Apprehension is my favourite emotion. Let me argue for a moment that it is an emotion. When you are apprehensive about something, a new job, starting a family, buying house etc you get the chance to choose how you feel. Do you feel fear or excitement. With apprehension you have two emotions to choose from. It parallels the glass half full or half empty scenario. You get to choose.

Every part of sailing (like life) encompasses apprehension.
I had to choose between fear and excitement when I undertook this boat journey. I knew there would be a time that Jules couldn’t join me, and I would solo sail the boat.

Checking out of Apia in Samoa was a similar affair to everywhere else but this time it was accompanied by a Police Band and lots of synchronised marching coppers in skirts.
Every morning, Monday to Friday the police stop traffic to march in their finery about 500 meters from there station to the government building to raise the flag. It is touching and patriotic gesture. Tourists and locals are expected to stand still and admire this process. We did with cameras poised. Unfortunately, we almost got marched on as we stood right in the way. Fifty burley Samoan coppers were not going to budge for a few wayward skinny yachties.

The flag was raised right outside the immigration office where 14 sailors from France, Russia, Canada, and Australia (me) assembled with the same idea. Get to Fiji in the perfect weather window.

It was a chaotic scene when we all assemble to achieve the same goal in a small office full of sleepy Monday morning bureaucrats. Paperwork took about 40 minutes and then we had to pay all marina and or harbour expenses before proceeding to Customs in another office closer to the harbour. This process took 2 hours. Duplicate forms, no photocopier, no pens, language, and money issues (the Russians) and only one woman who insisted on clearing out one yacht at a time. Fast walking me was at the front of the queue.

Simon had the boat ship shape when I returned and a lovely thankyou letter about his six weeks aboard the boat. Little Fish was now just my home. Simon asked when will you leave. My answer was NOW.

I was excited.

Fear does cross you mind. The uncertain, the unknown and the insecure feelings try and bubble into your brain. But I was now to busy for that. An emotional hug and an untying of lines and I was away. Miss ya mate.

Almost 24 hours in now and I am sailing at 7-8 knots in 13 knots of wind. The boat is perfectly balanced, which I know because the autopilot is hardly turning the rudders to stay on course. The sun is powering the autopilot and charging my batteries. Passing between the main Samoan Island “Upolu’ and the larger island of ‘Savasi’ I had variable winds but now, without any land influences the wind is a constant SE wind and it is expected to stay that way to Savusavu, Fiji.

I slept intermittently as I watched out for the one yacht that was in front of me. I didn’t see it except on my Nav system. I have well and truly passed it now. The others are way back. My only concern is yachts using the same perfect wind to sail from Fiji to Samoa. Other than that, I have 36 hours of open ocean.

In the US I learnt a term,” Dock Fever”. It is when one can’t untie their boat from the dock through fear. Once you are loose in the sea it up to you and your boat. I have also seen a similar phenomime in Panama. I will call it “Pacific Fever.” Its when one knows if they go through the Panama Canal, they are committing to thousands of miles of open ocean and not a dock in sight. I'm sure there are other examples around the world of this.
This brings me back to my theme of apprehension. If you are apprehensive with fear, you will procrastinate and not change jobs, get a bigger mortgage, or climb that mountain. In saying that, sometime excitement will lead to an abrupt decision, and you may fall off that mountain.

At 5am after my third night a sea we had a wind change. 12 nots to 4 and a 90-degree swing. I was woken by the sails calling out for me to do something. I did so in the rain. I guessed that the change was due to the rain moving through and so furled in the genoa, started the engines, and motored until a correction occurred. At the same time my radar guard alerted me to and obstacle. It was land 12nm ahead and well away from my path. Now three hours later I glimpsed the land, the wind direction has corrected. I am motor sailing in light winds to keep my date with Savusavu and an after dark ETA. Alas we have no blue sky and a lumpy sea.

