Kenutu Island, Tonga
On a certain warm July afternoon, my father stood on the trash dock of Vava’u harbor, watching my mother bring in Kailani and eagerly narrating the proceedings to me. I was sprawled on top of my suitcases, legs hanging off the end, a Duke hoodie covering my face. Now and then I let out an obligatory sound in response to Dad’s descriptions to reassure him that I was still alive. Having just passed through eight airports, three countries, and two states in the past week, many of them during the past 48 hours, I personally felt that it was a miracle I was conscious. As eager as I know you all are to hear about the innumerable fascinating boat problems, allow me to explain my summer itinerary. I’m sure it’s hard enough to keep up with my parents, let alone me. (There have been numerous occasions where people have asked me where my parents are and I’ve stared at them blankly, so I truly empathize with you faithful blog readers.)
I finished my junior year of boarding school on May 31, a hectic day which involved me having to pack up my entire room by myself. After a restful night at my friend’s house, I boarded a flight to Portland, Oregon. In Portland I stayed with my sister Kate and her family for a couple weeks. By day, I was a prospective veterinary medicine student, shadowing Kate and her friends at their practices; by night, I was a very popular aunt, whose two nieces constantly strove to impress and entertain. Although I was living with Kate, I also spent some quality time with my brother Harl and his family. Following an enjoyable two weeks, I said my goodbyes and boarded a red-eye to Raleigh, North Carolina. After spending the night with a family friend, I headed off to Duke University, where I participated in a two week precollege program on chemical toxicology.
Once that was over, I returned to the airport, which was quickly becoming my second home, this time to fly to Durango, Colorado, where I met my dad. We spent a few days with my grandpa before boarding yet another plane, this one to San Francisco. For the next two days, my dad caught up on work, while I, teenager that I am, slept. Finally, we embarked on the last, and longest, leg of our journey: San Francisco to Los Angeles, an eight hour layover, Los Angeles to Fiji, and then Fiji to Tonga. As there was a shortage of taxis at the airport, we hitched a ride with the local Domestic Violence police unit. Our drivers spent the ride enthusiastically humming along to a remix of “My Heart Will Go On”. They dropped us at the edge of the harbor, which brings us back to where we started: sitting exhausted on the trash dock in Vava’u harbor. And now perhaps you understand why I found the top of my bulky red suitcase incredibly comfortable.
Needless to say, after such an eventful beginning to my summer, I happily embraced the easygoing boating lifestyle, sleeping off my jet lag and sleep deprivation. At least, until I developed a strange rash every time I went into the water, and got stung by a jellyfish (these were separate, non-related events). After that, my life was rather limited in its opportunities, since one of the better parts of being on a boat in the tropics is being out in or on the water. With college apps staring me in the face, I was hardly lacking for things to do; however, the uneventful boat life was proving to be too much of a contrast with my up until now constant upheaval of an existence. Until, of course, the last week of July swung around, and Kailani decided to cause some upheaval of her own.
There’s a saying that when it rains, it pours. Clearly whoever invented this phrase was a close friend of the Earl family. First, my mom fell and possibly broke a vertebrae. Then, both the generator and engine malfunctioned, preventing us from charging our batteries. And then, while we were in another anchorage for a few hours trying to fix the engine, someone else took the mooring we’d been using, forcing us to anchor disconcertingly close to shore. So I really shouldn’t have been that surprised when a mere 12 hours after losing our mooring, I was standing on deck in my pajamas angling a flashlight downwards so my father could take a midnight swim.
Before you ask, Dad had not suddenly acquired a burning penchant for nighttime exercise. Even if he had, the pouring rain, choppy waves, and 35 knot gusts would have served as a deterrent to even the most ardent of athletes. No, the reason he was currently splashing around with the bread knife was that our rudder had gotten entangled in a mooring ball as a result of a 270 degree wind shift during the stormy weather, leaving us with few options except to immediately attempt to extricate ourselves. After much sawing on his part and anxious observation of the depths for possible sea monsters on mine, he managed to free our rudder. However, due to the weather, my parents spent the rest of the night on anchor watch, while I endeavored to sleep amidst the constant activity.
Yet the fun was just getting started. After another nail biting night on the hook, we decided to make a graceful exit from the harbor, feeling that a new, less crowded, anchorage might be in order. Of course, things could never be that easy. I was woken from that heavy sleep that only teenagers can achieve to the urgent cry of “Soph! Get on deck!” Hurtling on deck in nothing but my pajamas for the second time in 48 hours, I beheld another boat a few feet off our stern. Jarred into action, I raced to help fend off the bow.
The boat, SV Nereida, was that of Jeanne Socrates, who currently holds the world record for being the oldest person to circumnavigate. Unfortunately, during the storm, Nereida‘s anchor had gotten crossed with ours. Our dream of a graceful exit in tatters, we called for a diver and continued to fend off Nereida. Jeanne was exceptionally understanding and calm throughout the whole thing. Thankfully, a nearby boat happened to have a diver on board, and thanks to his assistance, we were able to eventually up anchor and depart, trying to avoid what we felt were the judgmental stares of surrounding boats.
