Maewo (Asanvari) – Efate (Port Vila)
24/9/16 – 6/10/16
(Blog readers please note - by left clicking on photos you will see them full size and a photo gallery below. The same applies for previous blog posts..see blog archives below.)
A glance at the map of Vanuatu, to the islands north of Port Vila, shows that a day’s sail north of Efate, the island of Epi is reached, and it is here that sailors contemplate a “rectangle” shape of islands ahead of them and often conclude that the most efficient way of visiting them is to veer to the west to the larger islands of Malekula and Espiritu Santo, before crossing the “top” to the east, via Ambae, before returning down the “eastern side” via Maewo and Pentecost, to Ambrym and thence back to Epi. For us, from Epi we will return to Port Vila, while others continue on to the far northern Banks Group of islands, but we needed to be in Vanuatu, earlier in the “season” to have headed there. As we dipped deeper into spring, cruising yachts begin an exodus from Vanuatu, an escape before cyclone season: some to New Zealand, others, like us to Australia, and others, north to the Solomons where in the equatorial zone, the Coriolis effect that can spin tropical lows into monsters, is too feeble to produce these super storms. We must soon join the migrating yachts, and head for safer havens….like Coffs Harbor!
On Calista, we did not have a sense of “heading south”, or “heading home”, because on Maewo, Pentecost and Ambrym, we have saved some delights for last, like that roast potato, at the end of a Sunday roast. In leaving Ambae, for the anchorage of Asanvari on the southern end of Maewo Island, we were heading for a place that other cruisers had enthused about, but we preferred to go there and reserve judgement until we had seen it for ourselves. A fair estimation of a cruising destination is to arrive there and find a brace of yachts snared by its allure, and as we approached the sheltered bay, under the “hook” of Teterigi Point, we were pleased to see some good friends already there and others that we looked forward to meeting if they tarried in Asanvari. Again we had Paul and Juan on Bumpy Dog, Geoff and Di on Stylopora, but there also, from Noumea, was Patrick and Murielle on the 52’ Grand Soliel yacht Hieracon, and the Swiss couple Patrick and Edith, on Solina, a large circumnavigating catamaran.
Maewo and Pentecost are slender isles, baton like in shape, aligned approximately north to south and separated by the four mile stretch of Lolvavana Passage. Both are approximately 30 miles in length, with Maewo averaging a svelte 5miles in width, and Pentecost some two or three miles broader. Maewo is precipitous in appearance, of dense sylvan presentation, and altogether too formidable of form to have roads constructed to the villages that cling precariously to its coastline. There are hence no cars on Maewo, no airports either, and only the workmanlike supply barges, like Kalyara, link the inhabitants of this remote isle to the outside world. Hence, after anchoring, in going ashore at Asanvari through a small boat passage in the reef, we entered a world of neat village dwellings, charming hedgerows, smiling faces, and a natural warmth of welcome for those of us for us who have arrived by sea.
|The "main road " lined with gardens|
Visually, nature got things picture perfect when crafting Asanvari, and to place the cherry on the top for dusty mariners like us to refresh themselves, it has a deliciously cool waterfall, complete with plunge pool leading to a free flowing stream for water replenishment which doubles as a never ending torrent to wash one’s smalls. To luxuriate under the waterfall and get a back massage from its generous cascade, was too good to be true. Nearby, the good folk of Asanvari have completed the catering for yachties by constructing the Sparkling Waters Bar, although when a sunset get-together at the bar was proposed, to the acclaim of all, Barry, the local convener, had to admit that, until the supply boat came in, there were only six beers in stock to go around! Yachties, though are resilient folks and ship’s cellars were soon raided, condiments procured, and a fine gathering assembled at the Sparkling Waters Bar as if to usher us into Maewo life, Asanvari style. Barry’s wife had made some delightful flower arrangements to grace the tables, and as the sun set over the masts in the bay, it was hard to imagine being in a more inviting place than this. Unplanned moments like this one, amongst like-minded souls as we were, are a sheer delight, and added greatly to our experience in these distant shores.