As would have it, the line attaching to main sail to the boom (at the clew) let loose and dropped the boom onto the Bimini releasing all the wind from the sail and sent the clew flapping in the breeze. The only safe solution was to drop the sail to the first reef. Then as that was finished the winds picked up to 18-20 knots. So, I would have reefed the sail anyway. Nothing lost, no damage, easy fixer-upper…. I just need to change my shorts (and no, I didn’t shit myself, I was wet). So now sailing at speed, no motors required, low vis because of rain, unsettled seas.

The last 10 hours were a little crazy, land was invisible, rain came in swarms and the sea and wind increased in intensity. Little Fish flew like a flying fish escaping sinister seas.

No brass band greeted me in Savusavu. Even better, I had Trev from Tin Tin, ex SAS, with head lamp and dingy, guides me through the dark windswept and raining waters to the mooring ball he had snaffled for me the night before. He reserved it by hanging his spare dingy off it. Dark opps Trev. I couldn’t have done it without him. To grab a mooring isn’t easy singlehanded especially at night in a tightly packed harbour. It needs to be hooked up and have two lines passed through it, one to each bow. Trev made it easy. I will get him drunk. I heard late commers on the radio being told they were out of luck. The last mooring was taken.

Sometimes excitement can replace fear through blissful ignorance. Maybe the guy tied to the dock knows something I don’t. The jury is still out on that.

Log - 569nm (1040kms), 3 days 6 hours at average speed 7.3 knots and not one boat sighted (I barely sighted land).

We say, in sailing, "if you don't have a plan, then nothing can go wrong". In essence you cruise to the conditions and not a predetermined "plan". The contradiction is that when you sail you need a plan, and you need plans A, B and C.

Our plan B came into effect during our sail to Niue and as such we ended up in Tonga. Plan C may have been back to NZ.

Both Jeff and Simon have been understanding crew. Both know that they have to get off the boat at some time....life calls. But neither booked tickets without giving Little Fish a good chance of living up to a loose "plan".

We got Jeff to Vava'u with enough time get a reputation as good blokes to have a beer with. Jeff almost changed his plan because he likes being a good bloke with a beer in hand. I'm sad and glad he left, but with a promise (as opposed to a plan) that he will return.

We (Little Fish and I) must now get Simon to Samoa.
Its 2am on the 18th of July and we now sit 60nm off Samoa after sailing for 36 hours and 300nm in good conditions. Full sails 15 knots, one reef at 20, then three in 25 now back to full sails for the run in for a mid-arvo check in. Wind southeast and now east.

We will arrive with a week before Simon's flight. But that was just good luck. Latter this week looked like the best sailing conditions, then a window opened unexpectedly on Monday (the same day we did a bunk from the Trump Dump truck). We took it. Now looking back, the original plan would have been aborted due to very bad weather indeed. We would have scrambled to get Simon to his flight, wife Jenny and 40 guest attending his 60th Birthday in Rarotonga.

I mentioned luck just then. Simon and I think we are smart getting this passage right. But instead, we are just spontaneous.
Full circle. You can't be spontaneous and have a plan. So, what we should say in sailing is "just be spontaneous".

There are exceptions. We are the only boat we know sailing from Vava'u to Western Samoa. It's a great port for Simon to leave and Jules to arrive. We get to tick off another country and culture. From Samoa to Fiji via Wallis and Futuna Islands, apparently beautiful and apart of France. I can imagine you running to google with a "what the" expression. Not many people know about them. Everyone else is sailing to Fiji. Like Lycra clad Sunday cyclists killing the vibe at your favourite café, they will all be jostling for the best anchorages in Savusavu Bay all at the same time.

Independent sailors have different reasons for the route they take. Our mate Trev on Tin Tin has a girlfriend to pick up in Savusavu and so took a head start on the flotilla about to leave Vava'u.

And that flotilla is 25 boats in the ARC Rally. The ARC is an expensive hand holding exercise where the flotilla has a forward organising party that facilitate the voyage. So, they go forward to that same point and have a similar rad experience. Think Bikies in Helly Hansens.

