New beginnings - or how to become a full-time camper in one easy lesson!

Our new home?

To say that life was hectic on our immediate return from Tonga was something of an understatement. Possibly our most pressing priority was to find something to live in. Some long suffering friends of ours had agreed to let us use part of their land to live on and were happy for us to build the boat there too. But whilst this land did already have a building on it, it definitely left a lot to be desired in terms of either a dwelling or even a boat shed! In fact realistically, the only kind thing to do for this very sad collection of wood and tin was to put it out of its misery and knock it down. So the digger was brought in and within a couple of days we had a pristine plot where once a chaotic jumble of detritus had reigned supreme. However, we still had nowhere to live and we were running out of time!

No! Phew!

Fortunately, impending homelessness served to focus our minds. Several forays onto Trade Me plus a couple of trips to Palmerston resulted in us being the proud owners of a pre-loved 26 foot caravan. Now admittedly it wasn't going to be as spacious as our current three bedroomed home or even as big as our 36 foot yacht would be, but we were certain it'd be just fine - or at least nearly certain!

Our new home? Yes - small but functional

So our new home arrived and lo and behold it seemed to suffer from the same phenomenon that I experience when I buy clothes. You may even recognise what I am about to describe. I go to the shop, find something I like, check that it's OK for size then happily buy it and bring it home. However, when I get it home and try it for size again it's suddenly much smaller than I remember it being! How does that happen? And do you know what the really scary thing is? Caravans are affected by this phenomenon too!! Ours had seemed such a good size when we saw it in Palmerston but once it arrived at our place and we started to put our things in it, it didn't seem half as big.

Smooch time - Kiri and Annie

Anyway, moving day was on us all too soon and proved to be a day of mixed emotions. It was sad to be leaving our wee farm that we had spent so long making into what we had wanted but on the other hand, we were about to begin an exciting new chapter in our lives that potentially held so much in store for us. All our worldly goods that wouldn't fit in the caravan (which was most of them!) had been packed into a container and moved to our new base a few days earlier. Dwight and Teresa, the people who had bought our farm, had kindly agreed to keep the alpacas until we could get the fencing sorted at the new place, so we didn't have to worry about trying to move them (but I simply had to go and visit them for a wee smooch before we left - the alpacas that is, not Dwight and Teresa!). That left us with just the last few items that we'd needed for our final night at the farm and, of course, the cats.

Of course I'm sane! Just because I'm upside down in a box...

Now our cats are definitely creatures of habit and don't do change very well, so suffering the ignominy of being shoved in the cat carriers, put in the car and whisked off to some strange place that didn't measure up to what they were used to, didn't go down too well. And to make matters even worse, this new place that was supposed to be their home didn't even have that most basic of facilities - a cat flap. So for the next few days Sam spent most of his time hiding in the depths of our bed whilst Rosie sought solace in a cupboard. Once they got over their initial panic and started going out, they almost instantly decided they wanted to come back in. But once they were in they started to fret because they couldn't let themselves out again. There was only one thing for it if we were to preserve both our sanity and theirs. We had to add cat flaps to the caravan. This was duly carried out and the transformation in our feline friends was almost instantaneous. We went from two cats that were close to being basket cases, to two contented, chilled out moggies. Suddenly all was well with the world. We finally knew we were ready to move on to the first phase of our project. Let the boatbuilding begin!

And so to...Tonga?!

Sun through mist - McKendry Road, Outram

"Hey, guess what?" Annie sounded obscenely enthusiastic and far too excited for this early on a working day in the middle of winter.

"What?" I replied, with just a hint of  'I don't know if I have time for this' in my voice.

"I was speaking with one of my friends yesterday and she said that a friend of hers has sailed his yacht over to Tonga for three months and he would like people to go out and stay with him to keep him company!" The words seemed to be falling over themselves as they fought their way out of Annie's mouth and my brain was desperately trying to play catch-up.

"Stay with him on the yacht?" I queried. "And does he mean just anyone or only people he knows?" My imagination had gone into overdrive, conjuring up images of aquamarine seas and beautiful white sandy beaches fringed by palm trees that were gently swaying in a warm breeze.

Typical tropical paradise in the Vava'u Island group

"Well, I assume it's on the yacht and she she did say 'anyone'. She asked if I wanted to go and I don't know him." Annie's answer dragged me somewhat reluctantly back to the here and now.

"Hey, how good would that be?! How soon do you reckon we could go? Have you any idea how much it costs to fly to Tonga? What do you know about Tonga? I don't know anything about it except it's in the Pacific. What's the weather like there in the winter?"

