What amazes me is the variety of colours, shapes and textures of the sea life we have seen during the last five days in the Vava'u Group of Tonga. Sapphire blue stars, soft pink and mustard yellow pillow stars lie contentedly next to rust red pencil urchins on the reef and decorate the white sandy sea floor.
Snorkeling over the coral beds is like gliding over a garden of blooming heather bushes of blush pink and lavender, graceful bonsai trees in turquoise, blue and rich dark purple, ruffled lettuce patches, mushrooms and toadstools of many hues. Under and amongst them hover tiny fishes like the sparkling blue-green chromis and fluttering damsels. Occasionally we see an anemone swaying along the reef's edge and a clown fish or two darting about, just like Nemo and his dad.
As for the fish, some are half royal blue and half yellow with golden fins and blue eyes, others sport a raiment of sparkling spots, speckles and stripes. Then there are those that resemble raccoons with their big bright eyes and long noses with white patches. We see new patterns and colour combinations every day and marvel at their complexity. Picasso would have enjoyed these abstract forms.
Amongst the most exotic creatures we have seen so far are a giant multi-coloured shrimp about 6 inches long, black and white banded snakes (venomous), and a 2 meter lemon- coloured shark with black spots that gave us a fright when it swam rapidly toward us during a reef snorkel.
Sunday, October 14, 2012
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Sailing in Vava'u
Vava'u is a group of more than 20 islands and dozens of reefs. The main island lies to the north and has a well protected bay on which the capitol, Nieafu is situated. This is where the charter yacht companies, sports fishing, and whale watchers are also located. 'Moorings', a large charter yacht operation publishes a very useful guide and map to the islands that shows the location of 42 anchorages of which about half are day stops and the remainder suitable for overnight use. The anchorages are numbered, which certainly makes it easier to describe where one is going to, but does remove some of the romance. For example, we are in day anchorage 40 now, more properly described as 'off the white sand beach on the east side of Avalau island'.
Sailing between the islands is a treat because the reefs and islands block the open ocean swell, but the trade winds blow for much of the sailing season. It is a bit like sailing on an island studded lake. While you do get some fetch across the larger reaches, the sailing during the week or so we have been here has been superb - steady 10-15 knot winds and only an hour or two between anchorages. Many boats only roll out their jib, not bothering to hoist the main, and we have taken to doing this for most passages.
When you arrive at an anchorage, there is usually a white sand beach to explore and nearby snorkeling opportunities. The current island we are anchored off has both and, unlike some anchorages, you can reach some great corals without having to wait for high tide to swim across a reef. This anchorage and the one we stayed in the night before are both marked as day stops, probably because they are more rolly than the overnight ones, but the holding is good in sand and the rolling goes down when the tide drops and the reef begins to block any fetch.
We went on a ramble this morning following the goat trails between palm, pandanus and pine trees on Avalau Island and it reminded me of the deer trails in the forests of Vancouver Island. We counted 14 goats and kids sitting under a large tree off the beach. It would have made an idyllic pastoral painting. One of the kids was suckling on his mamma's teats and it was tempting to get some goat milk for cheese but Chris was not fast enough!
Sailing between the islands is a treat because the reefs and islands block the open ocean swell, but the trade winds blow for much of the sailing season. It is a bit like sailing on an island studded lake. While you do get some fetch across the larger reaches, the sailing during the week or so we have been here has been superb - steady 10-15 knot winds and only an hour or two between anchorages. Many boats only roll out their jib, not bothering to hoist the main, and we have taken to doing this for most passages.
When you arrive at an anchorage, there is usually a white sand beach to explore and nearby snorkeling opportunities. The current island we are anchored off has both and, unlike some anchorages, you can reach some great corals without having to wait for high tide to swim across a reef. This anchorage and the one we stayed in the night before are both marked as day stops, probably because they are more rolly than the overnight ones, but the holding is good in sand and the rolling goes down when the tide drops and the reef begins to block any fetch.
We went on a ramble this morning following the goat trails between palm, pandanus and pine trees on Avalau Island and it reminded me of the deer trails in the forests of Vancouver Island. We counted 14 goats and kids sitting under a large tree off the beach. It would have made an idyllic pastoral painting. One of the kids was suckling on his mamma's teats and it was tempting to get some goat milk for cheese but Chris was not fast enough!
Friday, October 12, 2012
Tongan economics
Tonga, like much of Polynesia, appears to be a semi-cash/semi-subsistence economy. When you walk through a village here, it is clear that most of what the people eat they grow or catch in the sea. We have talked to several men who have told us that they travel to New Zealand to make money to buy things like outboard motors and to send cash home to their families. To make money here, Tongan families travel to the market in Neiafu and sell fruits, handcrafts, and vegetables. Villages on the outer islands also put on 'Tongan feasts' featuring suckling pig, fish dishes, taro, and other fruit and veggie dishes. The feasts are attended mainly by cuisers and other tourists - one recent Saturday feast on little Lape island (population 30) drew 94 Palangi tourists.
