September 14-25th Last Stop in Vanuatu - Port Vila Area

Our attempt to anchor at the "top" of Erromango was denied. The bay was very small and extremely exposed to large swells and high winds, in spite of good information our friend Ian had received. We therefore, in spite of our need for rest and fear of entering the mainland of Efate at dark, turned northwest for an overnighter. We got tossed around for about 2 hours before settling into a good cruising angle. Although tired neither of us slept much as we kept a sharp watch for traffic and other obstacles. The high winds became an asset putting us into a well-marked anchorage just outside the entrance to Port Vila at around 3 AM. We dropped the hook and fell into bed. The next day we got settled into the mooring field and then spent the next several days taking care of business. First priority was getting our Aussie visas at the Australian High Commission. We were disappointed that rather than renew our visas from the previous year we had to re-apply for all new visas which entails completing a 12 page CV and application, submitting proof of good health, health insurance coverage, financial independence (bank statements and pay stubs) and submitting to a criminal and whatever else background check. Did they think we were buying a house or something? It is arduous to say the least, but we had done this drill before so we sucked it up and began the process of gathering support data. As has been the case since leaving Fiji, internet is a luxury in Vanuatu and can be accessed but not easily, readily or cheaply making our information and proof gathering a bit burdensome but we got it done in two days, dropped off our passports, forms and documentation and then took off for the weekend out at Mele Beach Resort for some fun.

We met up with Bold Spirit, Just In Time, Ivory Quays, Scallywag and Windflower out at Mele Beach. The little restaurant there provided all sorts of water sports, great brick oven pizza, a big screen TV and pool table. Bold Spirit told us about a great place a few kilometers up the road called "The Warhorse Saloon". The owners are from Littleton Colorado! They had sailed here a few years ago and loved Vanuatu so much they stayed, bought an old establishment and named it after the Warhorse Saloon in Parker, CO. Of all things! We had a great time there. It felt like home.

After the weekend we returned to Port Vila where we spent a week just kicking back and enjoying the opportunity to eat out, do a little shopping and reconnect with friends. Frank played several rounds of golf. I had "girl time", shopping and visiting museums. A couple of times we loaded the laptops into our backpacks and went into shore in search of internet mostly to pay bills and see what emails were waiting for us. These days all we get is junk email and it kills us to have to pay by the hour or the "byte" to sort through that stuff which is getting worse than the paper junk we used to get at home. Cyber junk - it is a wonder we can't see it flying through the air!

The face smash I took on the way to Tanna from Fiji was beginning to worry me. My nose was still very tender and pressure was building in my head. Gloria from Scallywag, who is a nurse, told me I should get an x-ray to make sure there is no head trauma going on. The problem was that the medical facilities in Vanuatu leave a lot to be desired. One cruiser named Tony on a boat called Xanadu II had been sick for a week and was getting weaker and sicker after three visits to the doctor there. They kept running tests on him but couldn't give him the results because there is no local lab. Everything has to go through Australia and after waiting over a week for his results his liver and kidneys began to shut down and his fever was running 105 degrees. He finally booked a flight to Auckland where he was diagnosed with Malaria. This did not give me much confidence in the Vanuatu medical community so I continued taking strong decongestants and anti-inflammatories hoping for the best.

We were ready to get going to New Caledonia. Port Vila seemed to be sucking the money and the energy out of us this year. The heat was getting to us and the dust and dirt were contributing to my sinus troubles. It seemed that just since last year, Port Vila was taking a down turn. Some muesli that I bought at the nicer grocery store in town was crawling with little black bugs that looked like baby roaches. Even our cruiser friends seemed to be getting run down. Disappointingly we bided our time until the rally departure date for New Caledonia, which finally arrived on the 25th. We slipped from the mooring at 5:30 AM and were off!

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September 13 & 14, 2020: Erromango, Vanuatu - A Garden of Eden Without the Serpent

We had a really rough motor sail for the first 6 of the 8-¾ hours trip from Tanna up to Erromango. And we didn't even catch a fish for the effort. Fortunately, conditions settled down for the final leg of the journey and we were able to thoroughly enjoy a lovely sail into Dillons Bay at Erromango. We were the only two boats in the anchorage. Immediately, small outriggers began to drift our way. They were filled with village children coming by to have a look at the visitors. They quite boldly drifted right up next to Destiny and although they seemed adventurous and gutsy to us, when we attempted to talk to them we found them terribly shy. They enjoyed sitting and watching us while drifting around the entire boat, I guess to have a good look. We smiled our brightest most welcoming smiles and said "Hello" in our friendliest voices, yet they just sat looking at us. They eventually drifted over to have a look at Moasi.

We were tired from the trip, but invited Ian and Julia over for sundowners. We indeed enjoyed a beautiful sunset while we munched and visited. Everyone wanted to call it an early night. Frank and I read for a bit. I finished my book and was in bed by 8:30 PM.

On Tuesday, we awoke to find a group of dolphins frolicking all around the boat. We enjoyed the show from our cockpit while having coffee. Then I popped below to make some banana muffins and kept hearing Frank in a one-way conversation outside. He later told me some locals had come out again for a look, and although he tried to chat with them, they just sat and looked at him. I'm sure he enjoyed being on stage while he had his coffee and muffin.

Late morning we hitched a ride with Ian and Julia into the village. Unfortunately, the Lonely Planet guide doesn't do Dillons Bay or the island of Erromango justice. Mostly from what I read about the place, they concentrated on this island's violent history - which certainly is full of murder and mayhem and lots and lots of cannibalism - and focused on the telling of Erromango's widespread devastation wrought by the 2004 cyclone. A very small paragraph was dedicated to Dillon's Bay.

We arrived at the shore and were greeted by several men, including a fellow named Jason who we were told is the adult son of the elder chief. A very nice man named David helped us secure the dinghy and then introduced himself to us as our guide. Jason gave us his personal blessing and asked us to follow David for a tour of their village. We were hugely impressed by this beautiful well-kept village of Dillon's Bay, which David explained is affectionately referred to as John Williams Bay. Mr. Williams brought had the Presbyterian faith to Dillons Bay in 1839; he was welcomed by the (then) chief and warned that the locals were hostile and that the missionaries should not venture far from their boat. Ignoring this good advice, John Williams went inland anyway and was murdered and eaten. After they killed him they laid him upon a rock to chip his outline onto the surface (isn't this what modern crime technicians do at murder scenes?). The outline can be seen even today. So from what I gathered of David's telling, in order to honor the missionary's sacrifice and to appeal to God for mercy and forgiveness of killing and eating him they made their village his namesake, and named the beautiful river after him, The William River, that runs from the mountain bringing them crystal clear drinking water which they also use for their crops, and for swimming and bathing.

During our walking tour we were greeted cheerfully and often by the men, women and children. Everyone appeared so happy. Everything is very tidy and well maintained. We visited the school (grades k-6) and met all of the children their teachers and the head mistress, Annie. Julia produced sheets of stickers and as we met the children we gave each of them a sticker, which they placed on their faces, arms and workbooks. They giggled and followed us about whispering and dancing around. We got as much a thrill from the visit as they did. At the end of our visit Annie walked over with bags of produce for us from the school's garden.

Next, David took us for a walking tour of the river and the farmlands. It is early springtime here, so the flowers were abundant as were the newborn chickens goats, cows and pigs. Butterflies flitted about, songbirds serenaded us and the rocky river gurgled past. We felt like we had landed in the Garden of Eden. It was a paradise! All around us the trees were bursting with fruit. The papaya (paw paw) trees were very large and overflowing with their bounty. The colors of the plants and flowers were stunning. The worst part of this entire experience was that I did not bring my camera.

He took us next over to show us his planned site for a future yacht club. It is currently under construction and is probably going to be the most beautiful yacht club in the south pacific. We were wishing we could revisit Dillon's Bay after its completion. He ended out little tour by handing us a basket as large as a suitcase overflowing with paw-paws and local citrus fruit. We took him out to the boats where I loaded him up with bags full of golf caps and clothing for his village and some bandages and medicines for the clinic. Wow, what a great little piece of paradise we had found there.

After Ian took David back to the village we all weighed anchor intending to go to the northern-most anchorage of Erromango, some 3 hours up the coast, have lunch and then take a long rest so that we could depart around midnight for Port Vila.

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September 10-12, 2010; Enjoying Tanna's Port Resolution

We fully recovered from our recent early morning activities by sleeping in until 8 :00 AM on Friday. Then we walked over to the beautiful white sand beach on the other side of the peninsula where there are a few "backpacker" style resorts. The beaches in this bay are black sand and are beautiful but the ashy sand is very difficult to get out of clothes and skin. In fact each time we go to shore, we land on a black beach, hike up a steep black ash/sand hill and walk along a black ash path to wherever we are heading. The village dirt is black ash. The locals are quite accustomed to it and the children comfortable playing in it, but each time we return to the dinghy we are covered in it and our feet seem to attract globs of black mud as if magnetic. After a few days you begin not to even notice it, but each time we return to the boat we seriously wash off as soon as we hit the stern's sugar scoop, before even going on deck.

