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!