11 August 2008
Brisbane - Chesterfield Reef - Luganville
Not the best voyage in the world, took us 14 days (anchored up for one and a
half at Chesterfield Reef) to cover the 1000 miles from Brisbane to Luganville.
Actually, this being sailing, the real distance covered was 1500 miles, as the
wind was either a) non-existent (we motored for around 3 days) b) far too
existent (2 gales with 40 plus knots and big seas - I believe NZ got to see
those wee sweeties and is still racking up insurance claims from them) or, c) on
the 2 days and one night when it was the perfect strength and the sailing
idyllic, it was from the wrong direction. I seriously expected to spend the next
month tacking between the Solomon Islands and New Caledonia trying to make
enough headway to reach Vanuatu. There seem to be numerous sailing books written
by smug bastards who say you will usually only get 40+ knot winds 1% of the time
you are on passages: I plan evil methods of torture for these people during the
long scary wet night watches in the high proportion of time we seem to spend in
such conditions.
This trip I succumbed to the "Three Day Out, Forty Five Knot Wind Blues" as
singer Eileen Quinn describes it. This can be recognised by the sufferer sitting
in the cockpit, wet & chilled to the bone, clad in so many layers of thermals
and wet weather gear they can't bend their limbs, bruised from being flung
against fittings, being dumped on by huge waves and staring white-knuckled at
giant approaching seas while howling "I don't want to do this anymore! I want a
house that is dry and doesn't move, and has a warm dry comfortable bed, and hot
running water. I want my family & friends! And cats, I want cats!" Cue that it
is time to heave to yet again and get some rest and respite from the storm.
Ms Blobby goes to sea
After the storm passed, not quite as quickly as it arrived (which was from 4 to 40 knots in just over a minute - I think the word "pandemonium" would be an apt description of that) we had no wind, and ended up motoring to Chesterfield Reef, with me secretly enjoying the calm, whilst outwardly sympathising with Bruce about the need to motor, cost of diesel used etc etc. Chesterfield was as lovely as ever, and we had it to ourselves (well, shared with 9 bazillion birds) this time. It is such a special place - if global warming ramps up, it won't be there for much longer, as it is only a couple of meters above sea level. It is also a damning indictment on how polluted the seas are becoming - it is 500 miles from anywhere and yet it is still covered in plastic trash. In a few years time we'll be able to walk there on a sea of discarded flip-flops (around 10 in the space of 100 meters). (What the hell are we doing to this planet??) And the best thing - it was warm enough to have our first swim!
Bruce on the reef Jill remembers Hitchcock...
Our new wind gauge that we fitting in Manly has turned out
to be a mixed blessing - it works well, and is a godsend to have, but it is
obviously meant for bigger, flasher boats than us, with separate instrument
panels, as opposed to cabin bulkheads in the cockpit. Why? Well, the
control/programming buttons on it stand out proud from the unit, so when lolling
against it on night watch, when you are pretty sure you are beating into a 30
knot headwind, you get a hell of a fright to check the gauge to see it is
telling you that you are running downwind in 94 knots of apparent wind! Then the
penny drops - those beeps you have been hearing above the music from the iPod
are the adjustments to the wind speed and angle calibration that your shoulder
has been making. A cover for the buttons is being fabricated today!
The main casualty of the trip was our fridge. During the second gale we
developed a slow leak (only a couple of litres over 24 hours of nasty weather
fortunately, but enough for it to slosh all round the cabin floor and get
everything salty) through the chainplate (where the wires that hold up the mast
are attached to the deck) and the water pooled behind the cabin lining and
soaked the fridge electrics in salt water, which the electrics were NOT keen on,
and promptly expired. Bruce is bum-up in the galley dismantling it as we speak,
trying to breathe life back into it. The dire prospect of warm beers for the
foreseeable future is spurring him on. Fortunately we had decided the the
maximum space/protein ratio in a small refrigerator was best satisfied by heaps
of vacuum-packed bacon and cheese, so we weren't carrying much meat or other
perishables that required immediate consumption or heaving overboard. However if
I see another bacon rasher in the near future I will not be accountable for my
actions. (Bacon & eggs, bacon & boiled veges, BLT sandwiches, spaghetti
carbonara, pasta salad with bacon and many other nutritious delights were
endured, with dwindling delight, in the space of a couple of days)
Anyhoo, enough whinging! We're here, it's warm, the people are great and the
beer ashore is cold - that makes up for it. Bruce took me to dinner at the
"resort" ashore last night, so that was a very pleasant way to finish the trip -
he reckoned we deserved it! Got raucous on 2 beers - we are SUCH cheap drunks
nowadays.
