The Central Pacific - Pacific Crossing Notes: A Sailor's Guide to the Coconut Milk Run - page 315

On to Ha'apai
All very nice, but as I said, we were in Tonga for the sailing. So we ventured back into
open water, sailing sixty miles south to the less frequented Ha'apai group, a tangle of reefs
and exposed islets that make navigation more exacting and good shelter difficult to find
when weather conditions go from benign to bad. Consequently, only a fraction of the cruis-
ers who crowd Vava'u venture into these azure waters. When we checked in with the port
captain in Lifuka (a quick and easy formality), we learned that only sixty boats passed
through in the peak months of September and October. That left the best of Ha'apai to a se-
lect - and scattered - fraternity of sailors. Here, we could each retreat to our respective an-
chorages, and a good thing, too, since many are small and only partially sheltered. All the
more reason to rave about the rewards: uninhabited islands, superb snorkeling, and in the
right season, a better opportunity to see whales without the stampede of snorkelers these
behemoths attract in Vava'u.
Like Vava'u, the Ha'apai group offers a veritable smorgasbord of post-sailing activities. In
Ha'ano, giant bats hung like so many oversized, upside-down fruit in the trees. That is, un-
til the sound of our voices shook them into the air like a foreboding (but ultimately harm-
less) scene from a Hitchcock movie. Tiny Luangahu proved to be a difficult place to find
shelter, but once settled in, we could circle the entire island on foot in a few minutes, or
linger over the exotic seashells underfoot. Nicky, meanwhile, was in his element digging
giant sand pits and collecting driftwood for a full moon campfire on our private island.
Throughout our Ha'apai sojourn, we were keenly aware of how the sailing skills and
smooth teamwork we had developed over the past months were paying off. For us, the ulti-
mate test came at O'ua, a long, thin island encapsulated by reefs. Many charts neglect to in-
dicate the small, winding pass on the south side of the island. In fact, we had little more to
go on than outdated way points and rumors of defunct navigational aids. This was a chal-
lenge we would never had dared attempt at the start of our journey, but now we were con-
fident enough to give it a try (albeit ready to turn tail at a moment's notice).
After tacking Namani boldly up to the reef's edge, we struck the sails and motored cau-
tiously ahead with a constant lookout on the bow. The early afternoon light lit the reef bril-
liantly as we scanned for any sign of a break. There it was: a crooked pole marking the en-
trance between two frothing shallows. We were in, drawing a wide arc to reach the deep
basin that harbored a handful of other boats. They, like us, were drawn to O'ua by its prom-