Passage to Tonga: Arrival at 'Atata

ANNE RIMMER set sail for Tonga aboard a 40ft yacht on May 5. In this, her 4th and final report, she meets up with fellow yachties at the end of her first blue water passage.

On May 15th we sighted Tongatapu, the main island of the Kingdom of Tonga. I'd imagined that after 12 days at sea, our landfall would be really exciting. But, after such an easy passage, it was almost an anticlimax. Still, I was looking forward to a swim (an impossibility in the open ocean), and longing for some fresh, crunchy vegetables.

It was so hot aboard Duetto that most of our fresh food, stored beneath the floor, had soon turned brown and been tossed overboard, along with the mouldy bread. Only a few pieces of fruit remained, some potatoes, onions - and my home-grown butternut, still firm and fresh.

We slipped round the side of Tongatapu to join the rest of fleet, at 'Atata. This was a tiny island, covered in coconut palms and fringed with sandy beaches. It had a village at one end, and the Kiwi-owned Royal Sunset Resort at the other.

The passage through 'Atata's reef is so difficult that the resort sent out a long-boat to guide us in. A boat sailing through coral needs people on the bow, or even up the mast, as spotters. It's best to move through unfamiliar waters between 10am and 3pm when the sun is high enough to show the coral "bombies" which sit, treacherously, just below the surface. When we took a ferry to another island, Fafa, even the experienced Tongan skipper managed to hit something on his way in.

We dropped anchor and hoisted our yellow flag, requesting Customs clearance. As we waited for the officials, Phil suggested we should eat our remaining fruit in case the Agriculture people took them. This was news to me. As novice crew, I'd had no input into the planning or paperwork for the voyage. There was a flurry of feasting as several apples and three shrivelled oranges, were devoured.

A battered launch appeared, and four huge Tongan men climbed aboard Duetto, and crowded into our tiny cabin. They inspected the ship's papers and stamped our passports, no problem. They asked about fruit. Virtuously, we had nothing to declare.

And vegetables? There was a stunned silence, before we lifted the floorboards for inspection. We had to pack up the potatoes, the onions - and my butternut! I was devastated. I mourned my loss for days, until it dawned on me that the sea voyage may have unhinged me more than I'd thought.

At 'Atata, we had parties, a village tour, and a fun sports day organised for us. Here I met the crews from the other yachts, and was finally able to put faces to the voices I'd heard on the radio. Among the fleet were some of the most interesting people I've ever met.

Kelvin and Joy Smith, on Matabele, a beautiful Beale-designed yacht, were dairy farmers from the Waikato. Joy would have to return home early, to supervise the calving. With them was Dave Chown who runs a machinery business in Huntly. Next year Dave hopes to be sailing his own yacht offshore.

On Sea Kiwi, were Ron and Sue Grantham from Hamilton. Their teenage son Peter is doing 6th form by correspondence. Like Duetto the Granthams will cruise the Pacific for several months, returning home in October.

14-year-old Katie Searle also studies by correspondence. She lives with her parents on Quest, a large ferro-cement yacht, which is anchored at Picton, when not cruising. Katie's father Gary, quiet and resourceful, came aboard Duetto to help repair our inverter.

Katie's mother, Hetty, was very knowledgeable about the islands, after several trips. She bought fresh produce from the market, asking the stall-holders how to prepare taro leaves, or tapioca root. Gary said Dutch-born Hetty has salt water in her blood because she was born on a canal barge.

A distinctive American twang belonged to an ex-ocean-going-tug captain. Drew, and Monique Williams, had sold their property on Libby Lane, in Oregon to buy their catamaran, which they also named Libby Lane. They had spent six months living aboard, with their two daughters, in Gulf Harbour, Whangaparaoa, before setting off on their first cruise.

The prize for the youngest sailor went to three year-old Lauren Greiter, who, with his brother Nico, was on the German-owned yacht Nonie. His mother, Stephanie, was a marine biologist. His father, Helmut, used a dictionary to select his costume for the "Big M" fancy dress party. It's not easy to create a costume from items carried on a small yacht. Dressed in dirty blacks, Helmut was "a Mud-flap". Equally ingeniously, Phil borrowed a Bell tea carton to make a Mug. Hetty's Martian costume (with Quest's binnacle as the helmet) won the prize, but I admired Gary's meringue, furnished from white sheets with shaving "cream" on his head.

Lastly came the presentation of stories and poems incorporating the names of all 25 yachts in the fleet. I'd written ours while on watch. In the style of Casablanca, it began:

"It was dusk when Christabelle arrived at the Castaway Bar. She could Sea Kiwi inside. 'Seen Billy?' She asked Libby Lane.

'Sure,' Libby replied. 'He's Zindabar as usual.'

Christabelle slid into a Pewter talk to him. 'What's the Matabele?' She asked huskily…"

I didn't win. The winner, bravely, sang her composition. But I'd made my mark, and from then on, I was recognised as "The Casablanca Lady".

And, comfortingly, there was news of the swallows we had encountered in mid-ocean. The old hands told me swallows are known to "work the boats", and this pair had visited several other yachts. Sea Kiwi had a photo of one on their deck, while on Zindabar, they had rested in the cabin for two days.

Duetto would sail on, but my adventure was almost over. Soon, like the swallows, I would be flying between Tonga and NZ. But, on Air New Zealand, my journey would be less arduous than theirs had been.

Island Cruising Association

Yacht Sea Kiwi

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4