|Sparkling Waters Bar at the waterfall|
|The beautiful waterfall|
|Enjoying a back massage|
|Sundowners at the Sparkling Waters bar|
Ashore, Asanvari is a “walking village”, with leafy pathways that guide one past modest households where cheery faces emerged to say hello, to ask our names and to find out from where we had come. The local store was hard to find open, but just up from the beach, the entrepreneurial Erica and her husband run a little eatery, with accommodation alongside, to meet the demands of a tourism boom that may be a little time yet from arriving. As a sideline Erica sells produce from her village garden, although in noticing some excellent cowries that she had for sale, Cookie’s attention was hopelessly drawn, and I knew that our on board collection was about to expand. Erica can spot a shellaholic a nautical mile off. On our way back on board, we met Columbus; not the celebrated explorer, but rather the celebrated baker, who offers a unique service for early morning loafers, by paddling out in his dugout canoe with freshly baked products literally hot from the oven. True to his word, with a swish of his paddle and a tap on the hull, Columbus duly delivered, and it is unlikely that, in the annals of seafaring, that a hot and golden loaf has been fallen upon with greater alacrity than on this morning on Calista. Saint Columbus!
|Columbus' bread delivery|
The good Columbus and Erica, we found, were not the only entrepreneurial souls in town, for when Patrick and Murielle drew alongside in their duck they said that we were invited to a “cave snorkelling” opportunity with Carl, a young local man who had developed a marine experience for visitors drawn from the unique karst, or limestone topography found on the seaward side of the village. He and his family had constructed a “Magas Cave Tour” where from a purpose built shelter, snorkelers were guided to an impressive underwater “dropoff”, with myriads of fish and an array of hard and soft corals before being led through a circuitous limestone cave – not a place for the claustrophobic – before emerging out of a paved sink hole in time for garden fruits and fresh coconut juice in the pavilion. Fabulous!
|The cave exit at the end of a lovely snorkel|
|Carl & the snorkelling team !|
For us though, with days at a premium, and longer range forecasts already predicting a return to stiffer trade winds later in the period, we had to decide whether we would leave Asanvari. In the end its attractions seduced us, and we stayed one more day, simply because we did not want to leave. Besides, there was snorkelling still to be done and there was that wonderful waterfall, which issued its watery symphony throughout the night, and by day drew us to its aerated waters that were impossible to resist. In the end, all five yachts decided it was time to leave, driven by the need to move, as October drew nigh.
Our “move” was in truth not a big one, just a dozen miles or so south, across Lolovana Passage to Loltong Bay, a favourite haunt of Derek and Bela Reinemer, former owners of Calista and now proud owners of the Perry designed Pandana. Derek and Bela are regular visitors to Vanuatu and it was unfortunate that in this, the year that we visited here, family commitments elsewhere have kept them on other shores. Knowing of Derek and Bela’s fondness for Loltong had us committed to calling in, again, to see it for ourselves. Staying in touch with Derek and Bella, after nearly 10 great years of owning Calista has been cherished by us both. We can’t imagine this occurring following the sale of a car, or a furniture setting for example. Yachts are in way living things that are in a realm of their own. Yachts are family.The anchorage at Loltong is partly protected by two outer reefs, and there would be plenty of space for Hieracon, ourselves and the two other catamarans that were already there, but for the need to leave space for inter-island roll-on roll-off ferries to enter, manoeuvre, and draw alongside their beach-side staging point, which here, as it would only be on Vanuatu, is under the spreading banyan tree. We anchored, re-anchored and then moved again to a spot just out from shore with the help of Patrick and Murielle who took soundings from their duck with their portable depth sounder, which was, we concluded, a handy and helpful piece of equipment.
