Tonga

The Kingdom of Tonga is but a short 2 ½ hour flight from Auckland. It’s a Pacific Island nation, neighbouring Samoa, Fiji and the Cook Islands. It is known for never having been conquered by colonising powers. Like many Pacific nations, there is a large community based in Auckland.

Despite being within range of flights from Wellington, there are no direct flights – presumably as the majority of the demand is from Tongans going back and forth from Auckland. Because of this, it looked like we’d be spending most of the day travelling despite its proximity. We took off from Wellington at 1:45pm, and got to rainy Auckland for our connection. This was slightly delayed, so we were finally airborne again at 6:00pm. The flight was full, and we were at the back of the plane, so thought we’d be last off when it came to landing at Fua’amotu airport…but no! They brought stairs to both ends of the plane so we were able to get off straight away.

Not that this availed us much. We had a bit of wait for our luggage, presumably as it had been checked in at Wellington so was at the back of all the luggage and therefore last out. Nevertheless, by 10:00pm we’d got out, and found the local Avis rental office. They were expecting us there, and with the minimum of fuss, got us into our Toyota and away.

We took a look at the map, decided that Hala Lotu was the most direct way to our accommodation, and set out. The road was marked as paved, and seemed to be one of three such roads that stretched the breadth of the island. And at first, it was.

We arrived at a junction where most of the traffic was turning off to head to the capital, Nuku’alofa. But our resort was up at the far end of the island, so we continued on in a straight line. The road rapidly deteriorated. It was potholed all over. Fortunately, there was hardly any traffic, so we were able to swerve all over the road to try and avoid the worst ditches and crevasses. Still, it was heavy going, and when we finally joined up with a properly paved road, and a point we have since christened “Three Ways”, it was a relief. We were able to once again crank up the speed to the national limit of 50kmh and arrive at our resort. We missed the turn at first so had to turn around and go back, but no matter.

We pulled into the car park. The lights were on, but there was no-one home. No signs of life in the bar, restaurant, or office. In fact, no-one at all. There was a minibus parked, which had numbers on it. I called the land line: “your call is being diverted…” then the line hung up. Tried the mobile number, with the same result.

Bugger! What to do? We were a bit stuck. Another car came along, and into a parking space near one of the beach huts. We accosted the occupants, and explained our predicament. “No problem, I know the owner!” said the man, who was a Tongan American and regularly visited this resort. He rousted someone out who was at least able to get us into our room. We thanked our saviour profusely, and collapsed in a heap on the bed.