleece and foulies and storm trysail and point Wondertime’s bow south to New Zealand in October. The forecast for these final westward miles is light winds, 10 knots or less and we’ve found the gribs to be right on again. We’ve been drifting along with our spinnaker today at 2.5 knots. It’s so calm, the shining sapphire sea is barely rippled. Down below, it feels like we are at anchor. The sun is shining, we have plenty of sunpower to watch movies and the girls are thrilled with this. Harry Potter is on the playbill for this afternoon. We even managed to find space in our tiny freezer for a bit of New Zealand ice-cream and are about ready to devour it any minute.

We were hoping to get to Tonga, 250 miles from Niue, with two overnights but it looks like it will be three. We don’t mind. Last night’s watch was simply gorgeous with the stars so bright you could read by them and I find myself glad to have extra night watches on the horizon. I have a lot to think about, remember, plan, dream — Michael too — and we each savor these quiet hours alone, on this easy last tropical passage west.

17 Reasons Why We Think Niue is Brilliant

After nine days at sea, we found the tiny island of Niue, the only bit of land for hundreds of miles around. It was 2 am when we arrived off the main town of Alofi and picked up one of the moorings maintained by the Niue Yacht Club. Our night approach was easy: Niue no longer has a fringing reef and there’s no danger of running into anything other than the island itself. Niue is a former atoll that’s had it’s entire coral center pushed 150 feet or so straight up into the sky. The island’s edges are now littered with caves, chasms, and crystal clear pools before what remains of the surrounding coral reefs drops steeply into the ocean for thousands of feet. We were excited to see this petite island nation for ourselves, and beginning when we woke up in the morning a few hours after our arrival we found many reasons to love this island.

1. Niue’s Clear Blue Sea

Niue is affectionately known as “The Rock” as the whole island is basically a huge chunk of coral limestone. It has no rivers or streams and very little soil resulting in little to no runoff. What this means is that the waters surrounding Niue are absolutely crystal clear. When we looked around on our first morning on Niue we were awestruck by the clarity of the water around us. We could see the bottom 120 feet below our keel! The strikingly pure shades of blue of the seas around Niue are the most beautiful and otherworldly we’ve ever seen.

2. The Wharf Crane

Before we arrived here, we’d heard horror stories about Niue’s wharf. We’d heard it was pummeled by swell, you had to climb a slippery, rickety ladder 50 feet up and then you had to use a cranky old crane to actually hoist your dinghy up after you. I have no idea how these rumors get started. Niue’s wharf is the best we’ve encountered in the Pacific: all four of us can easily step right off the dinghy onto a sturdy concrete staircase and climb the five stairs with good handholds all the way up. The crane is a blast to use: you simply hook it onto your dinghy’s lifting bridle, use the controls to hoist the dinghy up into the air and swing it over onto a wheeled trolley, then park the dinghy amongst the others lined up on the wharf nearby. Truly the most fun dinghy-parking experience so far.

2. The Check-In Process

Right after we hoisted our dinghy onto the wharf for the first time, we were met right next to the crane by two customs agents, each of which had us fill out a short form. 10 minutes later we were driven by Keith, the super friendly and helpful local SSCA representative, up the road to the police station (with a quick tour of the town of Alofi on the way). Here we filled out another short form and we each got our passports stamped. Check-in done, literally minutes after we’d begun the process.

3. The Niue Yacht Club

We left the police station after completing our check-in and wandered a few hundred meters down the road to the Niue Yacht Club. This place deserves a list of it’s own but I’ll just have to start by saying how impressed we are with the 14 heavy-duty moorings the club maintains (it is nearly impossible to anchor here due to the depths and coral-choked sea floor). The mooring balls are even covered with reflective tape to make them easy to find for boats coming in at night like we did. The club itself in town is a wonderful, comfortable place to hang out with very friendly owners, a huge book exchange, free internet, a fridge stocked with cold beers and sodas, and potluck events.

4. Fish & Chips

Niue is a “self-governing nation with free association with New Zealand.” What we hoped this meant was excellent fish and chips and we are happy to report that indeed we enjoyed amazing fried wahoo and chips washed down with New Zealand beer on our very first day here. Yum.

5. A Little Piece of New Zealand

Besides the fish & chips, it has been a thrill to experience a little preview of what New Zealand holds for us here in Niue. Everyone on the island speaks English just like the how Jimmy John Shark speaks(with a Kiwi accent to boot!), which is thrilling after our Spanish didn’t help us much in French Polynesia in terms of getting to know local people. Most of the food products in the grocery stores are from NZ and you have to be careful when crossing the street as it’s left-side driving here!

6. The Playground

During our sail from Maupiti to Niue we read through the Niue chapter in our Lonely Planet South Pacific several times (it is short). I noted that there was reportedly a playground in Alofi and informed Holly of such. Each day after, several times each day she asked me to confirm that we were indeed going to an island with a playground. Happily we found the reported playground just south of the main town and although simple and sun-worn both girls were thrilled to climb and swing and just play here. Holly gives Niue a thumbs-up.