Our visit to the white sand beach was very pleasant, and the sparking aquamarine water so inviting and yet I chose not to swim. I'd worn a swimsuit beneath my shorts and shirt and had planned to swim but apparently although there were holiday bungalows on this side, we were still in an area of express modesty when it comes to baring bodies, even in a one-piece swimsuit. All other female visitors at the beach were frolicking fully clothed in the water. Although it was quite hot and I was practically drooling over the opportunity to hit the water, I did not want to get all of my clothes wet. I had visions of walking back to through the black ash and sand village dripping wet and ending up back at the dinghy looking like one of the "mud" people. So Julia and I chose a nice shady spot in the sand to sit and chat. Frank was trying to heal a newly opened wound - a skin burn from a slide across the deck he took while filleting our fish and getting hit with a slammer of a wave - so he had to keep the sore covered and dry. He chose to sit and have a beer while we all watched Ian have a nice long swim.

On the way back to the village I took some goodies to the locals and in return Miriam (Stanley's sister) gave me a couple of Paw Paw (papayas). I told her that I wanted to bring some things to them but didn't know what they needed, i.e., clothing, rice, flour, etc. She pulled me aside and said, "I want a cake. Will you make me a cake?" Of all the things she could have asked for she wanted a cake! Within minutes, Julia and another lady, Sofia both told me that Miriam had also asked them to bake her a cake. So I asked Miriam if it was for a celebration or for someone's birthday. She told me no, it was for her. I didn't quite know what to make of that and so I agreed. As I was walking away I was told by two other cruisers that they were making cakes for Miriam. What on earth? Well, I was down to one cake mix which is Frank's favorite and not wanting to prepare one from scratch I made a decision not to make her a cake. I baked chocolate chip cookies instead, and put together a little care package for her and the rest of her family that included colored pencils, notebooks and stickers for the children, clothes for the ladies, packages of pens for the school and prints of the pictures we'd taken at their village and at the Circumcision Ceremony.

I had spent the better part of our Saturday morning baking the cookies and printing those pictures (our photo printer is very slow). We went to shore after lunch intending to drop off the goods and then meet Ian and Julia at the yacht club afterward. We took the bundle over to Miriam and when I presented her with the large bag full of cookies she could not hide her disappointment that it was not a cake. For a brief moment I felt the urge to snatch them back because we would have loved to have kept those home made cookies for ourselves, but I smiled and told her I thought since so many others were making cakes I wanted to do something special and different for her. Then I showed her the pictures. The ladies and the children all gathered round excitedly wanting to see them. They were absolutely thrilled! Because I had my camera with me they all posed and asked me to take their pictures and then one of the young mothers asked me to take her camera back to the boat and print some of her pictures for them. Their reactions and smiles made the hours of printing worthwhile. As I was walking away, she ran out to me and presented me with a pretty bag that she had woven.

We returned to the boat that evening and just as I was about to go down to start dinner, a local man paddled over in his outrigger asking if we wanted to buy a lobster. We told him we didn't' have many Vatu left but that we could trade for the lobster. He settled for a t-shirt and two pair of Frank's old shorts. The lobster he presented us was a monster - I wish I'd taken a photo - and was fully cooked. We had previously discovered there is a boiling hot spring at the water's edge at the back of this bay that emits enough steam to cook food, and that is where a lot of the locals do their cooking. This lobster was steamed there. It was large enough to feed us both and was so sweet, tender and delicious we finished every morsel, leaving us moaning that we were stuffed like pigs! Man that was a good trade.
I spent the entire morning on Sunday printing more pictures and making photo CD's and a DVD of the video shots we had been taking of the activities at Tanna. After lunch we ran those in to distribute to various grateful recipients, and then we returned to Destiny to plan our next stop. We agreed with "Moasi" to leave at 6:00 AM, Monday, for Erromango, Vanuatu. Frank and I settled in for a very early dinner and a movie (Salt with Angelina Jolie). Then we both fell asleep reading "Shantaram".

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September 9th - Circumcision Ceremony and Kastom Dancing at Tanna

Getting solid information from any ni-Vanuatuan is an art form, one that we have not mastered. For instance: On Tuesday, Stanley told us there is a Kastom Ceremony in one of the villages Thursday, and that he would be busy with that all day. We asked him if we could attend, and he said "OK". We asked what it was for and his response was ambiguous. Then when we arrived on shore Wed., to go to the volcano we asked him again about the ceremony and his response was that if we wanted to go we would have to be at the village at 4:30 AM in order to walk for an hour and a half, to get to the village hosting the ceremony, in time for the 6 AM start. Then in the same sentence he said that if we want a ride to the village we should be on shore at 6 AM. We asked him what they were celebrating and again his response was very vague. We began to get the impression that he was not encouraging our attendance at this thing. Then as we were driving up to the volcano I asked David about the event. He informed us it is a celebration for the circumcision of the boys passing from childhood into manhood. We had read in the Lonely Planet guide that this very special ritual was brought to the "savages" by missionaries, along with other traditions such as NOT eating man and abolishing polygamy. When we inquired about the age of the boys we were given various responses. Some said between the ages of 10-11, and others said ages between 8-9. The Lonely Planet guide states it is for ages 10-12. In any event it (supposedly) only occurs during August and/or September each year. We asked around what to bring and how to dress and if women were allowed. We did not receive the same answer twice from any of three or four locals. They did somewhat imply that there would be feasting, dancing and kava drinking and the like. I suspect that they do not understand us anymore than we understand them when trying to communicate, so we used our best guess.

We arrived on shore promptly at 6:00 AM, bringing bottles of water, hats, sunscreen, cameras and a towel on which to sit. Truly we had no idea what was going on. When we arrived in the host-village it was alive with preparations for the ceremony. I met some Australian volunteers from the Seventh Day Adventist Church who are working at the Port Resolution hospital. They gave me a little more information. I wish I'd met them the day before. We discovered that we were to have brought gifts for the honorees, but of course we did not know this nor did we know how many boys were being initiated. The feasting, dancing and kava-drinking were shared only among the families of the boys and the host village. We could attend but only as observers - we were to remain silent and unseen. We stuck out of course like sore thumbs. We also soon discovered that we were way early for the event. It didn't really begin until 10 or 11:00, and was due to go all day and into the night. The circumcisions had taken place 5 weeks ago. The ceremony is performed at the Nakamal (men's club) only in the presence of men. The actual surgery is carried out by the local medicine man with a knife fashioned from bamboo. The boys are then isolated from village and family in the Nakamal to heal for 5 weeks and may only be visited by a select group of elders during this period. When they emerge from isolation they are treated as men from that day forward. This ceremony is all about celebration of their manhood.

Enough "background". Here is what happened as we saw it. There is a large, open circular staging area, surrounded by crude fencing, lean-tos and small huts where the floor is bare black earth. In the middle are two large piles of banana leaves that we discover are earthen ovens, which have been cooking for a long while. As we sit and watch, we hear violent squealing - I mean VIOLENT - from the periphery. We soon discover this is the sound a pig makes when he is being literally hog-tied to a pole. We watch men wrapped in sarongs - representing the two families who live in this village, one in vivid purple print and the other in a bright green print - parading by, carrying a pole over their shoulders with a giant screeching pig swaying from underneath. This happened 4 times. Then entered hoards of women and children decorated from head to toe in face paint, feathers, Christmas garland, beautiful fabrics, colorful grass skirts, and with baskets hanging from them; walking past us swaying as if to some distant music. Many more people arrived carrying artfully woven baskets, mats and bags, bolts of fabric and large loads of food in hand-woven banana leaf baskets.

In the middle of the clearing off to the side of the two large "ovens", men set about creating piles on the ground, beginning with the baskets of vegetables and fruits, then layering them with yards of colorful fabrics, mats and baskets and then topped them off with tall kava plants and stalks of sugarcane. They did this while other men attended to the two "ovens" in the middle where they heaped smoked quarters of beef and pig and then covered those in leaves and continued to stack them with greater numbers of beautiful fabrics, foods, baskets, mats and woven bags. They were topped with the sugarcane and then surrounded by large bushes of kava. Standing "trees" of sugarcane were propped beside these two and from them were hung long bolts of fabric that swayed in the breeze. Next, one of the pigs on a pole was carried in and laid on the ground between the two "ovens". Before we could tear our eyes away, a man arrived with a large club, which he used to whack the pig on the bridge of his snout. It was over quickly as the pig shuddered and died. Two more pigs were brought out on poles and were placed next to the dead one but were left alive. As they lay there they were covered in woven mats and kava plants and sugarcane stalks. They writhed and squealed until they must have passed out from the exertion. We soon learned that these two special piles were for the grandfathers of the families whose first-born sons had been circumcised in this lot. Lucky granddads!

More smaller piles were erected similar to the ones that were intended for the grandfathers, but without the cooked foods and the smoked meats. It looked as though there were more than 6 mountains of goodies so we got lost and confused at this point, even though locals tried to explain the meanings to us in their broken English. One of the piles was decorated by a freshly clubbed steer and another by a freshly clubbed pig. Significance was lost on us. Apparently some piles were for families of the boys and others were from the families to the host village. That's what we'll go with anyway. When this was finished the two most decorated ladies of all parlayed out from opposite sides of the clearing, sprinkling the piles with perfume as they swayed to and fro with similarly embellished women trailing behind. They drifted and swayed amongst the piles seemingly blessing them or anointing them but we really do not know what this meant. Finally a chief stepped out into the clearing and said a lot of impressive sounding words to the crowd followed by the ethereal sound of music drifting in from outside the compound. It may have been a flute or a shell being played to announce the arrival of the boys who were now men.

