Wed 4th Feb: The Ha'ppai

I woke up around 6.30am as it became light. We had managed to sleep during the night. I do remember feeling cold at one point and covering myself with my waterproof jacket. Two Tongans had lain down next to me on the deck and used my rucksack as a pillow. The sea had remained calm through the night so the journey was much smoother than expected. Noen of the rumours had come to pass. The seas were calm the boat remained stable and nobody was sick. It was very comfortable, very pleasant.

I stood up to make my way to the toilet and faced a deck strewn with sleeping bodies. I had to pick my way carefully through them and descend a couple of flights of stairs to find the toilet. The lower decks wer even more crowded than up top. Everyone was asleep. Returning from the toile I passed a cabin full of people sitting on the floor, and propping themselves against the sides. Out of nowhere they all seemed to break into a traditional song. I hadn't heard anything like this. It was a very Polynesian sound, so many different melodies. I stopped to listen to them for a short while. Very quickly the singers inside were joined by many out on deck. I almost entered the room to sit and listen to the singing. I didn't realising this was the funeral party keening the deceased. I returned back to the rest of our group on the top deck but the singing continued for the rest of the morning, ending only as we docked on Lifuka.

The first of the Ha'appai islands appeared, the westernmost volcanic islands of Kao and Tofu. Kao rises up to 1,000m and it remained in view on the edge of the horizon for the duration of our stay in the Ha'appai. A string of small, green, palm fringed islands came into view and slipped past. The ferry came to a stop opposite one of the larger islands and a small flotilla of boats came out to meet us. Passengers and cargo were carefully transferred to the small craft which bobbed precariously in the swell alongside the ferry. They were dwarfed by the large ferry. Boxes of ice were handed down from the gangway for the fishermen to preserve their catch for when the ferry returned on its southerly journey back to Nuku'alofa. The railings of the upper deck were thronged with onlookers watching these islanders recieve their loved ones and weekly supplies. Acquaintances were spotted and shouts of greeting were returned with smiles and waves. Requests for cigarettes resulted in handfuls being passed down from the upper decks. As each boat recieved its quota of passengers and goods the outboard motor was gunned and the boat soed off across the water, through a narrow channel in the coral reef, back to the island. When you looked more closely at the island a scattering of buildings became visible amongst the coconut trees that lined its golden beaches. One lady chatted to us. She ran a small hospital on the next island and climbed down, precariuosly, into one of the small craft that pulled alongside. Safely sitting down she waved happily to us as her boat eased away from the ferry.

By 11am the ferry was docked at the harbour of Lifuka, the principal island of the Ha'appai. Pangai, the isalnds main town lay back from the wharf half hidden by a line of trees marking the waterfront. It was a small town. By now it was hot. There was a glare off the sun and the humidity was just about bearable. We waited on board while funeral party unloaded the coffin onto the back of a truck and covered it a decorative matting. As the coffin was brought on to land a wailing broke out amongst the mourners. Flowers were placed on the coffin before it was covered for its journey to the home of the deceased.

As the funeral cortege moved away we were allowed off the boat. A sizeable throng of people mingled arond the pier. Our group split up. Dave and Ruth headed off to find accomodation in Pangai for the night. Tahani, Dave and Chritina were, like me, heading for Uoleva, a neighbouring island just south of Lifuka. We were all going to Daiana's place, a small budget resort. I had tried to contact Daiana's yesterday in the tourist office in Nuk'alofa but had been unable to get through. The other guys had more luck and had been told they'd be met at the boat. Our group were the only backpackers coming off the ferry so we weren't difficult to spot. A couple of small boats were tied up nearby so we aproached them to see if they were going to Uoleva. They weren't there for us but for some others who were flying in from Tongatapu. As we turned to leave we were approached by an old, grey haired man pushing a bicycle. He introduced himself as Jim. He would be bringing us to Daiana's place but first he had to get some petrol as his supply had run out. He would have to wait until it was unloaded from the ferry. We turned to look at the ferry. Unloading had, indeed, started. A single forklift was struggling to make its way up into the cargo bay. This could take a while. Jim told us he would meet us with the boat at a wharf in front of the local police station a few hundred meters away and then cycled off.

The lads, Tahani, Dave and Christine felt it would be a good idea to bring food to the island. If there was food available we could mix between self-catering and the food there. We found a supermarket and stocked up there. We went off to find the wharf loaded down with rucksacks and bags of food. Within seconds I was dripping with sweat. We found the wharf and, much relieved, we dropped our gear and waited. The girls went for a swim. Two young lads wandered
over to see what us 'Palangi' were doing. They looked us up and down, inspected our gear and then went and sat on the small pier and watched the girls swimming.

Time passed by. The humidity rose, the breeze dropped and dark clouds appeared overhead. We had no idea when Jim would return. He merely told us he would come back when he got some petrol. We had no idea when he would return. We simply had to wait here. It began to rain. We'd been waiting at the pier for two and a half hours now and were becoming a little impatient. Yesterday had been a long day and today was beginning to follw a similar pattern. By now we'd happily take any boat that would drop us off at the island. Myself and Dave were dispatched back into town to try and contact Daiana's place. In pouring rain we went back to the main wharf to see if any boats were going our way but none were. Our search for a public phone took us back to the supermarket. The only one in town ws broken but one local guy found a friend with a mobile and we spent 20 mins trying to contact Daiana's. We didn't know the mobile network was down. Instead we reckoned the number we'd been given was wrong. The guys tried adding digits, subtracting digits. All kinds of combinations were tried. It all seemed comically futile but the guys were so earnest in their efforts we found it difficult to prise ourselves away. Earlier I had seen a tourist office. This was where we wanted to go, reckoning that they would have the correct number. Eventually we mangaed to slip away from our helpers.

