Blong!

I may not have expressed my appreciation for Port Villa as much as I would have liked in the last in my last entry. Time on the laptop is limited by power usage and internet time/availability is usually spotty at best. However, Port Villa is great town. The French food at Au Peche’ Mignon kept us well for both breakfast and lunch a few days with fresh croissants, salads, and BLTs. We also found a great little Japanese place up on the hill called Piha and some Chinese food that hit the spot at Harbor View. The Market had the best produce/fruit to date and stocking up was easy at the SuperMarche’.

Lastly, certainly not least, Port Villa taught me the importance of moderation. Kava is not a fast moving drink so if you don’t feel it right away, give it a minute… especially if the nakamal bartender asks if you are sure you want another shell. Fred and I both are now much more savvy kava drinkers having spent 24 hours in a haze, stomach discomfort, and me heaving off the side of the boat. Apparently, kava can be very enjoyable as long as you don’t disregard the warnings/snickers of others.

Looking forward to the most exciting diving that Vanuatu has to offer, after about a week, we set out for Luganville. Instead of sailing directly to Espiritu Santo Island, we motored through the night up to a small island off of Malekula. We came up to an anchorage on a supposedly uninhabited island to find it actually inhabited. Tom, a man from the small village, waved us into a mooring ball with much vigor. He then hopped in his dugout canoe and came out to the boat. He charged us 1500 vatu ($15) to sit on the mooring for 5 hours and then shamelessly launched into his juicing mode (how much can I squeeze out of these yachties??). Tom said and I quote, “Do you want to donate to my children’s schooling? All the yachties do. I won’t tell you how much to give since it is a donation, but there are 4 people on your boat…” He then proceed to try and pimp his son out to us for island tours, snorkeling, and anything else we may want. Tom even went back to shore, got his son, and brought him back out to the boat. That didn’t work so he returned a 3rd time with perfume that looked Debbie Gibson’s Electric Youth and tried to tell Fred that he thought I needed it.

Dear Tom: I may not smell like a botanical garden at the moment. In fact, my legs are hairy, I have sweat stains on my shirt which I am wearing for the 3 day in a row, and I may or may not have brushed my teeth this morning (I can’t remember), but thank you telling my boyfriend that I do in fact stink. By the way, he smells worse than I do and you, my dear Tom, smell worse than all 4 people on my boat plus the toilet when its clogged. I suggest you find a new sales tactic and maybe test out that Electric Youth on yourself. Love, Ashley.

Tom proceeded to get on the coconut telephone system and call all his friends. No less than 6 or 7 other boats came over to sell us things. We were in a full-court press, but managed not to be suckered…again.

After a swim, a nap, and some lunch, we made our way back to the open ocean continuing on the way to Luganville. With the wind coming at us head on, we motored along the eastern side of Malekula watching the sun set. A pod of dolphins joined us for a bit at the bow and then did flips in the distances as we left them behind.
A little later Ambrym Island came into few to the East. We watched both Mt. Benbow and Mt. Marum putting on the most impressive show of fireworks I have ever seen. We watched them all night as we passed, even from more than 20 miles away we could still see the red glow. I really can’t express how incredible the sight of lava flying in the air and red glow were, even from the boat.

The next morning, after a rainy, windless night, we reached Luganville on the Southeastern side of Espiritu Santo. We anchored off of the Beachfront Resort and were greeted by the local dugong! In Florida, this friendly creature is known as a manatee. We haven’t seen him since, but we keep looking and praying that we don’t run into him in the dinghy on the way to shore.
Dave Cross runs the Beachfront and is a wealth of knowledge regarding Santo and Vanuatu. An environmentally conscience gentleman, he also recycles and encourages cruisers to bring in their trash and separate their aluminum and glass. He takes care of the rest!

Luganville is little a more wild West than Port Villa, but a nice town still. The shops are mostly Chinese and though there is some French influence, the language and many other things have a definitive American ring. Luganville was an active place during WWII for many America troops. The SS Coolidge, an American luxury liner that carried troops to Vanuatu is sitting at the bottom of Segond Channel as well as tons of heavy machinery used during the war.