They approached through a decorated archway surrounded by a dozen or so ornamented boys and men, and were hidden from view until formally presented to the chief and then escorted to their awaiting, wailing mothers and grandmothers. Once the women greeted them they seated them onto special mats where they were heaped with gifts from family and treated like royalty. Then the presentation of gifts from all others began. A steady stream of guests paraded by, bending and adoring the young men, presenting them with all sorts of gifts from food to tools and clothing.

There was another "announcement" and then the men circled up to begin the Kastom dancing and singing to the rhythm of hand made instruments and drums. The women encircled the dancing men, bouncing up and down along the outside, clapping and smiling. This went on for 45 minutes to an hour. Suddenly it all ended. The colorful people dispersed. The piles were quickly disassembled and distributed to various pockets of villagers. They all adjourned to feast, leaving us mulling around wondering what to do next. After their feast, the men would adjourn to the Nakamal to drink kava and then they would all feast again and dance and drink kava all night. Frank and I opted to walk back to the village while the others piled into the truck. We accompanied a young English woman named Cheryl who was staying at the bungalows adjacent to "our" village.

We enjoyed the beautiful walk and stopped to take photos along the way. One particularly interesting resort boasted a treetop accommodation at Shark's Bay. It was splendiferous! I would like to have stayed there - high up in a banyan tree it looked like a cottage out of a fairy tale. We walked the beach and then took a quick gander at the Port Resolution Yacht Club before returning to Destiny where we reflected on our day. This event is another of those "once in a lifetime" opportunities. We just happened to be in the right place at the right time. We sure hope our pictures turn out nicely.

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Sept 8, 2010 - Mount Yasur Volcano (Tanna, Vanuatu) The Hike of a Lifetime!

On Tuesday we just took it easy - I washed laundry while Frank checked his patchwork on the dinghy, and then later we were invited to "Moasi" for dinner.

Wednesday, Frank and Ian went to shore to burn our rubbish - big fun there. Then in the late afternoon the four of us went into the village to meet our driver, David, for the trek to Mt. Yasur.

Mount Yasur is an active volcano which, when it's activity is at level 1 or 2 visitors can hike up to it's rim. When, however it reaches level 3-4 the park closes for obvious safety reasons because it is very dangerous to be anywhere near. Just last month our friends Jim and Martha on "Special Blend" were anchored in Port Resolution when the volcano erupted causing mass evacuations. They were advised to leave the anchorage immediately. Yasur was at level 4 during that time. So, yes there actually is a danger here, but fortunately for us, it is presently downgraded to level 2.

David drove us across the ash field right up to the railed walkway that began the steep ascent to the rim, approx 150 meters. It was still daytime when we arrived. As we were making the walk upward, we could feel rumbling and hear what sounded like a freight train roaring down a track toward us. The hair on my arms stood on end and my heart raced with excitement. I couldn't wait to get up there. I think Frank was just as excited but he contained his emotions a little better than I could. Are we crazy?

We arrived at the top of the pathway and followed the rim around to a fairly high area that was designated as a safe observation point. Frank and I stepped as close to the edge as was permitted and peered over into what I can believe the ancient people thought was a gateway into Hell. The pit below us coughed up whiffs and rolling bellows of black smoke. It rumbled, it roared and it spewed fiery magma high up into the air. Sometimes the belch and roar came so suddenly and so loudly that it startled us and caused us to jolt in surprise. As the sun began to set the fire spewing upward became much more fiercely red and it seemed the eruptions came more frequently and more violently. I just couldn't get enough. I was mesmerized by the beauty and violence of this phenomenon. Frank took a few video clips and we both took loads of snapshots. After a couple of hours our eyes were stinging with ash and our lungs were screaming for fresh air as we breathed in the sooty, sulfuric smoke. I was thinking I could have stayed at least another hour just watching in thrilled horror at this once in a lifetime spectacle, and as I was standing there locked in my musings, Julia announced, "Right then, I'm bored. Can we leave now? It's getting a bit cold up here". That did it. We all agreed it was time to go, and besides we were all beginning to feel pretty well soot-covered anyway.

That is an experience that will stay with us for the rest of our lives. We feel tremendously fortunate to have had the opportunity to go up that volcano. And to think, Captain Cook was denied this same privilege, some 236 years ago and Old Yasur is still going strong.

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September 6, 2010 - Clearing into Tanna and a long bumpy ride to get there!

We were due on shore at 7 AM to catch our ride into Lenakel where yachts must go on this island to clear in to the country of Vanuatu. Because our dinghy has a flat, Ian and Julia had agreed to give us a lift into shore at 6:30. Frank wanted to run the generator for an hour before we left the boat, so we set the alarm for 5:15 AM. We awoke with plenty of time to enjoy a pot of coffee, grab a cereal bar and pack our backpacks for the trip into town. By 6:15 we hadn't seen any movement aboard Moasi, so Frank told me to hail them on the VHF to make sure they were up. I did that, and roused a very sleepy Julia who informed me it was only 5:15 AM. Well damn! We had forgotten to set our clocks to Vanuatu time. We could have slept for another hour. We were too jazzed on caffeine to go back to bed by now so we read Shantaram until they came for us.

We were joined on shore by an Australian couple (S/V Sunboy) and an Austrian couple (catamaran, Felix). We took the short hike up a hill to the little village to await our transport, which eventually arrived in the form of a small 4-WD pickup truck with a high cage over the bed. The truckbed sides were lined with 2x8 boards that served as passenger seating around the interior. Now the meaning of our friends' warning to "be sure to bring seat cushions" hit home. Kathi and Jeff on s/v Bold Spirit had checked in at Tanna last month and sent us an email full of ambiguous warnings and tidbits of info. I think they didn't want to ruin the total experience for us so they left a little to our imaginations. Julia and I were graced with the opportunity to ride in the cab with David our ni-Vanuatu driver. Frank piled into the back with Ian, the other 4 yachties and Stanley, the Goodwill Ambassador for Port Resolution. Just before we took off 4 or 5 locals hopped in. We were crammed like sardines, and although I had a seat up front it was like riding in a tin can with faux cushions. My hipbone was pressed into the metal frame of the seat, and as we bumped along I felt metal grating bone with intensifying effect. I couldn't imagine what the ones in the back of the truck were feeling. For just over 2 ½ hours, we drove the crude rode into Lenakel. It didn't really bother any of us because the scenery and sights along the way were well worth the pain of the ride and the $4,000 VT per couple: a bargain at any price. One of the guys likened it to getting beaten in prison in front of a window full of bars with a fantastic view! Parts of the road were washed out, leaving just enough room for the truck to creep past a sheer drop. We drove through lush vegetation, past lovely villages and then came to the ash plane of Mt. Yasur. It was desolately beautiful. This side of the volcano looked like a gray, barren sand-covered mountain. We could see coughs of smoky vapor puffing out the top. It was captivating.

Eventually we arrived in town, where our first stop was the bank. There is only one bank. The Lonely Planet guide advised that there are no ATM's on the island therefore; we had taken $500 USD to exchange. Ian and Julia brought their Visa card. No go. No credit cards either. So we shared our Vatu's with them. Clearing in was a long process, taking several hours. Immigration and Customs were housed in the same building, and at each agency the officials were very friendly and helpful. The villagers walking by would wave frantically at us and throw huge smiles our way, shouting "Allo!" They loved seeing white faces in their midst. The ladies all wear very colorful Mother Hubbard dresses, while the children and men run around in western-style t-shirts and shorts. We bought hot fresh bread at the bakery, and munched on it as we walked around town while awaiting the quarantine officer's arrival. They didn't seem too concerned about us walking about before getting cleared by "Quarantine". Already, I loved this little island. The people here are naturally friendly and happy. Mostly, they just wanted to look at us. It is the same in the anchorage - villagers will paddle out to the boats and just sit watching us. They mean no harm; they are simply intrigued by the white people on the boats. I never gave it much thought, but we don't' recall meeting any black cruisers since leaving the USA. Wonder why?
For the ride home, I opted to sit in the back so I could get the total experience. Now I have bruises all over my body to match the ones on my face! I discovered that the cage around the pick-up was intended for a tarp when the rains come, but is also used for hand-holds and the occasional brace for standing when the sitting gets too rough.
Just prior to leaving Lenakel, Stanley announced that he and the lads had a few stops to make on the way back to Port Resolution. The first stop was a local market just outside the largest grocery store, which by the way is smaller than some of our pantries back home. They came out carrying several loaves of bread a 5-kilo block of cheese, and a case of beer. Then they grabbed several large bundles of kava and some greens from the market. Off we went!
During the ride back we made half a dozen stops at various roadside markets where we all had a chance to pick up fresh fruits and vegetables from the communal farms. Cheap too! For instance I bought a large bouquet of broccoli for 100 VT's (approx $1.10). The lads continued to purchase bundles of kava at each market. And making stops along the way for deliveries to villages of the breads, beer and greens. It is quite a system of "community" they have here. Each village helps the other in some way. And at each and every stop, the children would go wild, waving and shouting "Allo!" I took several photos and then showed them to the children, eliciting giggles and laughter and big-eyed surprise with hands over mouths. I wish I could have printed them out on the spot for those kids.
We arrived back at Port Resolution at nearly 4:00, bone weary but happy. We each popped a mouthful of Advil and settled in for a bountiful dinner of fresh Mahi Mahi, green salad and hot bread.