|Calm passage to Loltong, Pentecost|
We took no time in getting ashore, partly to observe the hurly and burly of a ferry arrival, and thence to explore the village. Tickets could be sold to a ferry arrival, with the throaty manoeuvring of the ship, the pressing throng ashore as the drawbridge was lowered and the myriad of parcels, bags, boxes and crates that found their way on and off the ship in muscled arms, to a cacophony of Bislama, all at volume 10, as somehow sense was made of the consignment madness that seemed to be unfolding in front of us. Soon the ‘warehouse” under the Banyan was littered with produce and supplies, and the only utility in town, a vehicle bearing a mixed grill of tyres and a mechanical profile where, that it went at all, could be classified a miracle. Through it all a throng of young men sat inert on the roots of the Banyan tree, and remained so long after ferry growled its way out of the bay, despite there being tasks all about, such as the lifting of boxes, and the hauling of planks that cried out for attention. When life in the village returned to its equilibrium, only a pig in a wooden crate remained of the cargo from the ferry, left on a sandbar, with its anxieties rising along with the tide. As we joined the stragglers who were heading for home, to our considerable mirth, we came across the aforementioned utility, parked in the shade, with the driver lying alongside, asleep. It was after all lunchtime siesta, and apparently one ferry arrival, was maybe an arrival too many.
|Unloading & collecting supplies....|
|but who's collecting the poor pig!?|
Directly ashore from where we were anchored is found the Vatulo Yacht Club, brainchild of Matthew and his wife Mary, who specialise in hosting traditional banquets, featuring foods drawn uniquely from local gardens. The “Club” is adorned with flags and other yachting memorabilia from around the world and alongside, Matthew is crafting two cosy bungalows, to value add to what has already been created. After arranging with Mary to host an evening at the club for boaties currently “in residence”, we listened to Matthew’s advice that in order to “get to know” Loltong and its people, it was a good idea to take the time to pause, find a shady spot, and allow the people to connect with you.
In a word, Loltong is a treasure. With Matthew’s advice in hand, we found that a stroll through the centre of town took a while, with locals ever ready for a chat, and in the event of feeling fatigued, there are strategically placed public seats, deftly located in dappled shade, for the wearied traveller to take it all in. Near village central, the “main” road bends and in the crook thus formed, an extensive slatted seat is a grand example of its kind, with generous shade and a garden rockery to add to the scene. To sit here and contemplate the day is popular with many of the menfolk, whilst in shaded alcoves, or in the community Namakal, women cook, chat and work on handicrafts, and laugh, freely and frequently. Down near the beach, whilst naked tots gambolled in the shallows and shrieked in delight, a mixed gender game of soccer was being played with the fervour of a World Cup final and no one seemed to care that the goals were crooked sticks or that the ball had long since lost its air. All about, chickens scratched, some with cloth strips on their wings to confirm ownership, dogs of doubtful lineage ambled about, and pigs snorted in the bushes. Nothing in Loltong seems hurried.
|Vatulo Yacht Club|
|The village Banyan tree|
|Steep hilltop vegetable gardens|
Also under the resting place in the centre of Loltong, we met a group from the Australian National University, whose members were engaged in absorbing life and language in the village, in a more professional manner than our own, as part of a move to record local customs and tongues with the support and involvement of the community. Some group members had been on Pentecost for weeks and here at Loltong they had obviously made some very close friends. The researchers were Bislama fluent, and were making efforts to record, like Brittany in Banam Bay, key features of languages that were spoken and not recorded. A fear is, we suspect, that with phone towers flourishing in the islands like tropical seedlings, and mobile phones making rapid changes to village life, there was a fear that local languages might easily disappear without trace, as new generations of young people in villages became seduced by the new and abandoned the old.
|Loltong Guesthouse & restaurant|
At the end of town a cement paved road makes its way steeply out of town and from its summit a grand vista of the village and the anchorage made the labour to get there worth every drop on the brow. Near where the road beetles upwards we met Barnabus Vavo, at first glance a languid storekeeper, but in reality a man with a remarkable story to tell. Some years ago Barnabus “jumped ship” here, at the request of a couple on a large cruising yacht, and spent six years with them, voyaging from PNG, to Fiji, to New Zealand and on to Australia, where, to complete his portfolio at sea, he completed a Sydney Hobart Yacht Race. With slender patronage at his shop, we listened spellbound to Barnabus’ tales from the bounding main. His cruising career came to a harrowing end somewhere off New Zealand, when an immense storm dismasted their yacht and Barnabus was certain that he was about to disappear into the Tasman, without a trace. Somehow they survived, limped back into port, and Barnabus decided that maybe his roving days were over, and that returning home, marrying and starting a family might be a good thing. He and his wife now have four children – we met his delightful little daughter with Barnabus under the shady tree in the centre of the village (where else!) – although we wondered whether in quieter moments, his thoughts drifted to full sails, trade winds, and exotic destinations. These things are all a long way from Loltong.