Fred and I spent an afternoon at the local hospital. I have been having headaches that just don’t quit. We decided it better to get checked out here before heading to the Solomon’s- we aren’t expecting much medical advancement up there… I’m not actually sure that I saw a certified doctor, but an Asian woman in acid wash jeans and bright yellow high heels swore I had malaria. Imagine my excitement. After a blood test, at which I had to insist on seeing a new needle being taken out of the packaging after seeing a blood spattered stack of paper on the desk, I was relieved to know that malaria was out. In the “doctor’s” mind, malaria would be the only reason for a headache. She then prescribed me a healthy dose of painkillers and hooked us up with enough malaria tablets for the 4 of us for another month – all to the tune of 3000vatu ($30). Tank yu tumas!

The diving in Luganville is off the hook! The Coolidge is said to be the best wreck dive in the world. The ship was hit a Japanese mine while trying to escape a Japanese submarine in the Segond Channel while trying to enter Luganville during WWII. The ship was close to shore so they decided to beach the liner. The troops were instructed to leave all of their belongings on the boat and go ashore with the intention of collecting all of their belongings the following day under safer conditions. Unfortunately for them, the bottom is a steep decline into 70m (230ft) of water and the boat slide backwards down the slope during the night. Currently, the ship rests on its starboard side with the bow around 20m, the stern at 67m, and every article of equipment, furniture, clothing, etc. still on the wreck.

We found Santo Island Dive & Fishing to do our diving from Dave Cross’ recommendation. They are the only outfit in town with an actual dive boat. All others go from a beach entry. The guys from SIDF even picked us up from our boat every morning. David, Aiden, Donald, and Matthew run the dives with Malcolm running the show. The Godspede as a whole cannot say enough about the service, professionalism, friendliness, and all-round good time we had with these guys! In 4 days of diving, they took us from the bow through the inside of the Coolidge, to “The Lady,” a porcelain relief sculpture mounted on a wall in the ship, to the pool and finally to 60m at the stern to see the rudder and name of the vessel. Somewhere around 50m I felt the nitrogen narcosis. I know that I am not supposed to be stoked about this, but I totally was. It took all my restraint to not to through up a little “rock on” sign to the group.

Anyway, the guys took us to Million Dollar Point as well. This sight is not far from the Coolidge and is the area where the US dumped millions of dollars of heavy machinery after WWII. The US military made deals with large corporations such as Caterpillar to sell the military equipment at 10% over cost on the premise that the equipment not return to the US after the war. The reason for this, according to Caterpillar and the like was not flood the US market and interrupt the chain of supply and demand for their businesses. When the war was over the US offered Great Britain and France the opportunity to buy the equipment at $.08 on the dollar. When no one bit, the US decided to dump off into the sea at what is now called Million Dollar Point. Naturally, if I can’t have it, no one can. Today, there is an unbelievable mound of discarded cranes, tanks, bulldozers, jeeps, and many other items for the avid diver to see.

Rounding out our diving experience, we also dove on Tutuba Reef, Palikula Reef, and one other that I missed due to my headache. Tutuba and Palikula Reefs are incredible! No dead coral in sight, they both offer swim throughs, caves, bommies, and seemingly endless reef. Large fish and sea life are prone to both areas. We saw turtles, barracudas, sharks, Bumphead Parrotfish, and large squid. On both reef dives we also experienced earthquakes! Both were small and Vanuatu is quite accustomed to earthquakes all the time, but it can be shocking to the unassuming diver. Post dives, the guys met us at Nemo’s Nakamal for shells (Fred and I behaved). We shared music and gave each guy a pair of Smith glasses for being awesome!

Finding a weather window to head North to the Solomon Islands has become difficult. Instead of departing on Wednesday we are now hoping to leave on Saturday or Sunday at best. Fortunately for us, we are in paradise!

Yesterday we rented a car and drove up the East Road of Santo to do some sight seeing. We headed North up to Port Olry and paid the 500 Vatu fee for visiting the town because, as we have discovered, nothing is free in Vanuatu. There we walked across the shallows to an uninhabitied island. Fred felt it necessary to lay down and take a little rest in the water while the rest of us wandered around the beach and the jungle.

Next we headed to Lonnoc Beach for a cold Tusker, a dip and lunch. Lonnoc is a gorgeous, super private, and large beach. The resort offers bungalows, electricity, a conference room, and a bar/restaurant. There is not a marginal view at Lonnoc!
The Lonely Planet talks about Vanuatu’s blue holes, but never really explains what they are so we were stoked to find out. Eventually, we found the dirt road leading to the elusive blue hole not far after Oyster Island. It’s always a good sign and quite comforting when there are no less than 6 grisly looking Ni-Van bushmen standing around the entrance to the road with 24” machetes to greet you! The road itself is basically 2 muddy tire tracks through super thick jungle, a cloud of mosquitos overhead, and unrecognizable jungle noises to all sides. Oh yeah, let me not forget! There was also a fee box- ples an tank yu tumas!

