Tonga Dream Kayak Overnighter

Tongatapu is an interesting island to be a weekend warrior. There are no mountains or rivers, and there are few guides or tour operators. Most information is obtained by word of mouth - so organising an adventure is often the hard part.

One morning after our regular morning swim (splashing above the sleepy fish on the reef), I was complaining to another expat called Jared. “There are so many islands on the horizon, but no one is keen to kayak to them with me”. He replied in a thick kiwi accent: “yeah keen as mate, but it will have to be this weekend, as we are heading back next week”.

I swung into planning mode. Another complication is that most land in Tonga is privately owned. The owners are usually happy to grant permission for camping, but you have to ask. I started reaching out to find out if anyone had contact details of land owners. I was sent some phone numbers and got in touch. I also started plotting routes based on google maps satellite view. I knew that I should be using proper maps and taking into account depth and currents, but I had no idea how to get that information - even online there is a dearth of information about Tonga.

I checked the tides and the wind, and it seemed we had a window from 2pm Saturday till 2pm Sunday. Tonga’s constitution has strict laws about what you can do on the Sabbath. Technically, you are not meant to exercise on a Sunday - however you are allowed to commute by boat, so we justified it to ourselves as adventure on Saturday and a commute home on Sunday.

After a mad rush of last minute prep which involved buying water, borrowing camping equipment for Jared, creating a metho stove from soda cans, buying food and packing it all into the boats, we were ready to set off.

Our first leg was six kilometers, and in my head was quite sheltered. As we pulled away from land and got into the deep water, the wind picked up. Halfway through we encountered a square sea, and staying upright was quite a challenge. I asked Jared if he was alright, and it was at this point he revealed that he used to race ultra-tippy K1 kayaks. He reciprocated and asked how I was going. Desperate not to show that I was the weak link, I said I was fine, and continued using all of my concentration to stay balanced.

We made exceptionally good time to the first island, and pulled into the beach to stretch our legs. We also had something to eat and drink, as it’s very difficult to do this whilst paddling. From here on, the gaps between islands were much shorter. However, this section was quite shallow, which meant extra drag. As well as this, we had now turned into the wind, so we had to fight for every kilometer.

I had just settled into a good rhythm when Jared pointed out a massive turtle. We stopped paddling and had a look for a while. The turtle stared back, assessing its odds of getting eaten in the immediate future. After a short standoff, the turtle dipped beneath the water and left us.

We pulled in at a few islands, each time to rest the body after being cramped in the boats. As the day wore on, our progress slowed even further. It felt like we were fighting a current - perhaps water draining off the reef and between the islands. However, given the complaints I was getting from my shoulders, core, and hip flexors, it could just be fatigue.

Finally we reached our destination for the day. It was a small island, with a beach all around and a stand of trees in the center. We situated our camp on the leeward side of the trees, and made sure we were above the line of seaweed indicating high tide. We quickly fell into the usual camp routines of setting up the tent, cooking dinner, followed by beers and stories of adventures past.

The next day we set off early, anticipating another slog. To avoid the shallows we slipped in between the waves breaking on the reef, and entered a shipping channel. We made great progress with this new strategy. We spotted the massive turtle again, however it still didn’t trust us. On the way back we visited two more islands, including Pangaimotu, which is a classic expat Sunday activity - so much so that I bumped into two of my friends. After having lunch and jumping off a nearby shipwreck, we decided we had put off the last paddle leg long enough. Even though we were close to home, the sea looked rough, and we were both exhausted from the effort so far. However, as we pulled away from Pangaimotu we realised we had a serious tailwind. We both paddled like mad, surfing the chop all the way home, ecstatic that what was to be a serious slog had turned into an adrenaline filled surfing session.

Even though we were away for less than 24 hours, it was an extremely satisfying adventure. We struck the right balance of physically demanding yet nourishing for the soul, with a dash of natural beauty thrown in too.