FROM TONGA TO FIJI

Marcy’s passage from Tonga to Fiji started off in rough seas. After sailing out the pass and clearing the end of the island under double reefed main alone, we bore off to our heading. The rhumb line (direct heading) to our destination lay directly downwind. The motion on board wasn’t nice - there was a nasty roll on top of a quick corkscrew motion. The waves weren’t huge, but they were steep and confused, and just the right wavelength to really bounce Marcy around. Peter felt seasick for the first time since leaving Seattle, and Ginger was looking a little green herself. A lone whale spouted ahead of us as we held on for dear life and tried to adjust to the movements. We talked about our time in Tonga and remembered the sweet natured children we had met there.







We had brought some watercolor paint sets and other school supplies to donate to the elementary school, and the kids exuberantly posed for our camera.



Our memories of Tonga were great company on this passage. The first night of the passage was one of those we like to forget: cooking, eating and reading were out of the question and neither of us got much sleep. By late in the second day, though, conditions were easing up. We shook out reefs, unrolled the jib, and as we closed in on Fiji all of the surrounding islets had provided protection from the waves. The last day felt like sailing on Puget Sound on a summer day, without a trace of ocean swell. We entered Savu Savu harbor and picked up a buoy at the historic Copra Shed marina to clear into Fiji.



Steaming hot volcanic streams empty into the Savu Savu bay.



The anchorage has a good view of the commercial pier, where a succession of ramshackle ferries dock. These ships are handled like dinghies, with all maneuvers carried out at top speed. This ship has dropped anchor and is backing down to the pier, her vehicle ramp is already dropping down.



After the visits from the officials, we went ashore to change money and pay the fees at the various offices.



The phone booths fascinated us. Are those some sort of primitive weapons? They look like a Captain Kirk jousting weapon from Star Trek.



At last we were able to replenish supplies. Beer first, of course. Fiji Bitter is pretty good stuff. We still rate Vailima export from independant Samoa as the best in the Pacific so far…..



The market had all of our fresh food and kava needs….





Cruising sailboats need to carry a supply of kava bundles rolled in traditional ceremonial newspaper to present to the various chiefs that we will encounter in exploring Fiji.

From our mooring in the bay we had heard some workers singing beautiful traditional songs during their lunch break. The sounds drifting over the water at mid-day made us pause and listen. Later we noticed this skiff ferrying the brush clearing workers across the harbor on their way home. Throughout the Pacific we have seen no reluctance to really load a boat down.



The most interesting cargo load we’ve seen yet was a water tank being transported island to island in Tonga. This boat had crossed several miles of open ocean and had run a rough pass by the time we took the photo.



We’re happy to be snug in a protected harbor. In the morning we wake to the scent of tropical flowers and the sound of strange bird calls.



After a few days in Savu Savu we will head north to explore the east coast of the big island of Vanua Levu.

APIA, BUSTLING CAPITOL OF INDEPENDENT SAMOA, to NIUATOPUTAPU, BACKWATER OF TONGA

Apia, the proud hosts of 2007 South Pacific Games, was a beehive of activity. The city was freshly painted and decked out in the flags of the competing nations.



Marcy herself was part of the decoration, with signal flags hoisted. We were informed by the harbormaster that we would be among the first boats to tie up in the brand new marina. Actually, we were told, there was no choice in the matter! On the appointed day, all of the anchored yachts were summoned one by one on the VHF radio to enter. Marcy, the second boat in, promptly ran hard aground in front of the appointed slip. It seems that the promised controlling depth had not yet been achieved. No matter, after it was fully understood why we were not proceeding, an alternate slip was quickly assigned and Marcy was tied to a dock in a marina for the first time since a short stay in Mexico in January. Much to Ginger’s disappointment SPA, which was all over the marina paperwork, stands for Samoa Port Authority so there was only a SPA day for Marcy. The marina is in a beautiful location, convenient to Internet, restaurants and cafes, grocery stores, laundry, and downtown shopping.





After dinner with friends Ron and Joanne from Miss Jody, a catamaran from Florida, we attended the opening ceremony in a packed stadium just a short walk from the marina.



Meanwhile, back at the marina, dredging resumed apace – fully one third of the boats in the marina had touched bottom one place or another on the way in.



Polynesians are at home on or in the water. We noticed this makeshift raft shuttling marina construction workers.



