Mala Island Madness...

Actual Date of Events: November

A few more days spent around town and we were off again, this time to a small resort at a nearby island where we heard of parties and pig roasts. We pulled up our anchor and sailed to the Mala Island Resort. After safely anchoring we motored our dinghy to the small dock and made our way up the wooden path to the lodge.

The resort consisted of a restaurant/lodge and about eight small buildings each one housing two rooms. Though it may sound very exotic the buildings were not well kept and were falling apart. Inside the rooms was a very dirty bathroom and a bed, which had all been taken over by humidity and mold due to the tropical climate. Though the appearance was anything but clean, it still possessed a very exotic and romantic atmosphere.

We each paid a small amount to partake in the feast that consisted of all you could eat pig, clams, vegetables, potatoes and a desert. The food looked and tasted amazing especially after having not eaten very well since the Cook Islands. After dinner all the patrons then made their way down to the beach for entertainment and for the evening after party. Once down at the beach the twenty some people sat around in a circle and the host along with his six employees began to cut open coconuts and mix rum with the coconut milk. Passing the coconuts round full of coconut milk and rum everybody began to get a little drunk as the host played a number of classics on his homemade guitar.

The six employees of the resort were all Tongan brothers who lived on a nearby island and were the only employees at the resort. Once they had all finished cleaning up from dinner and had gathered around the fire partaking in the festivities, the brothers began to sing. Their voices perfectly harmonized as though they had sung together a million times, everybody fell into a trance and seemed seduced by their songs and the perfection in their performance. It was definitely the highlight of the evening and cannot be adequately described of its unusual sound and beauty. After they sung, much of the crowd dissipated till only our boats crew, another sailboats crew, the host and the brothers remained.

It was very funny after the brothers had sung; the host began to play his guitar again. Marina being the drunken Scottish woman that she is started to harass the host for being so anal about not wanting sand in his beautifully handcrafted guitar. Being intoxicated he took offense to her rudeness and angrily left the fire retreating to the lodge to escape her loud, obnoxious drunken antics. She soon disappeared after him to apologize and the fire had lost two more victims.

At this point several bottles of rum had been drank and we had no more coconuts left near the fire. As the crew from the boat pulled out two more bottles of rum it was clear that we must seek more coconuts. Offering to climb a tree and gather some more, the oldest brother said he would show me how. Watching his precision and speed climbing up the narrowest, tallest, swaying palm trees it was clear he had been doing it his whole life. Atop in a matter of seconds, it soon was raining coconuts and we had collected more than was needed. Carrying them back to the fire, I then tried to cut them open for the group.

I learned that the ripeness of the coconut decides whether you will have good milk, good coconut, or even one other unusual alternative when the coconut begins to rot that has the appearance and taste of a sponge cake. As I attempted to cut the very tip off of the coconuts allowing for a very effective cup, the brothers found it quite hysterical. My slow speed and lack of precision with the machete was quite funny to these Tongan brothers who traded off trying to give me lessons. They were certain I was going to cut my hand off with the blade even though I was quite sure I was not.

As the night went on I soon realized that everybody had left the fire except for these six brothers and me. We continued to talk, laugh, sing, dance, and drink late into the night. Then I realized something; I had been stranded ashore by my crew. During the time I had stayed on the beach partying with these brothers everybody had retreated to their boats, including Dirty Dave, and Josh with the dinghy. As we all laughed the brothers began arguing amongst each other over whose shack I could stay at. These six brothers were some of the nicest people I’ve ever met and all wanted me to stay at their place (though they all shared two rooms).

We walked up to the lodge where I soon began to feel very tired. The oldest brother who had taught me to climb palm trees took me to the small building where his room was. Inside I glanced into the bathroom only to find the most disgusting, black, moldy, rotten mess I’ve ever seen. Opting not to go in, he then directed me to one of two beds in the room where he said I was welcome to sleep. Thankful, I plunged face first onto the bed where I fell deep into the depths of sleep.

