Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
fied, staring up out of the fore hatch. “Jesus, where did you learn all of that?” I laughed as
she curled up next to me, her long, blonde hair damp from exertion. We both fell asleep and
only awoke when Gavin came aboard, rocking the silent still Déjà vu.
Gavin and Penny had managed to purchase almost all the dry groceries we needed for the
three month proposed stay in Vava'u, Tonga. All that remained was the fresh produce, and
they had held off until I was able to secure the engine spring. The next morning I stripped
to the waist and, under the little awning spread over the boom and cockpit, I climbed down
into the engine bilge and began the laborious task of removing the broken Palmyra elec-
tric box spring and replacing it with the one from the Chinese junk store. Penny and Gavin
cleaned the boat and did little chores in readiness for our imminent departure for Tonga.
We were getting a little bored with this dirty and rather unfriendly American owned port. It
felt as though our cruise had been stifled here; it was almost like a busy city and had all the
noise and traffic and bad manners.
Within two hours I was able to cinch the final bolt down on the tappet cover. I stood up and
stretched my aching back. Wiping my oily hands on a rag I called to Gavin, “Do you want
to give the engine a turn and see if we can get her started?”
He removed the companionway steps and, inserting the rusty starter handle in the socket,
and gave the engine a robust swing. I quickly let off the decompression lever, and the old
girl gave a lively cough but did not take. I had left the exhaust pipe off for easier access to
the engine, and now I got a cloud of stinky, black diesel fumes clouding into the bilge area.
“Try again!” I yelled to Gavin. Again he whirled the Yanmar diesel, and I snapped off the
decompression lever. This time she roared to life, and I quickly decelerated and bent down
to reinstall the exhaust pipe. The engine ticked over sweetly, and I silently offered heartfelt
and grateful thanks to the old Chinese man.
We were able to buy about thirty gallons of diesel on the dock, which was more than
enough for the trip to Tonga as well as three months of motoring around. I was told we
could get diesel there as well, so I wasn't too concerned. That morning the three of us
tripped off to the town again, all in exuberant moods. The engine was running; we had all
caught up with our sleep, and we were on the threshold of another exciting trip to another
group of islands off the beaten track.
John Reid, the harbormaster, had the last laugh with me over the radio. “Can you spell that,
please?” he had asked, when naming the vessel calling the harbormaster. “Uh, that's Delta
Echo Juliet Alpha, uh, V for victory, U for uncle.” I said momentarily forgetting my radio
ciphers. I burnt red with embarrassment as I imagined all the sailors listening in must think
I was a complete novice.