Independently we met some great people on the rally. But I can't help to think it takes away some of the exclusiveness we crave as cruisers and buries deep whatever spontaneity they may have had.

I mostly write these things at night and on passage. Its now 6.30am, some light is illuminating cloud on the horizon and beyond that is Western Samoa just out of sight. With two of us sailing we are doing watches 6 hours on and off. I'm midnight to 6am. I have let Simon sleep in as he helped with the 1am sail change. It was wet and so by the time he had a hot shower he would have been knackered. I cat-nap so feel pretty good. It's been quick with less than 48 hours to cover 360nm.

If I were a numerologist, the numbers 19 36.417S 174 27.421W would mean PERFECTION. I have visited hundreds of anchorages, and none beat this. Little Fish sits in 7 meters of water on a sand bank 100 meters in each direction. The contour of the sand is clearly visible snaking along the bottom. The water is glass.

Ofolanga Island is the most northern island in the Ha’apai Group. This group is sparsely populated and is in the heart of Tonga. The Capital Nuku’alofa is south and Vava’u Group is north. Ofolanga is a quintessential tropical island. The beach is 200 meters away. White sand fringes the thick palm trees. No one lives here. A reef surrounds 75% of the island leaving this calm clear anchorage, of which we are the only yacht to enjoy.

This morning we snorkelled with rays, a turtle, tropical fish and a barracuda. An hour latter we had another close encounter with a sleeping whale. Jeff noticed breaching whales about a kilometre away. We went for a closer look an came across sleeping beauty. She slowly aroused and swan around us, gently, cautiously, majestically. Then she moved on her merry way.

We are two kilometres from a more volcanic rocky island, Moungaone and beyond that is the gently smoking Tofua Volcano and the pyramid shaped Kao Volcano. The cloud on Kao looks weirdly like it is snowcapped. The sunrise and sunset bookend the beauty.…no other anchorage compares.

We sailed into Nuku’alofa on the July 1st missing the Saturday deadline to clear customs. As we did 9 years ago to the day, we visited Big Mama on Pangaimotu Island. Devastated by the 2022 Tsunami we decided to drop some money there, but it wasn’t easy. The business was all weekend day trippers and with no beer sales. We ended up dropping meat of to be BBQed and paid for a transfer to town for supplies (while still not officially in the country). Mama and Errol with sons Andrew and Simon where great hosts in what was a ramshackle array of tents and buildings held together with tarps and corrugated iron. Aid Australia was blazoned on the tarps and the only electric light used on the island where all solar, donated from NZ and Oz. A 1.5-meter wave had washed over the entire island leaving it looking like a war zone.

Checking in was a messy affair as no one monitored the VHF radio and so we had to go find the customs office and arrange for health and agriculture to sign us in. It was a Monday with the Kings Birthday holiday on Tuesday, so everyone was in weekend mode. Four big blokes boarded us to do the paperwork, drink coke and let us know what we can and can’t do. Another Cat Wild Life, was also at the dock and assisted us to refuel…also messy. We had to borrow 200 litter drums take them to the servo and wait for them to be delivered back to the dock. We then hand pumped the diesel in. Dave Wild Life, an Aussie owned whale watching charter boat made it all happen.

The Kings Birthday, was another messy, very messy affair. After the weird parade of floats celebrating everything from Miss Tonga Australia to Miss this island and that, to the police, navy, dept of agriculture and so on, all dispersed with brass bands, dancers and random cars that were only in the parade because they happened to be driving down the same street. It was so loud. Blaring music, horns, screams, laughter, and my crew added to the craziness. The last I saw of Jeff and Simon was on a float, dancing like no one was watching. It was hard to unsee.