We drove on with low expectations. After a little way, we looked to the left and saw some shallow turquoise water with things slithering around in it and the ever present cloud of mosquitos hanging above it. I would rather have a feast of fruit bat (a Ni-Van delicacy) while completely seasick and hallucinating on malaria pills than go for a swim in that water!

Again, we plodded on and a little further down the path we came to the actual blue hole. This is something that I am happy to pay 500 vatu to experience! It is complete with thatched huts for changing and a thatched shelter with benches and a wooden entry/exit pier. The swimming hole is actually the blue-est blue I have ever seen and crystal clear to the bottom. It was probably 20-30 feet deep with no slithering things, just some fish and a rope swing on the other side.

Fred headed straight for the swing followed by Angie. Myself, I do not have a very good history with ye ole rope swing… I have either missed the water completely or knocked all my breath out my body trying to do a flip. Both of these things have happened more than once and though tempted to try to add what was sure to be a new bloody, broken something to my list of battle wounds, I gracefully declined. Fred cleared the limestone shallows and landed safely in the blue. Ang went next like Jane of Jungle…Take-off, strong…slipping…slipping…feet scraping across the rocks…and miraculous landing again safely in the blue. Thank goodness! After visiting the Santo hospital myself, I would not wish for any of my friends to visit.

Currently, we are waiting out the weather. It’s pouring rain and humid like a luke warm steam room. Fred is pretending to be asleep on the couch in the salon, but I know he is super stoked to go for a run with me as soon as the rain lets up! Run we must…after attempting to find a pair of shorts that fit this morning and coming up empty handed. Maybe I’ll tie a glass of wine and a meat ball to our fishing rod and dangle it in front of him…

Nambawan!

Getting out of Fijij proved a little harder than anticipated. After leaving Denarau, we went back to Musket Cove for a little relaxation before the passage. We met up with Jemellie & Obsession again for some beachside potluck dinners and lots of laughs. Musket Cove has a fantastic mini island connected to the resort by a dock and gangplank that is also home to the tiki bar. They encourage yachties and guests to bring food and use the huge grill pits. The staff will have the coals primed, all of your utensils and plates ready, and even a can of mosquito repellent if you forgot yours. I especially love grilling at the bar because, as Cadet Snack, it means less dishes for me to do after dinner.

Fred and I found out that Plantation Resort was putting on an open water swim, the Fiji Ocean Swim for that Saturday and Sunday. Saturday would be the 1.5km and 3km races with a 10km on Sunday. Feeling like the 1.5km was not that challenging and that the 10km spelled eminent death, we opted for the 3km. It was the best open water race I have ever done! The race started late so that the tide would be high enough. It was a beach start and then nearly 2 miles of swimming over coral reefs, tropical fish, and clear blue sea. Just before the race, Fred and I met Kerstin Cameron, a member of NZ's Open Water National Team and her husband. She, naturally, blew the field away at 36 years old.

After swimming off course about 300m and cursing myself for going out to hard after not swimming in a very long time, I headed back to the buoy. In the meantime, an Aussie guy passed me and I finished 3rd overall. Not too bad for someone who once resembled a swimmer. Fred finished 2nd in his age group and we both won ugly clay bowls- genuine Fijian handicrafts. Yea. They look like ashtrays with fish lips and fins. However, lunch after was off the hook!

Our plan to head for Vanuatu was foiled when we discovered another mechanical problem so we headed back to Vuda Point. Joy of joys. You may remember me mentioning Vuda Point as home to oppressive heat, flesh eating bugs, and a marina filled with environmentally challenged and quite septic fluid that may have once been sea water.

While the boat was being fixed, I busied myself with making mosquito nets for all the hatches on the boat. I envisioned this being an afternoon task. 2 weeks later and I am still not finished.

