Tonga is refreshingly different. It is the Southern Hemispheres only Kingdom were He-She's can blend in with community as one and churches outnumber convenience stores. Where tourists are expected not to flaunt their bikinis clad bodies and yachties not to fix their boats on a Sunday. It's a proud nation, having never been colonised but one that has colonised many far flung nations itself.
Captain Cook called Tonga the friendly Isles and so it should remain.
We arrived in the Southern Group of Islands, Tongatapu (Nuku' alofa) on a Saturday knowing that we couldn't check in until Monday . We had family coming and didn't want to leave anything to chance. We anchor off Big Mummas Bar (Pangaimotu Island), a mile away to wait. Legally we are not allowed to go ashore. Try telling that three thirsty sailors after a challenging seven days at sea. "We are anchored off a bar, its a Saturday, lets go".
And so Big Mummas' became our base for the next two weeks. Big Mumma and family became our friends to the point where we took her adult kids for their first ever sail and Big Mumma cracked a bottle of French Champaign...a gift from the Queen no less, for Jules' birthday. We played darts with one dart and volleyball with no rules. Big Mummas is all about having no rules...its one of the only places that you can get a beer on Sunday....so we backed up a big Saturday with an even bigger Sunday. The family where the highlight of Sarah and Tahli's school holidays, that was otherwise shrouded in rain and high winds.
The Check In.
Slightly hung over we weighed anchor Monday at 9am, hoisted the quarantine flag and motored to the customs dock. Too late. Two yachts had already squeezed onto the dock leaving us to drop anchor just off the harbour entrance (it's a very small harbour). We called the harbour master as required... twice. So had the other vessels on the dock...no answer.
Leaving Jeff on board, Jules and I headed in to see what's up. Nothing it seemed. I radioed the harbour master again at 10am and told him we had three boats checking in....his response "you should have called sooner to let me know" Three Captains in unison rolled their eyes. A big smiling chap with a fluro shirt saying "Australian Customs" arrives 20 minutes later. Nimble , not being the word, he clambers on the first yacht, accepts a coffee and then spills it all over the newly filled out customs forms. His only set. Back to the office with him. I did however ask him to bring extras as there are three yachts here?
When Customs boarded the second yacht I asked for a set of docs so that we could get a head start filling them in...always thinking I am. I asked whether I had to come to the dock he said yes because Health, Immigration and Quarantine all have to inspect the boat.
Two beautiful women turned up, complete with a driver. Both mid twenties, black pencil skirts down to their ankles, bright smiles. Fittingly they were "Health". Boarding a boat in that gear may change my assumption. I offered to take them to mine in the dingy now floundering 1.5meters below the dock. I pointed, they smiled and handed me the forms collected $100 panga ($65) and with that we all passed our health exam. Immigration arrived. He also had a skirt....a traditional one this time around. I did the same pointing and he handed me the forms and we filled then out on the bonnet of his wagon. When it came to filling in Jeff's, he allowed us to sign him into Tonga, sight unseen. Passports now stamped all we had to do was get a copy of the docs from his office latter that day.
Quarantine arrived. I pointed again at the dingy and then Ooroo. Low and behold she said yes...then thinking, screwed up her face and then just handed me a form. It cost us another $20 panga and with that she took away our garbage.
Three hours later the two other yachts departed, leaving Jules and I on the dock still without Customs having cleared us in. I radioed him and despite my best efforts to do otherwise I had to bring Ooroo to the dock. He boarded. Forgetting myself I offered coffee and then passed on the neatly filled out forms which he without checking , put them in his bag saying "come and get them before you depart to Vava'u". Then he sat, drank his coffee slowly in silence, smiled and left.
NOTE. The other boats did have a cursory quarantine inspection below. The girls in the pencil skits managed to board those vessels quite elegantly. The docs where indeed waiting at Immigration when we wondered pass latter in the day and the Customs guy did hand us back the forms before we departed to Vava'u but not before we paid 49.68 panga in fees to the Harbour master (this included stern too anchoring in the harbour for a month.. we tied up there for a few days).
