Ha’api Islands in Tonga (and nearly a Ghost story)

Short of telling you a ghost story, I’m going to tell you the story of this shell.

The third of our stops in the Ha’api Group of Islands was Uonukuhahaki. It’s about 500 metres long and 200 metres wide and has two resident cows and many, many mad crabs that fly across the sand. I saw this beautiful shell and took it back to the boat, wondering if I’d have enough guts to take it home. It felt wrong to do so but it was so stunning and I imagined it back in New Zealand and how it would evoke our holiday in a flash.

That night we had Adventure Couple over for drinkes. Peter told us the story of how his mother had found a shell in Rarotonga and bought it back to Palmerston North with her. Spooky things started to happen. The cat would eat in a hurry then run out of the house; there was a smell of smoke and a feeling of someone in their bedroom at night. It wasn’t a happy house.

They weren’t spiritual people at all but after a year of unease they called in a kind of exorcist. To cut a long story short, the exorcist (on his second visit) said they had to send the shell back. They did. Or rather, they put it in a box and posted it to ‘Rarotonga’. Did it get there?

So the next day I took my lovely shell back to the same spot, amongst the fishing boat and tourist rubbish. I spoke some ceremonial words and walked away. My head doesn’t believe in stuff like that but my imagination does.

We then went to a sad little island called Ha’afeva. The dogs weren’t just skinny, they were starving and dying. I had a hard time feeling warmth towards the locals. I know it’s judgemental but no one can give me a worthwhile explanation. Got one?

Us Palangi walk around pronouncing ‘Malo e  lei lei’ badly; we take soccer balls and teach dumb songs to the village schools and we always look out of place.  This is of course is tourist-Palangi. We’ve met some others, aid workers mainly, who do some amazing stuff.  I met this awesome young woman who was born in Lifuka and educated in Auckland. She now goes round all the Tongan islands up skilling local nurses on women’s health – cervical smears, breast checks etc. Most Pacific women go the doctor too late when it comes to cancer.

I’m looking forward to spending more time in a village and changing my bad attitude instead of looking for the only shop (always run by Chinese) and feeling uncomfortable. Dean and I did sort of did it in Vietnam and Laos but still felt challenged. We can do better here. We’re cousins really.

Back to Pangai, the main town. I love it when there’s no wind. The clouds hang in 3D with nowhere to go. We’re starting to hang too, getting into the spirit of cruising. We’re trying to have no plans – very hard to do when all we’ve been doing for the past year is plan for this.

Internet is precious and hard to come by. But sometimes OK when we’re in a ‘town’ and Dean sends his phone up the mast!

I asked Dad to send us the Tino Rangatiratanga flag. Our good old NZ flag is flapping at us all the time and part of me is slightly uncomfortable with it. So we now flying the Maori flag as well. That feel’s right to me – Dean has no opinion on the matter and is doing it to make me happy. Aw.

The woman in the Post Office where we picked up the flag was wearing black and said she was in mourning because her husband had died. She had a big gap in her teeth and kept whistling when she spoke.  Thanks to her we now know how to say ‘Malo e lei lei’ properly. She was lovely and I wanted to hug her. Little steps, little steps.

Back on the boat, Dean’s been getting very annoyed with me leaving my hairclips everywhere. But now the headlines are screaming, “Boat Repaired by Hairclip”. He used one to attach the safety line on the stern. Woop woop.

Next stop is Blue Lagoon in Vava’u Group – not where Brook Sheilds shot that movie.

Love Janie and Dean on Pebbles

PS… if I did take that shell home, I’d have good material to write a novel!
PPS…still no fish. Except for a three-metre barracuda who we got to the back of the boat but couldn’t land it. It ate another lure of ours.

The colors of paradise.

The colors of paradise.

Pangai was hit by a cyclone 18 months ago. Many of the houses haven't been rebuilt and there's not a lot of food crops being grown. There's evidence of international Aid but not of progress.

Pangai was hit by a cyclone 18 months ago. Many of the houses haven’t been rebuilt and there’s not a lot of food crops being grown. There’s evidence of international Aid but not of progress.

Tonga (27 of 31)

Clever, clever Dean fixed our watermaker. It’s caused us much stress. If you’re a cruiser and want more details, email us at pebbles@myiridium.net

 

 

My first ever banana cake making, thanks to Edmonds Cookery Book. Here you buy huge bunches of bananas and they all ripen at the same time. We've been freezing them too. Yum.

My first ever banana cake making, thanks to Dean’s Mum, Alison, and the Edmonds Cookery Book. Here you buy huge bunches of bananas and they all ripen at the same time. We’ve been freezing them too. Yum.

 

Tonga (18 of 20)

Oh yeah baby, yum.

 

Tonga (24 of 47)

One of the other ICA chaps wondering how the hell he’s going to get his dinghy back to the boat through the coral reefs at low tide.

Tonga (1 of 1)

The local kids think Dean’s t-shirt is hilarious.