Finally, Tuesday morning we were ready to leave! Caveesh, the boat repairman, came by to check things before we left. Lucky for me, he had to lay on my bed to get to the problem and sweated so much in my bed that I think we might be dating now. Sweet. In the meantime, a Danish circus attempted to leave ahead of us. This 52' boat had 9 people living on it. They managed to wrap for different boat's mooring lines around their propeller. The most astonishing that all of Vuda Point's attention was that instead of waiting for the resident diver (who is surely immune to chemical \sewage warfare of the Marina)to get in the water, 2 of the Danes jumped in. A chain reaction of dry heaves could be heard from boat to boat by the lookers on.

The Dane's did nothing to help in the end. The diver eventually showed up and fixed the problem. My only hope is that the rest of the crew from that boat was awaiting their brave/stupid mates with a bleach bath. Finally, the clowns got back in their car and headed out to sea with the Godspede shortly behind!

After a fairly pleasant passage, no seasickness, and a little sleep we made it to the island of Tanna, Vanuatu and the Port Resolution anchorage. Tanna was completely obscured from sight until about 2 miles out by fog and volcano smoke. The cliffs eventually came into view and the mouth of Port Resolution opened up like something out of Land of the Lost.

Port Resolution was so named by Captian Cook. We had read about Port Res in a couple of books, but little did we know the extent of the word rugged really meant. The yacht club is a thatched hut like the rest of the village. The Lonely Planet was a little misleading in its description when they called this place a "resort." This nothing in Port Res but jungle, a small village, billowing steamy hot springs (the last thing we wanted to see) and pigs.

The village was steaming hot with humidity. The women were pumping water from a well, naked kids were chasing chickens and waving at us frantically. The remnants of the John Frum Movement, a man claiming to be a prophet in the hopes that he wouldn't be made lunch, are front and center with a red cross (yes, just like the Red Cross's red cross) in the middle of the village. We passed the nakamal, the local kava bar which is a 3 sided hut and headed down a jungle path to the beach while dodging darting piglets.

The beach was stunning! The water was super clear and the coastline was complete with cliffs a short distance away. Fred and I wasted no time ripped out clothes off down to our swim suits and dashing for the sea. It could not have been more refreshing.

We also met Johnson at the beach. Johnson is the chief of Port Resolution and responsible as were his father, grandfather, etc. before him for all visitors who come by boat. He welcomed us with a bunch of bananas, introduced us to his wife, sister, and all of his children. He offered to send someone out to the boat to get us in the morning so we could trek to Lenakel for customs check-in.

Johnson also let us know that the person who ran the yacht club would be away. This meant no showers for us. We had all smelled like animals and had been jungle dirty for 5days. I was not sure when the next bath would be so we jumped in the dinghy, headed for secluded spot, and a "salt scrub." When in Rome... Finally, we ended that day by watching the sparks of the volcano, Mt. Yasur from the cockpit of the boat and doind some serious battle with the mosquitos. No one wants Denque or Malaria less than I do.

The next morning, Fred and I woke to some light rapping on the hull of the boat at 6am. Bleary-eyed I climbed up to the companionway to find James, Johnson's son, outside in his hand-carved outrigger. He came, as promised, to let us know that it was time to head to the customs office in Lenakel. We scurried around, slurped down some barely ground coffee and headed for the truck.

"How nice," we thought, A truck just for us to take us around the island." Um, no. By time we left the village there were 16 people (some with large knives and/or machetes), some bunches of Taro, coconuts, pawpaws, and a chicken in the back of the truck. The smell, to say the least, was punjent, especially, with the tarp covering the roof and sides. The ride was to be 2 hours....much more to Jeff and Fred's chagrin than my own, but uncomfortable non the less.

From thick jungle to volcanic ash plain, up a mountain, across a near ridge in mud and rain we made our way to Lenakel. Every few minutes a solitary child or person would appear roadside standing in the tall grass and brush armed with a machete. We passed village after village and eventually arrived in the city of Lenakel...city is a loose term.

Lenakel was a town that consisted of a few (like 9) cinder block buildings- some had electricity, some did not. The town was mostly populated by sundry stores with nothing, but Taiwan-made items and was relatively expensive. Most things cost what they would in US because the price. Mostly, they sold junk food imported from Australia or New Caledonia, flip flops, and second hand clothing. Though flip flops were sold almost everywhere,but no one in Vanuatu, to this point, has been wearing shoes.

We bustled about changing money, checking into customs and hunting for something to eat. The town market was in session, but surprisingly, the only things they were selling were taro, kava, coconuts, and bananas. There were thousands and thousands of the same things. After we completed our business and feeling a little down about the situation in Lenakel (the “big smoke” or city of Tanna) we all packed ourselves back into the back of the truck to head back to Port Res. Jeff and Fred were not amused.

