October 23/24, 2010 - Our Last Night of the Passage to Australia - Nearly There!

Saturday continued pretty much the same, we read. I baked a loaf of bread and we enjoyed hot fresh bread with butter and honey - yum! The evening was pleasant enough and then last night I just could not get myself to go to sleep at 7:30 for my watch. Frank said no worries, we would bump our schedule back an hour. By 8:30, though I went below, put an eye cover on and forced myself to try to get some sleep. I was dreaming away and snoozing soundly when Frank roused me at 10:30. I got up, saying, "has it been 3 hours already?" He said, "yeah" and headed off for the front cabin. I looked at the clock and went linear. I grabbed his arm and told him if he wanted to change to 2-hour watches, then fine, I would get up but otherwise I was entitled to another hour of sleep. We argued about this like children. He was tired and wanted to go to bed but wanted his 3 hours. Now for anyone who has never done this thing - two people on a passage fight like wolves for their sleep time because grabbing 2 - 3 hours at a time creates a cycle of deprivation until your body catches on. Finally, although quite unhappy about it, he agreed to give me another hour. When he roused me at 11:30, I was in a total brain fog. I got up shook the sleep out of my eyes, drank some strong tea, grabbed some sugary snacks and decided to try one of the audio books we'd picked up. Lots of our friends listen to books on passage; I've just not been able to get into it but decided to give it a try. So I grabbed one (Double Cross by James Patterson) and settled into it as my body began to jolt awake from the tea and sugar. I went through 2 disks that covered a little more than my 3 hours and realized this is definitely the way to do a night watch! I even gave Frank an extra 35 minutes of sleep, waking him after 3 AM. He was grateful and I was happy. Peace resumed aboard Destiny. We managed to make it through the night and readied ourselves for our last full day at sea.

After breakfast on Sunday, we decided it was probably going to be tame enough to play a game of cards so we settled into the cockpit for a game of Baja Rummy. The game took us a through the entire morning - it was a good match! For lunch I scrounged everything I could think of out of the fridge and freezer to cook up. We will undoubtedly have to give up food and who knows what else to the Q officer at check-in so we feasted. Of course we have heard horror stories from other yachts that have heard the stories from their friends arriving in Oz this year already. The stories range from…"They will take all of your food" to "They only looked in my fridge and freezer too the fresh and stuff and dairy" to "They will look in ALL your lockers, even in your dirty laundry bag to see what you might be hiding". One thing is for certain; this year bio-security seems to have become very concerned about termites being transported via infested vessels, so we are prepared for every locker to be opened and inspected for termites. Although our boat hull and structure is comprised of fiberglass, the interior is nearly all wood. We have been warned that boats with a lot of wood will be scrutinized very closely.

I spent the entire afternoon vacuuming, dusting and scrubbing down the inside of the boat. Although I did a deep cleaning just a couple of weeks ago, I am amazed how quickly dust, hair and unidentifiable particles collect on board. We will be as prepared as we possibly can and hope for the best. I know we have no bugs or termites.

After finishing cleaning, Frank and I sat in the cockpit enjoying a cold drink when he said, "Wow, look at those huge tankers!" Two large vessels were passing in front of us about 3 miles away. Frank looked them up on our radar and reported to me that one of them was traveling over 21 kts/hr. That is fast out here. We realized we are in some serious shipping lanes and that from here on in, we had better be extra vigilant, always having someone alert in the cockpit, because at night they will not see us until they are upon us, and trying to get out of their way isn't so easy when we are traveling between 5.5 - 6.5 kts.

We chewed on that for a little while, and then as dusk was approaching, he said, "Oh my gosh! Something huge just jumped out of the water! Over there!" and he pointed to about 11:00 out front. Sure enough just when I looked over, a pilot whale or a very large dolphin shot up out of the water about 10 feet and did a side flip! We saw a few more similar acrobatics and then suddenly the show was over. It was a nice end to our last evening on passage. Thanks, God. Nice job.

So now it is 6:30 PM. Frank just finished reporting in on the "sked". We are 100 miles away from Bundaberg. Frank estimates us passing through the reef pass at between 2:30 and 3:00 AM, and then it will be another 6 hours to the marina. We are nearly there - but the fat lady hasn't sung and chicks haven't hatched so I'm not counting anything yet.