Most of the business in Neiafu outside the market is sewn up by Chinese storekeepers, foreign owned sports fishing and whale watching operations (mainly New Zealanders and Australians, judging by the accents we hear on the VHF reporting marlin catches and whale sightings), and restaurants owned by Americans and Germans.
The locals in Vava' appear to build their own boats. These are usually launches, with small cabins forward and seaworthy hull shapes - either V-bottomed with hard chines or round bottomed plank and batten construction. Boats are vital in Vava'u where the population is widely spread over dozens of islands.
Land in Tonga is owned by Tongans and leased to foreigners when necessary. Even the resorts are built on land leased for a long term (20 or 30 years). When we visited Kapa island, we found the most lovely piece of land on a point, with good soil and about 2 acres that could be easily cleared for planting. We imagined ourselves growing our own food here and running a small Indian restaurant catering to yachties. When we asked a local about the land, he told us that it belonged to a 90 year old man who lived now in Neiafu. He allowed kayakers to camp on the land and enjoy the sand beaches, but had turned down offers to lease it.
One disturbing thing we saw in the villages was a series of large holes dug outside of all the houses. These holes were there so that a concrete pad to support solar panels could be poured. The Japanese were funding this project and we were told they were doing this to secure Tonga's vote at an International commission on whaling. Japan 'harvests' whales for 'scientific' purposes, in the face of international protest. It appears that they would like to legitimize this.
Foreign fishing is also an issue here. We could not get a straight answer from anyone on what is happening, but it appears that Asian vessels are fishing with long lines (up to 14 miles long!) in nearby waters. One sports fishing guide was complaining that they pay a tiny fraction of what such a license would cost in New Zealand. I would hazard a guess that the same charter operator also benefits from low Tongan prices!
Most of the business in Neiafu outside the market is sewn up by Chinese storekeepers, foreign owned sports fishing and whale watching operations (mainly New Zealanders and Australians, judging by the accents we hear on the VHF reporting marlin catches and whale sightings), and restaurants owned by Americans and Germans.
The locals in Vava' appear to build their own boats. These are usually launches, with small cabins forward and seaworthy hull shapes - either V-bottomed with hard chines or round bottomed plank and batten construction. Boats are vital in Vava'u where the population is widely spread over dozens of islands.
Land in Tonga is owned by Tongans and leased to foreigners when necessary. Even the resorts are built on land leased for a long term (20 or 30 years). When we visited Kapa island, we found the most lovely piece of land on a point, with good soil and about 2 acres that could be easily cleared for planting. We imagined ourselves growing our own food here and running a small Indian restaurant catering to yachties. When we asked a local about the land, he told us that it belonged to a 90 year old man who lived now in Neiafu. He allowed kayakers to camp on the land and enjoy the sand beaches, but had turned down offers to lease it.
One disturbing thing we saw in the villages was a series of large holes dug outside of all the houses. These holes were there so that a concrete pad to support solar panels could be poured. The Japanese were funding this project and we were told they were doing this to secure Tonga's vote at an International commission on whaling. Japan 'harvests' whales for 'scientific' purposes, in the face of international protest. It appears that they would like to legitimize this.
Foreign fishing is also an issue here. We could not get a straight answer from anyone on what is happening, but it appears that Asian vessels are fishing with long lines (up to 14 miles long!) in nearby waters. One sports fishing guide was complaining that they pay a tiny fraction of what such a license would cost in New Zealand. I would hazard a guess that the same charter operator also benefits from low Tongan prices!
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Snorkeling in Surf
It has been a while since we did any snorkeling, so we were excited when our friends Mike and Karen on 'Chapter 2' suggested we join them for a dive trip to a nearby reef. They picked us up in their inflatable and we motored across choppy seas toward a reef on which the surf was breaking about a foot or two high. Picking a spot where the bottom was coral rubble and sand, we anchored the dinghy and while Karen and Mike put on their dive gear, Rani and I swam towards the surf line to find a suitable spot to cross over onto the outside of the reef.
Even though it was near high tide, the corals under us seemed awfully close as we approached the surf. Holding each other's hands and kicking furiously we were able to punch through two lines of surf without too much difficulty, although Rani was breathing furiously on the other side. As we passed over the edge of the reef, the water suddenly transformed from frothy white into a startling blue and acres of colorful coral gardens sloped off into the depths.
Mike soon joined us, but it was apparent that Karen was having trouble getting across with her gear. She was pushed back by each wave and kept standing up, unable to keep swimming against the surging water. I offered to swim back to her and help her by bringing her gear across the reef and Mike consented. When I reached Karen, she was out of breath and exhausted from the ordeal, but eventually I coaxed her into trying the swim without the gear. I strapped on her BCD and tanks and set off across the reef with her, but soon found I had too much weight on with my own 4 pounds + her 12. By the time I realized this, though, I was in the surf and being pulled down under with each big wave. My snorkel kept filling with water and I started to panic as I ran out of oxygen due to swimming too hard ad breathing too little.
