Let them eat (dry) cake

Sand spit in Tonga (only at low tide). The kids played
'Marco Polo' on land.

As we celebrated Matt's birthday last week, he got a little older and I was reminded that I am not getting any smarter. I made a cake from a mix--the kind that literally has four ingredients (cake mix, eggs, oil, and water)--and managed to forget one of the ingredients. To file away in your collection of nearly-useless information: if you're going to forget an ingredient in prepackaged cake mix, water is the only one you can get away with. I wouldn't recommend it unless you like really dry cake, though. Fortunately homemade chocolate frosting covers a lot of sins, if a bit lumpily.

A walking stick insect on a hike in Tonga. Note
Conrad's I'm-not-touching-it face

We had a better-than-expected passage from Tonga to Fiji. Wind speeds were higher than predicted and we made great time. Unfortunately the good wind only held for two days. On the third day, we had to throw up the spinnaker to maintain a decent speed and then slow ourselves way down overnight to avoid an arrival in the dark. During the trip, it was relatively calm but the sea state didn't completely agree with us. No one got sick but no one felt like doing or eating much. We were happy as usual to get to our destination.

That's rapidly boiling water behind Conrad.

Our friends on Amelie, who had been in Fiji for a week, arranged for a mooring nearby and gave us the lay of the land. The various officials, including the most jovial customs official we have encountered yet (he started out by joking that he would be taking the kids away for a bit of a holiday), boarded our boat and got us checked in warmly and efficiently.

Waitui Marina has showers. We had never seen a hot water
heater at the shower head before. I had already finished
my very cold shower; Matt figured it out before his.

Savusavu is a real, working city (as opposed to one that lives off of tourists) with enticing smells coming out of the many storefronts that line the waterfront. Food is inexpensive (doubly so because of the 2:1 exchange rate with the U.S. dollar) and delicious. As the local personality "Curly" has mentioned on the morning VHF net, it is almost cheaper to eat out than to cook at home. When we got to shore, Mark and Conrad ran straight for the fumaroles on the black sand beach. Sometimes locals cook food or even skin animals over the boiling water of the hot springs there and elsewhere in the island (although a sign at one hot springs site prohibits the killing and preparation of animals there).

We will spend a few days enjoying Savusavu and then head to the Lau Group, where there will be nothing but remote villages without stores or restaurants.

Would have, could have, should have

We attended a Tongan feast with several friends. We
almost missed it because we crossed the international date line

Matt noticed the other day that our old house resold for almost $150,000 more than we sold it for three and a half years ago. The couple that bought it from us made almost no changes, down to the placement of almost all the furniture and artwork they purchased from us. It was eerie to see the place almost the same as we had left it.

Conrad getting ready to dive down to get to Mariner's Cave submerged
entrance. He's come a long way in his snorkeling abilities.

After the initial vague regret of all the money we 'could' have had if we had waited a few years (not to mention the additional money we probably would have saved up), Matt and I quickly made peace with the new information. We have had so many unforgettable experiences with our boys during the last nearly-three years that I can't imagine having waited until now to start cruising. Life is short, which is the main reason we're out here. Of course, it's just as likely that we're much better at rationalizing our choices now. Boat ownership does that to you.

Swallows' Cave had huge ribbons of schooling fish. Our friends
on Miss Behaving took us and a bunch of other kid boats.

We are enjoying the relative civilization of Tonga, as well as the beautiful clear water and idyllic islands. The produce market has a lot more variety than we have seen in a long time and the meat pies are delicious. Food in general is inexpensive and the exchange rate is very favorable for us.

Conrad and Claudia (Seabbatical) sailing from one anchorage
to another. Finn and Riley were in another, while Hayley
from Miss Behaving windsurfed over.

Unfortunately, it's the coldest winter here that the locals have seen in a while (one morning the thermometer read in the high 60's F) so we haven't felt like swimming much. There are a lot of whales here and the pigs in town seem to rival the population in numbers.

Pigs digging for clams at low tide. They are very skittish.
You probably would be too if you were made of bacon.

We have said goodbye for now to several of the kid boats we have been sailing with, as we head in different directions. We're sad to see them go. We'll be in Tonga for another week or so and then we'll head to Fiji.

Niue: It's not the size that matters...

One of the amazing shots taken
by Marie-Claude Osterrath of Amelie IV

Niue is a tiny country that I had never heard of until we reached the Pacific. In fact, they claim it's the smallest sovereign nation in the world.  The week we spent there was one we'll never forget. The area is a breeding and migration area for humpback whales and we saw more whales than we have ever seen before and will probably see again. They would swim through the anchorage daily and at night we heard their songs through the hulls of the boat.

Up close and personal with one of the sea snakes in the anchorage.
Courtesy of Owen MacMahon of Seabbatical.

Niue had me at the whales and then threw in unique terrain and dozens of sea snakes for good measure. Niue is one of the largest coral islands in the world and is riddled with easily accessible caves and caverns.  The boys loved exploring the caves and actually took time out their busy schedule of having stick fights to proclaim "This is cool."