|Barnabus hard at work in his store!|
There are two schools in Loltong; one is a “French” school, which we visited with Patrick and Murielle, who had a bag of textbooks and materials from Noumea to donate, and the other, perching atop the peninsula on the north side of the anchorage, was really in the village of Labultamata, which is reached by boat or via a hike around the bay through the forest. The forest trek proved to be a walk where in leafy glens, with giants of the coastal rainforest lowering overhead, we thrilled to its arboreal splendour, whereas for villagers and kids heading to school it was just the track to Labultamata, and the path one trod in getting to school. Emerging at the village, we met Franklin, who offered to show us around and to take us up to the ridge above the houses where the school commanded a magnificent view back along the coast to Maewo.
We arrived at the Labultamata Primary School during a break, and to Franklin’s amusement little’uns were soon swarming about us, in scenes reminiscent of the Pied Piper, or even Gulliver’s Travels.. A horde of ebullient youngsters, like uncorked lemonade, ushered us in the direction of the long suffering teacher, who was in her classroom, attempting to snatch a moment of sanity, before we burst in with an army of effervescent tykes in hot pursuit. She manufactured a gracious smile and showed remarkable tolerance as we wrote our best wishes on the blackboard, complete with a map of Australia showing where we lived, and then attempted to make some order amongst the mayhem by taking a group photo of the assemblage. Then, not wishing to make things worse than they were, I made a strategic error whilst attempting to construct a form of retreat. I “hi fived” a wild-eyed urchin, clad in an Australia t-shirt, and next thing all the kids wanted a “hi five” and the cacophony rose again, to decibel levels bordering on dangerous. In the end, what was meant as a goodwill visit, probably sent the lovely teacher heading home at day’s end, reaching for her analgesics. The walk back through the forest to Loltong, harkening to the gentle lullaby of the birds, and feeling the soothing airs of the breeze through the trees, was a salve to our nervous system.
|Having fun with the local school kids!|
A wondrous evening at the Vatulo Yacht Club then capped what had been an unforgettable sojourn in Loltong. Eight good souls came ashore from vessels and we found ourselves in the expert hands of mine hosts Mary and Matthew, her “front of house” Lofate, and very ably assisted by Matthew’s niece and nephew the immensely likeable Nellisha and Crillis, who we learned now live with Mary and Matthew following the sad death of Matthew’s sister. Mary works magic in the kitchen and the promise of supping on a range of traditional dishes, in tapas-style portions, was just perfect. Course followed course, with animated interaction flowing freely across the table, whilst the charming Lofate periodically called everyone to order with the arrival of a new dish, and gave an informative explanation of its contents. A tasty salad featuring the fruits of the gardens and forest completed a gourmet tour of Loltong that will live long in the memory. It was one of those very special occasions that one hoped would never end.