It is remarkable how quickly you can go from feeling in control of a situation to outright panic. I should have stopped and inflated the BCD fully to compensate for the extra weight, but instead I thrashed my way across the reef lunging through each wave and gasping for air. When I finally made it into deeper water, my legs cut up from the coral, I felt like I could not stay afloat with the extra weight pulling me down. Fortunately Rani swam to me and found the right hose to inflate the BCD. Lesson learned - don't volunteer to wear dive gear if you are not comfortable with its operation. Although I have had a brief lesson in using a BCD, I could not find the right button to press when panicked. I could also have breathed from the tanks, which would have avoided swallowing water through the snorkel.
After we had recovered from the crossing, we spent an hour or so swimming along the reef, Mike and Karen below us at about 25 to 30 feet. Rani and I would free dive down to maybe 10-20 feet to get closer to the corals and to listen to the distant songs of humpback whales. We were able to distinguish both the more melodious songs of the males and the shorter talk of the females communicating with their calves - magical. The corals on this reef were varied in form and color, looking like they had been carefully planted, perhaps in the rock garden area of a botanical gardens. Most were only a foot or two in diameter and there were hundreds of such formations in all directions, with the occasional canyon dividing one garden from another.
The return trip across the reef was easier with the waves pushing us across and we all felt much better after a tot of brandy and a bowl of warm mulligatawny soup on board Ladybug.
Even though it was near high tide, the corals under us seemed awfully close as we approached the surf. Holding each other's hands and kicking furiously we were able to punch through two lines of surf without too much difficulty, although Rani was breathing furiously on the other side. As we passed over the edge of the reef, the water suddenly transformed from frothy white into a startling blue and acres of colorful coral gardens sloped off into the depths.
Mike soon joined us, but it was apparent that Karen was having trouble getting across with her gear. She was pushed back by each wave and kept standing up, unable to keep swimming against the surging water. I offered to swim back to her and help her by bringing her gear across the reef and Mike consented. When I reached Karen, she was out of breath and exhausted from the ordeal, but eventually I coaxed her into trying the swim without the gear. I strapped on her BCD and tanks and set off across the reef with her, but soon found I had too much weight on with my own 4 pounds + her 12. By the time I realized this, though, I was in the surf and being pulled down under with each big wave. My snorkel kept filling with water and I started to panic as I ran out of oxygen due to swimming too hard ad breathing too little.
It is remarkable how quickly you can go from feeling in control of a situation to outright panic. I should have stopped and inflated the BCD fully to compensate for the extra weight, but instead I thrashed my way across the reef lunging through each wave and gasping for air. When I finally made it into deeper water, my legs cut up from the coral, I felt like I could not stay afloat with the extra weight pulling me down. Fortunately Rani swam to me and found the right hose to inflate the BCD. Lesson learned - don't volunteer to wear dive gear if you are not comfortable with its operation. Although I have had a brief lesson in using a BCD, I could not find the right button to press when panicked. I could also have breathed from the tanks, which would have avoided swallowing water through the snorkel.
After we had recovered from the crossing, we spent an hour or so swimming along the reef, Mike and Karen below us at about 25 to 30 feet. Rani and I would free dive down to maybe 10-20 feet to get closer to the corals and to listen to the distant songs of humpback whales. We were able to distinguish both the more melodious songs of the males and the shorter talk of the females communicating with their calves - magical. The corals on this reef were varied in form and color, looking like they had been carefully planted, perhaps in the rock garden area of a botanical gardens. Most were only a foot or two in diameter and there were hundreds of such formations in all directions, with the occasional canyon dividing one garden from another.
The return trip across the reef was easier with the waves pushing us across and we all felt much better after a tot of brandy and a bowl of warm mulligatawny soup on board Ladybug.
Friday, October 5, 2012
Vava'u
We have finally left our lovely little island of Niuatoputapu and sailed for about 32 hours to Vava'u, another groups of islands in Tonga, about 160 miles south.
We left early on Tuesday morning, following two other yachts out of the pass. With 160-170 miles to run, we hoped to be in Vava'u before dark the next day. The passage was a rough one with 12 hours straight of rain and lightning that evening. The winds alternated between light and moderate as we passed in and out of squalls and was mostly in front of the beam. Then about 20 miles out the predicted very light tail winds materialized and we realized that we would not make it in before dark unless we motored. As we approached, the Vava'u group was hidden by squall after squall with one real whopper where the winds and rain whipped the ocean into a froth and we hurriedly covered the little tiller-autopilot with towels and a plastic bag to keep out the rain. Visibility was down to less than a quarter of a mile, making us quite nervous as we approached the obscured harbour entrance. A small fishing boat materialised out of the vapour. I was naked in the rain and yelled to Rani for a pair of briefs and shorts to avoid embarrassing the conservative Tongans.
The islands in Vava'u are lovely, even seen through the rain and mist of that first day. There are dozens of them, rising straight up from the ocean, ranging from tiny tea-cup shaped lumps to the main island, which has several bays and peninsulas and stretches for about 10 miles in all directions. The climate here is noticeably cooler and we finally feel like we are heading south and into a more temperate world.