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Sunday, September 5, 2010 - The Home Stretch and Arrival at Tanna, Vanuatu

The honeymoon is over. We knew the easy three days was too good to be true, and I guess so did Neptune. It seemed last evening and into the night he raised his trident high, rallying forth the winds and then striking the seas declaring it time to let the good times roll! The seas bucked Destiny about seeming to express anger at our intrusion, tossing us like a rag doll. The winds were back up to 25+ knots and howling through our rigging and mast. We were in a bit of a pickle because we had no choice but to slow this mustang down. We could have run with it and made a much smoother ride for ourselves but we simply could not risk a nighttime approach into Tanna, hence we reefed in the main, furled the headsail and set the stay sail (storm gib) and rode the rollercoaster into the night. If you like amusement park rides, you would have loved this one. Topside it wasn't so bad, but trying to sleep below was agony. Thank goodness it was for only one night.

We arrived as planned at the entrance to Port Resolution at 7:30 AM. In 1774, Captain James Cook upon approaching the island of Tanna noticed a great glow coming from the island. He entered this bay to investigate. The glow of course was fiery Mount Yasur, but the Islanders would not let him approach the volcano that they considered "tabu", sacred/hallowed ground. So he contented to name the bay, Port Resolution, after his boat, the HMS Resolution.

We had tried to get here last year, but it just didn't happen. We are very pleased to be here now and look forward to visiting as much of the island as possible. Our friends who have preceded us here say it is their favorite island in Vanuatu

Tanna has a fascinating history and apparently a lot to offer tourists, including a trip up the volcano, which is no longer "tabu" except during special times of the year. "Yasur" in local Tannese means "Old Man" and is believed to be the originator of the universe by the indigenous locals. It is believed that after death, their spirits are returned to the volcano. Some of them must be angry spirits because it sure is still going strong after all these years.
Since it is Sunday, we cannot clear in to the country until tomorrow and may not go ashore until then. We thought we'd set the anchor and then hit the sack, but Frank wanted to rinse the boat down before the salt baked in, and I decided to cook us a formidable breakfast. Then of course after the tossing we took I had to tidy up inside and he got busy outside trying to find the leak in "dinghy". Locals began to drift by in their little dugout outrigger canoes either to investigate the new arrivals or to show us their fine bananas and coconuts for which we could trade batteries, clothing or other goods. Then Stanley from the yacht club stopped by to arrange our transportation into town tomorrow for clearance. We will leave the boat a 6:30 AM. We understand it is about a 2-3 hour ride in a pickup truck and that we are to bring our own seat cushion. This should be fun!

It's 5 PM. We never got our naps, but plan to sleep well tonight because we have to get up early. Oh, and update on my face smash ordeal: I've managed to get by with just a few cuts on my nose and seem to have somewhat quelled the swelling. There is just a bit of bruising across my nose, and it may be spreading to my right eye but it's hard to tell just yet. My friend Julia gave me some homeopathic pills that may help. Everyone thinks my nose is broken but somehow I don't think so.

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Sept 11th remembering our homeland as we sail into Port Vila

We wonder if September 11th will always send a chill up and down our spines as we have our morning coffee and ponder how violent life has been in these beautiful remote islands of the South Pacific. These dear people, innocent and sheltered in their own civilizations, protected from the impact of cultured nations have many times over fallen victim to Western, Asian and European Nations' struggles for power. They have known more death and suffering than most others ever will, and that is just because of their location on the map. They have been invaded, dominated and stripped of natural resources by the superpowers and then left to lick their own wounds and to repair their own lands. Amazingly they remain childlike and ingrained in their own traditions and values. They are precious and proud. We have tremendous respect for them. After coffee and a leisurely breakfast we bid farewell to simplicity and then weighed anchor in anticipation of reaching Port Vila in time to book dinner at a nice restaurant.

We had an easy day sailing up around Devil's Point (known for the underwater currents that have claimed many a ship), and into Port Vila. We cheered as we entered the anchorage full of yachts. John on "Windflower" had made sure that a marina berth was reserved for us, and as we were settling in we heard a familiar voice on the VHF; "Destiny, Destiny, This is Mai Miti, do you copy?" James was here! We have somewhat adopted James. Whenever we see him we treat him as we would hope others would care for our kids if they were out and about so far from home. James is the same age as my daughter, Jen, yet in many ways he is far older. He is our peer out here and we consider him family.

To compress our Port Vila experience -
We met with Sam from Kaleva Yacht Services to arrange for the batteries to be dealt with ASAP,
We ate out as much as possible,
We paid $100 for two weeks worth of internet that was crummy but at least it worked about 25% of the time,
Frank played golf,
I sent lots of laundry out to be done (who cares that it cost $15.00 per load!),
We watched two All Blacks Games at the Anchor Inn Sports Bar with James and a bunch of Kiwi friends,
We watched NY Giants play the Dallas Cowboys in Sunday Night Football on Monday afternoon at The Anchor Inn Sports Bar,
We found out that for the second time in 2 ½ years, our very expensive house batteries needed to be replaced,
We ordered new batteries and fought with Lifeline over warranty issues,
Frank played golf again,
We found out that we would be spending our children's inheritances on new batteries to be shipped from Australia and installed,
I uploaded some pictures to our website,
We ate Ice Cream Sundaes at Jill's American café at least 5 times.
We shopped at real grocery stores,
We shopped at the 24-hour open-air market,
Frank played golf,
We went on an excellent shore excursion to The Cascades waterfalls,
We got our Australian multiple entry Visas,
We ate a righteous Sri Lankan dinner buffet at a local 5-star restaurant with Jaime, Christine and James and toasted Andy and Melissa (they are getting married in Sri Lanka in March of '10),
We bid farewell to James as he left for New Caledonia,
We made lots and lots of new friends and had the time of our lives. We loved Port Vila.

On September 26th I baked brownies, banana nut muffins, boiled eggs, and prepared a meal-at-sea and then at 5 PM, we departed for New Caledonia.

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Tsunami NOT a Problem for the Gladneys

Sorry for the mass email, but we have received some troubled inquiries and want to put to rest any concerns for our safety. First of all, Frank, Barbara and Destiny are all A-OK.
Yesterday we arrived in Ouvea, New Caledonia. We have no internet access and therefore do not know who among you heard about the Tsunami that emerged in the South Pacific today. Early this morning we received emergency evacuation orders to get offshore as quickly as possible. An earthquake had occurred in the ocean near Samoa and the resulting Tsunami was headed this way, with an expected landfall in New Caledonia of 9:16 this morning. We immediately made for deep water (4,000 feet) and stood offshore until the officials in Noumea, New Caledonia gave us the all-clear. Other than a little excitement over our morning coffee and a chance to do some deep sea fishing, it was a non-event for us. Sadly, we heard there were lives lost and many unaccounted-for in Samoa.
We hope also that anyone who bore anxiety for us will forgive us for not getting in touch sooner. Also copying our blogs on this message...
Love and best wishes, Frank and Barbara

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September 3 – 10 Making our way down Malekula Island