Sitting up, I awoke to a hot humid summer breeze in my face and an incredible hang over. I looked around the room and saw that on the other bed three of the brothers were sleeping; one of them must have sacrificed his bed to me. Looking down revealed that the bed I had slept on, much like the bathroom was also completely black and covered in mold. I immediately stood up, thanked the brothers for their hospitality and shot down to the lodge for breakfast. Calling the Ferdinand on the vhf and instructing them to come pick me up, I left the island feeling fulfilled and exuberant.

Not long after leaving Mala Island did I acquire an infection that I feared had come from this night of sleeping. Fortunately it did not but I will speak of this horrendous experience later. We then departed the area and relocated to a secluded cove where we spent the next night.

Time had come for us to prepare for our departure to Tonga. This required that we accomplish a few chores onboard and once again prepare our vessel for the longest passage yet. Among the many tasks I had the privilege of changing the running lights at the top of the mast. This was quite fun and I greatly enjoyed the view from atop the mast. That evening we were rewarded with the most amazing sunset yet saying farewell to Tonga and all that her islands had provided us.

Josh writes, “We left Tonga with many fond memories of secluded white sand beaches, pig roast's, coconut milk and snorkeling down into underwater caves; as well as witnessing the American Obama victory celebrations where a whole bar of people jumped into the ocean; plus the nighttime visit to a megayacht by 2 crazy crew in a dysfunctional dinghy that would only turn circles in the pouring rain... but that's another story!”

After provisioning the next day in Vava’u we departed the islands of Tonga. The forecast called for no wind for about a week followed by a very large storm, which we wrongly thought we could get ahead of. We were tragically wrong, instead experiencing “the storm of a life time” as some sailors labeled it. An experience I will never forget.

Our Tongan Pig Roast...

Actual Date of Events: Early November

Vegetarian’s you have been advised to not read on…

After spending a couple more days at anchorage, we felt once again that another adventure was necessary. Since meeting Doug, he had wanted to find a pig or a goat to catch for a beach roast. Whenever I would return from a hike or a day out and would mention that I had seen a pig in the bush, Doug’s immediate response was where I had seen it and if he could catch it. Unfortunately the opportunity never occurred to catch one and instead we had to settle for the purchase of two pigs from a local farmer.

That’s right, we bought two live pigs from a local farmer. The pigs lived in the cockpit of Doug’s boat for a day and a night while we arranged our plans to seek out a secluded beach for our own pig roast. The following day we sailed our two boats in search of the perfect private beach, which we soon found. As we began to anchor, a torrential rainstorm began and we thought that our plans might have to be postponed for another day but while going ashore the rain seized. The clouds broke and the beauty of the remote island in the midst of Tonga was stunning.

We searched the entire island gathering as much firewood as we could, most of which was driftwood or the scraps of an abandoned cabin we spotted ashore. I then shuttled Doug back to his boat to finish the pigs off and reload our supplies of shore beers. Just for your information the pig’s life with us, though brief was a good one.

The easiest was to kill the pigs was to tie an anchor to their feet and toss them overboard. I do think that the method used may have tainted the meat slightly, but it was the easiest and quietest way. Doug then cleaned the pigs on his boat before we assembled and shuttled all of the evening’s supplies back to the beach.

Once ashore the first step was the singeing of the pigs, which is the process of briefly placing the pigs in the fire and burning their hair off. After that we speared them and placed them across the fire on the spit where they cooked for several hours constantly having to be rotated. While they cooked I climbed a coconut tree and helped prepare a tuna that had been purchased at the local market. I also placed whole garlic cloves and onions wrapped in aluminum foil in the fire.

The evening was very fun as we all reminisced of the many stories and adventures that had taken place during our sailing passages. Doug told stories of his many adventures of diving sunken ships and near death experiences all the while singing pirate chants.

