Nov 3

Written by:
11/3/2010 12:33 PM 

Where do I start? I met Par because he was selling a surfboard I was interested in buying. It was a 7’3 longboard perfect for a beginner, but a hybrid design I could also grow into. We first spoke at the Mermaid Yacht Club where he and his wife Alisandra were having drinks after the Friday evening beer can race. Par is an easy going Swedish fireman with a close trimmed haircut and a smile that never gets turned off. Alisandra was Swedish, but from Italian descent and a dark skinned beauty. Later that night she took a mild fever, developed a tropical boil, her blood turning septic, and passed away Tuesday.

I’ve never suffered a loss like Par and cannot comprehend the grief in his heart. In a few days an idyllic cruise in the South Pacific has turned into a nightmare. The community has rallied in support, but even with what help can be rendered the logistics of returning Alisandra home have proven unfathomable. The gears are turning, but in typical island style with zero urgency and inefficiency that boggles the mind. Through it all Par has maintained a stoic mindfulness that embodies a strength I’ve never seen before in a man.

It felt like the world should simply stop when such a tragedy occurs, but somehow the town of Neifu began preparations for Halloween. The world spins on for everyone with the only tangible change being the drop in emotional barriers so many of us continually fortify. It was against this backdrop I met and began spending time with a young crew member from another boat.

I was loading jerry cans of fuel onto Jargo one afternoon when I saw a swimmer paddling by Jargo. She swam round to exchange a few words and we realized quickly we had a few friends in common. It was a few days later when she paddled a longboard over and announced simply she’d come for coffee. The conversation was surprisingly refreshing and I wasted no time inviting her along for the afternoon’s fun.

Some new friends and a fellow Horned Frog on a boat named Northfork were leaving that day for New Zealand. With a dingy full of fuel we hitched a ride on their boat out to Mariners Cave and planned to spend the afternoon cave diving. It was a long ride out and I already began questioning the soundness of the idea and if we had enough fuel for the eight mile dingy ride back to town.

The entrance to Mariners Cave is below water. This requires you to dive down into a very black hole and swim like hell into the darkness. Once inside it is possible to surface in an enclosed cavern. The swell constantly slams the cliff face and the pressure inside the cave wreaks havoc on your ear drums. The water is full of fish and the reflected light casts an almost eerie blue hue across the cave walls.

Swallows cave was large enough to dingy inside and was filled with the sun pouring in through several skylights. Thousands of small baitfish filled the cave and in tuna like fashion I tried my best to herd them. Caves explored, we started the long, wet dingy ride back to town.

We spent the next four days exploring the areas around the town of Neifu. I’d become lazy and finally had someone who helped pull me off the boat to hike up the nearby hills, swim below fruit bats, pick blue sea stars from the depths, and munch hot cinnamon rolls fresh from the local bakery. I found once again that simple pleasure that comes with making breakfast for someone in the morning.

We parted simply, making no plans, heading in different directions. It seems to me that both people and books come to us at certain times when we need them. A certain lethargy I’d been saddled with was lifted and I am once again on the move. I am writing this from a small anchorage outside of Neifu and tonight will sail to the Hapai group to the South.

Par’s loss reminded us all how short and tenuous are our lives. It feels good to be engaged and awake once again. I’ll still head to New Zealand this month, but the rush is gone. It doesn’t seem to have the same draw as it did a few weeks ago. Surrounded by the beauty of Tonga, I am ready to enjoy it.