Vava'u is a center for various charter fleets and Moorings publishes a guide to the area in which all their recommended anchorages are numbered. There is such a large yachting community here that they have their own morning radio net on VHF channel 26, which is also the de facto hailing frequency. Unfortunately it is also the chatting frequency for several of the ex-pats who make this their home and it has only taken me one day to get annoyed enough that I will probably keep the radio off or tuned to a different frequency.
For various reasons, most boats doing the passage to New Zealand will be leaving in or around early November. Because Tonga is a popular jumping off point, we are now back amongst a congregation of the cruising fleet, many of whom we have met in various other points along the coconut milk run. It will be fun to catch up with our friends and listen to their stories. We will likely stay in Vava'u for a couple of weeks moving between islands, exploring the caves, hiking, and snorkeling.
We left early on Tuesday morning, following two other yachts out of the pass. With 160-170 miles to run, we hoped to be in Vava'u before dark the next day. The passage was a rough one with 12 hours straight of rain and lightning that evening. The winds alternated between light and moderate as we passed in and out of squalls and was mostly in front of the beam. Then about 20 miles out the predicted very light tail winds materialized and we realized that we would not make it in before dark unless we motored. As we approached, the Vava'u group was hidden by squall after squall with one real whopper where the winds and rain whipped the ocean into a froth and we hurriedly covered the little tiller-autopilot with towels and a plastic bag to keep out the rain. Visibility was down to less than a quarter of a mile, making us quite nervous as we approached the obscured harbour entrance. A small fishing boat materialised out of the vapour. I was naked in the rain and yelled to Rani for a pair of briefs and shorts to avoid embarrassing the conservative Tongans.
The islands in Vava'u are lovely, even seen through the rain and mist of that first day. There are dozens of them, rising straight up from the ocean, ranging from tiny tea-cup shaped lumps to the main island, which has several bays and peninsulas and stretches for about 10 miles in all directions. The climate here is noticeably cooler and we finally feel like we are heading south and into a more temperate world.
Vava'u is a center for various charter fleets and Moorings publishes a guide to the area in which all their recommended anchorages are numbered. There is such a large yachting community here that they have their own morning radio net on VHF channel 26, which is also the de facto hailing frequency. Unfortunately it is also the chatting frequency for several of the ex-pats who make this their home and it has only taken me one day to get annoyed enough that I will probably keep the radio off or tuned to a different frequency.
For various reasons, most boats doing the passage to New Zealand will be leaving in or around early November. Because Tonga is a popular jumping off point, we are now back amongst a congregation of the cruising fleet, many of whom we have met in various other points along the coconut milk run. It will be fun to catch up with our friends and listen to their stories. We will likely stay in Vava'u for a couple of weeks moving between islands, exploring the caves, hiking, and snorkeling.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Still in Niuatoputapu
Well - we did not sail as planned. The window for departure closed, with south east winds making a southerly passage potentially unpleasant. This has allowed us to get to know some of the locals better and to do a bit more exploring on the island. We found a lovely small country road that runs along the slopes of the volcanic ridge, which dominates the center of the island. The road serves small plantations where taro is planted under the partial shade of banana palms. We exchanged greetings with an old man on a horse with his grandson riding behind him and a bag of firewood slung across in front.
We have learned a few words of Tongan - hi, how are you?, fine thank you, yes, no, 1,2,3,4... Rani as usual is the linguist and has made several friends on the island. We are often greeted by children as we walk through the villages - Rani gets a big hug from one little girl, who she says reminds her of herself when she was a child in India. This is the first place where we felt it appropriate to donate some older clothes, which were distributed around the island by one of the nurses. We also delivered stationary supplies to the primary school in our village and had a nice conversation with the principal. She was weaving a lovely pandanus taovala (apron), decorated with shells and seeds, while she taught 4 grade levels - true multi-tasking!
Yesterday we had a triple feature - the third anniversary of the 2009 tsunami, an inter-village rugby tournament, and arrival of the supply ship from the capital in Tongatapu. The government official in charge of constructing 73 houses to replace those lost in the tsunami gave a speech. This was followed by blessings and readings from the heads of two churches. Then the rugby matches began with second string teams followed by first string ones from each of the three villages. 'Our' village won the tournament, beating the much larger village of Hihifo. I played 'rugby' in the field beside the game field with some of the smaller boys as well as Elder Jenkins, a young Mormon missionary who has been in Tonga for 15 months. The boys had great fun playing with Palangis, as we are called here.
When the supply ship arrives everything stops and people from all the villages arrive at the wharf near which we are anchored. They pick up cardboard boxes and bundles - supplies sent by their extended families from the big city. Fuel barrels were filled on the wharf with diesel and gasolene, and dozens of propane tanks were delivered to the families who use these for cooking. A half dozen giant plastic cisterns were rolled of the ship and loaded on small flat-bed trucks - presumably the last cisterns needed to complete the post-tsunami construction. In addition 2 of the 6 small fishing boats sent by the government to replace those lost in the tsunami were lifted by crane onto the back of other trucks.