We arrived at Banam Bay happy to have gotten out of the rough sea state to find another beautiful, crystal clear blue water anchorage.  As with other anchorages here, the locals came out in their outrigger canoes to have a look at us.  Some of them wanted to trade fruits and vegetables and others would just come up really, really close to our boat and just sit and stare at us.  It gets a bit creepy after a while, but this is their world and we are the intruders therein, so it is not for us to get indignant or annoyed.  We did some trading, walked the shores and trekked inland with "Free Spirit", "Baraka" & " Morning Light "(ML).  We generally just killed time waiting for the weather to calm down so that we could continue southward.  Our original plan was to hop over to the island of Epi and to swim with the dugongs, however, we kept hearing other yachts on the VHF reporting that they were getting beat up out there in 30+ kt winds and confused seas.  We sat for three days and then stuck our nose out on the 4th.  Yep – not nice out there, so instead of a rough 4-5 hour trip to Epi, we make a 2-hour, 12-mile jump down to Port Sandwich, on Malekula.  It wasn't as pretty there but sure was calm inside the anchorage.  What a funny name for an anchorage anyway, especially since it is known for its high concentration of sharks.  This is the former site of a meat packing plant, where the companies would toss meat scraps and entrails into the water.  Smart, since there are several villages about.  I guess they don't do much swimming.  Our cruising guides warned against that and even kayaking.  We did not see any sharks while at anchor there but didn't want to temp fate by jumping in to bait them.  We did venture into shore and walked through several villages and combed the beaches for shells.  I found some of my most unusual shells there. We passed a couple of nights playing "Oh Shit" on Val and Bill's yacht, "Ivory Quays".  And then another night playing Mexican Train on "Baraka".  Isn't this what we come to paradise for anyway? Finally feeling safe to sail, we at last made for Aiwa Bay in the Maskelyns (islands) at the southernmost end of Malekula.  It was a lovely anchorage.  We ran into Morning Light and several other friends there.  It was kind of a ditto deal – absolutely beautiful.  Lots of outriggers coming by to have a look at us.  A lot.  We walked beaches, picking up what the locals call "sparking" rocks.  One beach was littered with these beautiful quartz treasures.  If you struck them together they created sparks.  The locals probably think it is some kind of magic.  We enjoyed the tranquility and beauty of this anchorage very much and would have spent more time there exploring, except that on the 4th day, 5 other huge boats squeezed in on us making it very uncomfortable.  There had been barely enough room in there for those of us already in the there and we knew that anchor chains were undoubtedly tangled up underneath us all, but with the weather that had been kicking around such that safe anchorages were getting jammed with yachts.  Our goal was to get up very early for the 12-hour sail over to Efate's Havannah Harbour.  We made plans with "Morning Light", "Free Spirit", "Priscilla", "Baraka" and "Ivory Quays" to head out in the wee hours.    So, at 4:00 AM, we raised the hook, nearly kissing a large French motor yacht that was hovering very near to where our anchor lay, and picked our way out of there.  The winds and seas had clamed considerably and we spend a lovely morning sailing down to Efate.  Havannah Harbour was loaded with lovely clear, calm anchorages.  We chose to stay just one overnight and then head into Pt. Vila for two major reasons.  The most critical was that our batteries were going.  We were needing to turn on the generator every three hours or so, getting up in the middle of the night several times to charge them.  At first we had thought that it was just the intense heat of the day causing the fridge and freezer to work overtime, but then it seemed that just turning on the coffee pot or microwave anymore is causing the breakers to trip.  We knew that we had to get to a professional soon before our systems began to go caput!  These batteries are the top of the line (maintenance free AGM's), yet have given us only 2 ½ years of life.  We were real worried about the fact that they would not hold a charge and knew that we would not make it beyond Vanuatu if we didn't get something done real soon.  The other major reason was that Barbara (me) was craving civilization – laundry facilities, internet and shopping.  I was going mad.

August 30 - Sept 3 - Moving onward to the islands of Land Diving, Rom Dancing, active Volcanoes.

We departed Maewo for Loltong Bay on the island of Pentecost.  The big draw to Pentecost is the Land Diving. We have read about and heard about this "do not miss" ritual but were too late in the season to get to see it. It is on the list of things to do if we return next year.  Reader's Digest version: It is like bungee jumping but these crazy men and boys do it with vines tied to their ankles (which are not elastic), jumping from a tree on land – no water to brake the impact if they hit.  They wear only "small red nambas", which I'll describe later. There is a superstitious reason for the diving – it is done to appease the spirit of Tamalie (the first land diver who died during his jump), to ensure a successful harvest and to fertilize the soil for the yam crops.  The idea is to dive, arching their backs as they fall and to touch the ground lightly either with the hair of their head or with their chest.  Some don't quite judge the angle and depth of the dive right and suffer broken bones and banged heads in the process.  So we missed Land Diving but we did see turtles!  Loltong Bay was lovely, the water clear, and inhabited by friendly sea turtles.  We snorkeled spent one night and then moved on to Ambrym.  Ambrym is known for two major draws – Volcanoes and Rom Dancing.  We arrived in North Ambrym at Ranon Bay mid-day on September 1.  This black sand bay is large and provides waterfront to a couple of villages.  Just as we were setting the snubber on the anchor chain, an outrigger canoe approached carrying two young men.  One was Jeffrey, who was as slick as any salesman we've ever met.  He quickly introduced himself, thrusting large laminated brochures up at us illustrating all of the services he would arrange for us, giving us loads of options to divest us of our cash.  It was a little too much.  We told him we would like to arrange a few activities but needed to consult with our friends on other yachts first.  He made sure that we knew to contact only him and no one else who may approach us offering their services.  Marking his territory.  OK, no problem.  We kicked back the first afternoon, watching the colorful display as locals hand washed their laundry and then laid it all out on the black beach to dry.  Then as evening darkened into night we could see the red glow of the volcano on top. It radiated into the sky casting reds and oranges into the clouds. On Wednesday, we went to shore to the Visitor's Bureau.  Hmmm, ok "hut".  We arranged for a group of yachties to go to the village of Fanla for a Rom Dancing Experience on Thursday.  We talked about hiking up to the volcano but were told that this activity is closed; it is Tabu after September 1, because if anyone sets foot on the soil going up the volcano it is not good for the yam crops – a Kastom belief.  Another missed opportunity that will wait another year.  No problem – we would not miss the dancing. At 8:00 AM Thursday we gathered on shore for the trek to Fanla, which is a guided 45-minute hike straight up the mountain where the inhabitants still live as their ancestors have for hundreds and hundreds of years. They are not Christian and hold firmly to their Kastom (Pagan) beliefs.  Ni Vanuatu women are not permitted to participate in this & several other rituals.  In fact we felt like we had stepped into the land of OZ, or had fallen down the rabbit hole as the day wore on.  While huffing and grunting up the mountain, we noticed loads of villagers walking down with armloads of fruits and vegetables, and carrying goods on a pole over their shoulders, dressed in festive garb.  Our guide informed us that they were going into Ranon for a circumcision ceremony.  This marks the initiation of boys age 10-12 into adulthood and is a very public and highly celebrated event.  Happily we missed that. After our hike we were each offered a drinking coconut for refreshment and asked to sit and rest in an adjacent village while our guides sought permission for us to approach to watch the "performance".  Our package included the dance, sand drawing, magic show and flute playing.  We certainly hoped we would be granted permission, since we had already paid our VT 4200 ($43.00) per person.  Eventually we were told that we could move along to the village's staging area, but if we wanted to see the magic we would need to pay more.  Uh huh.  We didn't bite.  So, no magic for us today.   But after all we had primarily come to see the very unusual and sacred Rom Dance. We had been instructed that the area where the dancers perform is Tabu (sacred) and so are the performers.  We were not to approach the area until the official welcome had been issued, and then we would be ushered to a seating area near the periphery. Never were we to approach a dancer or to touch one.  For photographs, after the performance, we were permitted to step a little closer but not within 3 meters of any of the men.  I won't go into the details of the idiosyncrasies of the Rom Dance and the history – it can be "googled". We were not disappointed. In fact we were mesmerized, enthralled.  The dancers themselves were eerie and ominous to watch.  There were two distinct sets – one group, the dancers, wore the highly decorative Masks that were large, colorful and very tall (must have weighed a ton!), and covered their bodies in corn husks such that they resembled a dancing, bobbing hay stack, carrying a very long spear with a top that resembled a tiki torch, but that had a handled in it.  When they slammed the spear on the ground it made rattling sounds. These men surrounded the musicians who wore nothing but "small nambas".  This is more bizarre than the dancing hooded cornstalks, because in sharp contrast they wore nothing but a band around their waist, which supported their penis sheath.  Yes, balls exposed, penis wrapped in a leaf, sticking straight out, supported by the waistband.  Frank took photos, which we will get uploaded sometime this century.  I think most of us sat looking hypnotized as these men – two were Chiefs the others ancestors thereof, chanted, made music and danced hauntingly for some 30 minutes.  Following their performance, one of the primary chiefs played music for us on his beautifully hand carved bamboo flute and then the other chief performed sand drawing.  Our guides explained to us that everything these people do is significant in some way to the spirit world, and is a form of communication.  They further explained some of the Black Magic beliefs and why they ate each other.  Some villages told us that they ate man just because that is what they did.  Others said that it was the result of punishment for crimes, or for trespassing (like us white people being here), and then some still believe that you eat part of the person to hold them in perpetuity after their death.  Whatever the reason, we are glad it is no longer practiced.  After the performances we were offered opportunities to purchase, carvings and flutes.  We bought two flutes.  We didn't sign up for any more activities because most of them we had already done on other islands.  So on Thursday morning we set off for Malekula Island.  The wind was gusting to the mid 30's and the seas tossed us like toys so we made the quickest and most direct landfall at Banam Bay, only 3-4 hours instead of 5-6 to our originally planned stop in Aiwa.

August 10-30, 2009 part 4 Asanvari Bay, Island of Maewo, Vanuatu – Getting Adopted!