|Matthew, Crillis, Lofate, Nellisha & Mary|
|What a wonderful night we all had!|
It was with a leaden heart that in the new morning, with children already laughing in the shallows, and the wisp of home fires in the village heralding the new day, that we drew up our anchor, and made our way out between the reefs before turning our bow to port and Loltong quietly slipped from view. We had some 18nm to cover down Pentecost’s leafy coastline before we arrived at an anchorage called “Waterfall Bay”. South of Loltong, where embayments are at a premium and therefore, when we arrived at the anchorage, courtesy the Cruising Guide, we nestled in square with the coastline where winds from the south through to the north via the west would make the anchorage untenable. In no time a ship on the horizon morphed into a local trader, functional, not pretty, and surprised us by steaming in between us and the shore, before releasing its tender with a clutch of parcels to be ferried ashore and placed under a foreshore tree, of substantially less grandeur than Loltong’s spreading Banyan. As the ferry chugged its way to the north, a utility arrived, the parcels were collected and the consignment process was complete, Pentecost style. With a light easterly predicted we felt secure enough to head ashore, just as Patrick and Murielle arrived to make it two ships in the anchorage.Naturally, with the anchorage named “waterfall” we were keen to find this aquatic feature, especially given the delight we had in the cascade at Asanvari. Before finding a river mouth and following the flow upstream, we stretched our legs in the direction of Ranwadi the local village, which we failed to find although we fell upon, and into, the shore-side Ranwadi Bakery, which is less “backyard” and more extensive than others we have seen owing to the fact that it is a major supplier, not only to local folk, but to the significant, live-in, Ranwadi Churches of Christ College, that sits atop the hill above the coastline. The college has had a major face-lift in recent years, which has included the construction of some impressive, lit sporting grounds alongside the coast road which has been part of a significant aid contribution by the Australian Government, designed to assist key schools on selected islands in Vanuatu. It was heartening to see Aussie aid being directed at education in this way, as not only do local children view learning as valuable, it is certain that Vanuatu will need as many trained young people as it can get in order to face the challenges that are there now, and into the future. We climbed up to the school and, it being a Saturday, took an undisturbed look around, causing considerably less mayhem than we did in Labultamata!
|Close encounter with the ferry|
|The Ranwadi Bakery|
Back near the anchorage, our search for the waterfall upstream looked to be thwarted, as we could find no track of any substance beside the river, and likely pathways disappeared into the backyard of some local dwellings where washing hung, chickens roamed but no-one could be found to set us aright. Eventually a group of local girls near the beach, no doubt enjoying their weekend away from school, put us on our way and we eventually found an attractive hedge-rowed path leading up to what was a hugely impressive waterfall. With a group of local teens in understandable possession at the falls, we satisfied ourselves with a refreshing plunge in a burbling rock pool downstream, although we were horrified to see some of the teens, atop the falls, and edging way too close to a slippery oblivion for our risk-adverse liking, whilst beckoning to their mates below. Maybe this is another form of indifference to the fear of heights that is obviously a hallmark of the famous tower diving exploits of local men, seen annually in Pentecost in April, May and June.
Our evening at “Waterfall” proved to be an uneventful one on this coastline, although back at home it was AFL Grand Final Day, and I took the opportunity to attempt to search our HF Radio in the upper reaches of the 15 to 17 kHz bands in an attempt to secure a “feed” to the game via the ABC and Radio Australia. Eventually, way up on 17840 kHz, there it was, the footy, direct from the “G”, complete with the dulcet tones of the ABC commentary team, as clear as if we were tuning in from the Fitzroy Gardens. What a place, here off Pentecost Island, from which to hear the history making win by the Western Bulldogs over Sydney. Many thanks, Aunty, and Radio Australia.
|Was worth the search...a great waterfall!|
Selwyn Strait separates Pentecost Island from the island of Ambrym, and we were away early next day to make the comfortable 20 odd mile passage to the anchorage and village at Ranon Bay on Ambrym’s north coast, to allow time for some exploration ashore. Ambrym is a volcanic island, dominated by the conic forms of Mount Marum and Mount Benbow, which are both decidedly active, and attract trekkers from around the world to what is a long, tiring but spectacular two-day experience, that allows visitors to peer in awe from the crater rim to the fiery cauldron below. For us fitting in a trek was not possible, but from our anchorage at Ranon plumes of smoke billowed upwards, and drifted away to the north-west. Some sailors, anchoring on Ambrym’s north coast, have found that a wind-shift to the south can leave a boat smothered with extract of volcano.