Avaiki cave

We decided to rent a less-than-new 12-seater van/bus/death trap to explore the island with our friends on Seabbatical and Amelie IV. Owen on Seabbatical was nominated to drive because he is Australian and is already used to driving on the wrong side (to us) of the road. The kids got to see a fire show,  visit a monthly village fair, watch a humpback repeatedly breach for 20 straight minutes,  and pig out at a fantastic island feast (roast pig is soooo goooood).

Talava arches.

Even though there are only 1300 people on the island, each of them seemed friendlier than the next.  Everyone waves as they pass each other, be it by car or walking.  It took all of 45 seconds to have a car stop to allow Matt to hitchhike up the far side of  the island.  The customs officers pick you up at the dock and drive you to their offices.  We decided that the people of Niue are the friendliest we have encountered.

Fire show at the Scenic Matavi Resort



Mark going up the ladder at Togo

 

Palmerston Atoll (Cook Islands)

Mark and Conrad with "Bacon". There are no dogs on Palmerston
but Bacon is the next best thing. He loves being petted.

Coming into an unfamiliar anchorage at night is one of the top three "don'ts" if you like keeping your boat in one piece (not certain what the other two are, but probably something like "don't sail into a hurricane while repairing leaking propane lines using a match as a light source" or something similar). So as we approached Palmerston at 11:30 p.m. we considered drifting in the lee of the island until daylight. After talking to our friends on Seabbatical, who had arrived several hours earlier, we decided to try anchoring, especially since the moon was scheduled to be up as we arrived. After five days at sea, a relatively good night's rest was too tempting.

The dulcet tones of Edward and his son

The problem with Palmerston is that the water goes from 1000's of feet to about 35 feet almost instantaneously as you pass over the vertical drop off.  Then you get about 75 meters of 35 foot deep water until you hit the edge of the reef.  So the zone for getting your anchor down is somewhat narrow.  Especially since you want to be as far from the reef as possible in case the wind was to switch directions and start carrying you towards the reef. 

Luckily the winds were steady from the east and would blow us back into deep water if anything went awry--or so the plan went. Unfortunately the full moon, which was blindingly bright the night before, was now hidden behind an overcast sky.  However, we were able to use another boat's AIS signal as a waypoint to guide us into the anchorage and there was just enough light to see the nearby crashing surf. We slowly crept in and wondered when the depth sensor would start registering anything.  Finally we were over the shelf and got the anchor down. After the adrenaline from the experience wore off, we went to bed. We slept somewhat fitfully for a few hours, enduring some minor wind shifts that started putting us uncomfortably closer to the reef and surf. Sleeplessness notwithstanding, nothing bad happened and we were able to be checked in the following morning.

Roving gangs of cruisers invade

Palmerston's hook for cruisers, besides its colorful genesis and evolution, is its white-glove treatment of the sailors who stop there. Normally, each vessel that arrives is "adopted" a host family. The family ferries the cruisers to shore, shows them around, socializes with them, feeds them, and helps provide services such as laundry if needed. Although it is relatively expensive for the normal 3-day stay (for our family of 4 it was $140--there were no moorings available but had we taken one it would have been an additional $10 a day), it is much cheaper than elsewhere in the Cook Islands.

We found out that most of the residents of Palmerston had left to go to Rarotonga for the 50th celebration of Cook Island Independence ("free association with New Zealand"). The cruisers almost outnumbered the remaining residents. Edward, our host, had his hands full with six boats at one time. Since 65 of the approximately 85 residents were gone, we probably didn't get the full "feel" of the town. The residents who stayed behind seemed mostly to enjoy the peace and quiet.

For us, Palmerston was very worthwhile. The people were very warm and open. Our kids thought it was the best place in the world with all the "free" ice-cream and cake they were given. In return, cruisers give what they can of goods and useful skills. One of the passengers on a visiting boat was able to help fix a compressor and troubleshoot a motorbike.

We did cause a bit of a kerfuffle because we asked the local nurse whether she might be interested in an aloe vera plant we have aboard, since we won't be allowed to keep it when we arrive in New Zealand. Although we had understood requests and donations were to go through our host, Edward, we did not think he would care about a 3-inch plant. Boy were we wrong. Edward lectured Matt very sternly about our breach in protocol, making it clear that if all gifts were not given directly to the host family (even books for the cruiser book exchange), all hell would break loose. I gather that Matt did an admirable job of not rolling his eyes as he issued his mea culpas. As it turns out, the central quarantine office in Raratonga gave a no-go to bringing the aloe ashore anyway. Since the boys are horrified that we might have to "kill" the plant, we'll have to tell them that it got sent to live out its life happily at the aloe vera farm.

Regardless, we enjoyed the originality of the place and the people we met (both on the island and from other boats). The weather here is much cooler than we have gotten used to and we have been wearing jackets on a regular basis (we're talking mid to high 70's F here, so don't feel too bad for us). Next, we'll head  to Beveridge Reef, where you're anchored in the middle of an underwater reef. Hopefully the sun will come out so that we will feel like snorkeling.

