Neiafu is the main town on the Island of Vava’u. As we walked through the town on our way to check in we were welcomed by smiling faces and morning greetings from people as we passed them. After we had completed the formalities we walked slowly down the main street in search of some fresh food and some local money. An ANZ bank on the corner reinforced the fact that we were nearing Australia and that New Zealand had a huge influence on these islands.
Bags in hand we made our way back to the dinghy dock, a concrete structure with a few small fishing boats tied to it. On the way back to the boat were surrounded by hills that reflected in the large enclosed natural harbour. There were a few charter boat operations including Moorings perched on the side of the hill overlooking the mooring field, and dozens of cruising boats from all over the world filled the anchorage. The harbour is one of the few relatively safe places you can leave your boat over the cyclone season, and the cyclone moorings were in great demand over the summer. Our friends on Tyrene decided to do just that. In hind-site we wish we had too. The Pacific is too big to cross in one year.
Over the next few days we caught up on email and I ordered replacement pre-heater elements for the engine from a company in New Zealand. They were no longer working since they got wet in the Marquesas. I hoped this would put an end to the engine start problems- we were sick of spraying WD40 into the engine to start it every time.
A couple of days after we had arrived Pau Hana sailed in and we caught up with Graham and Sarah at the local sailors bar, the Mermaid. Then in walked Ian and Jen off Déjà vu, and it was like a reunion of the crew from Tahiti. A number of the boats had stopped at the isolated atoll of Suvarov in the Cook Islands. The consensus was that it was a highlight of their trip, and it brought home to us that our timeline was causing us to miss some amazing experiences. I resolved again that one day we would return to the Pacific. In the meantime there was a pool table in front of us and cold Royal beer to drink. It was a very late night. The Mermaid was one of those classic remote bars that attract cruisers, with ships burgees and flags hanging from the rafters and an easily cleaned floor. Soon happy hour became a regular event.
Our pre-heaters arrived and I fitted them, and they made the engine easier to start but not as well as I had hoped. It looked like the cylinder rings were damaged. We just hoped it would get us home. I was starting to hate the thing.
We were mobile again so it was time to explore some of the islands. The Vava’u group is a small cluster of limestone islands riddled with calm deep channels. This makes it a sailor’s delight. The Moorings publish a guide and chart of the anchorages for their customers, and we bought a copy. From then on all of the anchorages were referred to by their number reference in the Moorings book. Our first stop was number 10, a deep north-facing bay between two limestone bluffs. Under one of the bluffs there was a cave we snorkelled in. There was brightly coloured coral lining the bottom and fearless schools of fish at the bottom. The cave went back quite a way up a steep mud slope, and there were plenty of pirate jokes. Some of the graffiti on the walls of the cave was very old.
That night we had a barbeque on the beach, drinking rum and cooking on a driftwood fire. Someone was playing the guitar and the night was warm, and it was great to be back on a beach with friends after so much time in town.
The next day we went to Mariner’s cave. This is a concealed cave that you dive into under the surface through a submerged hole in the cliff. Once in we could see thick fog form each time a swell came in. Everyone felt a sense of accomplishment after they dived in. It evoked plenty more pirate references.
We visited a couple more anchorages and spent time diving in the crystal clear, cool water but time was against us. After a couple of weeks it was time to leave for Fiji. We sailed back to town with Tyrene, who were spending the summer there. We were sad to part from them, as well as being jealous of Denis and Carine because they were to spend at least another year touring Tonga and Fiji. Paul planned to fly back to New Zealand to pick up his life there. We all had our paths to follow, though, so after a last party at the pub we checked out and began the 450 mile passage to Fiji.

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Tonga was the place where it really came home to us that we were on our way home. Reminders were everywhere, from the Australian produce and tourists to the VB beer in the pubs. We were running out of time and the pace we had set so far would not see us in Australia by the beginning of the cyclone season. We were still mentally fatigued from the long passages of the past few months and the boat was worse for wear. Our sails continually needed re-stitching and the whole boat looked tired. We hoped to fix her up enough in Fiji to get us home but we always worried about the sails and the engine on passage, as well as the clunk the rudder made in its shoe, the worn bearings in the self-steering, leaking hatches, the corrosion in the boom at the gooseneck, our rusting anchor chain bare of galvanising and our total lack of bottom paint. We still had 2000 miles to sail but we had come many thousands so far. We just hoped we would make it without another major breakage.