On Monday we journeyed a few hours across to Asanvari Bay at the southern end of the island of Maewo. This is a beautiful bay with very nice villages and a wonderful waterfall. The ICA has invested heavily in Asanvari, assisting Chief Nelson's efforts to improve and advance his village. It is home to the Asanvari Yacht Club, which is basically an open-air, multi use community center type building. It can be a restaurant. It is quickly converted to a home theater where chairs are set up in rows in front of the village's DVD player with tabletop screen, or into an entertainment venue for Kastom Dancing and general celebrations. There is no bar and in fact, no drinks soft, hard or otherwise are provided, other than Kava, which is normally only served in the Nakamal, however, twice an exception was made for the ICA rally group and was served in the Yacht Club. But I'm getting ahead of myself. On arrival, John (our leader) informed us that on Wednesday, the village would host a formal welcome to us all and during this event a local family would adopt each yacht family. Frank and I had heard of this practice but had no idea what to expect. I personally had some anxiety about it because friends of ours, on another boat and at a different island, had been invited to dine with the locals in their home and were served some very unappetizing dishes. One of those dishes was flying fox – a local large fruit bat! It was cooked whole. They said it stunk to high heaven and just did not taste very good at all. I will try a lot of things, but I just do not want to eat a bat. We were both hoping that being adopted by a local family would not necessitate our dining on flying fox. After getting anchored, I tidied up the boat while Frank went to shore to get the lay of the land. He returned to tell me that we had a dinner reservation at the yacht club for 6 PM. We were to bring a flashlight and our own beverages. We arrived to find that we had the place to ourselves. The meal du jour was chicken curry and sautéed vegetables, and it was delicious! Frank introduced me to Nixon, explaining that he is the son of Chief Nelson, and is the chef and manager of the yacht club. While children played about quietly, watching us eat Nixon sat and talked to us. He is an engaging 26-year old who seems mature and wise beyond his years. These young people grow up quickly here and take on quite a lot of responsibility at a very early age, so age 26 here is a much older "26" than back home. As we visited with him we learned much about his family and the village itself. Right now the entire village is in mourning for Nixon's 32-year old brother who died not 3 weeks ago, leaving a young wife and three children under the age of 5. I asked Nixon if his brother had been ill. He very simply replied that he had not been ill but had in fact fallen victim to Black Magic. Apparently this is huge in Vanuatu. These beliefs are very strong here. Nixon told us that all 3 of his brothers have died from Black Magic. He is frightened and wants to leave; yet his father, Chief Nelson needs him here. The standard period of mourning is 100 days yet here we were descending on these dear people like locusts just days after the Chief has lost his third son! You could see the sadness in his eyes, although he certainly stepped up to make us feel welcome and comfortable. Frank and I thanked Nixon for a delicious meal and promised to hold him and his family in our prayers. Tuesday was a lazy day for us – book reading and just taking it easy watching as more ICA yachts arrived in the bay. Wednesday we all prepared to meet our families. Frank and I knew that we should prepare some kind of gift for them but not knowing who would adopt us and how many would be in our family I just took a tote bag with a couple dozen lollipops, a t-shirt and a cap. We were directed into the yacht club and asked to sit in chairs that had been arranged around the perimeter along the walls. Chief Nelson greeted us and invited John to join him as they performed a ritual of assigning John an honorary leadership role. Nelson and his wife had adopted John and Lyn a few years ago; hence they will always be with the same family. Following the formal welcome, Chief Nelson began the adoption process. It went like this: yacht name was called, summoning that family to the center of the room. The adopting family from the village would approach the yachties and introduce themselves, shaking hands, hugging and whatnot then would present gifts to their yachtie family. When Chief Nelson called out "Destiny", Frank and I approached to find that his own son, Nixon with his wife Vivian and two little girls, had adopted us! They showered us with fresh fruits and vegetables, placed leis around our necks, gave us hand-woven bags (beautiful basket weave totes), and then leaned over placing a Mother Hubbard dress over my head. As I was being dressed I noted a nod of approval from Chief Nelson. His son and daughter-in-law had made him very proud. I found later that receiving the dress is a very big deal. These folks wear mostly second-hand clothes; many are threadbare and have permanent stains and holes in them. That dress is special. She gave me the nicest and newest garment she owned, which had been made for her and sent to her by her mother from the island of Pentecost. I told her I will cherish that gift more than any other I've received. Actually she set the bar real high on that one. Afterward, the other ladies of the village were scrambling to give dresses to their adopted "daughters". We caused quite the little frenzy. (I made sure to wear my dress several times in the village during group events.) After all of the yachts had been adopted, a group of young men were brought in to prepare the kava. They used hand made tools to grind the roots. They ground and squeezed and worked like mad to prepare the kava just right. The head of each family brought his adopted family over to have a formal "high" or "low" tide drink from the coconut shell. We knew that Vanuatu kava is strong. Had read about it and had heard stories about it. Fiji and Tongan kava cannot even hold a close second to this stuff. We laughed as large men, big guys who can drink most people under the table were "woozing" about. I won't name names, but at the end of the evening those who had consumed more than two bowls had a very, very difficult time walking back to their dinghies. The locals enjoyed the show. I am happy to report that we did not eat any flying foxes. We didn't even go to Nixon and Vivian's home but we did invite them and their two beautiful little daughters, Tesha and Leticia, over to Destiny. I had baked cupcakes and prepared huge goody bags for the family, filled with clothing, food, coloring books, hard candy, perfume, nail polish and a couple DVD's. Over the course of the next few days they lavished loads of goodies upon us: drinking coconuts, eating coconuts, an entire stalk of lady finger bananas (the really small sweet ones), paw paw, kumara, water cress. It was great fun exchanging and sharing with them. The week was filled with activities. Chief Nelson and Nixon arranged for the locals to perform a Kastom dance show for us one night. Another night we enjoyed a feast of local pig and side dishes from their gardens, followed by a live performance of their String Band. Nixon arranged (and led us on) some beautiful hikes for us and told us stories of the history of this village and the tribes who have existed for hundreds of years here. We were told of the little people, the Lysepseps, who lived in the Banyan trees, and about the cannibal tribes who would murder the children of the rival chiefs and serve their body parts in laplap (a favorite gelatinous snack made from local roots), during feasts with the other villages. We hiked the waterfall. I did my laundry in the waterfall. We thoroughly enjoyed our stay at Asanvari. The day before our departure I made a picture CD for Nixon of all the photos we had taken of the hikes, the ceremonies, the families and the yachties, which I knew they would pop into the DVD player for everyone to watch over and over. It was a sad and teary farewell for us. We got Nixon and Vivian's address and promise to write to them as we travel onward.

August 10 - 30, 2009, Part 3 Palekula Bay, Santo and Lolowai, Ambae - Vanuatu

Palekula Bay is a beautiful anchorage in a very large but shallow bay. The mouth of the bay was home to Club Nautique, which had been a decent yacht club until a recent cyclone or some such storm completely wiped it out. Now all that remains is a barren slab where locals gather in the evenings to drink kava or to congregate for a day of net fishing. There is a lot of evidence of small fire pits around the perimeter. The bay is closer to Luganville and to several favorite tourist sites and dives. The most popular and famous dive is to the USS President Coolidge, a 200-meter long former luxury liner that was converted to a troopship. In October 1942, carrying 5000 men she sank in the Segund Channel just outside of Luganville, after hitting two "friendly" (American) mines. The boat slid into deeper water as it sank, sitting on its side in 30 m to 67 m of depth and apparently remains reasonably intact. The other big attraction is called Million Dollar Point, where at the end of WWII, the US Military literally dumped thousands of tons of equipment (bulldozers, jeeps, cranes, forklifts, trucks and munitions) after a dispute with the French. The story we were told was that the Americans could not (would not?) bear the expense of transporting them back to the US when pulling out of here, so they made an offer to sell the goods to the French for pennies on the dollar. The arrogant French replied, "Why should we pay for these things when we can just take them after you leave?" Hence the US Military responded by dumping it all into the waters and along the beach and then blowing up access to the place, leaving millions of dollars of debris littering the area. Would our military do this on their own soil and get away with it? It makes a great dive/snorkel attraction for visitors. We had missed the big group dive, which occurred the day we were at Champagne Beach, but planned to go the following day. Unfortunately those who had done either or both dives the day before reported that visibility was so poor subsequent dives had been cancelled. Alas, we missed the diving but saved several hundred dollars. Maybe next time, if we return to Vanuatu.

We only stayed two days in the anchorage, and one of them was spent going back into town, via a cab that had been arranged to take groups of us to Customs and Immigration so that we could apply for our 30-day Visa extension, and to take care of whatever business we might need to, since this would be our last stop in civilization until we get to Port Vila in about 6 weeks. Our "cab" turned out to be a mini super cab pickup truck. Four of us crammed into the cab while Frank and Jock (from "Just in Time") rode in the bed of the truck. Poor guys! Thank goodness this was only a 20- minute/7 mile ride into town. In the Customs office we met another American cruising couple, Laura and Mark aboard "Sabbatical III", a 54 ft. Amel. He is a professor at Brown Univ., and sails 8 months of the year, then goes back to work for the remaining 4. Nice deal. Lovely people whom we ended up spending a bit of time with over the next couple of weeks.

Friday, Frank played golf with John from "Windflower". Somehow I ended up on the boat all day, so I just read a book. I should have planned that better so that I could have access to the dinghy or to hitch a ride with someone else to go snorkel or just for a walk on shore. It was much too far to swim.