Ashore at Ranon was a flimsy experience compared with, say, our time at Asanvari or Loltong, although in fairness we had little time to make anything other than a cursory connection with locals, who were curiously thin in numbers on the ground. Kids who we came across, responded to our “hellos” with unabashed requests for “lollies” or “money”, which drew little response from us, so after a walk along a coastal track beyond the village, it was not long before we made our way back to Calista. There is no doubt that the highlight of our brief visit to Ranon, came at night when the fireside glows from the twin volcanoes lit up the southern sky with an arterial glow, as nature’s blast furnaces gave us one of the most unusual backdrops to an anchorage that we have ever had. It was impossible to go out into the cockpit in the evening without staring in wonder at the curtains of red hanging over Marum and Benbow; dancing and flickering in the night sky as they reflected the fiery furnaces below. Seeing this spectacle was reason alone to cherish a stopover on Ambrym. There are times when Cookie’s illustrated diary of this voyage, which is now well into volume 2, causes her to ruminate on a sketch that best represents the day, but on this occasion the brooding spectacle of the peaks to our south was an obvious choice, and her red “Derwent” was soon pressed into service.
For some days we had been dissecting the regional wind forecasts via the Predict Wind program, searching for the best “window” of wind to make the passage around Ambrym to head for an anchorage on Epi Island, and thence to bear away a little for the long day sail back to Havannah Harbor on Efate, just shy of Port Vila. Once around the eastern point of Ambrym, the path to Epi is to the south-east, or directly into the face of the prevailing wind. Therefore we were looking for winds that were not south-east, and our best option was a light easterly, that we could at least motor-sail into to reach Epi, and if it held, hoist everything and sail our way back to Efate the following day. Planning passages to make the best of the wind and sea states can make all the difference in achieving an enjoyable experience at sea. A promising “window” had emerged for us to achieve this but we needed to wait one more day on Ambrym before heading to Epi, so in the meantime we had been searching the Cruising Guide for another anchorage on Ambrym that had potential interest.
|Morning light on Mt Marum & Mt Benbow|
Just six miles to Ranon’s east lay the anchorage at Bavanna Bay, which, according to the guide, was blessed with a “hot spring” leading to a warm rivulet flowing out to sea. There have been times when cruising in South Australia in winter, when the promise of an immersion in a hot spring would come as a gift from Heaven, and as we had never experienced such a phenomenon in our travels, heading to Bavanna was an obvious choice. Once anchored there, we hastened ashore to a steeply sloping black sand beach, and a surrounding aspect that was devoid of the lushness of Pentecost and Maewo, possibly due to the fallout that often descends from Marum and Benbow. We may have overcooked our hopes for the hot spring, for instead of an oasis like nirvana with steaming pools set under swaying palms, the soak by the sea was slimy, weedy and uninviting. There would be no luxuriating in a hot tub in Bavanna Bay, although where the marsh issued out to the sea the water was warm beyond tepid, but probably wasted in a clime such as this. There was no settlement nearby, and so, in solitude, a swim in the bay was an instant and welcome attraction. The cap to the unusual nature of this place came whilst swimming when, upon digging our feet into the sand, we struck sub-surface water almost too hot for the touch. Our thoughts did fly back to our stoic friends at Port Elliot, where from the Surf Club hardened souls swim through the winter, and having just endured the coldest and wettest September on record, they would have liked to have joined us to dive without flinching in the warm waters of Bavannah. That evening we were disappointed to find that from the bay, we could not sight the peaks of Marum and Benbow, although on sunset, the plume from their vents gave us a sunset that was truly spectacular.It was but a handful of miles from Bavanna Bay to Ranwakon (Dip) Point on the eastern tip of Ambrym and when we got there in the morning we were happy to find that the winds were agreeable, the sea was kindly and that we could make all haste to Epi. Just around Dip Point is found the anchorage at Craig Cove, which we had considered, but had rejected, in favour of Bavanna Bay. When abeam of it we noted Farr Flyer in the anchorage on AIS, so we called up Jerry and Carmel, to find that, having been delayed considerably in Port Vila with water maker problems – we do not have a water maker, we have 500l and frugality - they were headed for the Isles that we had just visited. After helping with enquiries that they had and wishing them well on their journey, we got a call from Jody and Simon, off Manoroa 2 with more questions still, as they planned their passage to the north. Having met back in Noumea it was great to re-connect with these fine people as we passed, like ships in the night.