I finally stopped to draw breath - probably much to Annie's relief who, in spite of a very valiant effort, was finding it impossible to find a large enough gap in the questions to actually answer any of them. And then, just as she thought she was going to get a word in edgewise, I announced that I had to go and talk to Howard about it.

Snow - McKendry Road

To say Howard was as excited as I was at the prospect of abandoning a New Zealand winter in favour of a yacht somewhere in the Pacific would be a gross understatement. In the blink of an eye flights had been checked and dates worked out. It was only then that it suddenly occured to us there was one rather important person who had not been consulted in all this - the owner of the yacht who had made the rash comment that had started this flurry of activity. And, of course, we had completely ignored the fact that we were actually in the middle of moving house!

Fortunately, neither of these issues was insurmountable. The people who were buying our house didn't want to move in until the beginning of September so as long as we could be back from Tonga before the end of August that would be OK. Let's face it, why on earth could you possibly want more than two weeks to move nine years-worth of accumulated 'stuff' from 26 acres into a caravan (yeah, right!!). And as it turned out the owner of the boat, Don, was more than happy to accommodate three complete strangers.

Sojourn - our home for two weeks

So barely four weeks after our original conversation about Tonga (and only four weeks before we were due to move out of our house!), we found ourselves on board 'Sojourn', which was to be our home for the next two weeks. And as we sailed away from Tongatapu on the 200 mile trip to the Vava'u island group it suddenly occured to me that this was going to be the first real test of my committment to our 'new' life since we had made the decision to change all we knew in favour of building a yacht and then living on it. I briefly worried that this timing was not the best but there wasn't a lot I could do about it.

En route for the Vava'u island group

But the question kept coming back. What if I didn't like living on board the Sojourn? We really were past the point of no return (cue Andrew Lloyd Webber, Sarah Brightman and Sir Cliff!!) with our life now - we couldn't suddenly 'unsell' the farm and go back to where we had been in early June. To be honest, in my heart of hearts, I knew I wouldn't want to do that even if it was possible, but there was still that wee niggling doubt that living on a yacht might prove to be in the too hard basket for me.

Approaching Neiafu

However, a couple of days later, as we cruised towards our anchorage at Neiafu, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I was actually in my element. I was loving every minute. Yes, I knew that the ambient temperature was a little different(!) to those we'd experience most of the time in New Zealand but it wasn't just about the weather and the warmth. It was that inate sense of freedom, the knowledge that we could be quite self-sufficient and independent, that our impact on the environment could be truly minimal.

Sojourn and the fabulous Tongan seas

Anyway, back to Tonga. So, just what was so special and magical about the Vava'u group - because it certainly was special? The tourist info describes it as "An azure tropical labyrinth of 61 different islands dotted with coral gardens, deserted beaches and shimmering clear lagoons, the northern Vava’u group presents a bucket list of ‘Must Do’ Tongan activities. From June to November share Vava’u’s warm waters with gentle Humpback whales, harnessing the islands’ sustaining environment to care for their newly-born calves and breed for another generation." Is that all just media hype? Certainly not! It is truly stunning. It really gets under your skin. Why? I actually have no idea although I could make some suggestions.

Snorkelling off Port Maurelle

The snorkelling is addictive - in fact I was beginning to resemble a prune by the end of the holiday because I spent so much time in the water! But if ever you find yourself in this paradise, beware of 'snokellers bum'. "Which is what?" I hear you ask! Well, it's caused by getting your butt cheeks sunburned because the crystal clear waters offer no protection against the sun and you tend not to think about putting sunscreen on your bum when you're wearing togs! And the whales? Oh yes, they are there and not as small dots somewhere out on the distant horizon. They were right there, by the boat, mothers with their young calves. The apparent trust that these magnificent animals showed was so humbling.

Humpback whale displaying close to Sojourn anchorage

Every night we'd anchor in a new location, but each time we'd be surrounded by azure seas and those incredible white sandy beaches fringed with palm trees. We'd watch as fuit bats went about their daily feeding rituals and saw the magnificent frigate birds sail across the skies. Green turtles would be lolling lazily in the lagoons in stark contrast to below the water where the coral garden cities were veritable hives of industry as the myriad of fish species busied themselves either eating or avoiding being eaten!

Sunset from Port Maurelle anchorage

Evenings were spent lying on deck, enjoying the last of the daylight and relishing the warm nights and their star-filled skies. But, all too soon it was over. Our last evening in Neiafu was a sad one as we contemplated our return to winter...and work! However, we were coming back to begin a new and exciting chapter of our lives. And who knows, we may well return to the Vava'u island group but this time in our own yacht!