Tofua Island, Tonga
Expedition Leader Tom Ritchie came over the public address system, and in his mellifluous tone, gently coaxed us from our slumber, “Good morning ladies and gentlemen, just off the port bow lays the volcanic island of Tofua where we plan to offer a hike to the crater rim this morning. The weather outside is gray and drizzly, yet balmy, and the winds are relatively still.” Off the starboard bow, stretching over a thousand meters in height and coifed with a thin, stretched-out blanket of gray cloud, lay the mighty, perfectly cone-shaped volcanic island of Kao. Tofua, its neighbor across the channel, and our morning’s destination, rose to only half the height of Kao, its top long ago blown to bits in a pyroclastic explosion. However, we could all tell that a hike to its rim would still present a considerable challenge. This stop was an expedition industry first; a fact not lost on any of us, a fact that piqued our sense of adventure and stole our resolve for physical exertion. Indeed, it is a hallmark of Lindblad Expeditions to take the inherent meaning of their namesake to heart. And this stop embodied the very notion of “expedition travel.”
Negotiating the jagged, ancient volcanic rocks that comprised the landing site was just the first trial. We were fortunate that a contingent of professional volcanologists, accompanied by the support of local islanders, acted as our helpers and guides. The scientists had set up camp for geologic study a week previous to our arrival and had surreptitiously, through the use of muscle and machete, “paved” a trail to the top. The climb itself was a study in biodiversity of the vertical distribution of floral species. Passing first underneath a forest canopy of Coconut palm, Turpentine mango, Barringtonia, and Cassurina trees, the hikers emerged at mid-slope into the verdant low foliage of ferns, grasses, and young Noni trees. The summit ridge loomed above us. Farther up we encountered groves of beautiful tree ferns amid low grasses. Gazing down from this elevation, the National Geographic Endeavour sat on a wide expanse of sea like a blue and white cigar in a large cobalt-blue pool, framed only by dramatic Kao Island to the north. From here the ridge was now only a few long, thigh-straining steps above our perch. We strode the last few paces over low scrub and lichens atop basalt scoria with a vigor born of “achieving the top.” After summiting the ridge, and with our guides before us, we hiked along the crest to a vista point. Far below we beheld the caldera’s lake and smoldering internal cinder cones in all their glory. Tofua’s internal topography stood as the South Pacific’s analogue to that gem of the Pacific Northwest, Crater Lake. The sulfurous vapors we drew in upon the gentle southern breezes were the sweet smell of success.
With the memory of our morning’s excursion still fresh, we embarked after lunch aboard Zodiacs for an afternoon of snorkeling and diving along Tofua’s remarkable shoreline. Our underwater experiences thus far had been defined by fringing coralline reefs and white sand-framed lagoons. Below us lay a new chapter in tropical underwater topography. The scene here was a recently constructed geologic canvas upon which the first brush strokes of coral succession were being applied. A basaltic bottom was the backdrop – bare and raw. Just a few coral colonies had established themselves, but had yet to spread wide. And species of fish reliant on corals as a food source had yet to arrive. The fish were few but notable. Clown triggerfish, absolutely distinct in coloration and patterning, hunted in the blackened shallows. A few new species of wrasses and butterfly fish swam amid the volcanic bottom, and along the intertidal zone scores of rockskippers practically choked the algae-encrusted rocks. Though initially stark in appearance, the scene was a source of fascination and contrast, and the waters were sparkling clear.
In gratitude for their services, the crew of the National Geographic Endeavour invited the volcanologists aboard for hot meals and showers. They showed their appreciation by presenting a lecture on the nature of their work and by answering our questions concerning the geology of the Tongan archipelago. The four of them, three PhD candidates and one exploration support member, studying Tofua under the auspices of the Australian government, had enhanced our experience on this strikingly unique day.
Expedition Leader Tom Ritchie came over the public address system, and in his mellifluous tone, gently coaxed us from our slumber, “Good morning ladies and gentlemen, just off the port bow lays the volcanic island of Tofua where we plan to offer a hike to the crater rim this morning. The weather outside is gray and drizzly, yet balmy, and the winds are relatively still.” Off the starboard bow, stretching over a thousand meters in height and coifed with a thin, stretched-out blanket of gray cloud, lay the mighty, perfectly cone-shaped volcanic island of Kao. Tofua, its neighbor across the channel, and our morning’s destination, rose to only half the height of Kao, its top long ago blown to bits in a pyroclastic explosion. However, we could all tell that a hike to its rim would still present a considerable challenge. This stop was an expedition industry first; a fact not lost on any of us, a fact that piqued our sense of adventure and stole our resolve for physical exertion. Indeed, it is a hallmark of Lindblad Expeditions to take the inherent meaning of their namesake to heart. And this stop embodied the very notion of “expedition travel.”
Negotiating the jagged, ancient volcanic rocks that comprised the landing site was just the first trial. We were fortunate that a contingent of professional volcanologists, accompanied by the support of local islanders, acted as our helpers and guides. The scientists had set up camp for geologic study a week previous to our arrival and had surreptitiously, through the use of muscle and machete, “paved” a trail to the top. The climb itself was a study in biodiversity of the vertical distribution of floral species. Passing first underneath a forest canopy of Coconut palm, Turpentine mango, Barringtonia, and Cassurina trees, the hikers emerged at mid-slope into the verdant low foliage of ferns, grasses, and young Noni trees. The summit ridge loomed above us. Farther up we encountered groves of beautiful tree ferns amid low grasses. Gazing down from this elevation, the National Geographic Endeavour sat on a wide expanse of sea like a blue and white cigar in a large cobalt-blue pool, framed only by dramatic Kao Island to the north. From here the ridge was now only a few long, thigh-straining steps above our perch. We strode the last few paces over low scrub and lichens atop basalt scoria with a vigor born of “achieving the top.” After summiting the ridge, and with our guides before us, we hiked along the crest to a vista point. Far below we beheld the caldera’s lake and smoldering internal cinder cones in all their glory. Tofua’s internal topography stood as the South Pacific’s analogue to that gem of the Pacific Northwest, Crater Lake. The sulfurous vapors we drew in upon the gentle southern breezes were the sweet smell of success.
With the memory of our morning’s excursion still fresh, we embarked after lunch aboard Zodiacs for an afternoon of snorkeling and diving along Tofua’s remarkable shoreline. Our underwater experiences thus far had been defined by fringing coralline reefs and white sand-framed lagoons. Below us lay a new chapter in tropical underwater topography. The scene here was a recently constructed geologic canvas upon which the first brush strokes of coral succession were being applied. A basaltic bottom was the backdrop – bare and raw. Just a few coral colonies had established themselves, but had yet to spread wide. And species of fish reliant on corals as a food source had yet to arrive. The fish were few but notable. Clown triggerfish, absolutely distinct in coloration and patterning, hunted in the blackened shallows. A few new species of wrasses and butterfly fish swam amid the volcanic bottom, and along the intertidal zone scores of rockskippers practically choked the algae-encrusted rocks. Though initially stark in appearance, the scene was a source of fascination and contrast, and the waters were sparkling clear.
In gratitude for their services, the crew of the National Geographic Endeavour invited the volcanologists aboard for hot meals and showers. They showed their appreciation by presenting a lecture on the nature of their work and by answering our questions concerning the geology of the Tongan archipelago. The four of them, three PhD candidates and one exploration support member, studying Tofua under the auspices of the Australian government, had enhanced our experience on this strikingly unique day.