|Water Temperature.....27.9 deg & hot sand !|
|Dolphin escort enroute to Epi|
Our passage to Epi was an enjoyable one, with Ambrym falling astern in the mist, and us “glassing” Paama Island and the classically cone shaped Lopeui Island, south of Ambrym, to port, where, if time had permitted, there were more attractive anchorages just waiting to be explored. For a time the breeze swung off the bow and we romped along under sail, before, off Epi and on our way to Revolieu Bay, the wind faltered, dropped out, and we noted a concerning line of whitecaps away off our bow. Knowing that nearby Lamen Bay probably offered better protection; we swung our head to port, and found, on anchor, that when the wind did come it issued from an unexpectedly north-easterly direction, but friendly for us where we lay. In the end, we had time to go ashore for another stroll around town where we took a quick look at the local stores, marvelled at some ladies weaving their colourful mattings, and generally stretched our legs before the final passage back to Efate.
Apart from some raucous roosters, all was subdued when we eased out of Lamen Bay in the pre-dawn, just as the sky turned caramel in the east. In an hour or so we had passed Cape Foreland, succulent cheese and tomato jaffles had issued from the galley and with mugs of tea at the ready, we set a stabilising mainsail, before passing Revolieu Bay in search of better winds beyond Maling Point, in the open seaway beyond Epi. It was not long before the light airs of the morning became firmer winds of the day and we were able to set a full pattern of sails and leave the navigation to “Tim” our autopilot. These were conditions that could make a salt dewy eyed with delight: a fathomless sea of blue tending to purple, Flying Fish skipping all about, the majestic Emae and Makura Islands off to port, friendly cumulus clouds floating over an azure sky, and us with time on our hands once the sails were tweaked, to lie back, relax and take it all in. Eventually Epi fell over the horizon astern as Efate, with the grand double peaks of Nguna Island and its handmaiden Pele to its immediate north, as the entrance to Havannah Harbor became clearer ahead. Inside the harbor we doused sails and headed for the Ai Creek anchorage across the bay that we had used on our passage north. Compared with our experiences north of Epi; to be anchored outside the bright lights of holiday houses, and to hear the noise of vehicles on the main road behind was to know that civilization lay ahead and the description of the islands of Vanuatu where, according to Linda Kalpoi, General Manage Vanuatu Tourism…”unspoilt living in villages, where life is carefree, and the friendliest people are waiting to greet you” was now probably astern of us, and over the horizon.
|Entering Havannah harbour...with so many amazing memories & experiences!|
In departing Havannah Harbor for Port Vila in the morning, we passed by Lelepa and Eretoka (Hat) Islands before warily making our way around Devil’s Point outside Mele Bay, where turbulent currents can make the entrance into Port Vila an unpleasant experience. A radio call to Leimara from Yachting World saw us placed in the redoubtable hands of Moses and Willy who guided us to our mooring off Iririki Resort, where for $15 we get the same view as those in the Overwater Bungalows of Iririki, but at a fraction of a cost.
|Moses & Willy escort us to our "Resort" mooring|
Our voyage to the fabled isles to the north of Port Vila had been blessed with a pattern of fine weather that was beyond our fondest hopes, in stark contrast to what Anne and John Marley on Essex Girl, had experienced just a year previously. We had been fortunate, indeed, with the only drawback being onshore sea-breezes that occasionally made anchorages bumpy during daytime and a general shortage of winds that sometimes saw us motoring when we preferred to sail. We had covered 508 sea miles in the islands, and had more memorable experiences than we could possibly cover in these pages. In some small way we were reminded of the great traveller Marco Polo, who, in the Middle Ages, made it all the way to China via the silk road, and returned to the Mediterranean years later with incredible tales from the Orient. On his deathbed, religious clerics gathered, hoping to see him recant his extraordinary stories, but Polo was defiant, and rose on an elbow to declare…..”I did not tell you half of what I saw”. Yes, we have been fortunate indeed to have had the experiences that we have shared in Vanuatu’s wonderful islands amongst its wonderful people.
We looked forward to our return to Port Vila before planning our return to Noumea and the long haul back to Australia. A great many sea miles still lay ahead of us, but the balmy days we had enjoyed in Vanuatu’s islands were certain to linger long in our memory, as we make our way back to New Caledonia and beyond.