But the big event, for us anyway, was the unloading of the ice cream. We placed our order and after a couple of hours, we and a few other families who could afford the 10 paanga (6 dollars) were rewarded with square 1/2 gallon tubs of 'Meiraku' vanilla ice cream. Not having a freezer, we hurried out to visit our friends on 'Picara' where we quickly downed two bowls each, accompanied by red wine. Not the most balanced meal - but a real treat after a hot and sweaty day.
We have learned a few words of Tongan - hi, how are you?, fine thank you, yes, no, 1,2,3,4... Rani as usual is the linguist and has made several friends on the island. We are often greeted by children as we walk through the villages - Rani gets a big hug from one little girl, who she says reminds her of herself when she was a child in India. This is the first place where we felt it appropriate to donate some older clothes, which were distributed around the island by one of the nurses. We also delivered stationary supplies to the primary school in our village and had a nice conversation with the principal. She was weaving a lovely pandanus taovala (apron), decorated with shells and seeds, while she taught 4 grade levels - true multi-tasking!
Yesterday we had a triple feature - the third anniversary of the 2009 tsunami, an inter-village rugby tournament, and arrival of the supply ship from the capital in Tongatapu. The government official in charge of constructing 73 houses to replace those lost in the tsunami gave a speech. This was followed by blessings and readings from the heads of two churches. Then the rugby matches began with second string teams followed by first string ones from each of the three villages. 'Our' village won the tournament, beating the much larger village of Hihifo. I played 'rugby' in the field beside the game field with some of the smaller boys as well as Elder Jenkins, a young Mormon missionary who has been in Tonga for 15 months. The boys had great fun playing with Palangis, as we are called here.
When the supply ship arrives everything stops and people from all the villages arrive at the wharf near which we are anchored. They pick up cardboard boxes and bundles - supplies sent by their extended families from the big city. Fuel barrels were filled on the wharf with diesel and gasolene, and dozens of propane tanks were delivered to the families who use these for cooking. A half dozen giant plastic cisterns were rolled of the ship and loaded on small flat-bed trucks - presumably the last cisterns needed to complete the post-tsunami construction. In addition 2 of the 6 small fishing boats sent by the government to replace those lost in the tsunami were lifted by crane onto the back of other trucks.
But the big event, for us anyway, was the unloading of the ice cream. We placed our order and after a couple of hours, we and a few other families who could afford the 10 paanga (6 dollars) were rewarded with square 1/2 gallon tubs of 'Meiraku' vanilla ice cream. Not having a freezer, we hurried out to visit our friends on 'Picara' where we quickly downed two bowls each, accompanied by red wine. Not the most balanced meal - but a real treat after a hot and sweaty day.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Sunday Service in Niuatoputapu
To try to better capture what it is like here, I will write a little about a few experiences we had in the first couple of days.
On Sunday, we attended a Catholic church service at a small church on the outskirts of the first village. Different from the Samoan service, where everyone dressed in white, here the men wore dark lava lavas with aprons made of woven pandanus leaves or, in many cases, woven plastic. One older gentleman appeared to be wearing a piece of shiny black plastic tarp as an apron. Women mostly wore black dresses or long skirts with sleeved blouses and pandanus aprons, some simple and others with fringes interwoven with shells and seeds. In contrast to the Samoan ladies the Tongan congregation were hatless. The men and women were interspersed as were the singing leaders, who would start each song item throughout the service. Most of the service was sung - and powerfully sung - in harmony. The entire congregation sang every song and knew all the words. It is a cliche, but at times the singing sent a shiver down my spine and Rani had tears in her eyes. It felt like we were in a bell tower, surrounded by the raw throbbing of a dozen bells.
We were invited after church to a lunch of traditional Tongan food. Sia and Niko have a small house in the first village that was built for them by the Catholic church after the tsunami. They have refused to move up the hill to the new village site, claiming that the new site has no well water. I suspect they want to stay where they are because it is much better situated to the water, the wharf, and the fishing grounds - and I don't blame them! The bugs will also be much worse back in the bush. But because they will not move, they do not qualify for government aid.
The lunch consisted of fish, which had been caught by a combined effort of villagers and cruisers, baked in taro leaves, two varieties of taro, and papaya, all cooked in coconut milk. There is a distinct lack of spices and herbs in Tongan cuisine just like in the other Pacific islands we have visited so far. Niko was squeezing fresh mango juice when we arrived and we were a little worried when it was diluted with local water but it tasted delicious and we suffered no ill consequences. The cruisers brought deserts and we contributed some onions and canned meats. Sia has also invited us to celebrate her son's 17th birthday later today.
On Sunday, we attended a Catholic church service at a small church on the outskirts of the first village. Different from the Samoan service, where everyone dressed in white, here the men wore dark lava lavas with aprons made of woven pandanus leaves or, in many cases, woven plastic. One older gentleman appeared to be wearing a piece of shiny black plastic tarp as an apron. Women mostly wore black dresses or long skirts with sleeved blouses and pandanus aprons, some simple and others with fringes interwoven with shells and seeds. In contrast to the Samoan ladies the Tongan congregation were hatless. The men and women were interspersed as were the singing leaders, who would start each song item throughout the service. Most of the service was sung - and powerfully sung - in harmony. The entire congregation sang every song and knew all the words. It is a cliche, but at times the singing sent a shiver down my spine and Rani had tears in her eyes. It felt like we were in a bell tower, surrounded by the raw throbbing of a dozen bells.
