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!