Still at the dock and still being a thinker I asked a taxi driver the price of a pickup as Sarah and Tahli arrived early the next morning . Ninety panga was quoted. I said I will get a hire car. With that said he rented me his taxi for two days at 90 panga a day. Words of caution where added "this taxi is my life, without it my family will die". Thank goodness all I broke was his radio. Most of everything else didn't work anyway.
So we explored the island via the taxi stopping at beautiful caves and monuments to Captain Cook and Able Tasman. We saw some whales breach out to sea. Nuku' alofa itself was a sleepy town that came alive for the Kings Birthday. Chinese owned hole in the wall shops and bars made a killing that night. Everyone was decked out in Flashing LED crowns, glow sticks and thousands of other variations of battery driven sparkly things. And all they seemed to do was attract a growing number of drunken blokes to Sarah and Tahli and the He-She's to Jeff.
After two weeks, the girls left and we sailed to Vava'u. A place that is up there with San Blas and the Bahamas in the cruising and beauty stakes. Once again arriving on a Saturday we had to hang on another island to await office hours in Neiafu. But whales kept us company. We were lucky enough to see two adults breach in unison at our bow and then tail and fin slap to their and our hearts content.
We renewed our friendship with Dragonfly ANJU and are ensured that they will be one of our first cruising guests to come visit us when home in Mooloolaba. It was also Jeff's birthday. We spent it seeing the island in Go Karts. With Jules laughing uncontrollable as she steered into muddy pot holes and Jeff barely surviving the spray. Then thanks to Laurie at the Bounty Bar and his free vodka shots and homemade rum, Jeff managed to fall out of the dingy twice on the way back to the boat.
I could live here.
The Check Out
Being a thinker we docked at the wharf on a Monday afternoon for a Tuesday check out. Don't do it. It was loud. Boat builders and fisherman went about their business until midnight. At nine we went to customs and found the guy quite cold. He slowly thawed as we chatted about our wonderful stay, filled out documents and got our duty free fuel order. Then our instructions were.. 1, Go to the harbour master and pay your fees. 2, Go to Immigration, 3, get your fuel (which I had booked to be delivered by tanker to the dock) and 4, come back to Customs for your final Clearance certificate. Unfortunately no pretty girls from Heath this time around.
The Customs guy is now fully thawed (or recovered from a night on the Kava) explained where the Harbour Masters office is. "You leave the Harbour (I scratch my head), Head to town, turn left at the Westpac Bank, head out of town ( I scratch again) go about four streets up and turn right....It somewhere around there?" Then he said "You're not going to walk it are you?...do you want a taxi"
Yes please. So he yelled some instructions to the office, walked us through a gate to a beat up old car that had taxi written on it in dripping pink spray paint. To our surprise he jumped into the driver's seat and it actually started. Once in the country side we talked about fishing and his up and coming pension, that his boss was Australian and again about fishing. We arrived at what looked like a lock up for heavy machinery. Inside was ram shackle office that was actually the Ports Authority. Not a boat or the sea in view....which is a hard thing to find on such a small Island. Knowing exactly why we came (the taxi was the giveaway), a large woman sat down without a word and started smacking the calculator. What took a minute to add up was to my relief only a bill for Harbour Dues and Tax 5.18 panga. With the taxi engine still working we headed to town and Immigration. I paid the Customs guy 10 panga for the ride, shook hands like long lost buddies and walked into an large office with a beautiful view of the harbour. And with room for the Ports Authority should they wish to share. A man in a skirt stamped our passports including Jeff's who again wasn't present (we could have dumped him at sea and gotten away with it). Back at the dock we refuelled, and armed with the fuel receipt finally got customs clearance to head to Fiji.
But we didn't leave. We squeezed in one more day at one more bay.