At long last we were ready to head to volcano! It took a little time to talk Fred down off the ledge and coax him back into the back of the truck again. Fortunately, the volcano was well worth the ride! The comes complete with a stop at the only post box in the world located on top of a volcano. Again, some of the village boys accompanied us, sans shoes. Seriously, NO SHOES on top of a volcano!
As the light started to dim, the sparks started to show. James, our guide who too was shoeless, gathered us around for a safety talk. Nowhere in the US would anyone be allowed to get this close to an active volcano…especially, with the following safety instructions. James said, “If the volcano spits lava at you do not run. Stay still, wait to see where it is going, and then run like hell.” Um, right. We asked if anyone had been killed by flying lava and James and said, “HAHAHAHAHA! Oh yea all de time!” Great.

Fred, Jeff, Angie, and I remained unscathed. The fireworks show was fantastic! I can’t speak for the Australian tourists up there. We left before they did, but the Ni-Vans hate the Aussies. With the history of the Ni-Vans and cannibalism, the scene on the volcano sounded like the perfect opportunity for a bbq to me!
The next morning we were ready to head to Port Vila on the island of Efate. The passage was crazy with constant 25-30 knot winds the entire 20 hour trek. We rocked and rolled and took numerous waves to the face the entire way. I think we each changed clothes 3 times from getting wet.

It was worth the work! Hello Port Vila! What a fantastic like town Port Vila has turned out to be. With a heavily French influence, the food is great! We have been enjoying croissants, coffee, or fresh baguet french toast every morning. The town is lovely and with the exception of the Aussie tourists, everyone is super pleasant.
In fact, everyone we have met from Tanna to the cabbies of Port Vila have been exceptionally kind.

Another sticking point for me is that Port Vila has showers!
After looking like I had dreadlocked my hair it took quite some to scrub the dense layer of sea salt and grime off myself. Jeff is ademantly trying to get me to have my hair cornrowed. He has offered to pay for it and I agreed if he and Fred would slow dance at the Yacht Club that night. No go, yet.

We are also excited to try some kava! For those that do not know, Kava is a root that is made into a liquid. How, you may ask? Well, young boys chew the root until it is soft and spit the juices into a bowl. Then the juices/spit is run throw a screen and served at room temp. Tasty!

As you may guess, it is vile. That night at Ronnie's Nakamal people hocking, spit and vomitting everywhere. Naturally, I had to try it. I can safely say that I have been there and down that and have no need to go there again. In fact, I to hang over the side of the boat into the late hours of the night thinking I too, was going to be sick.

We have done some diving as well. Yesterday, we dove the Star of Russia, 100 meter long sailing vessel from the late 1800's. It sunk in Port Vila due to a Cyclone sometime in the early 1920's. Our second dive was nearly the Konanda wreck, but we opted for a wall dive instead of the wreck.

We are off tomorrow for Malekula and then to Espirito Santo. Lots of diving to come in Luganville on Santo! We are super psyched for Million Dollar Point and the SS Coolidge!

More soon and lots love to my homies!

Bula Bula!