Tonga (9 of 20)

Here you get lemon-lime-oranges. They come in bags of about 4-5 and you’re never really sure what you’ll get. Veges and fruit are very, very hard to come by. We don’t want to take from the little supply the locals have for themselves but we also don’t want to get scurvy! We would so love a fresh OJ right now. We’re even thinking of resorting to our Raro.

Tonga (20 of 47)

The lovely Grace from Nika – another Bavaria 46. Her and her younger sisters Olivia and Rose are here from Australia. They are awesome adventure kids. Grace does the VHF talking, Olivia gets very seasick, and Rose is the cuddliest wee girl. They are being home schooled.

Tonga (12 of 31)

No warrant of fitness required in Lifuka.

 

 

 

 

Tonga – our tropical paradise (and how to drink fresh coconut water)

First, plan like crazy for two years to sail to Tonga. Spend all your money and rack up all possible credit cards. When your Mum dies, don’t loose your vision – in fact, make it stronger, and do it for her too. When your partner gets a cancer scare, you both tell yourself you’ll go to Tonga, no matter what. And when he tells you that it doesn’t matter what happens because he’s doing what he’d do if he did have cancer anyway, smile. Then spend 13 days in a rocky rolly boat with three men who haven’t had a shower. Feel like shite but know surely it’s just has to get better. Take your partners hand over the cockpit table after the nightshift from hell and tell each other it’s going to be okay. Arrive in Tonga and go to the first white sandy, palm-tree lined beach you can find. Meet Crazy Craig the Coconut Man and watch him machete a coconut. Grab it with both hands and bring it to your lips. Know you’re going to get coconut juice all over your face and hands but do it anyway. Taste the sweet, clear, light liquid and know you’ll never do this for the first time again. But know that every day is going to be full of firsts, no matter what happens. Now relax, because you’re here.

Tonga (47 of 47)

It’s a first.

Tonga (32 of 47)

Janie, Dean, BamBam (dinghy) and Pebbles. Our first cocktail hour, Uoleva Beach, Ha’api Group, Tonga.

Tonga (35 of 47)

Crazy Craig the Coconut Man, and our new cruising friends Kim and Peter from the catamaran, Take Two. We call them the adventure couple. Later that day (yesterday) we went to the Serenity Beach Resort and sat around a fire with some locals, singing. The lead singer’s favourite song was Stairway to Heaven! They sung Pokarekare Ana – very moving.

 This place is stunning… www.serenitybeaches.com

Sailing from New Zealand to Tonga (when all is forgiven)

Our last sight of Aotearoa was our New Zealand flag waving towards Cape Brett. After two years of intense planning and many YouTube videos of storms at sea, we were finally living the dream (or nightmare, as it first turned out to be).

My partner, Dean, and I, sailed from Mana to Opua in the Bay of Islands with our two crew, Ian and Glenn. The journey we were about to go on was huge for them too. We left Opua and sailed towards the unknown.

The first two days out of New Zealand was dead calm and stunning. I secretly hoped we’d motor all the way in calm seas. No such luck.

The sea started to slop and chop and the wind came up. It was coming from the North and was due to swing around to the East so we could sail on a reach. It never came. We bashed and crashed into the waves. I have 27 bruises to prove how hard it is to move around a boat in rough weather.

I was seasick pretty much the whole time. This meant I couldn’t eat so I got quite weak. I had to force myself to drink and nibble on a sesame cracker or a slice of orange. Of course I forgot about taking electrolytes (Rambo Medic is cursing at me). Sailing is great for weight loss! Dean had  a few icky moments if he was checking out the motor or was head-first into a bilge, but not too bad. Glenn was all good, as was Ian.

Glenn rode the waves like a demon. I had the steering on auto-pilot during my shifts. Steering in rough weather is my next fear to conquer – controlling how the boat comes off a wave. I’m too terrified to try it right now in case I get the boat side on and we ‘knocked-down’.

Night shifts kicked in and it wasn’t long before we were all sleep deprived. We did two hours on and six hours off. But the six hours off weren’t sleeping, just resting. It was too rocky and noisy and hot. I won’t tell you how many showers we didn’t have in the whole eight days.

Our NZ flag scared the hell out of me during nightshifts. It flicked shadows across the cockpit like madly pointing fingers: “Go there, go there, you’re going the wrong way”, it seemed to scream.

Your senses are all twisted with the low light. It’s so freaky not knowing what you’re sailing into. Every 10-15 minutes I’d stand up on the stern seat and take a good look at any lights. Even getting up there felt life-risking sometimes. But the stakes were high.

Some magic moments: When the moon disappears and the sun hasn’t come up yet – it’s other-worldly; seeing flying fish every day; finding something little to appreciate, like someone filling your water bottle; following how the light hits the waves until you start seeing dancing horses; and the realisation that we were really doing this.

The last three days sail to the Ha’api group of islands in Tonga was lovely. The wind was right and the sea went from angry sloppy to gently rolly.

Seeing the first white sand, palm tree lined, aqua water island was so wonderful. All is now forgiven. This momentous journey of extreme experience has been worth it (although I’m considering flying back in November!)

We made it! Paradise starts now.

Opua to Tonga (2 of 37)

Leaving Opua with the other ICA boats – all is calm, so far.

