Approaching Tonga, Reflecting on Niue

It’s just approaching midnight. Sharon is tucked into her bunk for an all too brief sleep. I’m on watch until 2am.

We’re bouncing along, with a moderate breeze on our stern quarter. In these conditions each swell kicks us a little, or a lot, sideways. The ‘corkscrewing’ sensation is tightened by the darknes. There’s little or no indication of forward movement. However, your torso is constantly trying to keep pace with the back and forth movements. And, your stomach feels the sudden up and down motion.

All the while our trusty autopilot scrabbles to keep us on course -always one or two steps behind.

We’ll arrive sometime in the late morning. And while it’s now late on Saturday night, it will be Monday when we arrive. What about Sunday you say? It vanished, at least for us. That’s because Tonga has opted to be west of the international date line.

If we’d stayed in Niue, tomorrow would be Sunday. But Monday in Tonga, just 225 nautical miles away. Just as well. Better for us to arrive on a Monday. Post-pandemic clearance procedures, especially bio-security measures, have become quite onerous in Tonga and elsewhere, and the authorities generally discourage entry on Sundays.

Niue was a lovely place to visit. Some similarities, but in many ways, quite different from all the other islands we’ve visited on this trip.

Sharon described its geography in her last post – a high coral atoll, bereft of mountains or beaches. Short limestone cliffs, undercut by the ocean in places, surround its coastal perimeter. Pretty much flat across the entire top.

Being limestone the coastline is dotted with caves, and punctuated by dramatic crevasses . The government has done a great job of ensuring that all the choice bits are publicly accessible by ‘sea tracks’, as they’re called – well-marked and well-maintained footpaths from the coastal road down to the sea – 20 or more of these sea tracks around the island – all well-equipped with washrooms, showers, and picnic tables. Remarkable for an island nation of only 1,200 people and relatively few visitors.

We rented a car for two days, donned our rain gear, and thoroughly enjoyed visiting most of these little wonders. Many sea tracks have a series of stone or cement staircases that descend the limestone cliffs to the water’s edge, where tidal pools offer swimming or snorkeling at high tide, reef walking at low tide. Others take you through caves with towering stalactites and stalagmites, opening onto amazing ocean vistas. Still others included lovely hikes, on well groomed trails, through dense jungle and gnarly limestone.

It rained, heavily at times, for most of our stay. The opposite of many places in the tropics, winter is Niue’s wet season.

Invariably, the people we met were warm and welcoming. The woman who checked us into and out of the country, drove in on a Sunday afternoon to meet us and complete the paperwork. As did Keith, the volunteer Commodore of the Niue Yacht Club. NYC has no boats of its own. But is instead dedicated to ensuring visiting sailors have everything they need – moorings, washrooms, showers, garbage disposal, etc.

There is, however a melancholy feel to this island. Hundreds of houses are abandoned, and the population has declined sharply since independence nearly fifty years ago. Thousands have moved to New Zealand and Australia for better opportunities – jobs, and higher education. Ten times more Niueans live in New Zealand than on Niue.

With a greatly reduced population Niue is struggling to maintain itself and its infrastructure, despite significant financial support from long-time ally New Zealand. Increasingly, China is stepping in to provide ‘assistance’ in order to upgrade facilities like the airport and roads.

The old government House of Assembly built in 1977 is certainly showing its age, and evidence of neglect. The building was designed by the architect Warwick Keen. His son Greg Keen is a dear friend, who along with Shawn Brayman, joined me aboard Turtlebones for the 2021 sail from Costa Rica to Mexico.

For Sharon and me, the highlight of our stay in Niue was the whales. From July to September, Niue in winter is a nursery and breeding ground for South Pacific humpback whales. Everyday, and seemingly all day long, these amazing creatures frolic and entertain. We often saw them rolling and slapping their tails, or pectoral flukes, breaching majestically and crashing back into the sea. Groups of three or four adults. Mom and calf pairs.

Many a time they would be so close we’d hear them breathing or snorting from inside the cabin. And we’d race outside to marvel as they played in the mooring field or just cruised on by. At the edge of the fringing reef, the water drops off dramatically in Alofi Bay, and the whales can be seen within 20 metres of the shore. Drop the hydrophone in the water, any time any day, listen to the whales.

All too soon, it was time to bid Niue farewell and press onward for the Kingdom of Tonga. Turtlebones has many sea miles to cover and new places to explore in the next six weeks if we’re going to make it home to Canada in time for Thanksgiving.