We were invited after church to a lunch of traditional Tongan food. Sia and Niko have a small house in the first village that was built for them by the Catholic church after the tsunami. They have refused to move up the hill to the new village site, claiming that the new site has no well water. I suspect they want to stay where they are because it is much better situated to the water, the wharf, and the fishing grounds - and I don't blame them! The bugs will also be much worse back in the bush. But because they will not move, they do not qualify for government aid.
The lunch consisted of fish, which had been caught by a combined effort of villagers and cruisers, baked in taro leaves, two varieties of taro, and papaya, all cooked in coconut milk. There is a distinct lack of spices and herbs in Tongan cuisine just like in the other Pacific islands we have visited so far. Niko was squeezing fresh mango juice when we arrived and we were a little worried when it was diluted with local water but it tasted delicious and we suffered no ill consequences. The cruisers brought deserts and we contributed some onions and canned meats. Sia has also invited us to celebrate her son's 17th birthday later today.
Swimming with Swine
Our check in with customs, immigration, and quarantine was a bit of a debacle. We initially anchored at the wharf, but the officials did not come that day. When they did arrive, we had anchored off and had to row our small dinghy in and ferry them out to Ladybug. The two women were in formal long skirts and did not have an easy time getting in and out of our dinghy. Still, we had a nice chat with them on board where we served them cookies, coffee, and tea.
When it came time to leave, however, I did not do a good job of holding the dinghy as the nurse, Monica, boarded. She hung onto Ladybug while the dinghy slipped out from under her and then fell face first into the water. This did not improve her mood. We fished her out using the stern ladder and help from the quarantine officer. I poured a container of fresh water over her while Rani fetched a towel. I then rowed her ashore, apologizing profusely for the incident. We have since visited with Monica at the clinic and brought her a jar of home-made mango chutney by way of apology. Rani told her that my Mum had a similar incident on another boat I had owned and has refused to go near any of my more recent boats. Monica thought this a most sensible course.
Niutoua spring is in the village of Hihifo. Slightly sulfurous, it has lovely clear water in which a sizeable number of fish make their home. The local horses graze on its banks and the first time we visited, a pig joined us at the shallow end for a nice wallow. The spring is located near beaches and a smaller island that can be explored by wading across a shallow channel. We visited the spring twice - once on our own and once with our friends on Long Shot II. Long Shot II is home to a family from Victoria BC - 2 boys - Charlie 13 and Riley 11 and a girl named Saylor (5 1/2). Their parents Doug and Susan are a lovely, warm couple who came ashore to help us tie up when we arrived and have been generous in their hospitality since then. It has been really fun spending time with this family who can make any outing into an adventure.
Near the spring is a bakery. It's location is almost impossible to describe - down a small path through someone's yard and through another yard where a ramshackle bungalow sits under a gigantic mango tree. There are no signs and the house looks completely private, so we had to ask a local for assistance despite having the above directions. The bread however is very good, despite being without salt or sweetener of any kind.
We hiked yesterday across the island to the outer reef where a large swell was smashing itself against the reef edge. The breakers were impressive and the beach - miles of white sand - completely deserted. The only thing to mar the scenery was the extensive plastic debris washed up on the beach and lining the plantation road along which we approached the shore. Disposing of plastics and other long-lived garbage on these islands is a problem and we will pack all of ours off to somewhere that has a landfill or incinerator.
We will check out tomorrow and sail south towards Vava'u over the weekend.
When it came time to leave, however, I did not do a good job of holding the dinghy as the nurse, Monica, boarded. She hung onto Ladybug while the dinghy slipped out from under her and then fell face first into the water. This did not improve her mood. We fished her out using the stern ladder and help from the quarantine officer. I poured a container of fresh water over her while Rani fetched a towel. I then rowed her ashore, apologizing profusely for the incident. We have since visited with Monica at the clinic and brought her a jar of home-made mango chutney by way of apology. Rani told her that my Mum had a similar incident on another boat I had owned and has refused to go near any of my more recent boats. Monica thought this a most sensible course.
Niutoua spring is in the village of Hihifo. Slightly sulfurous, it has lovely clear water in which a sizeable number of fish make their home. The local horses graze on its banks and the first time we visited, a pig joined us at the shallow end for a nice wallow. The spring is located near beaches and a smaller island that can be explored by wading across a shallow channel. We visited the spring twice - once on our own and once with our friends on Long Shot II. Long Shot II is home to a family from Victoria BC - 2 boys - Charlie 13 and Riley 11 and a girl named Saylor (5 1/2). Their parents Doug and Susan are a lovely, warm couple who came ashore to help us tie up when we arrived and have been generous in their hospitality since then. It has been really fun spending time with this family who can make any outing into an adventure.