He told us about how his friend had been launching glass bottles off of his boat with the coordinates of his current positions every hour as an experiment. The notes in the bottle told of how to contact him so that he could study where the bottles had turned up and their relation to the ocean currents. Doug simultaneously had been summoned by a remote pacific Island chief and upon introduction was presented with one of these glass bottles. The chief wanted Doug to read the message it contained and as he did he realized it was a bottle from a friend he new in Australia. The story contained much more vivid details but was pretty funny.

We also laughed heaps while listening to the many fond stories of the pigs. How in the middle of the night Doug had woken up to one of the two pigs hanging above his bed through the hatch squealing. Or when one of them jumped over board in the night and started to swim to sea passing the immigration dock. With Doug in hot pursuit, the security guard ashore was surprised to see a pig swimming past him to sea being chased by a dinghy. I’m sure it was quite the sight.

The evening was just another day in paradise and was such a unique experience. The next day after snorkeling around the area we returned to the main anchorage in Vava’u. We had dinner together and said farewell to Doug, Campbell and crew since they were off the next morning towards Australia.

Vava’u, Tonga…

Actual Date of Events: November 2nd

Let's see, where was I...

After maneuvering through the many surrounding islands we finally arrived into the harbour of Vava’u, Tonga, one of the 48 occupied islands among the 171 other islands in the country. The kingdom of Tonga is a monarchy and the only country in the region to avoid formal colonization; it is also plagued with poverty. It is an amazing country and everywhere you go the locals are willing to engage in a conversation with you, tell you about their situations and political views.

Through speaking and meeting the locals I learned that there are very few amenities and no minimum wage exists (the average pay at around .60 cents/hour). It is very difficult for many to survive on these wages and the current government has done nothing to address public concerns. Regardless of their situation, everybody I met invited me into their homes, welcomed me into their families. One man offered us his home anytime we wanted to stay, he told us how it is not necessary to lock their doors and that crime was nearly non-existent.

After spending the first day clearing immigrations and meeting up with Doug and his crew we set off on our first Tongan adventure. Just to give you an introduction, we had met Doug, Campbell, Manu and the lady aboard (it is a shame I can’t remember her name) in French Polynesia. Doug had been a crew for Dave some decade prior and has been rigging boats ever since, Campbell was his kiwi surfing counterpart who was also a 25 year old green horn. This was the boat and crew that I had hoped to be crewing on; with surfboards and diving as their primary agenda we became quick friends.

The first night we had met in French Polynesia was a very fond memory, only because it ended with a lot of rum and me skurfing through the harbour in the middle of the night. Skurfing is when you surf behind a boat, just remember to be careful if the towrope you’re using has no handle; anyways that is another story. This was my first introduction to Campbell and Doug and after having spent time together in the Cook Islands we again were reunited in Tonga.

Among our many adventures, the second day in Tonga we all took the dinghy about an hour away to a couple caves. The first cave was appropriately named Sparrow’s Cave and could be entered in with the dinghy. Motoring inside, the sounds of thousands of sparrows could be heard and shadows of hundreds of birds flying slightly above could be seen. The water appeared as though it was raining by the amount of bird excrement that seemed to continual fall. After admiring the cave and the markings on the wall, some of which dated back to the 1800’s we continued deeper inside.

Once inside, we made our way to the back of the cave where light could slightly be seen. Swimming from the dinghy to the side and climbing up a small jagged rock passage revealed a small hole in the ceiling, reflecting light onto a pile of white balls. As we poked at the white balls none of us could figure out what these odd things were. I then realized what had happened, “Shit” I yelled. “What” Doug replied, “Shit, these diapers are full of shit”. We all laughed in disgust as we realized that the hole in the ceiling was a local’s backyard that had been throwing their babies diapers below. The cave was renamed “diaper heaven” and we quickly escaped Sparrow’s Cave. Out of the cave we continued traveling to our next destination, Mariner’s Cave.