We went sailing on Thursday. Proper sailing. We detoured via the cause of the Tsunami, Hunga Tonga and Hunga Ha’apai volcanoes then to Numuka and Lolo. Then Ha’afeva, Uoleva and Lifuka. All sailing was extremely pleasurable. Quick three-hour sails, 6-7 knots on 10-11 knots of breeze and whales. Lots of whales.

We had to check out of the sleepy Pangi on Lifuka Island to officially sail to Vava’u (via Ofolanga). The check out was again messy. We found a woman with child in the only restaurant in town who happened to have the keys to the customs office (she worked in “tax revenue”). For a $15 overtime fee she did the paperwork, I had a $8 haircut, ate at the restaurant $10, bought a carton of beer $50 and bacon $5 and buggered off to 19 36.417S 174 27.421W AKA perfection.

When the weather turned, we sailed to Neiafu the capital and main port of Vava’u. It was a 70kn sail averaging 10knots in 20knost of breeze…fast. The port is busy and wet. We have had rain and strong winds in the bay. A trip to the pub ends up a very wet trip. But we have several great bars and restaurants to choose from. Being Jeffs last four days on board it got messy again. Add to that a boat loads of sailors (40 plus boats) and its party central. We are anchored 50 meters from the main strip.
It’s a great town.

We have one last job to do before we sail from Vava’u for Apia, Samoa – pump out the Dark Water Tank (SHIT). This is proving to be a very hard thing to do. The tanks have a blockage and with the risk of oversharing, we have been doing our business into alfoil fashioned into bowl. For aesthetics we fold them into a tulip and when feeling real arty, an origami swan, open the porthole and let them sail away. These are all biodegradable and so safe for the whales. Of course toilet humour is abound on boats a have named a number two as “doing a Trump”.

We needed to have a wind drop to get on the rusty old wharf. Then convince the Trump pump truck to meet us here. They didn’t have a small enough hose. We used our time to check out of customs, get another stamp in the passport and we wait. We think they are getting a small hose. But we just don’t know. It’s a miserable shitty day.

A man, old and wet just came to me and asked, “Can I have a rope for my cow”. I couldn’t oblige. I marvelled at his teeth. What was keeping them in I will never know.

The Trump pump truck came back. The new hose didn’t fit. We wait and watch semi super yachts drift into harbour aiming steal our seats at the bar.

Waiting is a theme of sailing along with the word “messy”. Those who know me well couldn’t imagine that I am good at either of these themes, and they would be right.

So, with just a memory of Jeff, Simon and I will be left to do the two-to-three-day sail together.

The Trump pump truck has done a bunk and so will we.

At night, it's like a spaceship hurtling through space, the sound of wind and waves together are what I imagine space to sound like. It is dark but for the odd star and ocean reflection. But there is nothing out there.

By day it's like we are on tracks. Both hulls working like rails on a Disney roller-coaster, minus the corkscrew. Look forward or back and the boat slides left and right, lurches up and down. The swell blocks the horizon and then reveals it again.

Our future and past move haphazardly and comfortably at the same time, night and day.

In our outer space theme park, you can cook, clean, laugh and solve the world's problems. But first we solve boat ones. This is a BIG shake out trip for Little Fish. I started writing this only 4 days into a 8-9 day trip from NZ to ?). We stated with Niue as our destination and as wind and seas would have it we are on course and the sailing plan is "so far so good". But Tonga is plan B and looks like the first port of call so we can reconnect our Starlink and download updated weather maps.

The first 24 hours under sail and previous 2 weeks at the marina revealed lots of issues.

I'm writing now as it is the first time I have been out of wet weather gear.

The inaugural crew.

Missing is Jules (Little Fish 1) who when work settles will hopefully be able to join me. Let us get to more exotic locations for that. Miss you very much.

Simon Briggs. Some one asked Simon how he knew me and he said, "I don't really"' Normally that would be a big boating issue. But not with Simon. A newly retired Dentist, acquaintance of mine who when he heard my plans asked if he could be my wing man if I needed crew. So, it was lets do the shake down together. He was along for a few weeks sailing in the Bay of Island, however when we discovered a major rudder issue, we instead spent two weeks living with me on a hard stand, unpacking boxes, provisioning, cleaning, and assisting with maintenance. Now he is off to (maybe) Tonga with us. As he said - I have the means, desire, and time. Count me in. He has been unbelievable help.