Luganville (aka Luganhole) has perked up since we were here last year. New
buildings are going up and many of the old ones have been repainted and are
looking almost respectable (no, OK, that's going a bit far). The only thing I
can think of to account for it is that a cargo vessel containing paint and
amphetamines was wrecked here during the cyclone season, then looted, hence the
burst of energy to redecorate. It seems totally out of character! We went to the
markets today and blissed out on bananas (with taste, unlike the Aussie ones) at
50c per bunch, pawpaws the size of footballs for $1.50, shopping bags of limes
for $1 etc etc. We did however pass on the many dead fruit bats that were for
sale on the stalls, um, no, we'll have the fabulous beef fillet at $9.50 per
kilo, thanks all the same.
19 August 2008
Waterfall Bay, Vanualava, Banks Islands 13'49".6 S, 167'22".9 E
Well we made it back to the Banks Islands and to Vureas Bay in time for the
festival. Unfortunately, as we had predicted, there are very few (about 3)
yachts in the Banks at the moment: it is very late for those going north to
Solomons & PNG and too early for those coming westwards across the Pacific, so
we convinced them to reschedule until September, when there should be a few more
boats around. However we did get to see some kastom dancing, and it was pretty
amazing. It was only about an hour long, which is about optimum for kastom
dancing (can get a wee bit samey after a day or two), but it was just for us, so
quite special.
It was lovely coming back to Vureas Bay - we are family now. They were rapt with
the carving tools we bought them, and Veronica, Paramount Chief Godfrey's wife,
was beside herself with joy at the stainless steel pot and steamer I bought for
her. We had to eat there every day with them, not a hardship, as the cyclone
that hit them earlier in the year ruined a lot of their root crops, so NO LAPLAP!
Bruce caught a good-sized spanish mackerel on the way there and gave them that,
so he was the big fishing hero. The setting at Vureas Bay is idyllic, and we
ended up doing a lot of al fresco dining - morning teas on the beach with
friends from the village up the hill, dinner with Chief Godfrey's family under
the big mango tree in the family garden, under a brilliant moonlit starry night,
viewing the sky through coconut palms. Made the crappy trip over all worthwhile.
All the carved laplap knives in the world that we didn't get last trip are now
residing on our boat as gestures of thanks, as well as fish carvings and a
laplap-making bowl, just on the very unlikely off chance I ever get the urge to
make laplap.
Headdress Kastom Dance, Vureas Bay Path to Vetumboso Village
We
spent a great few days there, catching up with everyone (a 30 minute
walk/scramble up the path to the top village (Vetumboso) usually turns into
about an hour by the time you have stopped to talk to everyone on the way) and
fixing stuff for them. Thank god they don't have electricity or we'd never get
away for mending broken appliances! Knew we had become a local fixture when a
copra boat went past after picking up some copra, and apparently also a local (I
didn't have my glasses on, so couldn't tell) as the sound of "Goodbyeee Jeeell!"
came trailing off the back of it.
It is election time in Vanuatu, and the place is crawling with politicians on
the campaign trail. One has given three generators to the local villages, but a)
they can't afford to buy petrol and b) the supply boats haven't been for months
and there is very little petrol to buy. The locals are getting a bit cynical -
one large gold-chain-draped MP tried to speak at Vetumboso when we were up
there, but the chief wouldn't let him unless he paid 5000 vatu "because he lied
to us last time". Not a bad idea, really.
We left Vureas Bay for Waterfall bay this morning amid much sadness, hugging and
kissing - Veronica even cried! She is a truly lovely person - my favorite person
in the islands. Bugger sailing around the world - summers in NZ & winter in the
Banks would suit me: I'd love to become a bigger part of the community here.
Bruce caught a huge (prob about 25kg - about the size of an 8 year old child,
but better eating) yellowfin tuna on the way (it is only a ten mile trip), so
that is feeding us and the local families for the next couple of days. (Our
fridge is working, sort of, again) He is over the moon with his strike rate (the
fishing up here is brilliant) but I'm not quite so thrilled about having a
gore-covered boat - we got in the dinghy to go ashore to discover that we had
tuna blood all down the side of the boat - Texas Chainsaw Massacre on tour in
the Pacific!
I'm having a quiet evening revelling in the fact I am
female. We went in to see Chief Kerely and his wife Elizabeth this afternoon,
but Kerely was off in the gardens getting kava for an evening session with the
guys doing some building there (for yet another cultural festival). We were
having a quiet drink on deck when a pikinini in a canoe arrived with an
invitation for Bruce to come & drink kava with the men. Yes! I don't have to
drink any!! Life is good!!! Viva la chickdom & the inferior state of females!
Never thought you'd hear me say that, did you? Feminism could have been stopped
in its tracks if it had involved compulsory Banks Island-strength kava
consumption. Bruce has the handheld radio with him and I have been instructed to
call him back on some pretext if he is away too long. Not bloody likely, I need
a good laugh!
