Fai Tira Blog Wednesday 11h August 2010

Now on the way to Mackay 18:42.71S 158:51.00E

We started to move away from Port Vila on  Sunday the 8^th August and we are now heading away from the last of our South Pacific stops and further west, towards a totally different culture and the entry to the Great Barrier Reef which will take us to the shores of Australia and our first stop, the harbour of Mackay.

However, what about Vanuatu?

It was great stop, and somewhere, I think, that received almost unanimous approval. So now it’s down to me to try to give an overview of what turned out to be a most enjoyable and entertaining stay.

 Although I  know that we’ve already indicated the testing nature of the sail across, it turned out to be tough enough that a few more words about it won’t go amiss.

It wasn’t just the high winds and very big confused seas: after all, we’d experienced quite a lot worse before. It was the relentless nature of the conditions that just refused to ease up over the three days. And with the resultant failure of the auto-helm and inability of the hydrovane to cope, regular hand steering in constant 30 knot winds took its toll. It meant that three somewhat weary, battered and relieved blokes were quite pleased to arrive. Just to try and give a flavour and atmosphere of the sailing, I’ve included diary notes of the last leg, as they were written, straight from my note book. By this time we’d already completed two170 mile back to back 24 hour periods and were feeling as though we’d just spent two days in a tumble dryer.

“1.45pm Tuesday 27^th July:- The winds have got up again, gusting to 35-40 knots provoking a corresponding and continuous turmoil in the erupting sea. We’re pleased with our decision to leave in the second main reef, something incorporated late yesterday. Its effect helping to stabilise the boat and assist with the handling, even so, we’re still steaming along at between 7 and 8 knots.

Just past midnight Wednesday 28^th July:-  Much of  the same really. The seas stay big and although the winds sometimes relent, they are mostly in excess of 25 knots. Earlier on, during the evening net call, we were informed of an impending gale.....And there was me thinking that we were already in one!!. Anyway it’ll help maintain our average! Our estimated time for arrival varies a little, but now looks like mid pm on Thursday.

4 am Wednesday 28^th July:- Climbed out into a very noisy and dark cockpit, not much vision beyond the safety rails apart from the white glare from the frothing seas as they rush by. Weather pattern pretty much unchanged, although the seas seemed to have calmed around dawn. Just picked up Enchantress on the AIS and a visual check, when we’re both on the crest of a wave, just makes out their tricolour lights

8 am:- 50 miles to go. Still travelling at 6 ½ -7 ½ knots, probably won’t arrive till late pm now.

11 am:- Just spotted land in the form of a slight variation in the grey shading that forms the distant horizon. Now just 28 miles left.”

The approach reminded me of the one to Niue, inasmuch as the severe conditions hung on right until the end, provoking a big surprise at the sheltered nature of the final destination.

In this case, though, it wasn’t the only surprise. For some reason a vision lurking at the back of our collective minds, had pictured Vanuatu as a place largely untouched, with the population living a traditional lifestyle in village communities.

 As it turned out it was a side to the place that wasn’t too hard to find. However, our mooring at port Vila, on the island of Efate, revealed a town that couldn’t have been more different. What we arrived at was a vibrant and bustling community, right in the middle of its week long 30^th anniversary celebrations of independence from the colonial condominium powers of Britain and France (aka “The Pandemonium”, we learn!). 

The clearing in procedures, something we’d been warned were quite rigorous, turned out to be relaxed, smooth and even short-circuited, with the requirement to anchor at the quarantine buoy waived by the friendly customs and immigration officials. They then came on board and rapidly completed the paperwork before guiding us to number 18 mooring buoy that was to be our permanent location for the rest of the stay.

Too tired for anything else we tidied up the boat and ourselves, cooked some food, my second attempt at cauliflower cheese (the first went all over the stove and galley floor when hit by a big wave on the way across). Then we just flaked out for the night to the background noise of rejoicing and fireworks..

The following day was a local bank holiday. We spent the morning working on the boat then it was off to join in the festivities. It was easy.  All we had to do was follow the crowd that was winding its way up the steep, long incline of concrete steps, turn right through a wide opening in a fence then into the field known as Parliament Park to be greeted by an immense riot of colour, sound and smell. The whole ground was awash with people. Some were just standing in groups. Many others were queuing for food sometimes four deep outside of the back to back small bright hut-like stalls that lined the perimeter way into the distance, encapsulating the whole area. However, predominant amongst these were the groups of picnicking families, sometimes parked under whatever shade could be found, others appearing to be content with any available vacant patch of grass..