7. History

Once you walk up the hill from the wharf and set off down the main road you can’t help but notice the graves. They are scattered all along the road, all the way around the island. They are varied: there are old, broken unidentified stone ones, there are new ones with fancy headstones with pictures and stories of the occupant. Many have silk flowers draped across them. Some have whole structures built on top to protect the graves. There are a great many more graves than people on this island that struggles to maintain it’s population: the elderly lost to the graves, the youth lost to New Zealand where everyone here has citizenship. The graves are not creepy at all though, even though they are everywhere. Rather it adds to the air of ancient history that is evident everywhere on Niue, both of the island’s geology and also the stories of the families that have lived here for a thousand years. Powerful reminders of time passing.

8. The Friendliest Island in the World

With a fledgling tourist industry, visitors are still novel in Niue. Each time we walk through town we are stopped by local residents who ask where we are from and how we got here and they are truly interested. Everyone waves as they drive by, whether you pass by on foot or car. Last Sunday we wanted to get down to Avatele Beach on the southwest corner of the island so had the girls stick their thumbs out. Within minutes we had a ride from a local fellow. It turned out he wasn’t really heading that way though and was planning on turning right around and driving back to town after dropping us off 15 minutes down the road.

9. Washaway Cafe

What’s not to love about a bar where you help yourself to ice-cold New Zealand beer from a fridge and write down what you took on a piece of paper? And has burgers topped with beets and fried eggs? And has a snorkeling beach right in front? And is the only place on the island open on Sunday? And has a steady stream of fellow sailors also stopping in?

10. A Birthday For Our Captain

Michael celebrated his 38th birthday here on Niue. It was a marvelous day with Dutch babies with French strawberry jam for breakfast, a bit of snorkeling off a tiny sandy pocket beach, dinner at Gill’s Indian Restaurant (the best Indian food we’ve ever had!), chocolate-chip cookie “cake” and two giddy girls who absolutely love celebrating anyone’s birthday, anywhere. But here in Niue, more special for sure.

11. Driving on the Wrong Side of the Road

If you need to practice driving on the left-hand side of the road, Niue’s the place to do it as I don’t think the island has ever had a traffic jam. Although most of the island’s main road is only a single lane, it’s good practice to pull to the left to let another car pass by.

12. Sea Tracks

13. Chasms

14. Caves

15. Snorkeling

16. The Mischievous Whales

Humpback whales are known to frolic amongst the boats moored here in Alofi although the local residents say there haven’t been many sightings so far this season. We haven’t seen them either, but we have heard blows and tail/fluke slapping during the late evenings so we know they are here. Yesterday, our friends on Knotty Lady awoke to find a whale had visited their boat while they’d been out in town the evening before. What they found was essentially all their bow hardware torn off their boat and dangling underwater: their anchor roller, anchor chain, cleats, mooring lines, furled Code 0 sail, bow pulpit and anchor locker door torn clear off. The best anyone can guess is a whale got caught up in their mooring and had to struggle dearly to get free. The damage is breathtaking: whales are strong, much stronger than most boats. Thankfully, the whale clearly got free and Knotty Lady will be repaired and will sail on.

17. Community

By noon of the day after the whale damaged Knotty Lady, the entire island had heard of the incident. Their sail was drying ashore in the afternoon. By evening, bent stainless steel parts were already ashore at local Niuean shops who’d volunteered to rebend and repair the pieces. A meeting was set up this morning for sailors to gather and discuss what supplies we each had that could help repair the extensive damage to Knotty Lady’s bow fiberglass and by this afternoon epoxy was curing. Niueans and cruising sailors pitching in without hesitation to help a fellow friend in need. That’s the beauty of life hundreds of miles from anywhere but here with each other.

Au Revoir French Polynesia, Hello Ocean

It was hard to say good-bye to Maupiti after lazing around in her turquoise lagoon for two weeks. We could easily have stayed for another two or four. But, we were out of FP francs and the weather window was perfect for sailing west again.

Maupiti was without a doubt our favorite Society island. With only a handful of small pensions, visitors are still a novelty here and the local residents weren’t tourist-wary as it felt like in the more commonly visited islands. It is the kind of place where you can walk down the village main (only) street and people will wave hello at you from their living room windows or lush gardens as you walk by. One day we toured the island on foot via the circumference road and lost count of the number of times people stopped to ask us if we wanted a ride. I have a hunch that the vision of Michael carrying Holly on his shoulders helped.

Leah likes to tell the story of how she dug some francs out of her purse to pay for two pamplemousse she’d selected at a fruit stand in a family’s yard. The elderly woman took her coins, then placed her two fruits in a bag. Smiling, she then grabbed another pamplemousse and placed it in the bag too, then a bunch of bananas, then another, and another until the bag was full to bursting. Leah needed some assistance hauling all her fruit down the road back to the dinghy. We helped by munching on the tiny, super-sweet tasty bananas as we walked.

