Sailing the South Pacific | My First Experience at Sea

For me, the word voyage has always meant more than just travel. It means movement by land, air, or sea. I had already done planes since I was a baby, cars in all kinds of ways, trains across Europe, Canada, and the United States, ferries through places like Greece, Tonga, and Croatia, hitchhiking from Hawaiʻi to the Balkans, and even New Zealand by motorcycle. But one way still felt missing: sailing. And not just being on a boat, but actually traveling the open sea by sail. Out of all the ways to move through the world, this felt like the truest definition of a voyage to me. So after leaving New Zealand for the Pacific Islands, the dream started feeling more realistic than ever. The question was how, from where, and with who.

My travels had already carried me through Tongatapu, both by hitchhiking there and on ʻEua, then by ferry up to the Haʻapai Islands, and eventually by flight to Vavaʻu. I had always read about Vavaʻu as one of those beautiful stopping points for boats moving westward across the Pacific — from French Polynesia or the Cook Islands toward Fiji, Australia, or New Zealand. That meant this was my best chance to finally make the sailing dream happen.

Finding a Boat in Vavaʻu

Fortunately for me, I was staying with a family in a small village, and the wife worked at a sail rental spot near the docks. Mango’s Café was the main hub for yachts to come use unlimited Wi-Fi and have a decent meal on land after days or even weeks at sea. I was told to talk to the manager there, who then told me to come back at 8:30 the next morning, the time he normally got on the VHF radio to broadcast news out to the harbour.

So I did exactly that.

I woke up early, got dropped off at the café, sat beside the manager, and got my request sent out for any boats needing crew. Oddly enough, my own actual radio request didn’t even go out properly because I didn’t hold the button down long enough. But thankfully, the manager’s more general broadcast still made it out, and that was enough.

His response was basically, “Wow, that was fast. Usually people wait weeks.”

That same morning, a Swedish captain on a yacht responded and connected with me to meet up. Long story short, we met, got along, I saw the boat the next day, helped out a little, and suddenly found myself with a ride to Fiji just five days after that first radio broadcast.

I said goodbye to my friends in Vavaʻu, hopped on the boat, checked out with immigration, and after helping steer out of the long bay from Neiafu, we officially set sail for Fiji.

Tonga to Fiji by Sail

Our sail from Tonga to Fiji was absolutely pleasant and easy. Good weather, no squalls, no boats on the horizon — just the captain and I out in the open sea with steady wind and a lot of time to do… absolutely nothing.

We caught a massive wahoo along the way too, which basically became food for two straight weeks.

I had joined as crew with no prior sailing experience, and that was communicated clearly from the start. But within a matter of days, I started picking up some of the basics of life onboard. We would spend 19 full days on the boat, which still sounds crazy to me when I think about it.

I started learning things like:

• knots and nautical miles
• reading charts
• setting waypoints with coordinates
• helping with sails and rope work
• basic direction and time-distance calculations

I did my best not to just sit there and treat it like a free ride, even though I split costs in the end for food and diesel.

Life on a Sailboat

Once I adjusted to the beauty of being on a sailboat and watching land disappear on the horizon, I realized something quickly: sailing really forces you to enjoy the bare minimums in life.

Yes, I could charge my phone through a port onboard, but there was no signal, so using it for anything other than music at night was basically pointless. I had a few games on there, but those mostly stayed for bedtime. Otherwise, there was a lot — and I mean a lot — of free time outside of cooking, maintenance, and the occasional task.

I wrote in my journal a few times, including a postcard I had carried from Vavaʻu. The captain had some English books onboard, and I ended up reading part of one simply because I got so bored. If the sun wasn’t too brutal, just sitting out back and staring at the endless waves rocking us along felt like a dream on its own.

As for work, I wasn’t given too much because I was still so inexperienced, but I did help with setting and reeling sails, steering while the captain handled other things on the boat, entering coordinates, and helping hold direction.

The hardest part by far was night watch.

Looking out for squalls and other boats in the dark honestly terrified me at first. Sleeping that first night? Impossible. And if I’m being real, sleep in general was one of the hardest parts of the whole experience. My sleeping space was tight, and the rocking made it difficult to catch proper rest. I had to wedge myself in just right so I didn’t keep rolling into the walls.

That part was rough.

But once you start adapting, the rewards are endless.

Sailing Through Fiji

We finally reached Suva, cleared in with authorities over two days, and waited for weather to settle before continuing. Even though I had recommended all kinds of places to go around Fiji, the captain’s plans had changed, so our route became more limited than I had imagined. But even so, exploring Fiji by sail was not something I had expected to do in life, and I was extremely grateful for the chance.

We sailed to Beqa Island, anchoring in a western bay for two nights. Then we crossed the Coral Coast and entered the reef system for the Mamanuca Islands. We anchored at a small islet for a refreshing swim, then spent two nights anchored near Malolo Lailai. It was very resorty, but still nice to stretch out on land and get a decent swim in.

For the final stretch together, we motored past Mana Island and around Monu and Monuriki, the filming location of Cast Away.

Wilsonnnnn!

The final touch to the journey came on Yanuya Island. We had failed to buy kava in Suva, so later in Malolo Lailai we bought half a kilo of kava powder for sevusevu before parting ways. Sevusevu is the traditional Fijian offering to a village chief in order to be welcomed into the village and surrounding area.

When we entered the village, we presented the kava to the elders and were welcomed with a blessing and some kava drinking. Had I not been on the boat, I honestly think the captain would have just sailed right past and missed that whole experience. But once it happened, even he admitted it was amazing.

In the end, we checked back in with immigration, I proved my onward travel, and he checked out to continue sailing onward to Vanuatu.

Why This Voyage Changed Everything

Overall, finally voyaging in this new, defining way was one of the greatest highlights of my travels up to that point.

It was hard in certain ways, no doubt. Not so much the standing, using the toilet, or moving around the boat — surprisingly I adapted to that fine. The hardest part was the sleep, or lack of it, and taking turns staying awake at night to keep watch. That kind of broken rest adds up.

But once you get used to it, sailing gives back so much.

The sunsets were unreal.
The wahoo fed us for days.
The boat became transport, kitchen, and home all in one.
And maybe best of all, there was this sense of freedom — the kind where you move at your own pace and see places in a way you simply can’t by land or air.

I’m writing this now from Funafuti, Tuvalu, a place that would have been one of our later stops had plans stayed the same. Even being here now on foot and at my own pace, I still find myself imagining what it would have been like to arrive by sail.

Even though the route changed, I’ll forever be grateful for that first opportunity to travel the open sea so freely.

And with that being said, that first time will absolutely not be my last.