travel

Mariner's Cave: Challenge

To The Adventurous

i Beautiful Vavau, Tonga, is shortly to get its first air service. Visitors with an adventurous spirit who fly there might like to emulate the Glenns and enter Mariner's Cave via its famous underwater tunnel.

By Ann Glenn, of the cruising trimaran “Rebel”

“Tell us about Mariner’s Cave,” we demanded of our guests, as we sat in Rebels cabin at Vavau, talking in the soft lantern light. And their story led us to a fascinating experience.

There are many caves among the mestone islands of Vavau, Tonga. /& had already had the delightful irprise of “discovering” Swallow’s ave as we entered Vavau’s fiord ke harbour for the first time.

We were ghosting toward Nieafu -my husband Marvin and I—when Tongan sailing vessel we were in mt upon intercepting suddenly dis ppeared through the drizzle. One linute it was there, the next minute was gone. As we sailed close along ic cliff face, the towering gap )peared, and nestling inside the ivern, sails still set, was the 20-ft itter we had seen “swallowed”; its xupants had merely ducked inside i get out of the rain.

But new we wanted to know more )OUt Tonga’s famous underwater ive —Mariner’s. As we sipped our )ffee, Lua Mataele and Samisoni ifita told us the legend of the cave, ley told of the abduction of the lief’s daughter and the secret cave at no one but the fisherman knew.

The story

The entrance to the cave was ways underwater, even at the lowest tides, and everything that the girl eded the fisherman brought to the ve. Her father was wild with ger. He suspected the fisherman, it he could not find the girl to ove his case.

One day, however, the fisherman’s ig stood on the cliff above the cave d barked and barked at the spot lere his master had disappeared, ic chiefs men watched and waited til the man swam out of the cave, len they caught him and took him the chief.

“It is not a good story, though, cause it does not have a happy ding,” Samisoni concluded. “TTie ief was so angry that he had both s lovers killed as an example to young people who would deceive ;ir elders.”*

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In answer to our eager questions, both men said that they had been into the cave. This was luck, for though there is no secret about it today, few people other than those who live on the island of Nuapapu know its exact location.

We were pleased when Lua said that he could guide us to the cave if we wanted to go. We set a day in the next week when the tide would be low in mid-afternoon.

Samisoni was disappointed that he couldn’t go along because he had to teach that day, so he grumbled that he wasn’t sure that Lua knew the way to the cave.

No confidence!

Finally, Lua convinced his friend, as he had convinced us, and Samisoni’s good humour returned as he began to question us. “Are you both good swimmers? Will SHE go in?” in dicating me with a nod of his head.

I tried to demonstrate a confidence that I did not entirely feel.

“You do not have tanks; how long

• Mariner himself, when first reporting the world the existence of the cave, told different, happier story. See next page.

Right: The entrance to Swallow's Cave towers above "Dixie", the Glenn's small dinghy. Far larger craft can shelter in side the cave, as they had seen on their first glimpse of Swallow's Cave.

Opposite Page: In side Mariner's Cave, "the altar" is mist shrouded, due to the change in pressure.

A few seconds later, the scene was crystal clear.

A plastic bag fitted with flash bulbs float ing at her waist, Ann Glenn retreats from Mariner's Cave. Swim ming out towards the sunlight was so much easier than venturing in!

in you hold your breath?” he teased.

Then he turned seriously to Lua.

Vhat you must do is use a rope. aa must go in first with a rope,” 5 told us When he is inside, he n hold his end fast and you can /im along the rope until it is safe come up. He laughed aloud.

“The best way is to make Lua use s feet. He must swim in first, then ng by his hands in the entrance th his feet sticking out. Then the Jit on the white soles of his feet 11 shine like two spotlights. You n’t miss it then!”

With that pronouncement, our ests said their goodnights and left, 11 laughing.

When the day for the excursion me, our party had swelled to six le Reverend Justin Gooderham, ad of the Free Wesleyan Church Vavau, his wife Nance, and their ‘ant son Dion had been in Vavau * a number of months, but had t yet visited Mariner’s Cave. They re just as eager to see it as we re. 01 . , Because of the poor anchorage at lapapu, we had no intention of ' n g Rebel, but we were obviously ) many for Dixie, our small dinghy, the end, we piled all the gear and

ourselves into Lua’s skiff, clamped Rebels 18 hp outboard on the stern and set off at a good clip, It took about an hour to cross the choppy lagoon and reach the lee of Nuapapu. Here we powered slowly along the base of the cliff until Lua suddenly said, “Okay. Stop here.”

Wg arrive I * . He threw out the anchor—a heavy i ron ring about a foot in diameter — and we watched it settle neatly over a coral head on the reef below.

Looking around, it was easy to see why a guide was necessary. Even now, we didn’t spot the entrance to cave until Lua pointed out the dar i c spo i a ° out five feet below the su u rtace r of the water. I carefully noted * ew landmarks I could find: Puim • • • tae second pandanus from th® dragon-headed rock ... we might want to come back on our ow T n one day ”.