Maupiti was to us the perfect mix of village life and nature. Leah and Michael scrambled up to the top of Mount Teurafaatiu one day (they took the photos in our last blog post from 380 meters up). One day we snorkeled with majestic manta rays nearly half the size of our boat. Another day the girls and I took a picnic to the neighboring motu, spread our blanket and snacks out in the shade and enjoyed an afternoon of playing in the sand, telling stories and stalking hermit crabs hiding out in the roots of pandanus trees. Other days we didn’t even get off the boat but spent the day reading, baking, swimming around our floating home.

Yes, it was not easy to leave Maupiti but last Wednesday we pushed ourselves through the pass (not nearly as friendly as when we entered it with a south wind and sea building this time). We safely made it through the building mayhem and turned southwest, towards our next island.

We are sailing to Nuie, 1000 miles from Maupiti. This is our last long passage until the one to New Zealand and we’ll be glad to have it safely behind us as these waters can be tempestuous (google: South Pacific Convergence Zone). So far, the wind has been perfect, about 18 knots the past two days. It’s dead astern though, so we have our genoa poled out to starboard and the staysail poled to port and we roll slowly from side to side as the waves roll under us. It’s nice to be underway again; there’s an air of excitement on board, wondering what the next bit of land will bring.

*We’re checking into the Pacific Seafarer’s Net again on this passage. Tune in to 14.300 at 0330z and make contact if you hear us!

Passage to Paradise

The entrance to Maupiti, even less than a mile away, appears to be awash in white water. We’ve just sailed from Bora Bora, 25 fast downwind miles in 20 knots of wind. Each mile closer brought our nerves up another hitch and by the time we were peering into the skinny pass with our binoculars our hearts were pounding and palms damp. “Let’s go.” Michael says and we furl in the genoa and power forward towards the entrance to Maupiti’s calm turquoise lagoon. With the thought that this is a no-fail situation – either we make it though or we’re dashed to bits upon the reef – we are suddenly calm. We’ll make it. We have to.

Most boats skip right by little Maupiti on their way to Suwarrow or Rarotonga or Palmerston having had their fill of French Polynesia by the time they clear out at Bora Bora. But our Lonely Planet South Pacific has this to say about this piece of paradise: Bora Bora’s discreet little sister, Maupiti, is one of the most ravishing islands in French Polynesia and is already being talked of as a rising star of the region. Yet it still remains a hideaway where insiders come to revel in an unblemished tropical playground and to drop out of sight…. Maupiti offers complete relaxation – there’s only one road, and virtually no cars, just bicycles…Nirvana found? You be the judge.

We just had to see this place for ourselves.

Looking back, it never seems as bad.

However, our favorite travel guide also features a warning about the only entry into Maupiti’s lagoon: “Yachties, beware, as this pass is exposed to big swells and strong currents.”

When your Lonely Planet give you warnings on navigational hazards, it’s best to take heed.

Our Charlie’s Charts of Polynesia concurred, with Charlie’s typical warnings of the number of boats that have come to grief here in the last 50 years. It’s true, Maupiti’s pass is tricky: it’s winding and narrow (less than 100 feet wide in some spots) with swift outgoing current, and standing whitewater, given certain conditions.

Thankfully, the day we arrived at Maupiti’s pass we had nearly ideal conditions: very low swell from the south, moderate wind from the NE and it was midday so we could see underwater obstructions more clearly. As Michael steered toward the pass he kept his eyes on the water in front of us, which was calm, and the range markers ahead. Keeping them perfectly aligned we entered the deep dead center of the pass through the shallow reefs on either side of us which were covered in whitewater from the breaking swell. I was below with my eyes on our nav computer, yelling up encouraging words to him (“We’re right on track! Excellent!”). The kids were in the forecabin keeping quiet as they know by now to stay out of our way when there is sweat beading on our brows. Even below, I could hear the huge breakers on the reef to either side of us but was too nervous to look out the porthole above the computer. I asked Michael later how big the white water was and he said he had no idea, he was only looking straight ahead, eyes on the guiding markers only.

There is a dogleg turn in the pass and you line up another set of range markers, then continue on down the channel keeping red markers to port, green to starboard (as the rest of the world does it apparently). Before we knew it, the lagoon opened up and we were in brilliant calm aqua water with the island-mountain of Maupiti towering to the sky in the middle. We motored for another mile, keeping in the deep turquoise channel, then dropped our hook in the sand under 15’ of water amongst a handful of other sailboats. A light breeze ruffled the water and we just stood gazing around at one of the most beautiful places we’ve ever seen. We were floating between the small village tucked up against the side of the green mountain and the brilliant white sands of Motu Tuanai, striking hues of turquoise varying with the water depths around us. Nirvana. Found.

Our favorite anchorage in the Society Islands. Wondertime is the third boat in from the left.

This place is amazing. We’re going to stay for a while.