Vanuatu

Published: 28 February 2018

On 26 August 2017, with very heavy hearts, we eventually sailed out of Fiji, leaving our “happy place” behind. Thinking of the beautiful Fijian song, “Isa Lei” (“Farewell to Fiji”) and in particular the words: “Isa Lei, the purple shadows falling. Sad the morrow will dawn upon my sorrow. Oh! Forget not, when you’re far away, precious moments beside dear Fiji Isles.”, we wonder if we will ever see these shores again, having returned, unexpectedly, once before. It was, however, our time to move on and with every inch sailed, we were closer to seeing our family and our beautiful grandchildren.

Being on passage, in many ways, is a welcome break from life in general. No more officialdom, yacht maintenance and projects, daily chores, touring, dealing with landlubber matters, etc. It takes a few days to get into the routine, but you enter a "bubble"; one that revolves around the watch schedule and includes activities, amongst others, like keeping a lookout, updating the deck log, plotting our position, providing regular position reports, downloading weather information, monitoring radar activity and getting sufficient rest.

On this particular passage, though, getting sufficient rest became somewhat of a challenge. For some inexplicable reason, no matter how much sleep we had, we were exhausted. As a result we had to "tag team" during the day. Instead of our usual six hours on, six hours off, neither of us made it much beyond two hours, before a nap was needed. Feeling a little "green" due to a rather rolly sea state was obviously not helping either, but we soon got our "sea legs" back thankfully.

During any passage there are a few constants though. For example, during a night watch, there is always a sense of insignificance, vulnerability and loneliness in the vast ocean, feelings which are magnified on a very dark, overcast, moonless night, with barely a star for company. One does, however, have a strong sense of presence and peacefulness at "being in the moment”, something that is unattainable on land. During the day the occasional bird or two sweeps down to take a peek or something pops up on the AIS, but one is still left with the profound sense of being totally alone. Enjoying the journey and not getting "destinitis" has been our challenge on every passage thus far and with lighter winds, which translate to "slow", we definitely needed a dose of patience on this one.

Fortunately we were not running the "gauntlet" or trying to beat a weather system.  Knowing we didn't have a downwind sail and knowing the forecast was for light winds, we had originally decided to either sail Paw Paw wing-on-wind or change course and jibe all the way to Port Vila, Vanuatu, if necessary. At one point we even discussed changing our plans to head for Port Resolution on Tanna Island, instead of Efate Island, given the possibility of a better angle to the wind. The one thing we both agreed upon, though, was to take our time, enjoy the ride, do some fishing. Basically take the four days our Float Plan depicted and not rush, which was certainly an improvement on our last ordeal.

But, of course, “a leopard doesn’t change it spots” and, of course, we didn't do that. Paw Paw loves to "fly along" and so do we. So, out the window went all those fabulous ideas. Motor-sailing at an average speed of 6.5Kts seemed like a far better idea, considering we would shave 12 hours off the passage. The plan was succeeding until Elaine took over the watch at 2200 that night and a 1Kt counter-current raised its ugly head. Even with both engines running at a higher RPM, we weren't doing more than 5Kts. That meant a night time arrival in a strange harbour, which as a rule, we avoid. By the time Roy came on watch at 0100 that morning, the decision was made; pull back on the engines to keep enough momentum so that we weren't just bobbing and resign ourselves to another night at sea.

This following morning, we had the inevitable "coulda, woulda, shoulda" conversation, leaving us both frustrated at how badly we miscalculated this passage. However, we did have beautiful sunny days, in relatively flat following seas, with a current that eventually came back around in our favour and we were enjoying a peaceful sail, albeit at an average boat speed of 4.5Kts. The fishing line was also out, with the hopes that we might get a nibble and enjoy sushi for dinner.

Well, there weren't any nibbles on the fishing line, so that meant there wasn't any sushi for dinner. We did, however, settle for "boerewors on the braai", given the really light winds, accompanied by bacon, mash potatoes and baked beans. It was definitely a much needed "comfort meal" after Elaine got the biggest fright of her life on the afternoon of our third day at sea.

She'd decided to go for a nap, but then couldn't sleep. About ten minutes later she went back up to the saloon, but there was no sign of Roy. After checking below deck, then above deck, including the coach roof and still no sign of him anywhere, she started screaming for him. Still nothing! By then, in floods of tears, she realised the only alternative is that he'd gone overboard. It was her worst nightmare come true. Trying not to panic and think straight, she started both engines to turn Paw Paw around and commence the MOB search pattern. It was then that she heard Roy's voice wanting to know what on earth she was doing. Confused as to where he was, she then noticed his head sticking out of the starboard forepeak cabin; he'd decided to run the watermaker, something we never do on passage, and, with the noise, had not heard Elaine screaming his name. The relief was beyond words. Needless to say, it took a while to calm Elaine down. Lesson learnt; check the starboard forepeak cabin before panicking! Roy, however, received an absolute blasting for going forward without Elaine present.