Bacon photobombing the puppet show that Marie Claude
and Meg on Amelie IV put on for the kids.

 

Perspective

These manta rays in Bora Bora were about 14' from wingtip
to wingtip.

One evening at dinner, we were discussing the relative poverty levels of much of the world compared to the U.S. and other first-world countries. This, of course, was a rarity since most dinnertime topics seem to be either the boys discussing "strategy" about how to kill zombies in their one iPad game or us trying to explain why putting a piece of food the size of a baseball onto your fork is not considered to be good manners.  But I digress...back to world poverty. Mark chimed in with, "Well, we're poor, because we don't have a lot."

The piñata we made for Conrad's birthday party.

I can see how it might seem that way to a seven-year old who has lived and travelled on a boat for a good chunk of his life (especially the part he actually remembers). We live in a small space, compared to a house. We are careful to not waste water or electricity. Fresh fruits and vegetables are sometimes limited. We rarely have unlimited internet with which to play certain awesome zombie-killing iPad games. We don't own a car and most of our travel is at the blistering pace of 4 to 7 knots.

Now, we destroy it. The kids jumped into the water
after the candy that flew in after the piñata broke.

Mark's right that we don't have a lot of material possessions compared to folks on land. But poor? As we sit in a scenic anchorage in Bora Bora, our boat is more 'ocean-front' than any of the ritzy hotels with over-water cabins that surround us. We have the luxury of being able to explore places at a more leisurely pace than tourists that are limited by 1 or 2 weeks of vacation. Our family is together all the time. (Okay, that one can be a double-edged sword.  But considering how fast kids grow up, I would much rather err on the side of too much togetherness.) I think we're far from poor. You may disagree (Mark apparently does) or even question my sanity (you would not be the first). Vive la difference!

A view of our anchorage from the main island of Bora Bora.

Today, we head into town to stock up on fresh produce and top off our diesel, gas, propane and baguette stores before we head to the Cook Islands. The wind, waves and weather for the near future are less than ideal, as we bump up against our visa end. That being said, Wednesday is shaping up to be an acceptable day to leave. We have enjoyed our stay in French Polynesia but are eager for what's next.

It just goes to show, you can always find something to complain about

Snorkeling in Bora Bora.

One of our guidebooks quips that the best kept secret about French Polynesia is the lousy weather. We tend to agree with that (although everything is relative--we're not talking snow and freezing temperatures). Even when it's not raining, we have had to run our generator more than we have anywhere else during our two and a half years of cruising because of the cloudiness. We actually had to use jackets during a couple of passages for the first time since the Bahamas and sheets while sleeping. And yes, I am well aware that we are now complete babies when it comes to weather (what? it's not sunny and 80 F every day?!).  Luckily we have had plenty of postcard perfect days along the way too, but we did feel bad for the guests of a buddy boat of ours who unfortunately hit a really ugly streak of rainy weather during their 2 weeks here.  They still had a great time, as have we, since the beauty of the islands and the friendliness of the people transcends whatever the weather is serving up.

One of the floats from the Bastille Day celebration in Raiatea.

We have made our way to Bora Bora. The clear, shallow water and plentiful fish in the lagoon remind us of the Bahamas. The snorkeling has been fantastic and there are mantas, stingrays, and eagle rays everywhere. Good thing the water is so inviting, because the scenic motus (islands) surrounding the main island are privately owned and we hoi polloi are not allowed, even below the high water line. The rich and famous like their privacy. At $1,600 a night for some of the (relatively basic) accommodations, I guess you can't blame them. You don't even want to know what some if the private island cabanas go for...if you have to ask and all that.

Due to expiring visas, our time in French Polynesia is coming to an end. When we get a good weather window, we'll head west towards the Cook Islands. In the meantime, we'll squeeze in an early birthday party for Conrad while we're still in the company of most of the other kid boats.

Amazing experiences, all the time--um, no

 

'To our tormentors'

Conrad and Mark wrote the note above during the recent several-hour passage from Huahine to Raiatea. Inside, the note reads, 'Subject: Don't be lame and torture us.' The body reads, 'I will not be able to live without touching Mark for the rest of the passage.' There are very detailed pictures of how we are torturing them.

Happier times on a dinghy trip up the river
on Raiatea with our friends on Seabbatical

The note was prompted by our directive that they stop all games that involve touching each other because (1) they were getting too rambunctious and very close to hurting themselves or the boat and (2) the games would invariably result in one or both crying/whining/being otherwise intolerable.

Conrad on Justin's shoulders with Riley nearby.

Other cruisers are always saying what amazing experiences our kids are having as cruisers. On the whole, I think that's true.  Of course, to them it just a normal day. Hopefully one day, even if it's 30 years down the road, they'll look back fondly and realize how lucky they were.  Or they'll hold grudges against us tormentors and put us in a nursing home the first chance they get.

Fern tattoos.



The white pollen from the ferns contrasts well
with the boys' tanned skin.

Homemade donuts and lots of 'em. Sugar high, anyone?