After finally leaving Vava’u harbor, we set our course for the island of Tapana. There we intended to meet up with our friends Pauline and John, who had shown up out of the blue three days previously, having “crossed to the dark side” to quote my father, and purchased a catamaran. Personally, after seeing the amount of space on Joline, their new Lagoon 57’, I understood their betrayal of monohulls. Turning off the engine, we raised a sail. Things were looking up. Maybe our run of bad luck is over, I thought as I headed towards the cockpit, intent on enjoying the ride. Five seconds later, I was curled on the couch clutching a broken toe.
Feeling that my injury was too small to complain about, I sojourned ashore to enjoy a supposedly authentic Tongan barbecue. My parents regaled the cruising community with our numerous new stories, while I precariously balanced on one foot like a tan flamingo. All in all, it was a fairly successful venture. After a relatively uneventful and therefore precious few hours, we returned to Kailani, having been invited to dine aboard Joline that evening.
As the responsible teenager of the group, I chose to refrain from staying out to party, partially because I was sleep-deprived and partially because my toe was now throbbing from my hobbling on land earlier. Although I felt slightly pathetic for begging off of dinner because of a broken toe, my shame was quickly forgotten when I curled up in my bunk. Despite our tropical location, the wind had shifted south, bringing the chill of Antarctica with it. Therefore, I piled up my blankets and settled in for a hopefully uneventful evening.
The sound of lashing rain summoned me from my nest at 9:30. I raced around performing the “rain dance” that involves violently dogging hatches and screaming “Rain!” at the top of your lungs. Since I was alone, I left out the latter action. Once I had closed everything up, I stood listening to the wind rattling in the rigging. Then, I impulsively decided to turn on the sailing instruments, wanting to see the wind speed. I don’t know what I thought seeing the wind speed would accomplish, because there was very little I could do other than observe the fact that it was blowing 25 knots and then return to my bed.
Apparently my parents were quite the party animals, because when I turned out the lights at 11, eyes heavy with sleep, there was still no sign of them. Deciding that they were fairly capable of fending for themselves, I pulled on my sleep mask, ready to finally get a full night of sleep. I closed my eyes and listened to the roaring wind. It battered at the boat, and then suddenly changed its mind and stopped, allowing me to hear the unmistakable droning of our dinghy engine.
I eagerly greeted my parents, grateful both that they were safe, and that now I wouldn’t be responsible should something go extremely wrong. My mom wandered down below, noticing the glowing green sailing instruments. “You turned them on,” she said. And then she stopped. And stared. “Didn’t we anchor in 30 feet of water?” She asked. “Yes?” I guessed, having absolutely no recollection of where we had set the anchor. I glanced at the depth. It read 50 feet. At that moment a scraping sound echoed through the boat, confirming what we feared: Kailani was dragging. Again. I sighed like a martyr and headed for the companionway.
At this point, the whole standing on the deck in nothing but my pajamas thing was becoming something of a routine. However, my toe did make things slightly more interesting. We up anchored and began motoring around in search of a new spot, but in the haste to get topsides nobody had brought the chart up to the cockpit. It wasn’t long before I was calmly observing the depth sounder tick down until, with a flash, it read 0.0. As we ran aground with a jolt, the collective decision was made that perhaps we ought to summon reinforcements, as the winds were gusting to 30kts, the rain was pouring down, and it was a crowded anchorage.
Loyal friends that they are, it wasn’t long before John and Pauline came bouncing through the waves on their dinghy. By now we were no longer aground, but now had a new, more unique problem. In the darkness my dad hadn’t seen the anchor chain markers until the last of our chain whipped out of the forward locker. However, thanks to an exceedingly rare stroke of luck, the end had lashed forward as it came out, causing the stopper to fall, three links before the whole thing disappeared into the ocean. John graciously went forward to assist in winching the chain back in, while Pauline bounced alongside and provided my mom and I with companionship. Thanks to their help, we eventually set our anchor and gratefully bid them farewell, before crashing into our bunks with relief.
Whoever commands the universe had by this point decided we’d had enough, so my remaining time on the boat has been fairly uneventful, in that nothing particularly disastrous has come to pass (but don’t worry; there’s still time before I go back to school). And since I’ve spent so much time talking about all the things that can go wrong on a boat and should definitely deter one from cruising, let’s discuss what happens when things go right.
A few mornings ago, I woke at the uncivilized hour of 6 am and reluctantly crawled out of my bed, despite the fact that I knew I could easily sleep for three more hours. Throwing on a bathing suit, I grabbed a hunk of bread from the galley before we embarked in our dinghy to shore. By the time the sun peeked above the surrounding islands, my parents and I were perched in the bow of a small, metal powerboat in the partially open ocean. Geared up in full wetsuits, we watched the sea around us with bated breath. I was beginning to give into the pull of seasickness when we first saw a gray dorsal fin crest the waves in front of us. We sucked in our breath as a spout of water shot into the air, before the fin disappeared as suddenly as it had arrived.