October 21, 2010
It’s 5:30 am. The bedsheet was sticking to me because of the humdity and I am riddled with mosquito bites so, sleep is over. We are currently on the Mainland at Vuda Point Marina (breezeless) getting some work done on the boat. I should say Fred and Angie have been doing work on the boat and I have been hopping on a different boat every morning headed for Beachcomber Island. This is where I have enrolled in my second diving certification class, but we’ll get to that… Here’s a bit to catch you up.
After having a great visit in Birmingham with family and friends, I flew to LA to meet up with Fred. After some running around, drinks with an en fuego Tim Farley (surely a night I won’t forget), and a burger at the Apple Pan, we collected Angie and headed to the airport. Safely buckled into my seat on my direct flight to Fiji, I popped a Xanax in my mouth to ensure a pleasurable flight for me and everyone around me and we took off. I woke up 5 hours later expecting to groggily creep to the head and then back to sleep only to find us about to land in LA…again. Apparently, someone started having seizures just after we originally left from LA, but we waited 2.5 hours to turn around and fly back. I felt bad for the person that this happened to, but this event had really thrown off my measurements of self-medication, meant that we would be arriving 5 hours late, miss our ferry to the island, and I was going to need anything Xanax. Eventually, we made it. We hopped a ferry enroute to Malololailai Island and our mooring at Musket Cove Marina.
Fiji is gorgeous. Small, mountainous, haze shrouded islands lace every direction of the horizon. Malololailai is home to Musket Cove resort catering to honeymooners and quiet, relaxed vacationers. At the other end of the island is Plantation Island Resort, home to gaggles of kids. Plantation is where I began my first scuba class. I spent the first morning watching 4 hours of DVDs by PADI made in the early 1990’s- the acting was superb! Myself and one other guy watched these DVDs in the video room which happened to be in the daycare. Screaming, crying, hitting, pooping, and diaper changing was all around us. Musket Cove looked better and better every second.
After the videos, we were instructed to finish reading the book, break for lunch, and then resume that afternoon for more classroom skills. I had a lovely lunch on the beach and took a dip in the ocean. Later, we met with our instructor (who’s name escapes me, but the fact that he only had 3 teeth did not). We handed in our information cards to the instructor. He looked over my fellow student’s card, nodded, and picked up my card and frowned. Then he called someone and rattled off something to the person on the other end of the line in Fijian and handed the phone over to me. The instructor had called the “dive doctor” after noticing that I had checked “yes” for having asthma on my diver info card. In severely broken English (which is far better than my Fijian) he told me that I was disqualified from the course and could not get my certification. In true Ashley form, I started to go off about why this was ridiculous. The doctor hung up on me and the instructor simply put both hands palm up by his shoulders, shrugged, and grinned at me with his 3 snaggles. Plantation is dead to me.
Fortunately, we called another dive shop in the aforementioned Vuda Point, lied about my asthma, and I began the class there after our arrival in the Marina. As it stands today, I am a certified PADI Open Water Diver with 6 dives under my belt, including a wreck dive and a shark dive. My instructor was a Japanese guy named Eiji who repeatedly made me giggle every time he said “Crass take your regurator…,”. I shared the class with a 22 year old guy named Yassin who was part of a crew on a 65’ boat out of Isreal and a 10 year old boy, named Ben from Ireland who had been sailing with his parents for the last 2.5 years.
UPDATE: 10/26/2010
We have left Vuda Point! Vuda Point is the home to depressing heat, humidity like the breath of Satan, and throngs of fleshing insects because of the lack of a breeze. It’s a great place to get work done on your boat if you are a cruiser, but the simple act of using the marina’s facilities will have you wondering if you are melting and slapping yourself like a masochist.
After completing my certification, we headed to Pacific Harbor car by way of LauToka and Nadi Town.
As an aside, if you are in Nadi and referring to your Lonely Planet guide book as the bible in reference to restaurants, etc., avoid Tata’s. We had read that this was the roadside place to get great curry. Um, yeah. If you like your Vindaloo bone-in and you don’t mind your insides erupting like the volcano in Iceland! If you still think you want to try Tata’s and you are planning on driving down the scenic Coral Coast that day, just know that you will need 2 things : toilet paper and the highest percentage of deet bug repellent allowable. Bathrooms are few and far between and the ones that you do encounter will, without a doubt, be shockingly foul. A pitstop in the jungle is a better bet.
Apparently, this is the outpost for the Beqa Lagoon Shark Dive! Fred and Angie were super excited…. I wanted to be excited. Here they take you out to Beqa Lagoon or aka, the “shark corridor.” They dive master and others get in the water with the heads of tunas and bring in the biggest sharks in the area. Next, they have you jump in , swim, down, hold onto a chain and watch the tuna get devoured by Tiger and Bull Sharks. I saw photos in the dive shop of previous dives and nearly passed out. These puppies are not the little reef sharks that I was imagining. In fact, they could swallow me whole. Now, imagine my relief when the Shark Dive was full until the end of the month! Instead we dove on a wreck and coral which was beautiful and I managed not to have a heart attack. Now, I need the same luck when we get to Vanuatu next week…
Following Pacific Harbor, we drove onto Suva, the capital of Fiji, for some provisioning. Luckily, we hooked up with Raj, our friendly neighborhood cab driver and he took us to Fiji’s equivalent of Costco. Raj shopped with us, pushed the cart, suggested various items (which were vetoed) and then looked a little sad when he dropped us off. The next morning, Raj our cell to check on us, and was waiting downstairs. Raj, that eager beaver!
Fred and I left the hotel early and went for a run, partly for exercise and partly to get the lay of the land. 7am and people are still coming out of night clubs. This may not be shocking to some people, but I only see 7 am if I am out for exercise. In fact, we ran along the waterfront and apparently found the Suva version of makeout point…with the sun up!
Aside from that, Suva is not a bad city. I certainly would not walk around at night by myself, but during the day it is seemingly safe. There are tons of markets, spices, tailors, etc. everywhere. The city shows scars of burned buildings from the riots it experienced in the mid-80’s and earlier this decade. However, the Government House and Botanical Gardens are gorgeous.
In the days since we returned from Suva, waved a gleeful goodbye to Vuda Point, sailed back to musket cove, and are now currently in Denerau Point. We went back to Musket Cove to meet up and dine with fellow cruisers Lisa & Lester of Obsession from New Zealand and Lindsay & Steve of Jemellie from Jersey, England. All of the above are characters and we had a great dinner cooked on the beach grills. In particular, Lisa and Lester are a riot!!
We have now picked up Jeff, safe and sound this morning in Denerau and are currently in a slip in the marina. Both Obsession and Jemellie have joined us this afternoon and we are planning another dinner tonight. Things could get ridiculous.
As it stands, we are hopefully heading back to Musket Cove for R and R in 2 days for a few days and then we set sail to Vanuatu! I am looking forward to my first crossing, kava, more diving, and hopefully avoiding the stew pot of the cannibals!

