I pass the keyboard to Felicity, to describe the next 24 hours....

After a calm night we awoke to sunny skies and a gentle wind to help us on our way north. With our first true taste of Tongan sunshine Milan and I could finally enjoy some much anticipated sunbathing on the deck. After a pleasant sail we arrived at Haafeva mid-afternoon and opted for the western anchorage. A kiwi yacht which was anchored on the east side decided to follow suit and trailed in alongside. With calm seas and low winds forecast we put out 25m chain in 4m depth in an attempt to protect the coral beds - We had patches of coral underneath us and large beds surrounded much of the anchorage. We made the most of the sunny weather and enjoyed the prettiest snorkel of the trip so far.
Back on board Happy Cat we noticed a strange cloud formation on the horizon. It didn’t look threatening and dad was confident in the Windguru forecast so as we slurped back a sundowner or two and enjoyed the sunset no one was concerned... How wrong we were! As the sun dropped out of sight the clouds rolled in, the winds picked up, and the rain lashed down. Skipper James preached “Wind before rain, we’ll sail again” which calmed my initial nerves... But not for long. We sat down to another of Marina’s fabulous meals and were temporarily distracted by the food and conversation as the swell and gales began to build around us. Halfway through the meal we were jolted into action by the panic-causing screech of the iPad anchor alarm. Happy Cat was on the quick course to a night on top of a coral bed.

Dad and Marina leapt into action to prevent imminent disaster, while I sat in a frozen stupor at the dinner table. After ten or so panic-stricken minutes they returned to the meal, confident enough that the anchor had re-set itself and would hold for the time being.

With no appetite to finish dinner I was now acutely aware of the near and present danger. Survival tactics kicked in - I mapped out my escape route, had my sneakers ready to go (in case I had to swim over coral beds), moved lifejackets into the galley and had a lesson(?!) from Marina in how to put one on.

The storm roared outside and the wind was now at 36kt with no sign of letting up. Huge waves smashed across the back of the boat and things started to creak and groan as were were battered around... I was keeping one eye on our depth reading which sat at only 3.2m. This combination of factors wasn’t conducive for sleeping, however somehow Milan conked out in our room at 10.30pm and dad napped on and off in the galley. Marina and I resembled wide-eyed meercats as we sat together wondering how on earth these blokes could sleep at a time like this! Marina kept a close eye on the garmin and tracked the zigzag spreading across the screen as our anchor slowly dragged while the storm raged on. It was a small comfort to see the anchor light of our neighbours wobbling in and out of view - We weren’t going through this alone.

In the early hours of the morning, after reassurance from dad that even if we landed on the coral we wouldn’t have to abandon ship, I was convinced to head to bed and ‘wait it out’. It was a fitful sleep interlaced with many peeks out of the cabin window to reassure myself I could still see some lights on land.Finally after 8 hours of bashing around the storm started to let up at about 4am... We were going to live to sail another day...