Lua swam mto the cave while uie rest of us, except Nance, who would remain in the skiff with Dion,

adjusted our masks and admired the reefscape below us. Then Lua re appeared to guide Marvin and Justin in.

I elected to remain outside until Marv had had a chance to go in and scout for me. I was frankly nervous about swimming into that hole, not knowing just how far I had to go before I could surface for air. Marv knew my capabilities pretty well; he would tell me whether I could make it.

While they were gone, I made a practice dive down. “Not too far down ... if only it isn’t too long a tunnel.”

Then Marvin was back, “It’s not too hard,” he said. “And it’s beautiful inside!”

He explained that the distance underwater seemed to be only about 10 or 12 ft, certainly less than 20 ft. He suggested that I swim on my back, looking up at the rock tunnel; that way I could see the way up as soon as it was safe, and I wouldn’t bump my head. I agreed to try.

First effort

We each took a deep breath, and dived, side by side. Down, into the entrance, then Marvin was ahead of me.

Unexpectedly, the surge of a wave pinned me against the rock tunnel, and I panicked. Without consciously thinking about it, I turned around and swam for the sunlight!

At the surface I felt both shaky and shamed.

After what seemed a terribly long time, while I worried that perhaps he had been trapped, Marvin came out to find me. I explained what had happened.

If he had laughed at me then, perhaps I would never have seen the inside of Mariner’s Cave, but he was solicitous.

“Are you sure you want to go in? Are you game to try once more?”

I was. So, after a few minutes’ rest

Ann and Marvin Glenn.

on the surface, we both dived again. [ was determined to make it this time.

As Marvin entered the blackness, iis body took on a bluish tone from he water. I swam as hard as I lossibly could. I had a frantic feei ng that if I lost sight of those blue : eet ahead of me, I would never find ny way to air again.

The blue feet stopped kicking, and caught up with them. Then I could ee Marvin pointing up at the silvery heet of water. We broke the mirror urface together, gasping for the wel ome air, treading water in the entre of a cavern the size and shape if an extraordinarily tall house.

At first it was too dark to see /ell inside Mariner’s Cave, but our yes soon adjusted to the soft blue ight filtering through the clear water, nd we could see the features of he walls, the lofty ceiling, and 30 r 40 ft submerged, the bottom.

We swam to the back and, tim ig our efforts to coincide with the uite considerable surge inside, we lambered out of the water and on 3 the sleep wall. We climbed and xplored, cataloguing a “frozen water”

“needle” and a “gorge”, and one whiter than the rest, which r e dubbed “the altar”.

Natural phenomenon

Balanced on sharp ledges, we sat i relative comfort and discussed natural phenomenon which we had ;ad about in every account of farmer's Cave and were now ex sriencing for ourselves.

Every three or four seconds, as a ave hit the entrance to the cave, le pressure inside would increase, Jr ears would pop, and the very ear air would appear to mist until te whole interior of the cave was irouded in a San Francisco fog.

Then, three or four seconds later, e mist would vanish, leaving the r “clearer than clear” by contrast.

When we tired of this, we began remember one of our chief goals making this venture. We had a ;w underwater camera and flash unit, night in American Samoa and still linitiated.

I had never seen any photos of ariner’s Cave and was quite excited the prospect of taking them. Still, was grateful when Lua volunteered go back for the camera. I had e uncomfortable feeling that once was out in the comforting sunlight, might not want to come back in ie—even for pictures!

While Lua was away on his errand, we agreed privately that the cave certainly seemed to us no place to hide a bride. The poor girl would have to spend the entire time on one of the rocky ledges where we now perched, and sleeping must have presented a real challenge!

No batteries

We tried several pictures with the new camera, but were bitterly disappointed when the complicated flash unit didn’t work. Puzzling over the problem, I figured out the embarrassmg reason. It was a new unit, bought straight from the shelf; of course, it included no batteries... now was a fine time to think of that!

Everyone laughed at my chagrin, and we all swam out of the cave, feeling much braver than when we swam in.

Back in the skiff, Nance had a vacuum flask of hot tea waiting,

While we sipped the welcome warmth and told her our sad tale of the batteryless camera, she told us another, and funnier story, T , , . , , ua ,r ad ,* aken the underwater 9 am ®^ a f. r( ? m er ’ ai ?d, carefully hold ak°ve bls head to keep it dry, he had swum with it to the mouth of the cave. “At that pcant ’, Nance rented, a funny look c rosse d his face. Then he gingerly !° W n Fed l he c ¥ ner 2 1 mt °j took a deep breath and dlved!

Having once dared the unknown, it was far easier to swim again into Mariner’s Cave when we did go back, It was comforting to know from experience that there was a supply of pure fresh air inside, but there still was that moment of apprehension as we faced the inky void that is the entrance to Mariner’s Cave. We entered and got our pictures this time.