Jeff Watson. He was a lucky find in Panama in 2014 and spent the entire time between The Caribbean, The Panama Canal all the way to Oz with Jules and I on Ooroo. He is also now a Merchant Marine on a US Naval supply ship with lots of time off. Bloody brilliant. He is in two minds to jump ship (the US one) and stay on Little Fish. As a civilian he can always pick up another. Jeff is a very positive guy, nothing much phases him if he has a full belly. We always eat well on board. Jeff it meticulous with cleanliness, navigation and loves to thrash out the perfect plan. He is also fucking funny and my dive buddy. We have tanks and compressor on board.

And me, Captain, cook, trouble shooter of small boat issues. Already I have rewired Nav lights, resown the sail bag while underway, tweaked this and tweaked that. I'm the lucky guy that gets to sail this thing with great crew.

The land issues started with the rudder seizing while on the hard stand. It was either a three week wait for expensive Danish parts, or we have new ones machined. The latter saved us 2K and 2 weeks. While land locked we discovered a fused solar controller, a rusted exhaust, recommissioned the water maker, attached tie down points for the new compressor, generator and scuba tanks.

Jeff arrived the day we launched...like a rock star he stepped onto a fully provisioned operating yacht.

We set sail at 8am, Friday 23rd June with a plan that has worked perfectly for about 30 minutes, The rudder alarm cut of the all-important Auto Pilot. A couple of quick calls alerted to us that maybe we just need to make some radical sailing moves to loosen the new rudders up. We made the decision to do that under full sail to test everything before we would turn back. We also tested the anchor, winch, and bridle. If you had been watching us it was crazy stuff, we did. It worked. We got on course and had a very difficult time breaking free of the land. This is after all is the middle of winter.

The Nav screens went blank. Another thought of returning, another phone call and an easy fix. A squall hit us. The forecast was for 15 knots winds, but we got smashed for a couple of hours resulting in the Code Zero starting to unfurl. Jeff and I dropped it with great difficult and stowed it, while Simon steered us into the sogging wet wind. Cut and bruised from hanging almost upside down in a sail locker, I threw up for the first time in my life. Jeff and Simon where green. We continued. No seasickness, at all since.

Our plan was to sail with the Northerlies of a low weather system catching the south westerlies at the top end of the low to take us to Niue. I had an 8-day weather forecast which we were to update daily on Starlink. Every yacht that left before us had used it successfully on the same plan as us all the way. Fucking Elon changed the parameters and soon a message come up saying I need to update my plan....but didn't allow you access at sea to do so. A glitch. Fortunately, our preplanning was perfect and all the weather we expected we got (so far). On day 3 a 45m yacht passed close to us and we radioed to ask if they could email our wives to let the know we had a comms issue and will be in contact by day 10. The Captain of Mataliki kindly obliged. Thanks Capt'n.

Now day 5 we had a persistent pop of three Pilot Whales say hi. We decided to head to Niuku' Alofa Tonga. For arrival day 8. Update the Starlink, talk to our families and visits an old friend, Big Mumma and her bar. The laptop is going away now. We have a triple reef in the sail, a small bit of head sail and gusts to 32 knots. That roller coaster sure is exciting.

Now at 9am day 6, what a night. The low front hit and for the first time we dropped all sails and motored with "bare poles" surrounded by storm cells and 4.5m waves crashing over the port stern. Jeff noticed a building cloud formation to the southwest. We had a triple reef and no head sail. at the time and already where scooting along at 8-10 knots. At no time have we overpowered Little Fish as this is a shake out after all.