On Saturday morning we left for Lolowai Bay on the island of Ambae, which was a great 6-hour sail. We had anticipated 8 hours, but caught great winds across the beam, averaging 27 knots, gusting to about 35, giving us an average boat speed of 7-8 knots with reefs in both sails. The going got a bit rough, seas a bit high and it was exhilarating! Lolowai reminded us very much of the Marquesas. We anchored in a deep, dark bay surrounded by mountainous terrain. The beaches were black, as is quite common in these volcanic islands. There wasn't much to the village, in fact it appeared fairly deserted with only a few homes, although it is said to be the principal center for the Anglican Diocese of Melanesia, and houses the hospital, bank and post office for this entire area. The villagers were very simple people and quite curious about the yachts. They hooped and hollered to us from shore. Next morning the local ladies set up a fruit and vegetable mini market for us on shore. We purchased some cooking bananas, kumara (sweet potatoes), pawpaw (papaya), and pampelmousse stowed our goods into the dinghy and then set off for a long group hike, which everyone enjoyed immensely. We climbed up to the caldera of the no longer active volcano. The hike turned out to be an all day adventure sometimes through rugged wilderness, often on steep rocky trails and roads, hardly seeing another soul. Every now and then we would spy what appeared to be an abandoned garden and perhaps an abandoned home, although we were told they probably were inhabited but that this is just the way these people live. The islands here are so lush with vegetation that it is nearly grown over itself. Michele and Paul's two young children, Merric and Seanna were in heaven on those trails. I kept thinking of my own grandson who is about their age, and how much fun he would have out here picking up sticks and rocks, climbing the huge Banyan trees, picking bananas and fruit, seeing lizards, frogs, baby pigs and chickens scattering along. It wouldn't be a bad place to get stranded now that they no longer eat people. After the hike we walked up to the hospital. Oh my god! It is not a place you would want to go if you are infirm! Remembering episodes of the TV show "ER", when Carter went to the clinic in Africa, I thought this place didn't even measure up to that. The patients even have to bring their own drinking water, drinking cups, and food. Their medications are apparently outdated and the place, just like some of the villages and homes we passed, looks like the remains of either a bombing or a cyclone. Very sad. Not sanitary. We guessed that the only people who go there are the Christians who do not believe in Black Magic and are so very ill they look to this as the last resort. It probably is their last.

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August 10-30, 2009; Vanuatu part 2

After our village visit, we were all in an interesting state of mind; mostly of gratitude that we were born into the cultures that were our own and not of a third world, superstitious heritage. For some odd reason, Vanuatu has made quite an impact on me, which I find difficult to articulate. We spent a week at Oyster Island, during which time it rained nearly every day. I finally took some laundry in to be washed on one of the sunny days. The resort has a washing machine and will wash our laundry for V$1,000/load (approx USD$10), but returns them to us to hang dry on the boat. Although the exchange rate for us is quite good, the fees for service at Oyster Island were pricey. Each activity, including the trip to town and to the village cost us the equivalent of around USD$50.00 per trip. Groceries were inexpensive but not abundant and not what we would consider usual goods. White potatoes are not found. Kumara (sweet potatoes) are abundant. Pawpaw (papaya) and bananas are also found in large quantities. I have learned to cook with green bananas and green pawpaw, making some excellent vegetable curry dishes. Pamplemousse is back! We haven't really had those since the Marquesas. We don't find lettuce, tomatoes and the like, but are told that if we do we may not want to eat them because of the contaminated water in which they are grown. Oddly, however, eating cucumbers, kumara and radishes seems to be OK. The cucumbers are gargantuan, as are the white radishes! We have made a steady diet from bananas, pawpaw and coconuts. There are the eating and the drinking variety of coconuts, as well as the many varieties of eating (raw) and cooking bananas. Lord, I could go on and on about that!

The resort provided varied forms of entertainment for us, which were local performing arts. One was a performance done solely in the water, where the women made rhythmic musical sounds with their hands slapping and splashing the water. It was actually quite incredible. Also during this event, some of the men did a type of Kastom dance, which is derivative of cannibal tribe rituals (we think). The spears and clubs used are much more primitive than those in Fiji. The men wear very strange costumes, including a tree branch sticking up through the crack of their rear end. That can't be very comfortable - especially while dancing and stomping around. It is all very strange to us. We find it gets stranger as we travel these islands.

We had a final chart marking meeting one day, and at the end a local fellow from the island of Santo brought out some carvings and woven baskets for sale. I bought a large "tote" for V$1,200. We passed on the carvings. I'd seen many in the market and didn't get quite develop an appreciation for them. I'm not sure what they are, but they look like some kind of mutated alien bug. They are probably a type of tiki god, but have the face of a praying mantis. I will take a picture of one and when we do get internet will try to post it along with the hundreds of other pictures we have yet to post.

On Monday, the 17th, the rally group moved south to get closer to Luganville. We decided to cruise up to Champagne Beach toward the north end of Santo in Hog Bay. This area is noted for being the most photographed beach in all of Vanuatu, and is a regular stop for cruise ships. We sure are glad we made the detour. It is lovely. When we arrived, only two other yachts were in the anchorage: "Lady Kay" (English) and "Crystal Harmony" (Kiwi). It was a quiet, sheltered anchorage that boasted clear aqua blue water and sugar white sand beaches. There were turtles swimming about and it was as tranquil as you can find. Champagne beach was just around a small point (which Frank calls a "stick-out") that separated it from the rest of Hog Bay where we anchored. In front of us was a small beach hostel much like a backpacker's resort. We spent our first evening just relaxing and taking in the peace and quiet.

The next morning, we waved goodbye "Lady Kay" as they departed and then took the short dinghy ride over to Champagne beach. It was August 18th; our 8th Wedding Anniversary, and were tickled to be spending it in paradise. As we landed on the beach we noticed the sand was so fine it felt like soft powder on our feet. We marveled that this incredible spot has been unmarred by some high-end hotel/resort chain. In fact most of Vanuatu remains relatively untouched by the outside world and its commercial disturbances. After our morning adventure to the famed beach we lunched at the "resort" and then hiked up to the road, a bit inland, for a walk. A young man approached us asking for rope, clothing, etc. I asked him if he had anything to trade for any of these items. He said he would bring us bananas, later in the day. I felt strange about his request and don't quite know why, but we soon found that in Vanuatu a lot of the locals make a habit of asking for handouts and offer little in return. We continued on our way but then it didn't take long for us to feel we had just stepped out of time and reality once we left the beach area. We passed dirty homesteads with trash thrown all about, cows and pigs tied up anywhere and everywhere. Mangy dogs and puppies roamed about. The homes were thatched and near shambles. There were many areas of smoldering fires, near piles of dirty dishes and pans with chickens and roosters jumping in and around it all. We ventured into one village where I swear they were not done "eating man", as the locals spied us warily following our every move. I felt utterly creeped out. Frank went to talk to some of them, asking directions but their response seemed evasive and made me feel very discomforted. They whispered a lot and looked at us as though we were not welcome there. I hardly find it possible that they have not seen white people around here yet perhaps we were an anomaly to them. I just wanted to run back to the boat. When we returned to Destiny I felt a strong need to take a bath. After a short rest, however, we joined Crystal Harmony for sundown and were just enjoying a lovely sunset and placing our order for fresh lobsters from a local fisherman when we noticed a young man in a crude outrigger canoe approaching Destiny. It was the banana guy. Frank jumped into the dinghy to go meet him. He returned a while later telling us that he had just traded some caps and t-shirts for several dozen green bananas. So the young man had come through after all. We enjoyed our visit with our friends and went back to dunk the bananas in the water. (This is a must with all local fruits and vegetables to get the critters off). When I picked them up, however, I noted that they smelled more like a cow pasture and not at all like bananas. They looked pretty ratty too but we thought a good dunking might take care of it. By the way - these bananas hung on the back of our boat for a week, went from green to black and were still hard as a rock. They went overboard shortly afterward.

On Wednesday morning, Tony from Crystal Harmony stopped by with our lobsters. They were V$500 each ($5.00!). What a deal. Soon afterward we weighed anchor, heading south to Palekula Bay in order to join back up with the rally boats. We had a wonderful sail most of the way down arriving early in the afternoon and just in time for another rain squall. We sure had hit it lucky in Hog Bay with two blue-sky days, and now it was time for a little rain and rest, which is my excuse to sit around and read a good book.

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August 10 - 30, 2009 Vanuatu - land of naked children, active volcanoes, waterfalls, mosquitoes, black magic and Bislama! Part 1 of the experience

It has been nearly 20 days since my last posting, and may actually be even longer depending on whether or not this transmission gets through the airwaves. Our first landfall at Oyster Island Resort was like a refreshment after a workout - not a full meal but just enough of a snack to nourish our need for creature comforts.

The word "resort" should not be taken in the sense that Americans refer to a resort. It was more like a quaint get-away for those seeking solitude and tranquility, owned by a partnership of Kiwis, and operated by Grant, Colin and Sunshine. (two Kiwis and an American). It consists of several adorable and comfy bungalows at waterside, and a restaurant/bar/lounge area, nestled in a lovely, calm bay giving shelter to a resident dugong, which we understand is similar to a manatee. The restaurant prepared excellent food and the resort management did their utmost to welcome us and to keep us entertained. They provided laundry services, ground transport around the island of Espiritu Santo, limited internet access and a staging area for our meetings, craft markets and local entertainment. We spent a very busy week there.

