I recently came back to Vava'u on the 24 hour boat trip with my buddy Joey. It was such an amazing experience for so many good and awful reasons. I was planning to right my own entry to fill you in, but Joey has already said it better; enjoy.
J
Words from Joey
That’s NIUs to Me
“I love the ocean. Boats, not so much.”
-Jeff Goldblum*
Riding the boat sucks. No need for prose or alliteration—it is simply not fun. It’s been two days since I stepped off the Pulapaki onto Vava’u soil and I still feel a little grungy. Simi, Moa and I boarded the vessel at 5 pm on Tuesday, May 6th. After only an hour, we passed the Olovaha, erasing its 30-minute head start.
Though the early onset of dusk aided in our slumber, Simi was awoken by the pounding rain that formed a lake in our little corner of the boat. As he opened his eyes, a few Tongan passengers happily offered him the salutation “wet, eh?!”
Soon after, the rain stopped and by the time we arrived in Ha’apai, our space was dry. After an hour meandering about the wharf, we rested our eyes again at 5 am. At 8, a Tongan woman shook us awake. Glancing about, we first noticed that we were still in Ha’apai and then, saw that another small body of water had formed around our mats and belongings. Our friendly neighbor set us up with a space in a dry cabin. Five hours after arrival we finally set off at 9 am for Vava’u.
Shortly after 1 pm, we caught sight of Late, the volcanic island of Vava’u, and finally arrived in the Port of Refuge at 3 pm on Wednesday, May 7th.
Though the boat can be a hellish ride, there is still enough to appreciate about the journey that makes up for its many pitfalls.
- When else will you take a 22-hour voyage that can otherwise be accomplished in a 1-hour plane ride?
- When trying to fall to sleep the first night, the gusting winds repeatedly un-tucked my blanket (lavalava), exposing my toes to the cold air. Each time this happened, a Tongan woman whom I’d never met, tucked me back in.
- Looking out into the endless ocean, Simi gazed at a pod of dolphins swimming alongside the boat. We watched as light blue fish flew out of the water, extended their wings and coasted for meters above the surface. All the while, seafaring birds would gracefully descend from the sky and hover along the tops of waves waiting to catch their prey.
- After moving to our new dry quarters, a Tongan string band began to play tunes with the accompaniment of a raspy-voiced female lead singer, backed up by the deep baritone of a guitarist.
- Even though we spent five hours in Ha’apai—three hours longer than the usual two-hour max—not one person complained or even showed an expression of annoyance. Never mind that the passengers were sleeping on the dirty, wet ground and risked singeing their nose hairs every time they even stood in the vicinity of the restroom—these patient individuals enjoyed music, conversation, looking out upon the vastness of the ocean, and just being.
- It helps us to understand the true distance between the islands that airplanes now mask. With this perspective, it’s easier to appreciate the reason many Tongans never stray from the island of their birth.
- And finally, we can appreciate NOT being a passenger of the Olovaha, which departed 30 minutes before, and arrived in Vava’u six hours after us.
*It was painful to quote Jeff Goldblum, but this statement was right-on. Whatever—if Harry Carey deemed him worthy of interview, then I can site him in Toungaue.
