The humpback whales of Tonga return here for a few months each year to mate and calf, before, as the waters get warmer, returning to the cooler krill filled waters of the Antarctic. When we first arrived the amount of whales we saw, both from the beach here or whenever we were out on a boat, was phenomenal. On a trip to town we would often see spray as they swam past or some dramatic breaching action.

 

 

We were lucky enough to have 2 successful swims with whales. One brief experience was with the kids out on a neighbours boat ‘Reel Addiction’. As only 4 swimmers are allowed in the water at one time we took it in turns to go in when we found 4 slow moving whales. I was in with Marlon, and though it was brief it was also timeless, an unforgettable experience to share together. We were actually watching two couples who, it appeared, were courting and in the process of getting close to mate, they swam below us and passed us, and I caught my breath as one looked me right in the eye. Maisie and Kian could see all of it easily from the boat as the waters here are so clear. Maisie also came close to the whales in her short dip but the thing that excited her most was seeing a whale poo. After all how many 7yr olds can say they swam with a pooing whale?!
Our second and truly wonderful swim was later on with Karyn and Boris on La Venuella and without the kids. I wrote about this incredible encounter earlier on.

We did try to find whales at other times, particularly a mother and calf, but either it was too late on in the season so there weren’t so many around, or we just had no luck getting to the right spots in time. On one day out we did finally find a pair, but they were obviously not up for ‘socialising’ with us, and the tiny baby and protective mother swam off when we approached. Chasing them is no good and we have to respect their wishes if they want to be left alone. We just weren’t lucky that time.

Now as I look out to sea I have to accept that I am unlikely to have the excitement of seeing spray in the distance or catching a splash of a breach out of the corner of my eye. The seas are flat, still dancing and glistening, still holding secrets of a life teeming beneath, but the whales our gone. This puts me in a melancholy mood and I feel a strange sense of abandonment. I wish it were possible, like in whale rider, to climb onto a whales back and go wherever they go. I long for movement, for excitement, for another connection to these migrating creatures.

Today I have hit the limitations of paradise. I’ve been here before and know it will pass but it’s an interesting experience to go through; the peaks and troughs of small island life.

We are on this tiny island with few people to connect to, very little independence to get around, and few distractions from ourselves.
There are no easy diversions, no TV (thankfully), very little internet, and no circle of friends or bustling community. We are left with a lot of time to look inwards and it’s not always comfortable viewing.

Emotions get vastly magnified here, petty things can loom large, but then quickly also fade. I am learning to let go, maybe quicker than I would at home. It’s a pretty intense time on our relatively new relationship too, we have so much time together but very little ‘special time’. Of course there is so much to do but it’s down to us to create it. There are so many things I love about here but feeling like this I feel utterly unappreciative of all of it. It confounds me that I am not bursting with enthusiasm every day for the sunshine, blue skies, and blue seas.
I realise now that the demands of parenting remain the same wherever you are, as does working on a relationship with the same baffling ups and downs and intricacies.
Kian also struggles at times. He has gone through a phase of feeling inexplicably flat, lacking his spark, saying he feels empty and uninspired inside. I understand this, I’ve been there too, but I also know we should be grabbing every opportunity here, and really there is never an excuse for boredom.

Karyn and Boris have been endlessly thoughtful and generous and, considering how much solitude they are used too, incredibly tolerant at sharing their space. I am of course hugely grateful.
Ultimately we are their guests and we do not own a boat. I am finding that here, in this water locked place, the sense of freedom and independence that a boat can give is vital. Without a boat I am having to ride these emotional waves rather than escape out into the real ones. I often feel needy and wobbly and over emotional. I must be hard to live with these days as I am a minefield of sensitivity.
Sometimes I realise I need a long swim in the sea or a run to shake my mood, and I know meditation would be good, but I wriggle out of it.

There remain more highs than lows, and I appreciate this rare time in our lives with so little external stress and pressure. This is a chance to learn more about ourselves and re-evaluate our future. The kids, so much better at unconsciously being in the moment, are so happy with the fun and freedom they have here.
I just need to remind myself to pay attention to the loved ones around me and to the nature and beauty we’ve grown accustomed to. The flash of a kingfisher, the glide of a bat, the call of the crickets, the deep tones of the reef. I know I am hugely lucky to be experiencing this unique place. My moon-choly state is purely because I have time, a lot of time, to indulge in bittersweet first world dilemmas and to dream watery dreams of swimming with whales.