All the while rain had been falling heavily. By the time we presented ourselves at the tourist office we were sodden. We asked the lady at the counter if we could contact Daiana's place. She seemed to know already while we were there. She had the correct number, phoned, and got through. The woman asked ......'Is Jim there?'.......'No?'......'Thank You'. And the phone was replaced. "Jim has no petrol. He is at the wharf and when he gets petrol from the ferry he will pick you up at the wharf in front of the police station". We looked at the lady surprised. You couldn't have got all this from the short phone conversation. It appears Pangai is a town where everybody knows your business. At that moment, I think, she knew more about our arrangements than we did.

It was 4pm. Four hours had passed since Jim left us at the wharf. A man appeared beside us and approached a boat tethered to the small wharf. It looked as though he was preparing to go somewhere. Myself and Tahani went over and asked hime he was going anywhere near Uoleva that we were trying to get to Daiana's. He said he would pass there. We asked how much? "Twenty five dollars" he replied. We looked at each other. This was alot more than we were expecting. It was too much, we couldn't go for that. He said it would cost us 30 dollars each on a regular boat. We went back to Dave and Christine and together we agreed it was too much but we decided to go back and try to bargain with the guy. After toing adn froing we got him down to 20 dollars a head. Dave and Christine were happy with that. We asked the guy when he would be leaving. He said in 10 mins but first he had to go over to the ferry and pick up some goods. He would then return and collect us on this wharf.

No sooner had this guy disappeared into the main harbour when another boat chugged into view and pulled up alongside the wharf. It was Jim. He waved to us and beckoned us over. We didn't hesitate. We grabbed our things and ran for the boat. We felt a bit guilty disappearing on the other guy particularly after agreeing a price but we now had our lift to Uoleva and, no doubt, it would be cheaper with Jim. A lady was accompanying Jim and this turned out to be Daiana who had come along for the spin. She lay in the shade on the floor of the boat. She smiled and quietly welcomed us. Carefully, we loadd our gear and ourselves onto Jim's small craft, untied the boat and pushed her away from the pier. We were eager to get away before the other guy returned.

Jim chatted away, slowly rolled a cigarette, smoked half of it and then chatted some more. He claimed he was the best Kava drinker in the Ha'appai, how he smoke dope and had it posted to him from Thailand stuffed inside hollow figurines. He also claimed to have dope delivered to him from the air, wrapped in blue plastic and dropped from passing planes!! I thought "What are you on about" All the while we sat where we were, not moving while myself and Tahani glanced anxiously back towards the ferry. All we wanted to do was get away from there before the other guy came back and saw us with Jim. Finally, Jim made a move to start the engine. Thank God!! He started the engine. It spluttered and then died. He tried again, and again it spluttered and died. We endured an agonising 5 mins as Jim tried to coax the engine into running smoothly. Eventually it coughed into life, Jim revved it up we were away. We breathed a sigh of relief.

The boat chugged through beautiful aquamarine waters as we headed south along Lifuka's coatline. There was a beautiful breeze on the water and the rain had cleared. After stewing in the heat and humidity for the past 4hrs this was blessed relief. If you put your hand into the water it felt beautifully soft, almost warm. I couldn't wait to get swimming. We watched the palm fringed waterfront slip by. Here and there houses were visible through the vegetation. A couple of cars could be seen driving on one of the islands few roads. At the southern tip of Lifuka we saw the 600m long causeway which, at low tide, allows you to walk to Uoleva. Then we were passing the western side of Uoleva. Beautiful palm fringed, golden beaches appeared to stretch along the length of the island. Behind them thick vegetation filled the centre of the island. The place looked deserted.

Jim sat imperiously by his motor by the back of the boat. His eyes were bloodshot, almost yellow. He had short, frizzy grey hair and a half-grown beard on his chin. While his movements were slow and languid, he had drunk much Kava yesterday. he was happy to regale us with tales though pauses between sentences were long, keeping us attentive as we wondered what on earth he was going to say next. He claimed to be the famous Boatman Jim, that he had an entry in the Lonely Planet guidebook. I took out my copy and, sure enough, there he was. The small paragraph finished with a warning - "Negotiate a price before boarding!!". Moments later Jim told us he could charge us 30 dollars for this journey but, because the price of petrol had come down, he would only charge us 25 dollars each. I looked at Tahani. We smiled wryly. The other guy had been cheaper after all.

Jim turned the boat towards a point of land close to the southern end of the island. A man emerged through the trees and stood waiting for us as the boat glided in over the breaking surf. This was Kelafi, Daiana's husband. As we came into the shallows he skipped into the water and steadied the boat while we dropped over the sides to unload our gear. He welcomed us. A warm broad smile lit up his face. While we sorted our stuff he joked loudly with Jim and then beckoned us to follow him. Daiana, Kelafi and the four of us trooped across the warm soft sand and in through the line of trees that lined the beach. It had taken two long days to get here but, no matter, we had arrived.