Mariner’s Cave is an underwater cave that proved to be extremely difficult to find. With no clear markings on the wall it took us about an hour of diving in several different locations before we finally located it. From the outside of the cave, the only clear marker is beneath the surface of the water where a dark whole in the rocks below can be seen. Once inside the light from outside is refracted through the tunnel and onto the ceiling inside. The water appears a fluorescent blue and the electric color is one I shall never forget.

To enter the cave required diving through a tunnel about 10 ft down and 20 ft inwards until coming up for air. Once inside the feeling was quite amazing. The swell surges through the tunnel and as the waves come in the pressure within the cave increases. Along with this increase of pressure visibility is reduced to about three feet causing your vision to go blurry, your ears can feel this pressure change and acquire a painful feeling. Then the wave surge would recede and as the pressure inside the cave would return to normal, your ears would pop and visibility would return to normal. It was a very odd sensation.

Inside the cave, the ceiling appeared to be about thirty feet in the air and there was a jagged rock reef wall that Doug and myself decided to jump off. Scaling up this sharp wall was quite difficult and I acquired several deep cuts on my feet that did not heal until I had arrived into New Zealand. Once atop, I plunged into the pool 20 feet below, losing a fin. As if in slow motion I watched as my right fin spiraled down towards the sea floor some 60 feet below. Diving as if it were the last tool necessary for my survival I swam deep down managing to just grab the tip about 18 ft deep, saving it from the depths of the deep blue.

It was quite fun inside the cavern with the seven of us who had come, Marina, Josh, and myself from the Ferdinand and Doug, Campbell, Manu and the mystery crew woman from Doug’s boat.

Marina was the unfortunate victim on this particular trip whom took a fair amount of abuse from the rock reef wall. As she attempted to climb up the surge of the incoming wave dragged her along the inside wall into a small dangerous deep hole in the back right corner of the cavern. After being dragged about she then was spit out, having scrapped her entire body and hitting her head hard against the rock she appeared quite dazed. Needing some assistance exiting the cave, she made it out safely and had too acquired many cuts that would not heal until our arrival into New Zealand.

Once outside of the cave our fun for the day had not yet finished. Being the last to exit the cave I arrived outside only to discover that Doug had speared a beautiful Grouper. Only one problem, Doug’s spear gun was broken and not only had the spear separated from the gun but the fish had dragged the gun down off of the reef shelf and wrapped itself around a rock that must have been around fifty feet deep. I watched as Campbell and Doug free dove down trying to recover the fish and gear tangled on the reef far below realizing that there was no humanly possible way I could dive that deep. Finally Doug retrieved the fish and we set off for a remote beach to make a fire and cook his reward.

Once we had found a beach we set out gathering the necessary supplies for our proper feast. Manu scaled a nearby coconut tree and picked heaps of coconuts, Doug gathered some mangos and begun preparing the fish, I built a fire and Josh and Campbell bargained for some banana leafs at a nearby village for wrapping the fish and placing it in the fire. I won’t make you drool too much but it was one the best meals I’ve ever had.

The fish was marinated in the bailing bucket with coconuts, spices and a mango concoction that Doug had made. He would probably still deny it, but I know he had brought some spices in his pocket that enhanced the flavors and added a spicy kick. Anyways, the fish was then wrapped in banana leaves and places on woven fern fronds that Marina and I had made to protect it from the flames. Coconuts were passed around and we all consumed as much coconut milk as is humanly possible while we waited for the fish to cook.

After the fish had been picked at and all of the large pieces had been eaten, the rest was scraped into the now empty coconuts. Along with the fish scraps, the marinade that was left in the bucket was evenly poured into the seven empty coconut shells. Using the small coconut cap that had been carefully cut off, we resealed the now full shells and placed them carefully back onto the coals. After letting it simmer for a bit, the most amazing soup imaginable was construed. We ate like kings that day…