Near the spring is a bakery. It's location is almost impossible to describe - down a small path through someone's yard and through another yard where a ramshackle bungalow sits under a gigantic mango tree. There are no signs and the house looks completely private, so we had to ask a local for assistance despite having the above directions. The bread however is very good, despite being without salt or sweetener of any kind.
We hiked yesterday across the island to the outer reef where a large swell was smashing itself against the reef edge. The breakers were impressive and the beach - miles of white sand - completely deserted. The only thing to mar the scenery was the extensive plastic debris washed up on the beach and lining the plantation road along which we approached the shore. Disposing of plastics and other long-lived garbage on these islands is a problem and we will pack all of ours off to somewhere that has a landfill or incinerator.
We will check out tomorrow and sail south towards Vava'u over the weekend.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Niuatoputapu
Niuatoputapu is a fascinating place - hard to describe in a few words. We are anchored in a somewhat protected bay off the 3rd village on the island - Falehar, I think it is called. There is a smaller village a km or 2 away and the main village of Hihifo is at the other end of the island, maybe 4 kms from here. A paved road runs between the villages, along which you may see an occasional car and truck (maybe one every 20 minutes or half an hour). Most people ride bikes or walk.
Each town is made up of small bungalows (most are small - 16 X 20 feet with two or three rooms), built or re-built after a major tsunami that swept down form Samoa in 2009. The Catholic church has built some houses and the World Bank is building others, including an entire village further inland and safe from tsunamis. Each house has a large plastic cistern, plumbed into the roof gutters and a separate outhouse with running water and a sink on the outside. Drinking water in our little town comes from a community well and is supposedly treated. I am not sure where sewage goes, but suspect it makes its way quickly into the sea. The town dump is a shallow hole in the sand near the wharf + numerous small dumps in the surrounding woods.
Hihifo is the metropolis with a couple of small stores, the customs and immigration, and a 'bank'. The bank is also a western union office, housed in a small prefab building on cinder blocks, with a low counter and two staff - no safes, wickets, or security. These buildings are located on the front lawn of the high school and share this field with a large graveyard, the graves of which are cheerfully decorated (with banners and plastic flowers) and consist of mounds of crushed coral. Hihifo also has a large cell-phone tower, powered by solar panels. Strangely, the health clinic is actually in our village at the other end of the island. The only other larger buildings are a couple of community halls and the churches - we have three in our village - about one for every 100 people.
There is no central electric power on the island and the internet has been down for 2 months or more. Power is provided at some buildings by solar panels and generators, but the place is pretty quiet and dark at night, so I suspect that gas is precious.
A supply ship arrives here every 2-4 weeks - one is due on Friday. Apparently the supply ship brings ice cream and because there are few fridges on the island, everyone greets the ship and has an ice cream feast. We plan to be on hand for this!
The villages are alive with animals - horses, pigs, dogs, hens, and roosters, along with their broods wander freely. Anyone with a garden surrounds it with barriers of old sheet roofing and barbed wire to keep out these wanderers. As you walk through a village, just about anywhere you turn you will see a sow with her piglets grazing on a lawn, or two or three horses on the verge at the roadside. In one yard we passed, a man was lying on the lawn, snoozing beside three equally relaxed dogs.
There are larger fenced plantations of taro, manioc, coconut palms, pandanus, and fruit trees in the hills and plains around the villages. At several houses, we have seen women preparing pandanus leaves to be woven into mats and a type of apron that is tied around the waste over a lava lava. In addition to agriculture, the main industry seems to be building. The world bank has set up a large construction site near our wharf and building materials are stored and prepared there before being transported to the new village site up the hill.
My first impression was that the animals that wander so freely appeared to have good lives, but perhaps this is an illusion. The horses are ridden occasionally (we have seen only one rider, using a heavy blanket for a saddle) but are also apparently used for food. Similarly, we have been told that the locals eat dog. No doubt the pigs and chickens share a similar fate. Our (admittedly brief) experience has been, though, that fish caught in the lagoon, coconuts, and taro are the main foods of the islanders. So perhaps the animals are reserved for special occasions.
The local people we have met so far include the immigration and customs officials, the nurses at the clinic, as well as a few families we have met while walking through the towns. The officials can speak good English, but most locals speak very little, even though English is taught in the schools. Still we are able to communicate at a superficial level and the people are very friendly.
I will stop now and write about some of our experiences here in another post.
Each town is made up of small bungalows (most are small - 16 X 20 feet with two or three rooms), built or re-built after a major tsunami that swept down form Samoa in 2009. The Catholic church has built some houses and the World Bank is building others, including an entire village further inland and safe from tsunamis. Each house has a large plastic cistern, plumbed into the roof gutters and a separate outhouse with running water and a sink on the outside. Drinking water in our little town comes from a community well and is supposedly treated. I am not sure where sewage goes, but suspect it makes its way quickly into the sea. The town dump is a shallow hole in the sand near the wharf + numerous small dumps in the surrounding woods.