She keeps surprising us with her performance. At Jeffs suggestion we dropped the sail before dark and in doing so had the ride of our lives. Dropping a sail when the wind wants to put it straight back up in not easy. Simon did great at the helm keeping us windward with and Jeff and I at the mast pulling the stubborn sail down. We had to lash it down as we had no idea what would come that night. That required me rolling under the boom and throwing rope over and then retrieve and repeat. Jeff had my back feeding me rope and being close enough to grab me if I rolled too far. I was harnessed FYI. We got saturated with head on waves.

We set the engines to 2200 rpm and locked ourselves in the spaceship driving the beast with the Autopilot, Nav Station and Radar. A watch was 4 hours on a seat in front of the screens, with one other sleeping on the adjacent seating We had to steer away from lightening cells and rain all the while avoiding going side on to the waves. The strategy was to ride with the front as it passed over us, keeping true to our sail plan of getting as far northeast as we can. We had predicted this front, but it had obviously developed from our 4-day old weather forecast. High 20s winds ended up being sustained 30 knots with a high of 40. It was a little like Jules, Jeff and my Bora Bora to Aitutaki adventure 9 years ago. Top boat speed was a massive 19 knots down a wave. The hull hummed.

7am bought Simon up to the Salon to witness one last torrential rain shower and the first blue sky we had seen in 18 hours. Its not over as we still have 25 knot winds and high seas. But I was able to cook eggs and sausages and have a nice cuppa.
Day 6 started with engine checks, clean the cockpit and check lockers to see if items had moved or water had entered. We added lashing to the downed mainsail.

The front again developed much as yesterday....and grew. All afternoon and night we ran with the front. Ill fast forward. 40 knot gusts and twice we broke the boat speed record. First 20.6 knots and then a doubled-up wave took us to 25 knots. We would have gone faster but crashed into the wave in front, water coming over the cockpit. Cupboards opened and an ottoman seat holding my tools slipped arse over down the stairs to the starboard cabin. I found beef stock and spaghetti in it the next day. It's the first time my heart went into a flutter.

Stove top coffee, fresh orange juice and Nasi Goreng complete with beef strips and a fried egg was breakfast day 7. From about 8pm the previous night we sensed a calm was coming. That calm was a consistent 20 knots. We were happy campers.
An hour ago (9am) I let out a hanky of genoa and placed the engines in neutral and took over from the auto pilot. Little Fish bounced at the helm as I experimented sailing across the waves straightening as they formed behind. I was sailing the roller coaster. This allowed us to edge from our route to Niue to an approach to Tonga one and a half days away. Now only an hour latter we have 75% genoa, sailing at 7-8 knots in 20-22 knots of wind. The auto pilot has taken controls as seas slowly abate.
Jeffs iPod left on Ooroo 9 years ago was reunited with him for this trip. We are visiting our old sailing tunes.

I have two very attentive and effective mates as crew who have been amazing over the passage. We are starting to talk about Polynesian Princesses and cold beer, clear water diving in deserted bays, fresh fish BBQ's and a bottle of chilled Chardonnay. Cold front? What cold front?

7pm - Butter Chicken consumed, Jeff and Simon resting.
Our watches are, me 4 - 8, Simon, 8 - 12 and Jeff gets the graveyard, 12 - 4 then I am up again, and it goes on. Today we continued to physically helm Little Fish to get us on track. It was lovely doing what the machine had been doing for the past 6 days. We are a little sun kissed and salty now. Now its night we have the Auto Pilot on again. For safety reasons we move to the cockpit to observe and do minor sail adjustments only.
We are cruising at 6 to 8 knots in 15ish knots of breeze with a settling sea. We are again only running with half sails.

Some points of interest - we are crossing the 23 degrees south mark, AKA the Tropic of Capricorn, we just passed a point in the ocean 10.35kms deep (almost 2ks higher than Everest) and the Southern Cross is right out back.