Opua to Tonga (3 of 37)

The blue bag contains our storm sail. Something we were hoping never to use. We didn’t!

Opua to Tonga (6 of 37)

Happy to be on our way.

 

Opua to Tonga (12 of 37)

Just before it all turned to shite.

 

Opua to Tonga (17 of 37)

Glenn’s comfy spot

Opua to Tonga (23 of 37)

Checking our emails which we love getting.

Opua to Tonga (22 of 37)

Faking it.

Opua to Tonga (27 of 37)

Ian’s hair looks lovely and curly in the salt air.

Opua to Tonga (26 of 37)

Janie’s Lean-O-Metre. Dean added the smiley and not so smiley faces. 15 is my limit!

Opua to Tonga (28 of 37)

The fishing line that never caught anything. One nightshift I heard a big metal clang. I thought it was a huge tuna ripping the handheld line off the boat. It was actually the life raft cradle falling off! Lucky Dean came up in time to rescue it in time.

 

 

 

Opua to Tonga (37 of 37)

Land, land, land, land.

 

 

Tonga (1 of 47)

Showered and ready to pop Caroline’s champagne.

 

 

 

Leaving New Zealand (and getting closer to the postcard)

Leaving Opua (4 of 5)

Pebbles’ bottom is very low in the ground, now that we have all our cans and fuel on board. We’re very proud that we’re looking like an offshore boat now, with all the safety gear, solar panels and clever dingy hanger.

Good morning, good morning and welcome to the Cruisers Net on VHF Channel 77. Welcome new boats and farewell to those departing us today. First up, community news… the next local yoga class is at the Opua Community Centre starts at 9am – there’s no fee, koha accepted. And are there any requests for rides Paihia today? It’s the popular farmers market in Paihia so come back on channel eight if you need a ride. Now, we’ve had a request for jerry cans to be taken to Vanuatu and also a box of clothes to a family in Fiji. If there’s anyone who can help out there, please come back on eight. Plus, we had a request for where to get malaria kits, so any info on that would be appreciated. Now, over to you – let us know what you need, what you want and what’s going on. Oh, and the dinghy that just went past F pier two minutes ago, you’re going way too fast mate, way too fast. Over to you.

This whanau of sailors connect over the airways every day. They keep in contact on other channels while at sea too, either by email or VHF for those in 25-30 nautical miles at sea (to convert to kilometres, double it and take a bit off).

Opua Marina. They're quite strict here - not as lovely as Mana!

Opua Marina. They’re quite strict here – not as lovely as Mana!

We’re all so different but have this incredible thing in common. No one really asks what job you do. Blokes tend to talk ship, the gals talk about life. When I say that I hate a lot of actual sailing, I either get a laugh of relief and an instant connection, or a bit of a silence.

I met this man a couple of nights ago who is part of another boat’s crew, headed to Tonga. He says this trip has been on his bucket-list and can’t believe he’s about to do it. Even though he started a new job just a couple of weeks ago, he told his boss that if he didn’t approve his leave for the trip, he’d resign.

We’re going with a group called the Island Cruising Association (ICA). There are 25 boats in the rally. Dean and I are the youngest by 15-20 years, apart from three or four other couples. For many others it’s either part of a sailing way of life, or a retiring, bucket-list kind of thing.

We are nearly officially called ‘cruisers’. I’ve heard cruising describe as boat maintenance in exotic places. I’m ignoring everything else I’ve heard that is not cute and chirpy. This includes stories of storms, breakages, seasickness….STOP!

We leave tomorrow!!!! Our boat shopping is over. Now we’re boiling eggs for our snack box, putting the anchor winch back together and getting the inside of the boat ready for an offshore passage. This includes ‘hot beds’ – all the cabins are emptied so when you come off a shift you just take the one available. If the engine is going then the bunk room is wonderful. Night shifts – oh god. They’re hideous, like having jetlag then flying back before you’ve recovered.

Our crew is nearly complete. Ian arrived yesterday and Glenn arrives this afternoon. Glenn did the overnight bus trip from Wellington so he’ll be starting with nightshift jetlag already!

It’ll take about five days to get to Minerva Reef, if all goes well. Minerva Reef is actually two reefs where, at low tide, you can walk on them. In the middle of nowhere, with panoramic views of blue, we’ll be walking on water. It’ll be postcard-perfect.

Then it’s just a couple of days to get to the Ha’api group of islands in Tonga. The weather is looking good. We may have to motor for a day or so and then we’re expecting south-easterlies on the side. Once we go, we’re committed. Eeek.

Thank you to those who have supported us. Please do email us any time at pebbles@myiridium.net (text only). The longer we are away, the more we love hearing from you – anything from important things to dumb and lovely stuff.

We are so friggin’ excited! I asked Dean how he is feeling this morning and he said, “I just want to do it.”

Happy adventures everyone. Our next blog will be from the Ha’api Beach Resort in Tonga. In about ten days we’re going to be on a tropical island, just like the postcards! Woop, woop.

Fair winds and calm seas from Janie and Dean.

Leaving Opua (5 of 5)

Zena!