The Kingdom of Tonga: Season Two

"Fofola e fala kae talanoa e kāinga" --a Tongan proverb literally meaning "Lay out the mat so the family can chat," an expression of communal wellbeing, cooperation, and understanding.

Malo e lei lei family and friends,

We finished the last post at The Boatyard Vava'u in November 2024, after our rudder forced us to turn around from Ha'apai.

Once we completed the lengthy to-do list to prepare the boat for an extended stay in the tropics, we returned to the States the long way. Vava'u to Nadi (Fiji) to Los Angeles to Seattle took about 32 hours(!) with layovers. I suppose it's all relative though. After all, sailing to Vava'u from Seattle took over three years! Being a passenger on an airplane is easy: no night watches to keep, no weather forecasts to check, no reefs to navigate. The plane just goes!

Getting Back to De Novo

Our return flights were more complicated. We came back in March, before flights from Nadi to Vava'u commenced for the season. This meant flying from Seattle to San Francisco to Nadi to Nuitoputapu, Tongatapu, before spending the night, and then flying from Nuitoputapu to Vava'u on the Tonga's only domestic airline, Lulutai.

The layover in Tongatapu gave us the opportunity to see the capital. We also home stayed with a wonderful family. We wish we could have stayed longer, but our boat was calling.

The Royal Palace

The Royal Offices

On the little commuter plane to Vava'u

The Boatyard Vava'u, Nieafu, and Other Anchorages

If you want to feel the heart of a place, stay there during the "off" season. Returning in March meant a Vava'u free of tourists and full of activities. By staying in the boatyard until early April, we grew close to Tongan locals and the vibrant expat community. We became regulars in cafes and shops. Neiafu was home.

I cannot recommend the Boatyard Vava'u enough, especially for the cyclone season. Although Tonga often experiences cyclones, fewer reach Vava'u. In the sixteen years since the boatyard was built, no boat has suffered any damage due to a cyclone. Its location at the end of a long inlet, surrounded by cliffs on three sides, has kept it relatively windless--torture for the workers and liveaboards who stay for the hot season but a godsend in tropical storms. In fact, the most wind the boatyard saw during this last cyclone season was 26 knots! Still, in abundance of caution, the yard builds a cradle around each boat and ratchets each boat down to multiple buried 1-ton blocks.

The only downsides of staying in March are the heat and flooding rains. These conditions made the hilly, 2.5 km walks to town arduous — especially while pulling a cart — until we learned we could easily hitchhike. The moment we put our arms out, the next vehicle would stop, and we found ourselves in pickup truck beds or back seats, making new friends every day.

Our home in the boatyard for three sweaty weeks

Our port midship fairlead was no match for the tropical conditions!

Learning to love mosquito-eating spiders

Bartek, yard neighbor and friend for life

Big Red, another friend for life

<3 Vava'u

It was time to finally sail (and more importantly, stop paying for storage).
Problem was that it wasn't that time for the boats in front of us.
Could she make it?

Vava'u Boatyard's Alan Morey was up for the challenge!

Don't try this at home; Alan is a pro.

It took about 300 minor adjustments, and re-blocking, and re-angling, in mud, to straighten her out.

And it was TIGHT!

Everywhere!

But she made it!

Goodbye Boatyard Vava'u! Thank you for everything!

Back in Nieafu

Returning to Mt Talau

From Mt. Talau, you can't see the boatyard, but you can almost see the haul out to the boatyard (south/ below the bridge on the east/ right side) It was here, on both sides of the bridge we took daily breaks to escape the heat and paddleboard and swim. During rainy weather, several young locals would join us.
Who knew yardwork could be a vacation?

Vava'u Anchorages

The other benefit of sailing so early in the season was the empty anchorages. While we love sailing with friends, both new and not yet met, empty anchorages offered us a special kind of paradise.

De Novo, as seen from abandoned ruins on Pangaimotu

Vaka'eitu and Family Life

But our favorite anchorage was one where we weren't alone at all. We stopped at Vaka'eitu Island to snorkel the famous Coral Gardens there. Since the winds were too strong, we decided to postpone the snorkel and meet the locals instead. We heard the lone family on the island, the Wolfgramms, cooked traditional feasts for a fee. We had also heard of a trail, so we donned our nicest hiking clothes (a low bar after spending years on a boat), wrapped a tupenu around my waist, and went ashore. No one was home, so we tried to find the trail. After bushwhacking among sticky and pointy plants for an hour, we gave up and returned to the boat.