Our guide Aki commanded us to suit up, and we hurriedly strapped on fins and masks before diving into the blue water. For once I was not creeped out by the notion of swimming in water that was hundreds of feet deep, too excited by what I was about to experience. We swam towards the bobbing fist of Chelsea, our other guide, and then stopped. I gasped through my snorkel. A mere ten feet beneath us was a beautiful humpback whale, calmly observing us as her calf swam to the surface for air. Suspended in the cobalt waves, we quietly watched the two magnificent creatures go about their fascinating lives. The calf flitted around its mother as she rested in the water, now and then adjusting herself with a graceful movement of her fin.
As I battled the current in order to not float directly above the mother, I glanced down at my fins and saw a smear of white below them. I sucked in my breath as I realized that lurking in the depths was a third whale, this one a hulking male. Suddenly reminded of why I lack an appreciation for deep water, I wisely moved away, shivering at how easily one could miss him.
At one point in its cavorting, after taking a breath, the calf swam towards us, curious about these novel creatures that were intruding into its world. An inquisitive eye scanned us, taking in our strange neon flippers and small, strange bodies. But before it could get any closer, its mother moved, guiding her child away from this possible threat. Chelsea beckoned for us to return to the boat. We turned and let the waves carry us back. Wriggling out of my fins, I crawled up the ladder at the stern and flopped onto the rocking floor of the boat. Glancing at my parents, I saw my awe reflected in their faces. We had just had the kind of once in a lifetime experience that makes all the dragging and late nights and boat problems and injuries worthwhile. This is why people choose the cruising lifestyle.
18 42.1 S 173 55.8 W
At anchor, Kenutu Island, Vava’u
The Kingdom of Tonga
Fantastic story-telling Sophia! A delight to read. So wonderful to see all your smiling faces. Big hugs.
Thank you for your rich and beautifully written account! Well done, Soph! 💖
Soph, what an account . If I read it right did Jen hurt her back ? Hope she is better now . There were so many twists and turns in your story I had to re read it .
I think you are going into your second year at Duke University when you go back ( if the escapades with your parents allow!) are you doing chemical toxicology, or was that a side line to your main course , which is? On the basis it is Duke, I have just read the history of its foundation by Methodists and quakers in 1838 and the subsequent move to Durham in 1892. My god daughter has been accepted into Oxford to do a one year teaching degree of Chemisty , and we had a great day in the city seeing where Thomas Cramner was burnt on a stake , now bricks on floor ,in the centre in 1556
We also saw the door CSLewis used in The Lion The Witch and The Wardrobe … so much history , and with both Duke and Oxford so much treading on egg shells because of the past , and modern day perspectives of funding .
As a postscript Rupert and I are chartering in Greece in September ,hopefully no anchor watch necessary !
Best wishes for the next stage of your life Maggie x
Ps was going to attach photos but they simply would not copy over !
Sophia : What a great recounting of your adventures in Tonga !! I hope the rest of your time is peaceful and relaxing. I assume you’ll be heading back soon for your Senior year at Lawrenceville. Enjoy, and good luck with the college admissions process. There is no doubt in my mind that you will be welcomed into one of your top college choices. I hope your toe is healing. and that your mother’s back is OK.
Kiki and I headed back to our cottage tomorrow thru Labor Day weekend. We have fond memories when you and your family visited us up at PAB a few years ago. You all are welcome back anytime.
Sending lots of love to you all. Rob and Kiki
Hi Sophia,
Loving reading your adventures, sounds like you had some fun family time state side with Harley and Kate. I’m bummed to hear about your mums back and your toe ;( hopefully Harley is feeling whole at the moment! Your whale family adventures sound so amazing 😎 give everyone a big hug for me. Hope to see big Jim, Jim and Alex in next couple weeks in Durango. Missing you guys. Hope to come play with folks and you one of these days! 🤗♥️ Katy p & crew
Soph what a beautiful written piece!!! I was bitting my nails just reading it!! I’m so glad you are all safe (minus the toe and mom’s vertebrae 😬) and had a good time! What an amazing experience for you all!! I feel lucky just to be able to read it!! ❤️❤️
Sophia;
Great to hear from you! My but you have grown, and certainly know how to craft a wonderful story. And of all the people to get tangled with, what are the odds of it being Jeanne Socrates. Despite your tribulations, I recall that that when you were considering high schools the real top of your list was the South Pacific … hope you have an outstanding visit.
Sorry you were not able to join your parents when they visited RI … hopefully we will have a chance to meet again soon.
While your story modestly makes you appear to be a sleepy teenager, people should also remember that your top choice for a school was the one that boasted that “you will be pushed hard to work 8:00am to 11pm every day, including weekends.”
Hey Sophia!
I just gave a dramatic reading of your long post to Betsy and Tigger.
They both loved it!
It was great seeing you in L-ville in May and running into Steve Murray. Small world, except when viewed from the deck of Kailani! An exceptional vantage point.
We love you Soph!
Best of luck and blessings
Betsy and Charley
Great to read your stories Soph. Sorry you weren’t able to keep your parents out of trouble! Enjoy the rest of your time on Kailani and good luck with your studies and college applications. xx
Brilliant, love your sense of humour and writing. Love cruising with Kalani.
A very fun read, I enjoyed all of it, thank you for sharing