Hihifo is the metropolis with a couple of small stores, the customs and immigration, and a 'bank'. The bank is also a western union office, housed in a small prefab building on cinder blocks, with a low counter and two staff - no safes, wickets, or security. These buildings are located on the front lawn of the high school and share this field with a large graveyard, the graves of which are cheerfully decorated (with banners and plastic flowers) and consist of mounds of crushed coral. Hihifo also has a large cell-phone tower, powered by solar panels. Strangely, the health clinic is actually in our village at the other end of the island. The only other larger buildings are a couple of community halls and the churches - we have three in our village - about one for every 100 people.
There is no central electric power on the island and the internet has been down for 2 months or more. Power is provided at some buildings by solar panels and generators, but the place is pretty quiet and dark at night, so I suspect that gas is precious.
A supply ship arrives here every 2-4 weeks - one is due on Friday. Apparently the supply ship brings ice cream and because there are few fridges on the island, everyone greets the ship and has an ice cream feast. We plan to be on hand for this!
The villages are alive with animals - horses, pigs, dogs, hens, and roosters, along with their broods wander freely. Anyone with a garden surrounds it with barriers of old sheet roofing and barbed wire to keep out these wanderers. As you walk through a village, just about anywhere you turn you will see a sow with her piglets grazing on a lawn, or two or three horses on the verge at the roadside. In one yard we passed, a man was lying on the lawn, snoozing beside three equally relaxed dogs.
There are larger fenced plantations of taro, manioc, coconut palms, pandanus, and fruit trees in the hills and plains around the villages. At several houses, we have seen women preparing pandanus leaves to be woven into mats and a type of apron that is tied around the waste over a lava lava. In addition to agriculture, the main industry seems to be building. The world bank has set up a large construction site near our wharf and building materials are stored and prepared there before being transported to the new village site up the hill.
My first impression was that the animals that wander so freely appeared to have good lives, but perhaps this is an illusion. The horses are ridden occasionally (we have seen only one rider, using a heavy blanket for a saddle) but are also apparently used for food. Similarly, we have been told that the locals eat dog. No doubt the pigs and chickens share a similar fate. Our (admittedly brief) experience has been, though, that fish caught in the lagoon, coconuts, and taro are the main foods of the islanders. So perhaps the animals are reserved for special occasions.
The local people we have met so far include the immigration and customs officials, the nurses at the clinic, as well as a few families we have met while walking through the towns. The officials can speak good English, but most locals speak very little, even though English is taught in the schools. Still we are able to communicate at a superficial level and the people are very friendly.
I will stop now and write about some of our experiences here in another post.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
An addendum
Correction to the previous post - the busy port alluded to should have been Apia, not Atuona. Chris has been reading Robert L. Stevenson's book "In the South Seas", so the Marquesas were in his thoughts as he wrote the blog, hence the reference to Atuona, Hiva Oa. Also, we are visiting Niuatoputapu in Tonga, not Niautoputapu...
In addition to provisioning with lots of fresh vegetables and fruit before departing Apia, we also shopped for fabric and lava lavas. Chris was finally persuaded to buy one and he chose a subtle Samoan geometric design in green/blue in contrast to Rani's floral print. In case we have not mentioned this, lava lavas are the simple wraps - made from about 2 meters of cloth - that many Samoans and Tongans wear. I have yet to see Chris try his lava lava on but shall be sure to take a photo when I catch him in it!
Fabric was fairly inexpensive in Apia and tailoring prices very reasonable, so I had several dresses made to order by young Sonia. I gave a rough verbal sketch with each piece as well as one of my old dresses and was very happy with the results. One needs to allow extra time, preferably a day, in case the shop forgets to complete the order or adjustments are necessary. I learned this on a previous visit to India and was not perturbed when it happened to me this time.
Here is a very appropriate quote from R.L. Stevenson:
"Every one who has been upon a walking or boating tour, living in the open air, with the body in constant exercise and the mind in fallow, knows true ease and quiet. The irritating action of the brain is set at rest; we think in a plain, unfeverish temper; little things seem big enough, and great things no longer portentous; and the world is smilingly accepted as it is."
In addition to provisioning with lots of fresh vegetables and fruit before departing Apia, we also shopped for fabric and lava lavas. Chris was finally persuaded to buy one and he chose a subtle Samoan geometric design in green/blue in contrast to Rani's floral print. In case we have not mentioned this, lava lavas are the simple wraps - made from about 2 meters of cloth - that many Samoans and Tongans wear. I have yet to see Chris try his lava lava on but shall be sure to take a photo when I catch him in it!
Fabric was fairly inexpensive in Apia and tailoring prices very reasonable, so I had several dresses made to order by young Sonia. I gave a rough verbal sketch with each piece as well as one of my old dresses and was very happy with the results. One needs to allow extra time, preferably a day, in case the shop forgets to complete the order or adjustments are necessary. I learned this on a previous visit to India and was not perturbed when it happened to me this time.
.jpg) |
| Sonia, my tailor, poses with me as I show off one of my new dresses |
Here is a very appropriate quote from R.L. Stevenson:
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)