Fortunately, that night, the family returned to shore. We heard "Hello" by Adele so loudly from their home that we were sure they were playing it to greet us. We immediately knew we would love this family.

In the morning, we were greeted by Hika and her daughters, Rosalind (17) and 'Ana (19), as they wove tapa strips under an enormous banyan tree. They were making a new kie kie for Rosalind to wear at school. Back at the house, we met David, the father, and David and Hika's youngest child, Rosemary.

Rosemary, an outgoing and adventurous 13-year-old, became our friend and tour guide for days to come. She guided us on the hike that we failed to find the day before and simply walked through all the sticky and pointy plants without hesitation.

She mentioned that they weren't home last night because they had struggled to find a ride back from Neiafu. Their skiff is their car, the way on and off the island, but the motor died in Nieafu when David, Hika, and 'Ana were picking up her and Rosalind from school. Since there are no secondary schools on the outer islands, the girls board in Neiafu during the week. Their family drops them off every Sunday evening and picks them up every Friday afternoon. That's how most "off-island kids" go to school around Vava'u.

School is incredibly important to the family. Hika and David have eleven kids in total (!), and all eight who were no longer living on the island had attended college. The three girls would follow suit. In fact, Rosalind is "head girl" of her class, an honor that requires important responsibilities. So of course, we offered to sail the girls to Neiafu and back while they had their motor fixed.

The next day, Sunday, we stopped by the house to pick them up. Hika gave us breakfast, deliciously rich, slow-cooked crabs in coconut milk, and after witnessing our terrible attempts at breaking open the legs, showed us how to properly eat crab. The girls brought their backpacks and two large burlap bags of food for the other girls in their boarding house. Every week, a different off-island family is responsible for the meals for all off-island kids, and this week was theirs.

De Novo has been many things--home, sailboat, a place where our dreams came true--but she can now add something new to her resume: school bus. I taught Rosemary to sail, and she taught me a lot of Tongan, all of which I promptly forgot. At one point, Dave and I noticed one of the burlap bags started moving; the girls informed us there were thirty live crabs inside. Going to school is different out here.

At the end of the week, we returned with the girls and our friends, Tammi and Scott on SV Tartaruga, new Tongan expats, so we could all go snorkeling together the next day. Rosemary joined us too.

We felt honored that David and Hika trusted us enough with their daughters, both to sail them away to school and to snorkel here. The Coral Gardens are notorious, and though Rosemary could swim, she had never snorkeled the gardens. The surf crashes over the coral strip between two islands, and swimmers must time the waves perfectly to get over them. Fortunately, Tammi, Scott, and Dave were all terrific swimmers and could help Rosemary and me along.

It's all worth it on the other side. After the high bar, the reef deepens into a playground of seemingly countless valleys and tunnels. There is every type of reef and color imaginable. Unfortunately, our GoPro had broke so we didn't get any pictures, but we replaced it before our next reef adventures in Fiji.

After our adventure, Rosemary and I agreed that this was "our favorite day" and vowed to never forget it. Later that night, David invited us under the Banyan tree for kava, and I barely stayed awake after so many cups.

The next morning, Sunday, the family dressed Dave in a ta'ovala, a traditional matted cloth, and me in a kie kie. The family had made both. We accompanied them to church on a nearby island, Lape. Lape is the home of three families, and with the Wolfgramms, their congregation has four. The community is so small that they don't have a pastor, so each man rotates the responsibility. It was David's turn. He spoke with passion, love, and tears in his eyes. Rosemary translated that it was the importance of raising one's children to love Jesus and follow their own paths, not the parents', trusting that they will make decisions with Jesus in their hearts. They shared the Tongan hymn books with us, and we sang along, butchering both the melody and pronunciation. Although we don't share the same faith, we found the experience deeply touching.