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Oct 20th - 23rd - Passage From New Caledonia to Australia, Days 1 - 3

We awoke the morning of the 20th trying to decide whether to leave for Australia (OZ) or to wait another day. It was raining and the winds were really whipping up a chop outside. We decided to have breakfast and give it some more thought. I was anxious to get going - once we'd made the decision to leave on the 20th, I was psyched up. It's also something I can feel in my bones - no reason to wait another day, and it felt right to go. Frank agreed, so we waited for the storm to subside and at 11:00 AM, I went forward to cast off the mooring buoy. We made some calls to our children, parents and siblings back home on the Sat phone and said good-byes over the VHF to our "yachtie" friends, many of whom were departing for New Zealand. This was a farewell to Ivory Quays, Just In Time, Scallywag, Cop Out, Windflower and a few others. It has been a good season and a good time cruising with these wonderful Kiwis. We know that we will stay in touch with several of them. As I write this I am thinking of creating a list of the boats/friends we have met along the way and those we have cruised with; a list that will include where they are now or where we last parted company, which will be nice to look back on in the years and miles to come. This departure right now is a BIG goodbye for us. Time for Frank and I to begin new chapters and for Destiny to experience a new country. We are looking forward to reuniting with our Aussie friends.

Although we are participating in a rally, it is not an organized sail. We left by ourselves and will be checking in on a "sked" with the rally organizers out of Bundaberg every morning and night. The check in will require us to report our current location (lat and long), boat speed, wind speed, sea state and miles left to go (to reach Bundaberg). Bundaberg is north of Brisbane in Queensland. We have anticipated arriving at the marina around 2:30 Qld time on Monday, October 25th.

Our first 24 hours out of the chute was a splendiferous sail! We had 25+ knots on the beam and 1-2 meter following seas. It was fast and rough but we both took a Dramamine and tried to settle into the at sea rhythm of the boat and our bodies. Frank is posting his Captains Log Updates on his blog so I won't get into the technicalities. Anyone reading this can go check out his blog for the 411 there. Thank goodness I had pre-cooked all of our passage meals because the ride, being fast and furious was also tough on the below decks maneuvering. All we had to do was "heat'em up and eat'em up". The first night of watches was agony, trying to get into the 3-hour on/off routine.

Day 2 was again a very nice sail but a little rougher, but we made good progress. We spent most of the time holding on and reading books. I finished my first passage book and was onto the next one. By this time we have been sailing pretty closely with three other boats that left within 4 hours of us: Wind Pony (USA), Alliance (Aussie), and Bijou Verhmelo (Brazil). It 's been nice to have VHF contact and to see the other boats from time to time - the tips of a white triangle on the horizon during the day, and the twinkling of a mast light or two at night. The night watches were more brutal the second night - each of us nearly shoving the other out of bed at the end of a watch in order to pass out as soon as our heads hit the pillow. I finished my second passage book and started my third. Frank is beginning the second one I just finished. (both James Patterson novels)

It is now around noon on Saturday. We just completed our 3rd, 24-hour period of the passage. All is well except that last night we lost our wind and the waves began coming at us from the stern quarter to the port beam (hitting us at an angle), and making the ride ridiculously uncomfortable. I'm tired of crashing around and getting bruised and so is Frank. We finally turned on the engine and center-lined the staysail and a partially reefed main. The ride is much nicer now. I am finishing my third book, a Jonathon Kellerman novel. All is well aboard the good ship, Destiny.

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October 5 - 19th, 2010 - The French Way of Noumea

We had originally thought that once I was taken care of we would head back out to explore some of the beautiful anchorages around Noumea; however, Tuesday brought terrible weather that lasted until the weekend. Frank and I spent three days battened down playing cards, reading books and just being lazy enjoying every minute of the solitude.

Friday saw beautiful weather and a mass influx of boats into the anchorage. Most of them were cruisers who had been waiting for the weather to clear so that they could jet into Noumea. We also took note that the locals chose this day to sail or motorboat off for nearby anchorages to spend the weekend out. We stayed and decided to take in whatever the city had to offer. It offered a lot. We joined forces with Bill and Val on "IQ", taking long walks to several of the lovely bays, packing picnic lunches and enjoying the pretty beaches at Baie des Citrons and Anse Vata. We shopped, browsed and ate delicious French food. There were some parades and festivals in town, and one that we particularly enjoyed was a Tahitian Dance festival. Internet on the boat was just short of non-existent, so a couple of times we went through the rigors of wrapping up the laptops for transport to shore in search of internet to get the business end of our lives sorted and to reconnect.

So this is how we passed our time in Noumea and before we knew it we were attending the Saturday night (Oct 16th) Port 2 Port Rally dinner. We are participating in the rally to Bundaberg with some 30+ yachts departing from Vanuatu and New Caledonia. Our friends on "Baraka" did it last year and gave rave reviews and high recommendations for the rally and the organizers. Sunday - Tuesday were spent cooking passage meals (for me), and readying Destiny for the 5 ½ day passage. Monday we cleared out of the country, fueled up the boat and had a farewell dinner with Bill and Val on Destiny that night. Tuesday, as we returned to the boat from our morning last-minute errands we noticed that Scallywag and JIT had arrived. We had a quick farewell visit with them and then were off to go anchor at a little island called Maitre just a few miles outside of town. We picked up a mooring ball right before a gushing rainstorm moved in and pounded us for the rest of the evening.