27 August 2008,
Sola, Banks Islands
Well,
we are now around in Sola (13'49".5S, 167'33".1E), the bustling administration
centre of Torba Province, Vanuatu. It boasts an electric light, a Post
Office/Bank which resembles a fairground hotdog stand; you queue at windows in
the side of a concrete building, a couple of "shops" where you stand at the
window and try to guess what they have inside - just don't ask for anything
flash like tea, about 4km of potholed crushed coral road and 3 cars. It also has
the Customs/Immigration services which is why we are here, we have just checked
out and are waiting for some good weather to head north towards the Torres
Islands and the Solomons. It is also notorious for being rolly - sleep is a
miracle. The boat comes up with a whole new bunch of noises guaranteed to keep
you awake all night - it is like the percussion section from Bedlam on
amphetamines! You just stop the sail halyards bashing against the mast when the
flag halyards start - you get them tied up then the lazy jacks go. Then the
tiller works its way out of the lashings and starts banging, encouraging the
dinghy to crash into the side of the boat and the spinnaker pole to bang on the
mast. Inside all the bottles in cupboards, cutlery in the drawers, cans in the
bilge and various stuff stowed everywhere crashes from side to side, causing a
psychotic stuffing of tea towels, clothes and anything else to hand into gaps to
stop the clanging. Then you try to sleep with one foot wedged against the roof
to stop rolling out of bed. We have moved a couple of miles up the bay out of
the swell so we can get some sleep! The disposition of the crew can only be
imagined. I love sailing.
Sola Bank/Post Office
Despite being the definition of the back of beyond, we
could hardly move in Sola for people we knew! The Customs guy & the shopkeeper
remembered us from last year, so we were instantly their friends, at Immigration
(actually the local police) we met our friends Kowie & Eelco from the yacht
Mylady who we hadn't seen since NZ in 2007 and Frank, the son of Godfrey &
Veronica from Vureas Bay. Then we went to the Post Office where we met the Peace
Corps couple who are teaching at Vetumboso village near Vureas Bay and the
couple who work in the Health Clinic there. I don't know that many people in one
place in NZ!
We also managed to track down the parts for our fridge that had been following
us around Vanuatu - they had ended up at the home of the guy who works at the
bank/PO who was on leave! Very Ni-Vanuatu, but they got to us in the end, and
the fridge is now working perfectly. Bruce is in full maintenance mode as
everything is spitting the dummy (the pipe from the water tank is leaking, the
inverter plug broke, the sink was stinking, the igniter on the stove refused to
go, the fan above the bunk fell off the roof) as well as pulling the port
interior out to try to track the leak, which we suspect may be coming through
some screws on the teak rubbing rail. He has now resealed those, so fingers
crossed that will cure it.
The bay we are in now has the only two crocodiles in Vanuatu, so swimming is out
of the question. Here is a quote from Carlo & Lu from Gilgamesh, some Italian
friends who were in here last week: "We went with the boys from the Anglican
school to see the swamp where an incredible bridge (more a long plankway) made
with slippery branches loosely tied together crosses a shallow river. A few feet
below a six meter crocodile (really!) jumped out of the water as soon as our
friends stirred the mud with a long stick. Imagine how we crawled back along the
bridge..."
During our time in Waterfall Bay the local Paramount Chief, Kerely, had a
ceremony to make us brother & sister to his family. This involved a gathering of
his and his wife's family, where we exchanged gifts and declared the
relationship. We can now go and live there whenever we want, and they will give
us some land for a house and garden. It is a pretty spectacular place, so if the
world goes pear-shaped we now have a bolt-hole, even if it is a 8-hour walk from
Sola. We now have about 6 new brothers and sisters (including Ali, who is the
local fieldworker from the Vila Cultural Centre and really interesting to talk
to - I have been getting lots of info for my uni assignments from him) and
several children who now call us Mother and Father. Apparently we are the first
people Kerely has invited to join the family, so quite an honour. Ali has a few
non-Ni-Van brothers & sisters, archaeologists and anthropologists who have been
living /studying in the area. Ali has invited me to live with his family and do
my PhD on the area. That will be a little way off...
Our new kastom family - Kerely stands next to Bruce, and
his wife Elizabeth is third from left in the photo above
Well, we gain some family and we lose some - Anna, our beloved Devon Rex cat has
died aged 22. She spent her last years being waited on hand and foot by "slaves"
Sue & Laurie at Whangarei Heads and we'll always be grateful to them for the
loving care they gave her. Sorry guys, you will actually miss the horrible
yowling. And the shedding. And the sofa monopolisation, We'll miss her emails.