After church, we returned to Vaka'eitu for a feast. Earlier that morning, they buried the food underground, in the Tongan umu way, so we could all enjoy plantains, breadfruit, chicken, taro, and coconut milk together. It was their way of saying thank you. David said that Tongan families do things for one another, and since we brought their daughters to school, we are now Tongan; we are now family. Hika gave me the beautiful kie kie to keep.

Through the Wolfgramms, we learned more about the importance of family in Tonga. Next to faith, family is everything. Rosemary taught us the system of fahu, where women are seen as the leaders. Although men hold more status outside the family, women hold more power inside it. Women make the main decisions and control all the money. Sisters hold decision-making power over their brothers and even their uncles, regardless of age. The oldest paternal aunt holds the most power, authority, and respect in any household.

In general, families are the core of all Tongan life. Everything revolves around the family. And family isn't always nuclear. Many aunts, uncles, cousins, teachers, and neighbors carry the titles of mom and dad. We noticed in another church in Pangai that all adults seem to take turns holding infants, and small children climb over all adults, even us, knowing instinctively that they can trust everyone. Like in Samoa, everyone looks out for everyone else. And if you're far from home, they will become your family and envelop you with love.

After many hugs, we brought Rosalind and Rosemary back to school again that evening for the last time, knowing that David's older son in Vava'u sourced the right part for the motor and could fix it there next week.

Out of all of our experiences cruising, our time with the Woldgramms was my favorite memory. We've stayed in touch with the family, and learned from them and other cruisers that when David had to spend some time in the hospital recently (he's better now), the older kids and their families came to help. They all got time off work because in Tonga, family always comes first. They remind me a lot of our families in that way.

Teaching Rosemary to sail

The loving home of Hika and David and family

Boat wreck from the 2022 tsunami

Finding remnants of older settlements on the far end of the island

Going to church in this gorgeous kie kie

'Ana secures Dave's ta'ovala

With Rosemary

With 'Ana

Ha'apai

After we returned to Neiafu, we provisioned and got our inner-island clearance papers to leave Vava'u. It was difficult to say goodbye to Vava'u after all of this time. But we knew that Ha'apai would provide a better wind angle to sail to Fiji, and it would be a much easier place to check out of the country.

Still, a local boatwright made sure we understood that if the situation in the US gets worse (as it has), we are always welcome back in Vava'u. "Come right back home." We will. Definitely.

It's about 70 nm from Vava'u to Ha'apai. A long day sail. I knew the weather wasn't ideal, but I thought, heck, it's just one day, I can handle it. I can keep reading. I don't need seasickness meds. Wrong. I vomited the whole way. 11 hours of vomiting. At some point, I will learn.

We checked in at the official's house on Lifuka, and she remembered us from last year. "Oh, you were the one with the broken rudder! How is it now?" and was pleased to learned we were able to get it all fixed in Vava'u. She also shared that we were only the third boat to check in this year...already in May. We visited some of the towns further north in the Ha'apai archipelago, and nearly every local stopped to talk to us. Apparently, they don't get a lot of Palangis there.

We enjoyed a second (or third? fourth? fifty-fifth?) honeymoon at the abandoned islands of Uonukuhihifo and Uonukuhahake. The turquoise waters, small atolls, and lush greens reminded us of the Tuamotus. We waited out a storm at Ha'afeva. We loved our time in Ha'apai again.

When the weather was right, we checked out at Lifuka, said goodbye to Tonga for good, and sailed west to Fiji. It was a lovely sail, mostly downwind, and with the appropriate seasickness medication and preparation.

Goodbye Tonga. We will always love you. Thank you for the comfort, the lessons in gratitude, the love, and the home away from home.

Lifuka experienced some high tides while we were there

Lifuka is known for wandering cows

The one airfield interrupts daily traffic as the main road cuts through it.

In 1806, the pirate ship Port au Prince anchored here, off Holopeka, with the aim of plundering. Instead, the locals massacred the captain and most of his crew. They spared William Mariner, a young teenager onboard, who stayed in Tonga and wrote about his experiences there. These stories became the West's first written accounts of Tongan culture.

The remote, uninhabited islands of Uonukuhihifo and Uonukuhahake had the quintessential South Pacific beaches. Their white sand and turquoise waters made us feel like we were in the Tuamotus again.