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Sept 30 - Oct 5th, 2010 - a Surprise Encounter and Medical Treatment in Noumea

Fate dealt us a sweet surprise as we were sailing into the pass at Baie du Prony; we literally met Ivory Quays approaching from the east. They had made an overnight passage from Beautemps Beaupres. They followed us in and joined us at a small island called Casy, which offers free moorings. It is a beautiful little marine preserve, as are many of these areas in NC. There is a defunct resort there and some quaint walking trails. We spent two nights with them there enjoying the little island. It was quite hot after our walks so Frank and the others enjoyed a nice swim and snorkel in the pretty little bay. I had been advised to stay out of the water until my condition had been assessed, and besides there was no way I could get a mask on my face without suffering. We had emailed the Port Moselle Marina office a few days ago asking for a medical referral but had received no response from anyone, so on Friday I used the Sat Phone to call them. They explained to me that I would have to go to the hospital for an examination because it would actually be less expensive and more efficient than to try to get in to see a doctor who would undoubtedly refer me to the hospital for tests. My best bet was to just go there when we arrived in Noumea. So that is what we did. We arrived on Sunday afternoon and anchored in Baie del'Orphelinat along with Ivory Quays. There was some pretty high wind and chop in the bay, so we settled in, had a late lunch, packed our backpacks with books to read (for the waiting room) and then at 3:30 PM went in search of the hospital.

Noumea's hospital is interesting to say the least. We think it might be post-WWII. Everything is painted white. On approach it reminded me of the asylums I have seen in old movies. Parts of the buildings looked dilapidated and abandoned, yet other areas appeared to be operational. In several nooks and doorways locals seemed to be just loitering about as if on a downtown street corner. Don't know what that was about. As we entered the ER, I had difficulty trying to figure out where to go and to whom I should speak. There were lots of people milling about and they all wore white. I had that flash again in my head that maybe I was in a nut ward! I couldn't find anyone to speak to who could understand what we needed. NO ONE SPOKE ENGLISH. Finally a lady who was checking in for back surgery turned to me and said that she would interpret for me. I wanted to throw my arms around her and never let her go. She spoke good English, and after explaining "me" in French to several members of the medical staff, I was directed to a window for registration. I was asked for my Passport. I didn't have it on me. So a woman slid me a piece of paper and told me to write my name and home address and email address on it, then I was told to sit. We sat and read our books for 3 hours, while seriously injured and infirm patients were escorted and rolled past. I knew I had a long wait ahead of me so just took it in stride and tried not to stare at some of the really strange injuries that were coming in the door. As I mentioned, everything is white. But there was a lot of red. Blood. Smeared on floors, walls, and chairs. People came in bleeding but no one cleaned up after them. I decided if I had to use the toilet I'd rather pee myself rather than use their facility.

After a couple of hours a nurse came for me, she was Portuguese French but spoke much better English than my attempted French. She took me to an examination room where she ripped a dirty cloth off the vinyl covered table, scrubbed it with something wet, covered it with another cloth and directed me to lie down. I felt dampness down my backside and had a very difficult time feeling at ease. She got the preliminaries out of the way: questions about my accident and injuries, how much pain was I in, took my temp and BP and then left me there for an indeterminate amount of time. She returned, giving me something fizzy to drink, for pain. She raised the bed to let me sit up and then she left again. I wished I had my book it was a really good book and I had much more waiting ahead.

Finally in came the doctor. He was so good looking that I nearly stuttered when he spoke to me. I sat there thinking I should have worn makeup and fixed my hair. How stupid am I? I was beginning to feel ditzy from the fizzy drink but finally, after a week of knife-sharp pain in my left temple there was relief. I found later it was 1000mg of paracetamol, which I am told is the equivalent of our Tylenol. The doctor poked and prodded my head and face, confirming that my nose had broken but that it was healing and if I wanted anything done about that I'd need a plastic surgeon. I took a pass on that. He then ran some other tests, and told me that I definitely have an infection in my sinuses but that he wanted me to have a CT Scan to rule out internal injuries. At this point I asked if Frank could come in with me. The doctor nodded,saying it was no problem and left .

