THE LOST TRIBE OF POLYNESIA

It was Xmas eve on Wallaby Creek.  We had 
been having a very hard passage. 120 miles 
north of the equator, storms, squalls, calms, 
contrary winds we were getting it all.

But let me begin at the beginning. And the beginning
was more than 1,000 years ago.

Over one thousand years ago in Tonga three canoes
set out on a normal trip between two islands and were
washed away before  a series of great storms.

Weeks or posssibly months later the survivors arrived
at a fertile atol brimming with fish and coconuts.
They settled back to their normal life thousands of
miles from their old homeland.

In the last couple of hundred years Tonga has changed
greatly. When I went through last year I did not see
even one dug out canoe. No unmarried female invited
me to make love. Children did not explain how their
parents had happened to give them to another person.
I was able to find an internet cafe.
In other words life in Tonga has moved on into
modern times.

In Nukuoro things have changed also.  But far less then
anywhere else. It is the only place on earth where
true polynesian people still live the true polynesian
lifestyle. No tourist has ever been there. Only a few 
lost and weatherbeaten sailors have ever accidently
stumbled on this place.

This is my true story of my visit with Wallaby Creek
and crew.

I sailed north from Ontong Java in the Solomon Islands
to cross the equator. Planning a stop at Kapangamerangi
and then on into Micronesia in the Northern Hemisphere.
Fate had other plans.

Xmas eve was a dark stormy windswept day. Five of us
had bought Xmas presents loaded nice food such as we
could find in Solomon Islands planning a nice Xmas day.
We were dispirited.

What a trip across the doldrums ! It was hot very hot 
and slow very slow for the first few days. Then we
hit stormy overcast squally and rainy weather. Strong
squalls had us reefing down the sails and furling the
genoa in a mad flapping panic up to six times a day.
Two full nights I allowed the yacht to run free while
storms and squalls and strong winds and rain and thunder
and lightening raged overhead. With everybody down below,
the helm lashed, the mainsail triple reefed & the
stailsail or the storm staysail up she ran along by 
herself. Reasonably comfortable and safe. Ran the
engine for 18 hours until it developed a leak and
blew the head gasket. All our clothes are wet
and mouldy and mildew. The mood onboard is meloncoly
and misery.

Caught a small shark for food. Dawn demolished the
table onto my head while I was grabbing some sleep 
in full wet weather gear on the saloon floor. Repairs
continuing on the mainsail the staysail the engine 
the compass light the depthsounder and the stove.

Then we reached the N-E trade winds, then an extreme
series of line squalls, then becalmed while we 
rolled mercilessly.

The crew have stood up to this well. We are usually
happy.
The cooks have been usually doing a good job except
for a few of the really bad days when we were left
pretty hungry.
 Mark now hardly gets out of bed.
He has malaria.
 I hope ther is a clinic somewhere
ahead.

I was heading towards a dot on my chart. Never heard 
of it. But maybe there was a calm anchorage. Maybe we 
could have a nice Xmas day.   Maybe.

It was 4.00 o'clock in the afternoon, the sky was grey
and the light was too bad. Waves were breaking all
along the reef. And there was a gap !  But could a boat
the size of Wallaby Creek get through and even if we 
made it through the barrier reef was there a safe 
anchorage inside the lagoon?

I decided to give it a go !

We were nervous; we were scared as we watched the great 
ocean waves breaking against the reef and streaming 
spray high into the air. As we ran towards that 
small gap it looked very possible that we would 
make it. It was dark blue it look deep enough.

Then the next minute we had big waves breaking on both
sides of our boat and we were riding a blind roller
into a narrow crack in the reef. Impossible to turn
around now we surged forward. A dog-leg turn and we were
inside safely out of the ocean waves.

I turned right planning to anchor in the lee of a larger
island. I noticed a grass hut built out over the water's
edge. Then more. By the time we anchored we had 
identified a grass village.

Jim and I went ashore to meet the chief. CHIEF HOSE FRED.
No airfield, no electricity, no shops, no telephones.
Beautiful village, well laid out, very clean, with
thatched roof houses. We were invited to a feast for
tomorrow.

We stayed up and made cakes, and pancakes, and biscuits,
and scones for the feast. The feast was good. Lots of food
and everybody sitting around in family groups. Food
was pig, fish, tauro ( in three different methods ),
bread and fried bananas.

They gave us a beautiful hand made wall decoration 
which hangs proudly on Wallaby Crek to this very day.
Also we chewed on sugar cane.

The next ten days became a social carry-on! We went 
to three more feasts and visited many people in their
homes. The people are very friendly and extremely
generous. They showered us with gifts of fruit and
turtles. We gave them kerosene, sugar, flour, sugar,
matches, batteries etc as we could spare.

Jim and Mark moved to live in the village. Just
like Captain Cook's sailors of old the lure of
free and uninhibited love was overpowering.

On 2 nd January we spent all morning loading water.
Great help and friendliness from the Polynesians
who were aboard all day laughing and dancing. They
loaded us up with coconuts, bananas, breadfruit,
lemons and oranges. These are the most happy and
generous people on earth.

We sailed out that afternoon accompanied across the
lagoon by dug-out canoes full of our friends.
We cleared the narrow dangerous channel and
sailed off into the night.

Good winds and strong squalls gave us 270 miles in
the next 48 hours. The timing belt on the engine
has broken so we are on sail power only as seems to
be the usual case on Wallaby Creek.
 Caught some good fish and a few days later we 
hove-to outside the entry to Chuuk lagoon to wait 
for daylight.

JANUARY 1994        ALAN PHILLIPS