Waiting Is the Hardest Part

Hello Friends & Family!

By now, I'm sure most of you know that I am taking off on the adventure of a lifetime! For those of you who do not, let me begin at the perverbial beginning, March 22, 1978- Birth! Kidding. I won't bore you with the details of how I was the sweetest little angel ever born in Birmingham, AL or how I was the perfect Southern Debutante dripping with gentility. I won't bore you with the ultimate beginning because, as most of you know, that is a load cow pie.

After growing up with green hair, braces, hairy legs (thanks to the very cool sport of swimming), and a case of shyness to rival that of the turtle, I became a very successful and adept individual at the art reinvention. Fortunately, I have been successful in many careers only to eventually get bored with them or decide I didn't like them anymore.

Coaching was the first of those careers, but even with a Division 1 National Title, Olympians, and World Champs under my belt, the call of adventure lured me to Idaho. The funny thing is that I thought I would NEVER live out West again after my 2 year stint at the University of Wyoming. I hated it. However, every action has a reaction and because I swam at UWYO, I met one of my best friends to date who's family lived in Sun Valley, Idaho. After visiting Sun Valley a few times, I was sold on the skiing, the Sawtooths, Redfish Lake, and smokin' hot mountain dudes! Had I not gone to Wyoming, chances are, I would not have moved to Idaho and thus, not be embarking on this journey.

While in Idaho, I have been a Technical Recruiter, a Property Manager/Luxury Vacation Rental Sales, the Snowboard (no, I do not snowboard) Director for the Special Olympics World Games, Property Manager, etc....again, a Smoothie Maker (a true highpoint for me), Spa Coordinator, Waitress, and currently, an Interior Designer. Impressive, right? I quit updating my resume a while ago because it became too arduous and time consuming. In between all of these things, I have spent the rest of my time scaling mountains and skiing down them, running ridiculous rivers in rubber boats, dangling off moutain faces, and trying to master all the challenges Idaho has to offer. (Let it be noted that Mountain Biking mastered me and it's a stupid sport that I hate.)

As far as the smokin' hot mountain dudes are concerned, it turns out that most of them suffer greatly from a Peter Pan complex, have no morals, are giant babies, and for lack of more worthy term, they suck. That would be why there are so many single "dudes" out here...single for a reason.

On the contrary, I have managed, after many wrong turns, to find a fabulous person that I love. His name is Fred and low and behold, he had been my next door neighbor 2 years before we had any knowledge of each other. Wonders never cease and after discovering that Fred was and I both swam on the same Masters team, shared best friends in common, and lived next door to each other...well, the rest is history, present, and God willing, future.

In addition to meeting Fred, Angie & Jeff(to be introduced shortly), and my very good buddy Johnny C(Fred's roommate and best friend), I was dubbed the name Big Snack. As you may have wonder from the title of this blog, Big Snack is my nickname. I can eat as much or more than any of the above folks and I love football! Big Snack is also the nickname for the Nose Tackle of the Pittsburgh Steelers.