A few minutes later Frank bopped into the room. As always, Frank made himself completely at home and spent the waiting time browsing the various items in bins and on the shelves in case he saw something interesting he might feel warranted further inspection. Eventually a giant of a man dressed in scrubs that were at least 2 sizes too small came for me with a wheelchair that looked like one my great grandmother may have used. I began to worry about the state of the radiology department. He wheeled me at warp speed down a corridor, zipping around corners, out into the night, across a cobblestone road, down a sidewalk, across another road and into a building. Frank had to quick step it to keep up. I was really dizzy after that ride, and when they asked me to stand up to get onto the table in Radiology, I did a little spin nearly falling down. They didn't muck about. I was immediately strapped in, told not to move and the scan began. Before I even got back into the wheelchair and out of the room, Frank was given the OK sign by the technician. Thank God! Shortly, a more humane intern arrived to transport me back to the ER treatment area to await my physician's report. I was parked there with several very sick and injured looking patients on gurneys. I actually felt guilty for even being there. We eventually got word from the doc that, thank goodness, my CT scan was good and I just needed to be treated for an infection that had lodged in my sinuses. He then passed me a handful of prescriptions for antibiotics, a steroidal anti-inflammatory and the pain medication. He assured me that within 3 days I would be feeling much better. He said that we should return the next day to pick up the CT scan results. We then waited at the window to pay and were told the computers had been turned off so we could just come back the next day to pay. Would this EVER happen in the USA? I think not. In fact regardless of appearances, Frank and I were quite impressed with the staff and their efficiency once they got me into the treatment room. We arrived back on Destiny at 9:30 PM. It was a little late for dinner so we just went to bed.

We returned to the hospital the next day to pick up my CT report and pay the bill. Unfortunately, we were not prepared to have to wait this time and spent 2 ½ hours waiting for someone to even talk to us. No one seemed to be able to understand what we wanted. This time there was no angel of mercy there to interpret for me. Frank was getting annoyed that he couldn't even pay the bill. Again, this would NEVER happen in the US. To shorten a very long story, we eventually got the films and the report and then they happily took our Visa card. What is more amazing is that the bill for all of the services came to less than $800 (USD).

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Sept 25 - 29, Ouvea, New Caledonia

The passage from Pt Vila, Vanuatu to Ouvea, New Caledonia was one of the best yet. Winds were high and close to the beam and seas were fairly tame. We flew! So did all of the other boats - 35 in all participated in the rally. It was exciting seeing them all around us, competing for those few extra knots of speed. The one night we spent at sea was just beautiful; not only were the skies brilliantly lit with stars, the nav lights from nearby yachts added that extra colorful sparkle of greens, whites and reds and then the phosphorescent plankton contributed the fairy dust element among the waves and the wakes to the show. We felt energized during the entire short passage. We had planned to make the trip in roughly 36 hours and actually arrived in just under 30. As is normally the case on these short and quick passages we were exhausted by the time we dropped the hook and so after a wash down of the boat and a hearty breakfast we took a nice long rest.

Early Monday morning the Customs, Immigration and Quarantine officials arrived. Captains were called to shore for the clearance process while mates and crew were asked to stay aboard to await quarantine inspection. Coming with the ICA Rally was a good decision on several levels. The best part was getting to clear in at Ouvea instead of going all the way into Noumea on the big island, and second to that was the exemption given to rally boats for bringing in meats and other foods which would normally have been confiscated during the clearance process. Ouvea is just lovely. It is the ideal postcard view for a south Pacific advertisement. Frank and I had planned to spend a few days there, snorkeling, diving and enjoying the white sand beaches but I'm afraid I put a damper on things. The pressure inside the left side of my head was beginning to develop into sharp, knifelike pains that were shooting into my temple. The vision in my left eye was getting blurrier and the area around my left eye was swelling - making me look as though my eye was half -closed. The OTC medications I'd been taking weren't doing the trick. I had no idea whether this was a result of the hit I'd taken or if it was a separate issue, and had been hoping it would just go away. Frank suspected I'd developed some infection in my sinuses. We decided to take it easy for a day or so and just see what happened. So on Tuesday, we read our books and played cards with friends. Some of our friends had wanted us to go diving, but I knew it would not be an option for me. I tried to encourage Frank to go, but by Wednesday, I was not getting better and needed some medical attention, therefore, we made a decision to head for the mainland and make our way to Noumea where we knew there were decent medical facilities.

So we made an all day trip over to a quaint anchorage at Nemou. It is a preserve, as is much of the coastline in New Cal, giving us a feeling of utter privacy and safety. We would loved to have stuck around to explore the little islands but rose early Thursday for another day-long motor-sail into yet another pristine and well-protected bay called Yate. By Friday we realized we would not make it into Noumea before the weekend approached and weren't even sure if I'd be able to get into a doctor if we did put the peddle to the metal. We decided to duck into Baie de Prony for the weekend.

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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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