We anchored off Pangaimotu Island, Big Mama's Bar, Nuku' alofa, Tonga, 8 days, 2 hours and 20 minutes after we left NZ. It's a beautiful day made better by seeing Big Mama and husband Errol and boys Andrew and Simon after almost 9 years to the day since our last visited on Ooroo. Big boys now. Mama is less than half her size from 9 years ago....she looks awesome.
The bar however is a ramshackle collection of tin, wood, rocks, and canvas, after the devastation of the tsunami in January 2022. The family had some tourists over to swim and are having an BBQ tomorrow which we will attend, and I dare say stay around until late. I have a few lovely pork loins to add to the pot and they will charge us for beers etc. They even said we can bring our own...but that is not the way they will be able to rebuild. It will be a long expensive process.

We arrived a day late due to the weather turning against us again. This time it was wind direction. We had to stay out another night so we could navigate through the reefs in daylight. We had anchor beers with breakfast at 10.30am.
And as with the last time we came, we arrived on a weekend, too late to officially check in with customs. So as Big Mama advised us last time - we just snuck ashore. Jeff and Simon have stowed away on Big Mama's boat to town (two kms away) to get supplies (code for beer). We will now officially check in on Monday and start a sail up through the islands to Vava'u. Niue is still a possibility however with the prevailing winds against us now, I think we lost our best chance.

I have been requested to write a last blog. The ooroo to Ooroo blog. The one where "that big fish" "the awesome passage" and "the great people" are spoken about in a past tense.

So anyway, I was online the other day and zeroed in on a Frontaine Pajot Salina 48 in the Med. It just may fit our budget and certainly fits where we want to be in a year. Jules and I should be house and kid free and can go sailing again....but this time with the intension of eventually setting up home (and maybe business) in the Caribbean (maybe Panama).

While looking forward with excitement....I will just this once multi-task by summarising the immediate past.

I had a wonderful time in Port Vila with old mates, Terry and Charmaine. The sail to Oz was a perfectly fitting end....lovely wind, phosphorescence and a couple of good mates on board.

Customs and Immigrating into Bundaberg was a breeze.

My golf game has not improved, my mates appear to be in the exact the same condition I left them in several years ago. I haven't forgotten how to mow a lawn, walk a dog or put the garbage out.

Did you know that one in 11 people employed in Australia are employed to manage " compliance"? So needless to say, we still have more rules and "do this" and "don't do that" signs than anywhere I have had the pleasure to visit. I'm struggling to comply.

I became a grandpa, had a 50th birthday and serviced my chainsaw.
Ooroo, being the wonderful boat she is attracted the eye of a great couple who snapped her up and moved straight on board.

And the kids..... My son, Oli met my lovely new daughter in law Jen when we went out celebrating the purchase of Ooroo in Saint Augustine, Florida. They had a wonderful home birth, with little Luca landing on planet earth on the day Ooroo sold. My daughter Charlotte and her partner Luke are travelling in Australia at the moment but have the intention of living back in the UK or Malta in a year. Jules daughter Sarah will finish school in a year.....and will go travelling in Italy and Eastern Europe. Her son, Tom is chasing a girl who has a scholarship in a Chicago College. All but Tom spent more than 6 months on Ooroo. Adopted son and 8 month crew member, Jeff is completing his dive instructors in Thailand. There is a very good chance that we will have four kids in four different countries. So a floating home is probably the ideal family home. And I won't need my chainsaw.

Many of our sailing mates have drifted into Australia over the past month. We are lucky to have the Swiss family from "Dragonfly ANJU" moving into our downstairs apartment for a few months. We had a lovely few days with "Tulu". Im looking forward to seeing a few other mates as they sail past. I may actually have to drive to see some others.

I am becoming a EBay groupie, having accumulated too much stuff over the years. There will be no room for storage when we finally leave. Nothing will slow us down.....except the lack of wind.

It took me so long to write this last blog because I didn't want there to be a "last". This is a final paragraph in the first edition. Stay tuned for "The Adventures of Ooroo Two"

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.