The reason I had not really met Fred before I did is that he and his crew, Jeff and Angie Kollmer, had been sailing around the world. In fact, when Fred and I started seeing each other, the 3 of them recently returned from the first portion of their journey. In 2008, they departed from Anacortes, Washington enroute to Auckland, New Zealand. After a 25 day passage from San Francisco to the Marquesas and a few other stops in the South Pacific, they landed in Auckland, fully intact aboard Fred's boat, the 40ft. Swan, the S.S. Godspede.

Last November I accompanied Fred to Auckland where they left the boat in the Westhaven Marina. We did some work on the boat and toured the North and South Islands in a minivan that they had purchased upon arriving in Auckland. The minivan has some multi-colored panels, a delicate driver's door, a sad radio/cd player and most importantly, it had "God's Soldier" emblazoned on the windshield. Obviously, this was the vehicle for Fred and crew given the boat's name. The Soldier was perfect for camping all over NZed in the "Holiday Parks."

Fred and I, apart from spending many hours attempting to pull the mast and thousands of screws from the deck, had some great adventures in NZ. We visited the Marlborough Wine Country via the Cook Straight, drank coffee on the shores of a very angry Tasman Sea, and visited an extremely stinky Rotorua. While in Rotorua, we ran the Kaituna River, home to the highest river falls run commercially in the world! While at the outpost, next the Gates of Hell thermal park, it was a serious challenge not to succumb to the dry heaves that the smell was trying to induce. Fortunately, for me, I had a sinus infection and could not smell, but Fred...well, he was rather delicate that day.

Lastly and certainly not least, we both competed in the Auckland Harbor Crossing, a near 2 mile swim across the Auckland Harbor. We expected a few hundred people to race, but I should have expected much more! Fred told me that Auckland was packed with "full-ons," the Kiwi name for triathletes and serious full-on athletes. After taking the ferry to the start, we noticed that there were 1500 swimmers competing in this race, many of them Olympians, World Champs, and Commonwealth Champs! We were in the midst of some serious competitors where we thought we were in for a Masters-type swim! Through 4 foot swells and a serious tide, both of us finished, felt awesome about our performance and proceeded to eat (alot)at the only American-style burger joint in Auckland.

We returned home after a couple of weeks and then Fred and crew were scheduled to return to NZed in January for some travel and eventually sailing. The crew of the Godspede were gone for about 7 months. They took the mighty vessel from Auckland to Opua, Tonga (a very scary ride), and finally to Fiji. The boat is currently in Fiji and this brings us to the present....

As you can imagine, 7 months is a long time to be away from the person that you love. Obviously, I was thrilled when Fred asked me to join the crew on the coming departure. I had a ton of decisions to make and many things to weigh. Considering the last year and half have been...well, disappointing- save Fred- I knew that I wanted to go.

In the last week, I have sold all that was not a neccessity or important to me. Currently, I cannot raise either of my arms above my head because of the 4 vaccinations that I received yesterday. My house is in a state of disarray as I am packing it up for storage and preparing for a life at sea aboard the S.S. Godspede.

I managed to take a leave of absence from work for 2 months. My commitment is 2 months at sea to see if I can deal, the crew can deal with me, and whether or not I want to continue. Hopefully, I will.

As it stands today, I will leave Ketchum, ID for Birmingham, AL on October 5th to visit family. (I hope to see everyone!) On October 10th, the crew and I leave for Musket Cove, Fiji. We intend to be there for 2 weeks, in which, I will get my diving certification and do some practice sails. Upon leaving Fiji, we will have a 4-5 day crossing to the island group of Vanuatu for an unspecified amount of time. Depending on weather, we will either head to the Solomon Islands or up to Micronesian. Planning for a sailing adventure is imperfect and thus, I will keep you all posted on my adventures and plans.

Waiting is the hardest part! With 2 weeks to go, I am currently showing up to work, but that is all I can say about that... I'm ready. I'm excited. I'm nervous and I know that this is no walk in the park that I have volunteered for. What I do know is that this is the trip of a lifetime! Most people never get the opportunity to take this chance and the risk is great. It's a risk I am eager to take.

In closing, my great love to all and hopefully your love will follow me. I will do my best to update the blog, call when possible, and certainly email. My advice is to live. Live to the fullest and do the best you can by all you love and even those you do not know. I promise exciting things to report soon and again, my great love to all.

Kindly,

Ashley (Big Snack)