Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
from boredom than hunger though the rule was always that we ate what we caught. We
would definitely share this one with Penny's family later that evening.
We were heading towards the largest of the group, having just recently contacted and con-
firmed with Penny's dad, Kevin, where our first stop over would be. This island, Number
Six, was a classic motu, complete with a channel through the surrounding coral reef. It was
inhabited by a village of local Tongans. We had been advised by the officials in Neiafu to
show the chief of any of the visited villages the letter of permission as well as a small gift
of kava. Consequently, we had laid in a supply of this powdered ritual drink.
I had been keeping an eye on the horizon behind us, and by midday, as we were eating
canned beans on bread with tea too sweet, Penny's family appeared from out of the blue.
Within an hour they had drawn abreast of us and were waving things at us from a few hun-
dred yards away. They were going like the clappers and had a large cruising chute up and
drawing. They foamed past us and disappeared within the hour.
“Boy, they must wanna go badly traveling at that speed!” I said impressed.
“Yeah, no doubt it's my mother wanting her sundowner at anchor,” retorted Penny good
naturedly.
“Or we must be terribly slow,” quipped Gavin, who lay sprawled out on the starboard cock-
pit lazarette reading a dog-eared Wilbur Smith novel.
“Gaasts!” I said defensively.
The boat was sailing herself, and an afternoon nap sat deliciously on my mind. I crawled
silently through the heavy brown curtains, drawing in my breath at seeing Penny with her
top off. “Wanna help me with these?” She asked, pointing to her shorts. Déjà vu swayed
majestically on and I thrilled at life and the sweet sounds of the bow waves lapping against
the hull as we sailed steadily on.
Around three that afternoon we drew close to the motu marked as Number Six on our little
chart. We spotted the entrance of the channel which had been thoughtfully marked with a
large pile of white-washed coral chunks. The Genoa was promptly lowered and lashed, and
slowly we negotiated the entrance under motor. We eventually reached a point where the
channel was very narrow, and we watched with amazement the outward flow of tidal water.
I was very surprised at this as there is very little tide at this latitude. Nonetheless, we had a
running tide, and I felt Déjà vu slow down and come to a stop, even as I gunned her tired
ten horsepower diesel.
I had Gavin and Penny go forward and look for any shallow rocks or danger. We were be-
ginning to lose ground, and Déjà vu's bow began to turn away from the entrance. We were
