Blackwattle in Vava'u, Tonga

by Nancy Knudsen on 21 Sep 2007 Tonga. Tonga. The word has the sound of a bell – not a high trilling Christmas bell, more like a lazy sonorous cowbell. Sailing in the waters of Tonga, meeting the Tongan people, is just such a contrast. Their slow lilting movements, easy smiles and lazy friendliness make French Polynesia seem like the Fast Lane.

Neiafu, the main village of Vava'u, is the kind of quiet sleepy place we've become used to while crossing the Pacific. However, the first disturbing aspect is the prevalence of foreigners. ALL the businesses – restaurants, tour operators, bakery, boutiques, repair facilities, diving operators – are run by foreigners. We hear the accents on the radio net in the mornings – English, South African, Americans, Australians, New Zealanders.

Only the markets – food, craft and fruit and vegetables seem to be run by the Tongans themselves. The Tongan crafts – carving of shells, old whalebone or cowbone, basket weaving, painting on bark are all beautiful and inexpensive. We warm to the market vendors, and one lovely woman marketeer – called Olivia -volunteers to teach weaving to interested cruisers.

We walk the village, and like all these villages, it's a little scruffy in a languorous way, corrugated walls fallen down across the street, abandoned building among the smartly painted boutiques. It doesn't take long to walk. No-one hurries, not even the few vehicles on the road. It's hilly here, but not with the spectacular heights of the Society Islands.

We attend Church on Sunday morning, and the singing of the congregation is astounding – the harmonising, the quality of the voices, the enthusiasm and the sheer volume of the music is an experience not to be missed.

There's a lot of 'fire and brimstone' in the sermon, but as we don't understand the Polynesian language we don't feel at all chastised.

This is Moorings territory, and the place is brimming with cruising sailors on holiday. In the coffee shops the conversation is all about the anchorages that are plentiful, deep and protected around the Vava'u Island – all numbered, so that you don't have to remember difficult Polynesian names. 'Did you like No. 7?' ' You MUST go to No. 13 – it's a little hard to enter, but wonderful once you're there...' 'We saw whales, but not from No. 40 where you normally go – let me explain...'. There's a falseness about this that is disturbing.

Outside the wind is still high – we receive constant reports of 35 knots gusting upward – the seas are still high too. Not many boats on the Coconut Milk Run are leaving. We socialise with our yachtie buddies, wash the salt water out of the boat, experiment in the local (foreign owned ) restaurants. A blast of Australiana arrives with a group from our home yacht club, and we relish the opportunity to catch up on news from home.

It rains frequently, dark racing clouds that dump great dollops of water. They drench us for five minutes then disappear, and we rush around opening and closing hatches all day and night.

We hire some diesel go-karts to explore the island and some guides to show us the way through the dense rain forest tracks. We're glad to see that at least our guides are Tongan. It rains of course, and the mud guards on the carts seem to be mainly decorative. The scenery is spectacular - the windward side of the island is much more picturesque than the softer lee shore.

We end the day laughing – or is it hysteria? - , covered in mud splashes, wet through to the skin, bone-shuddered from the wild ride, and badly needing a cappuccino.

[Sorry, this content could not be displayed]

Finally it's time to sail out to some of the anchorages.

Snorkelling in the Swallow's Grotto offers some magic moments, and the Tongan Feast put on by the local community is gratifyingly clear of foreigners.

It's tourism all right, but the grandmother of the family who hosts us is there singing while the daughters sway lazy Tongan song stories to us.

The food is served in shells and banana leaves, and is mostly local seafood dishes. They tell us they are raising money for the local school with the dancing, and the welcome seems real and relaxed.

It's time to go – Fiji is calling and we're waiting for the weather.....can't stay anywhere too long, as the cyclone season is only a few weeks away....