Polynesians also like to paddle – except for the competition longboats we never see a rowboat rowed. Instead it will be paddled with one oar, the other oar presumably lost or given away. Even the dredge was moved from site to site like a giant canoe, with the bucket skillfully worked as a giant paddle. No tug needed! We did enjoy watching the longboat crews assemble and practice. It must be quite a feat for a coach to persuade 50 Samoans paddlers to show up regularly and at the right time for a workout!



With the waterfront activity at a peak, we decided to escape inland and visit the last home and final resting place of Robert Louis Stevenson, a distant relative of Ginger’s. We took a taxi into the mountains and found a quiet beautiful mansion set in a park.



RLS’s study boasts a fireplace, probably the only one in the tropical South Pacific. Here a Scotsman could feel at home, and here he wrote his last books. He died downstairs at the age of 44.



We climbed the mountain behind the mansion to visit his last resting place. “Home is the sailor, home from the sea…” Remember all the fresh paint in town, in honor of the Games? Yes, as Ginger paused next to RLS’s grave for a photo, a nice neat white patch was left on her derriere.



Back at the marina, shouting at each other to be heard of the noise of the dredging, we realized that it was time to move on. We set sail for Niuatoputapu - a small island in northern Tonga. Two short fast sailing days later, we dropped the hook inside the protecting reef of a quiet island. We arrived in a setting as quiet and rural as Apia was bustling and urban.

In response to our Q flag and VHF radio request a truck full of officials arrived at the wharf and blared the horn for pickup by dinghy. After the formalities were attended to we were free to wander.



We exchanged money at the bank.





The island’s commerce is carried back and forth on the highway.











It became obvious that we had come to the right place to decompress after a month and a half in urban harbors. What we didn’t realize was that we were about to become swept up in a very social scene. One family in particular that lives near the wharf likes to adopt and welcome “yachties” with potlucks, feasts, and offers of help. Niko is an energetic fisherman, and his wife Sia is the indefatigable matriarch. Shortly after arriving they hosted a Sunday feast with yachties providing much coveted desserts and gave a tour of their compound.







When we expressed interest in climbing the island’s peak, Sia promptly organized a guiding party for us consisting of 10 of the younger members of the family! We set off in a noisy and cheerful band, singing, hooting, and calling to each other.



The views from the heights were spectacular.





Our worries about the lack of water carried by the guides turned out to be unfounded – the boys scurried up palm trees and kicked coconuts down, and with a few expert chops by 9 year old boys wielding machetes, drinks and snacks were served to all.







By the time we had descended and were trudging back to the wharf, our group was much quieter, but still in good spirits.









The standard island pose for a camera includes hand signs straight from music videos – pop culture is truly global. Another friend, Fehia, teaches Ginger how it’s done.



Fehia visited Marcy for some chocolate cake and admired the picture book of Washington State.



One sign of the power of the matriarch, Sia, is that she motivated the heathens Ginger and Peter to dress up and attended a Catholic service on Sunday. The singing was exquisite.







As sailors do, we started of thinking of our exit strategy. We started looking at charts of Fiji, and wondering how to say goodbye……. Monday is a good day to check out of the country and leave, but wait, Don from Sand Dollar just pulled in and we’re happy to return the favor of a dinner he provided in Fakarava when we were low on food and cooking fuel!



Tuesday morning, dishes done, fuel transferred, and we’re ready for Fiji. Now, Niko and Sia have taken us up on a dinner invitation!



It’s Wednesday now and Sia has organized a pig roast! The carnivorous skipper of a boat with a vegetarian cook is not able to turn this down.







We’ve washed every dish on the boat several times over in the last week , we repaired the broken slides on the mainsail and storing all the items that have to be put away for sea, but wait again - we hear on the radio that Adelia, with friends Kip and Denise is about to arrive with mail for us!



Adelia , who we first met in La Paz, Mexico, had not only brought to us from Pago Pago a couple of small boxes of late arriving books, but had loaded aboard several dinghy loads of various boxes sent by island relatives that live and work in Pago. After another nice dinner with them on Marcy, we told ourselves that tomorrow was the day to leave. That night, as the wind whistled in the rigging and rain torrents swept the bay, we wondered if we were destined to stay forever. So you understand why the next morning we double reefed the mainsail, hoisted anchor, and sailed out into a half a gale.