After a stiff gin and tonic, again something we never do on passage, and the panic over, dinner went down like a treat. We were ready for our last night at sea and by 0530 the following morning we were entering Mele Bay, where we bobbed until sunrise, before entering Port Vila and heading for the quarantine area.

It never ceases to amaze us about the amount of junk information we read in various cruising guides or hear from other cruisers about a destination we have never visited. For one, we were told that the water is so dirty in Port Vila that we would definitely not be able to run our watermaker. Well, we've never seen clearer water. In a depth of 30Ft we could clearly see our chain and our anchor resting on the seabed while peeking over the bow. Then, we had been informed to contact Port Vila Radio to announce our arrival and await a visit from Biosecurity before being allowed to head ashore to complete the officialdom process by visiting the Customs and Immigration offices in town. Well, the actual procedure was to dinghy to the commercial dock and visit the Customs and Biosecurity offices there, then head to town to the Immigration office.

There was just one small problem when we arrived at the commercial dock; there was no way Elaine, the "official" captain, could actually get out of the dinghy to complete the procedures. When Roy went to the offices to inform them of the dilemma and ask whether he could do the clearing process, he was informed that the captain had to do it. They were kind enough, though, to inform him how to get Elaine ashore; we had to tie the dinghy alongside the pilot boat, climb on the pilot boat and then scramble over the pilot boat to access the concrete steps alongside the dock. With that our adventure of Vanuatu commenced.

We were also previously informed about the fresh produce we weren't allowed to bring into Vanuatu, as well as the alcohol limits enforced and that no foreign garbage could be landed. Turns out Biosecurity wasn't even remotely interested in what fresh produce or alcohol we had. They didn't even ask. They did, however, request that we please dispose of our foreign garbage in the specially allocated bins on shore. Sometimes we really have to wonder where these cruisers and guides get there information from.

Regardless, once we'd completed the necessary procedures, we enjoyed a light lunch at the Jungle Café, stopped in at Digicel to arrange our local data service, and then headed back to Paw Paw to move her to our allocated mooring ball. With a 23M mast, motoring under the 27M high cable running from Efate Island to Iririki Island on a rising tide was a little daunting, but before long we were safely moored and enjoying a lazy evening aboard.

After a good night's sleep we were up early for a breakfast ashore of coffee and French pastries at "Au Leche Mignon", before taking a stroll around the "Au Bon Marche" and the fresh produce market. Although we thought the fresh produce was very inexpensive in Fiji, we were astonished at the prices in Vanuatu. A single lettuce for the equivalent of 50US cents, eight lettuces for $2USD, a 1Kg bag of tomatoes for $2USD, a medium sized paw paw for $1USD and on it went. Just incredible!

While sailing around the South Pacific Islands we've found at least one quirky aspect of each area. In French Polynesia it was the mesmerising, gyrating hips of the Tahitian dancers. In the Samoan Islands it was the funky buses with their upbeat music. In Tonga, particularly Neiafu in the Vava'u group, it was the creative and fun names of the various businesses. In Fiji it was the friendly "bula" we received everywhere we went and in Vanuatu we were completely intrigued by the local language.

Located 540Km northeast of New Caledonia and previously called the New Hebrides, Vanuatu is made up of 80 islands, separated by 900Km Aneityum Island in the south to Torres Island in the north. Since the days of the early explorers, Vanuatu has remained a timeless archipelago, steeped in tradition, regardless of the fact that, prior to independence in 1980, it was simultaneously governed by both the British and the French. As a result, it has a fascinating mix of cultures, including the language, known as Bislama, the lingua franca spoken through the archipelago, in addition to English, French and over a hundred vernacular languages or dialects. Giving our blog readers a glimpse into this language was a great deal of fun and helped us "toktok" a little Bislama. These included:

Prior to arriving in Vanuatu we had read a few accounts from cruisers on the very high quality of the local beef.  Then, when we received a recommendation from Blue Summit (Kate and Steve), to try the beef fillet at the waterfront restaurant called "Chill", our curiosity got the better of us and we were not disappointed.  Two beef fillets with mushroom sauce, mashed potatoes for Elaine, fries for Roy, a side of broccoli and cauliflower gratin to share, a glass of wine for Elaine and a few beers for Roy, was not only a delicious dinner with steaks that tasted better than a number of top restaurants we'd frequented in the US, it was all for the bargain price of roughly $42USD. Unbelievable!

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