Preppin' My Sea Legs for a Voyage to New Zealand from Tonga

The Tongans have it figured out when it comes to pace of life. This whole island time mentality is pure magic. I first experienced it in Hawaii, but since coming to the South Pacific, I’m watching life unfold on a whole new level of CHILL. 

Pace. Pace is everything. Specifically, a slow pace. This is coming from a notorious over-thinker and activity-addict, so my acceptance of this is saying a lot. I’ve long been addicted to productivity and the ability to have tangible accomplishments to show that can vouch for my work ethic, but this mindset of constant doing really gets kicked to the curb once one decides to go full-immersion into the dreamy, technicolor, supercharged, yet peaceful world of island life. 

Why is it supercharged? You have more time to be with yourself, to experience quiet, to fully investigate your surroundings instead of getting lost in the world of media, of appointments, of phone conversations, of to-do lists. It’s supercharged because you are extracting more from the present moment, and spending less time in the past and future. Basically, there’s no point to be sad about things that have happened or anxious about things that may happen when the only decision you’re actively facing is whether or not you want to crack open a second coconut.

Am I turning lazy? I don’t think so. I think I’m actually upping my efficiency by trying to accomplish less. All that really matters to me right now is my perspective and the lens with which you’re viewing the world from. I’ve started reading Michael Pollan’s most recent book, How to Change Your Mind, which discusses the mental benefits of psychedelics, and one of my favorite take-aways thus far is how these drugs can give us insight into how children view the world. “‘Kids’ perceptions are not mediated by expectations and conventions in the been-there, done-that way that adult perception is; as adults,’ she explained, ‘our minds don’t simply take in the world as it is so much as they make educated guesses about it.’” How beautiful would it be to let go of these short-sighted modes of perception and instead return to that childlike sense of immediacy and wonder that allows us to experience things as if for the first time?

If we could approach situations, and each new day, with a completely uninfluenced world view, how magical could that be? I know that might not seem realistic, but it can be a nice goal. I’ve started trying to implement it: every morning when I wake up, I try to hop out of bed and stay open to whatever might happen without letting past experiences influence my brain’s interpretations of my current or in-the-near-future situations.

This is definitely easier said than done. But it is fun to try and live like a kid again. Unencumbered, unhindered, open-minded. The past two weeks, I’ve been dabbling my toes in this world of no-plans. That’s what led me onto the sailing vessel Zephyr with a kick-ass crew of people and a wild plan to sail south.

So how’d this all come about? It is not uncommon for cruisers to look for crew to help them sail their boats across longer passages, and this is the primo time of year to sail from the South Pacific to New Zealand (due to the oncoming cyclone season here that will render marine insurance useless unless the boat owners head to calmer waters). So, with time to spare and adventures to share, I hopped on Zephyr after posting a crew bio on a Facebook page dedicated to fostering connections between cruisers and crew. Eric, the owner of Zephyr, was looking for crew to hang out with in Vava’u, Tonga for a couple of weeks before sailing down to New Zealand at the beginning of November.

Cue emoji of me sticking my hand up in the air. I had absolutely no expectations for this experience, never having crewed on a sailboat or used a crew-finding Facebook group. Besides the sailing course I took with my family last June, my sailing experience is very light, but I love the challenge of working hand-in-hand with nature and the wind and this is one hobby that I’ve been desperately wanting to pursue for the past several years. And let me tell you, it’s been pretty dreamy.

For the last two weeks, we’ve been bopping around to different anchorages around Vava’u, seeing some of the most drool-worthy sights, hanging out with the most chilled and relaxed cruisers (many of them around our age!), and taking time to savor each moment by cooking the heartiest and most nutritious of meals, adventuring on land and sea whenever possible, and also just sleeping in and relaxing. I honestly can’t remember the last time I’ve eaten this well or allowed myself to indulge so much time in cooking. With a vibrant produce market constantly bustling over in Neiafu, the main town in Vava’u, we’re always well stocked with fruits and veggies, and one of the other crew members, Roxy, is an incredible farmer and cook and so provides a hearty dose of inspiration whenever one of us is in a cooking rut. The boat is also very well stocked with spices and oils and condiments and dried goods like beans and grains, so pretty much any meal vision can be made into a reality. 

Yesterday, we sailed from Vava’u to Ha’apai (where I worked as a whale guide this season). These are two of the main island groups in the Kingdom of Tonga, which is in itself a very small island nation. Ha’apai, where I was working while at Sea Change, is known for its chilled-out vibes, super slow pace of life (what I was talking about earlier!), beautiful beaches, and picture-perfect little postcard islands. Vava’u is very different. I would say it’s the more breathtaking of the two island groups with its dramatic terrain, boasting rugged cliffs rising up from the sea and hilly mounds dripping in vibrant green jungle foliage. Both have something different to offer, though, and I wouldn’t trade my life in Ha’apai for anything. It’ll be nice to hang around here for a few days before setting sail to New Zealand.

And how am I feeling about the whole endeavor? Very excited. Sailing offers another dip into that slow pace of travel. A natural pace. A romantic form of travel, as Eric would say. Just you, the crew, the boat, the elements, and time to enter your thoughts and simple melt into the present. Hopefully, I can pack some of that island pace with me, stash it in the sail locker, and proudly present it to New Zealand customs with a grin. The world needs some more island time mentality, and I’ll be quite happy if one of my greatest accomplishments is sharing that slowness with one, two, ten, or a million people.

Let’s live slow. 

Also, please do stay tuned for some crazy-ass sailing stories. We won’t have cell service on the passage to New Zealand, and it’s meant to take about 8-10 days depending on the weather, but I’ll for sure be posting stuff after. If you’d like to know a little bit more about the boat, follow Voyage of the Zephyr on Instagram, and if you want to watch funny clips of our day-to-day life on board, check out Roxy’s Instagram account (she’s a Insta Story queen). 

Also, just a quick whale guide life status update: I have no marine tourism job lined up for the winter because I will be dabbling in some me time, taking time for self-reflection and hopefully networking while stirring up ideas for The Greenest Blue. Still trying to build up my vision for how I want to see this beautiful eco-baby of mine grow.

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