Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
Chapter Sixteen
Hurricane season in Tonga.
Best hurricane hole!
Jogging again.
Earthquake.
Christmas feast.
War with the locals!
We departed American Samoa on the first day of December 1988. We all agreed that it was
good to be out of Pago Pago . We got what we came for, engine spares and supplies for sev-
eral months. American Samoa had been a little too busy and civilized to be a cruising des-
tination. Western Samoa was reported to be a lot nicer and more laid-back. Unfortunately,
it was late in the season, and we wanted to be safely at anchor in a hurricane hole, snug in
the confines of a protected harbor, warmed by the musky trades and involved socially with
the fun sea gypsies we would inevitably meet and get to know in the ensuing months. The
log reminds me that we made one hundred and thirty two miles in the first day. We caught
a fat tuna, and that night had a delicious fish dinner made by Penny. She was a good cook;
she was a great friend. She had few inhibitions, and she was strong physically and mentally.
I slipped up; I should have recognized these qualities and married her. She let me get away,
or I let me get away is the real truth.
The winds were fickle, the weather hot and very humid, and it was with some relief that
the Tongan island of Vava'u was spotted on the fifth of December in a beautiful, blood red
sunrise after a sail of some three hundred and twenty miles. The journey had been short and
sort of sweet; it was just quick enough to remind us of how wonderful it was to be able to
up anchor and sail away to a new land and long enough to make landfall so welcome. I was
interested to see that the international time zone passed through Tonga; they were the first to
be blessed with the new day.
We were able to clear customs in the town of Neiafu quickly and motored into the large
lagoon, the huge natural harbor aptly named Port of Refuge, to the south of the island.
There were several boats already there. We recognized quite a few from Hawaii on down to
Palmyra and Samoa. Dinghies were buzzing about on errands social and otherwise; laundry
flapped in the breeze from some of the rigging; there was friendly chattering on the radio,
and the atmosphere felt good immediately upon entering.
Penny spotted her parents' boat soon after we had anchored and called them up on the radio
like the good daughter she was. She loved her family and had obviously missed them. Her
brother Craig came flying around on their familiar rubber dinghy and gave her a shy but
