We have arrived in the Kingdom of Tonga. Actually, we arrived yesterday, Sunday, but it's AGAINST THE LAW TO DO ANY WORK, so we could not check in yesterday. We've entrained Health, Immigration, Customs, and Quarantine officers this morning.

Mr. Toad's Wild Ride:

We departed Niue three days ago in nice weather, and motored about four hours before wind arrived in sufficient speeds to use. We had previously erected our whisker pole for the first time, and the wind direction made good use of it. A whisker pole is a pole with one end affixed to the forward side of the mast and the outboard end attached to the jib sheet. The purpose of the pole is to prevent the collapse of the jib when we are sailing far downwind, and for that use, it's very effective. We sailed the first night with no problems, but the wind began to rise the next afternoon. By evening, it was blowing up to 30 knots behind us and the seas built to non-breaking 7-8 feet. The Hydrovane did a great job of steering, even in these difficult conditions: big winds and seas from the stern. Following seas (seas from the stern) cause the boat to slew around off course, and that's what the Hydrovane was handling. Great device.

I got the Hydrovane settled and took my turn at the wheel, then at 2100, I went off watch to sleep and Conni took the wheel. At 0100, my turn came again, and although it was a very rough ride, we felt in no danger. We both felt that the whisker pole had done its job but needed to come down, so I suited up with my headlamp and eased to the foredeck. Working together ( I almost lost my voice from shouting into the wind to Conni in the cockpit) we were able to pull the whisker pole down and get it stowed on the foredeck.

At 0700, my watch came again and when I stuck my head out of the cabin a beheld a scene from hell! Conni was at the wheel with huge 10-12 ft rollers coming in from the stern and wind was lowing up to 40 knts! Holy crap! The northern end of Tonga was to port, with its 500-foot cliffs cold in the early morning light. Wind was causing lines of spray to streak the ocean's surface, a sign of big winds. She was fine but exhausted from being on her toes for the three-hour watch. She continued to steer for a while, wanting to complete rounding Tonga's northern end before giving up the wheel. At that point, the seas were blocked by the island and things calmed a bit. We needed to circle Tonga's north island of Vava'u, sail down the western side and enter the western approaches to the myriad islands that make up this sailor's paradise.

We passed cliffs of multicolored rock with names like Yellow Patch and White Patch, as well as more prosaic names. The wind was now in our faces, so we motored forward at slow speed, fighting for every nautical mile. Sheesh! No rest for the weary.

Finally, we made it into the Neiafu harbor and picked up a mooring. I covered the sails and got the wind generator hoisted, and we went below in the early morning light. Conni prepared a wonderful celebratory omelet and toast, and we went to bed for a much needed sleep.

A while later, our friends from Norway, Hans and Lif from Andante, dinghies by to invite us to cocktails on Andante, and we enthusiastically agreed. Their boat is a 53-ft Jeanneau, so had a washing machine and push-button everything. Man, what boat! Hans even agreed to fetch and return us since we hadn't time to inflate our own dinghy.

This morning, I awakened to someone banging on the hull, so went up top to see what was happening. An old Tongan in a tiny rowboat was selling homemade bread. We wanted payment in rope which I refused to give him, but we took a loaf for payment tomorrow.

After listening to the Neiafu Cruisers' Net at 0830, we did some chores and slipped our mooring line to check into the country. Even in the big winds we managed to make a soft landing on the concrete pier and awaited the government officials. They don't move quickly, but they are polite and very accommodating. We enjoyed meeting them all.

Tonight, we have dinner with the Andante and LBO crews, Hans, LIf, lovely Veronica, and Peter. It will be our first trip ashore and we're excited since we plan to be here for several days. We've heard that the Internet here is very slow.

And as to that, I apologize for posting no photos after I said that I would, but Internet on these islands is not much better than dial-up speeds in the US. I'll try to get some photos posted, but can make no promises. I'll get the blog up and see what I can do.

Vava'u (pronounced "Va-Va-U" with the accent on the second syllable) is the northern island of the kingdom with about 10,000 residents. The entire country has 200,000 or so. Their main industry is copra (as I've explained, copra is dried coconut meat and it's the source of coconut oil used in many industries), of course, grown on plantains, with vanilla production a new industry. Vanilla! It's a saprophyte in the orchid family and is pollinated by only one insect, an indigenous insect of Mexico. Everywhere else, the plant must be hand pollinated, so production is very labor intensive. After harvesting beans, they must be stored and aged, then processed for use, again more labor intensive work, suited for areas with high unemployment. Kava, is a slightly narcotic drink that is also produced here. I haven't tried any, but intend to while I'm here.

The high unemployment is also responsible for the levels of migration to other countries, including, fi you can imagine, Alaska. We have a large Tongan population there.

Tonga is also VERY religious, with Catholic, Methodist, and Mormon as the top three religions. The country's laws reflect the intense pressure placed on the inhabitants by the early missionaries, with Sunday work prohibited by law, as is showing any shoulders or legs by women and shoulders by men, even when swimming, for cripe's sake. Yesterday, we heard the famous Tongan choir singing from the Catholic church here as it wafted on the winds to the mooring field. Lovely. And speaking of the Catholics here, the Vatican, the richest city state in the world, requests an end-of-year donation by this poorest island nation in the Pacific. The list of contributions is listed by family, of course, with the name of the family with the smallest contribution prominently displayed. Personally, I find this practice particularly offensive. Unlike many island nations, there is no "sugar daddy" country that feels guilt over colonization as with so many other island groups, so they receive no money from a larger nation. Consequently, Tonga receives no help from anyone and is, as mentioned, the poorest country around. Its their country, so we follow custom and don't ask why they follow such rules. Grrrr….

Interestingly, this harbor is full of cruisers. There are, perhaps, fifty boats here, all sailboats of various sizes, but most larger than ours, with catamarans a high percentage. The mooring field is inexpensive and many sailors arrive here just after typhoon season and stay until they must leave next typhoon season. The rich and diverse group of islands that make up this country have many limestone caves, offering scenic stops with few other boats to share it with. In season, Humpback whales from Antarctica arrive for calving and cavort in the many bays, to the delight of tourists who spend their dollars to, literally, swim with the whales, one of the few places on earth where it is legal to do so. Protection laws have recently been enacted that require that you dive with a locally-trained guide, but if one likes pestering endangered species, this is the place for you. Diving is spectacular and Tongan dollars are 60% of a US dollars so a little money goes a long way. One can rent cars, rent or charter boats (there is a Moorings here), and the beaches are some of the whitest and most beautiful in the Pacific. There is a lively cruisers' community here and many restaurants and cafes catering to out-of-town guests. Air travel is a difficult, but Tonga can be reached via Fiji and New Zealand.

So, here we are in the KIngdom of Tonga, much to our surprise. We leave in 5-6 days and head for a last 4-5 day crossing all the way to Fiji. We have a week to take the boat apart for storage, and then then place her in a pre-arranged pit in the ground. Her hull will be at ground level and her keel sunk in the ground. Insurance companies like the system since boats can't fall over in the usually typhoons that come ashore there. Then, on 26 July, we're outta here and back to the US. Its' hard to believe.