Our first order of business after clearing Customs was to get to an ATM machine and visit the hardware and grocery/supply store. Luganville was less than 10 miles from Oyster Island, yet it was a 45-minute drive by motor vehicle because the roads are little more than deeply rutted dirt pathways just wide enough for a vehicle to traverse. Frank and I, along with Dave (from Baraka) had the unfortunate fate of sitting in the rear seat of the dilapidated15-passenger van. We doubt that the tires held much air and knew beyond a doubt that the suspension was already shot as we slammed, jolted and hurtled up and down bobbing painfully along. By the time we arrived at Luganville we barely managed to unfold our wobbly legs and stand on terra firma without crying out in pain. Our lower backs had taken such a jarring that we swore our spines had compressed at least ½ an inch. Unfortunately, the ride back was even worse, as we got manipulated into the back yet again, and this time were even more cramped as people shoved their packages in and around us all. Did I mention that it was stifling hot in the rear of the van? It took two days of Ibuprofen to relieve our aches and pains from that ride.

Anyway, while in town we noticed that Vanuatu, although only a few hundred miles from Fiji is far less commercialized and developed in spite of a major occupation of Americans, French, English and Japanese during the World Wars. In fact, many Western and Eastern cultures had tried to introduce commerce and industry over the years, however, it seems that Vanuatu is not interested in these kinds of advancement. They have managed to maintain a culture that remains very close to the missionary times when Christians brought civility and modesty to the cannibalistic indigenous people. Villages are still full of people living 100 years in the past, without electricity, running water or even toilets. This we had read about and would soon experience personally. Luganville is the main town on the island of Santo, and resembles Tonga in that the cultures seem to be in a battle between the old and the new. Ni-Vanuatu women still wear the Mother Hubbard dresses, which were introduced perhaps a couple hundred years ago by missionaries in an effort to cover up the near naked women. Men in the towns wear standard garb, but in some villages wear next to nothing. They are trapped in a time warp, yet many of them carry a cell phone on a halyard around their necks. They walk either barefoot or in Crocs. The shops are mostly owned by Chinese (as in Tonga) and are dusty and dirty (as in Tonga), although there are one or two nice and tidy businesses that appear to be owned by French. Local fruit and vegetable markets seem to be reserved for and limited to Vanuatuans. There seemed to be several empty and rotting buildings among the thriving ones and perhaps a hotel or two that may have been in business although it was hard to tell by the looks of them. It is a bizarre clash of styles and culture that sent our senses into a frenzy of adjustment.

Back at Oyster Island we took our laptops to shore trying to get some banking and other personal business done but got frustrated and gave up. If there were more than two computers online at a time it just overloaded the system and shut us all down. The resort probably never intended to get bombarded by a crowd of internet-starved cruisers. The access they had was intended for their own business purposes, and because they offered the Wifi to us at no charge we did not complain but tried to minimize our use of it. That night, ICA had arranged for a welcome feast at the restaurant. It was wonderful, with lots of varieties of both Vanuatuan food and Oyster Island's specialties. Some of the fish that cruisers had caught during the competition was prepared. Awards were given for the fishing tournament and for those who had made their first open ocean crossing. Paul and Michele aboard "Free Spirit" won a night in the resort for having caught the largest number of fish - 16 - and for the largest fish - a Sword Fish. Wow - they blew us all away.

The next day we were granted permission to visit an indigenous village, which is NOT a tourist venue. Rather is a working village that had adopted Grant's father as Honorary Chief. He has been working with them to teach them gardening and farming techniques. Because it had been raining for the last 24 hours, we got out of the van (this time Frank and I grabbed the second row of seating!), and negotiated our way through a series of mud puddles onto the path leading into the village's first structure, which was the home of the resident chief, medicine man (witch doctor). He wore nothing more than a string around his waist into which was tucked a long flap in the front and a long flap over the middle of his backside. He is an amazing man who spoke to Grant in Bislama. Although there are over 108 different local languages in Vanuatu, Bislama, a form of Pidgin, is the universal language of the people. For instance, "Where do you live?" would be "Yu blong wea?" And "Thank you very much" is "Tank yu tumas". "I'm sorry": "Mi sori tumas". It's fun! But they talk so fast we can't keep up. So, we got a personal tour of this village where the children are called pikininies, and wear no clothing. They are nearly completely self-sustaining. Everything that they eat they grow. Even their medicines come from their own plants. We were shown plants used for curses and for spells. This village and the people, who are seemingly untouched by modern advancements, fascinated us. They are not Christian - they are Kastom, and very superstitious, and up until not long ago were cannibals. Vanuatu has an extremely violent past. Even into the 1970's they were eating man. By the way - women were not eaten - just males.

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August 10, 2009 - Arrival in Vanuatu

During the radio Sked last night we heard that 4 boats had arrived and were anchored at Oyster Island, Espiritu Santo, Vanuatu. We were 100 miles out, anticipating arrival around mid-day Monday. When it is Monday here it is Sunday in the USA.

We were both operating on sleep deprivation in spite of napping throughout the day, and were ready to be there. At 2:30 AM we entered the first pass through Vanuatu's western islands of Pentecost and Maewo. Frank was on watch. I was fast asleep and fighting to stay that way. When my watch began at 6:00 AM, he informed me that we were in Vanuatu's waters but still at least 6 hours from our destination at Espiritu Santo's Oyster Island. I set the hand line and within an hour and a half had a fish on the line. I woke Frank to tell him I was going to clip on the tether to reel it in. He decided to get up anyway; I guess he was too charged up to sleep so he grabbed the camera and measuring tape as I set about bringing in the fish. It was a Bonito that was crawling with sea lice. Blaah! Yuk! As Frank was tossing it back I reset the line. We had just settled into the cockpit and were halfway through our first cup of coffee when I looked up and said, "Frank we have caught another fish". Out came the camera, the measuring tape and the towel, as Frank brought this one in. He was a large Skip Jack Tuna. No sea lice, but we don't much care for Skip Jacks so over the side he went. He was a pretty thing though. We did not manage to catch any more fish yet that was all right with us. Our freezer is full.

We had one more pass to enter before arriving at Oyster Island and were informed that this one was a bit tricky, was very shallow and could be dangerous, however, special markers guiding the way in had been requested. Knowing our draft, the ICA leader informed us that we would be fine getting through at this time. We had an hour to go before low tide. It is a good thing that someone had seen fit to clearly mark the entrance because all of our chart data was far off the mark. There were three sets of red & green poles sticking up out of the coral laid out in a zig zag pattern marking the way through, the first set being the easy one. The way they were laid out resembled a Croquet field in that each set of markings resembled the "wicket". It was like threading a needle, entering the second one. I was up high on the front spotting, and noting that this was almost too shallow for our dinghy! Frank was calling depths to me, and just after he called "3 feet", we heard CRUNCH! We scraped right over a coral head but continued moving forward. We cleared the second set and just eased through the third with clearance to spare. Frank radioed John and asked if we were going to make it to the anchorage. John informed us that we were home free! We found a spot in the crowded anchorage, were met by shouts of greetings from folks on shore, set the hook and breathed a sigh of contentment. We are here!

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August 10, 2009 - Arrival in Vanuatu

During the radio Sked last night we heard that 4 boats had arrived and were anchored at Oyster Island, Espiritu Santo, Vanuatu.  We were 100 miles out, anticipating arrival around mid-day Monday.  When it is Monday here it is Sunday in the USA.   We were both operating on sleep deprivation in spite of napping throughout the day, and were ready to be there.  At 2:30 AM we entered the first pass through Vanuatu's western islands of Pentecost and Maewo.  Frank was on watch.  I was fast asleep and fighting to stay that way. When my watch began at 6:00 AM, he informed me that we were in Vanuatu's waters but still at least 6 hours from our destination at Espiritu Santo's Oyster Island.  I set the hand line and within an hour and a half had a fish on the line.  I woke Frank to tell him I was going to clip on the tether to reel it in.  He decided to get up anyway; I guess he was too charged up to sleep so he grabbed the camera and measuring tape as I set about bringing in the fish.  It was a Bonito that was crawling with sea lice.  Blaah! Yuk!  As Frank was tossing it back I reset the line.  We had just settled into the cockpit and were halfway through our first cup of coffee when I looked up and said, "Frank we have caught another fish".  Out came the camera, the measuring tape and the towel, as Frank brought this one in.  He was a large Skip Jack Tuna.  No sea lice, but we don't much care for Skip Jacks so over the side he went.  He was a pretty thing though.  We did not manage to catch any more fish yet that was all right with us.  Our freezer is full.    We had one more pass to enter before arriving at Oyster Island and were informed that this one was a bit tricky, was very shallow and could be dangerous, however, special markers guiding the way in had been requested.  Knowing our draft, the ICA leader informed us that we would be fine getting through at this time.  We had an hour to go before low tide.  It is a good thing that someone had seen fit to clearly mark the entrance because all of our chart data was far off the mark.  There were three sets of red & green poles sticking up out of the coral laid out in a zig zag pattern marking the way through, the first set being the easy one.  The way they were laid out resembled a Croquet field in that each set of markings resembled the "wicket".   It was like threading a needle, entering the second one.  I was up high on the front spotting, and noting that this was almost too shallow for our dinghy!  Frank was calling depths to me, and just after he called "3 feet", we heard CRUNCH!  We scraped right over a coral head but continued moving forward.  We cleared the second set and just eased through the third with clearance to spare.  Frank radioed John and asked if we were going to make it to the anchorage.  John informed us that we were home free!  We found a spot in the crowded anchorage, were met by shouts of greetings from folks on shore, set the hook and breathed a sigh of contentment.  We are here!