We arrived at Wala mid afternoon, with not a bite on the line. Canoes came out to greet us and were disappointed that we’d caught no fish. They told us that Chief Kami was on the mainland attending a funeral so there was plenty of time for a swim and a rest before going ashore. Kami had prepared some kava, to thank us for getting him his things from Vila, and invited us into the nakamal along with his son, three of his grandchildren and his second in command. The kava was good. Vanuatu kava is the real thing. You may think you know kava, having had some in Fiji, but, with apologies to Fijians, I have to say, their kava is like dishwater in comparison. You can drink three, four, five shells of Fijian kava and feel a little mellow. Have one shell of Vanuatu kava and the world’s a better place; your companions are wonderful company, soothing and easy to be with, the evening light is beautiful and the sea starts to sparkle. Have two and your tongue tingles a little, your lips are just a tad numb and it’s a little hard to say the wonderful, insightful and fascinating things you know your companions are eager to hear. They say wonderful things too, I can’t quite remember them now, but they were truth. We, wisely perhaps, refused a third shell and hence had no embarrassing incidents making our way back to the boat in the kayak, but instead paddled with grace and climbed aboard with aplomb. At least it felt that way to me.

We slept the sleep of the chilled: dropping off straight away, staying asleep yet being aware of vivid peaceful dreams meandering their way through the night. And on waking we had no hang over, slightly unsettled stomachs maybe, but otherwise just fine, and still a little mellow. We headed ashore to pass on a few more items people needed: marine epoxy to repair canoes with, a spokeshave for smoothing house poles (why on earth did we have a spokeshave on board?? We’ve never needed it in 3 1/2 years. Though, having given it away, we will need it next week of course) and to see George and his wife, he’d told us she would be making us lap lap with chicken. We’d explained we had to leave in the morning but he insisted that she’d be able cook it and give it to us before we left. As it turned out she hadn’t had time to prepare lap lap but she had kindly had boiled yams and chicken which we were served for breakfast at 8 am. We’d thought we’d be given something to take with us and regretted the weetbix, fruit and yoghurt we’d already had. Yam and chicken is lovely, but a little hard to stomach so early in the day. Poor Phil had a rather hard job of it as he’d just given his head an enormous whack on a roof pole sticking out from the eaves of a house we’d been walking past. He had a hat on and was bending down a little to help the 3 yr old who was holding his hand: walked right into it. So he sat, slightly concussed, with blood pouring down his face, trying to eat yam and chicken.

It was a good job we were mellow. We got back on board, got mizzen and mainsail up, and tried to lift the anchor. No go. The relay for the windlass had failed.