In the centre, and surrounded by yet more colourfully adorned people, was a large roped off area for parades and performances. It was here that representatives from other islands were able to display their own individual culture and traditions, often by dance, something they did with great pride and passion.

Our day ended after a speech from the Australian commissioner and was rounded off with a ladies parade. A varied international collection of associated countries was represented. Each of the women was in traditional costume carrying their national flag. And right up front with her head held high and waving the union flag, was the upright figure of a smiling, proud, elderly lady called Chrissie, the poise of her stride confirming what we later found out was her background as an actress. Both her and Louis, her husband, revealed themselves as interesting and entertaining people as we later discovered. More encounters with Louis followed, mainly at the Anchor bar, our rugby venue and pub with a bit of attitude!

By now a large number of the BWR boats had arrived, with many moored up against the marina pontoon giving easy access to the bars. The evening was dominated by the 60^th birthday celebrations for Peter off Bali Blue. He and his lovely wife Carol had organised a meal at a nearby French restaurant and provided some free drink. Most of the BWR fleet turned up (free drink!!), and although it was a good evening, the effect of the journey was still getting to me and participation eventually became too much of an effort.....No stamina I’m afraid!!

Rain had been falling steadily for long periods over the last few days and continued to make its presence felt. We were, I think, all eager to explore the town, not really knowing what to expect. We’d identified two main tasks for the day. Firstly it was to arrange our aeroplane flight to the Island of Tanna and then to sort out a rugby venue for the evening...Well there were three actually, the last one being to track down a decent ice cream. The first two were successfully completed, but the hunt for the third went on!

The place was extremely busy and seemed to have a permanent traffic jam running down the main street, probably due to the influx of anniversary celebrators.

The town itself was full of interest, its colonial background so diluted and absorbed into its own identity that the only remaining influence seemed to be that of the two main languages: both English and French being spoken.

The architecture was largely uninspiring and it seemed that almost each building housed a bar, cafe or bank, but all the time the buzz of the place generated an effect of anticipation giving the feeling that there was always something new around the next kink in the road. Venture into a small gap in the facade and you’d typically enter a huge Aladdin’s cave with vividly coloured materials hanging from every position. Walk in amongst them and you’d see small work areas complete with benches and sewing machines. There was no hassle to buy, but if you wanted:  just select your material, make a purchase, and leave with a finished garment.

 A gallery housed the delightful local art of Juliette Pita. Also alongside another work was an information panel. This was the work of a lady called Vivian Dune, someone with a BA who’d studied at Oxford Brookes University. Here I am half way round the world and I see works from someone who was trained not four miles from my home...Bizarre.

The huge covered fruit market was magnificent, always of interest and it appeared - apart from Sunday - always open and packed full of customers. The spectacle of colourful activity, continuity of goods and general buzz was fascinating. We never tired of visiting.

In the middle of the week we rose at the crack of dawn, climbed into a waiting taxi and made our way to the airport for our flight to Tanna. We’d read much about this place and its description of being the true Vanuatu. As soon as we landed and disembarked from our turbo-prop flight, looked out through the hole in the wall from arrivals to see our luggage being unloaded and pushed towards it, we knew this was something different!!

Our stay was to be for one night and the courtesy vehicle, that was also to take us to the volcano later, was waiting to whisk us off to the resort.

There are very few metalled roads on the Island and even this short ride was bumpy, but still no preparation for what was to come.

Once settled in and with time to kill and no other means of transport, we decided on a walk. The track outside went nowhere in particular but we took it anyway and guess what?  that’s just where we ended up,  but on the way we spoke to village tribes- people, walked through to the coral where we saw a horse paddling in the sea, and stopped for a drink at the neighbouring resort. Our intention on this visit, apart from the volcano trip, had always been to see as much of the island and culture as possible, but it soon became clear that the prohibitive costs of the organised trips had the effect of putting this in jeopardy.

We set off at about 3pm in a convoy of two vehicles fully equipped with sturdy shoes and rucksack of warm clothes. The journey took about 2 hours. We drove through the main town, a sprawl of ramshackle buildings that seemed full of character. Tribal villages emerged from the lush greenery where everyone greeted us as we bounced by, not just a respectful wave of acknowledgment, but a genuine meaningful smile that said they were truly pleased to see us.

We stopped at vantage points to photograph. It was during one of these stops where we encountered Mansie. He was parked waiting for his passengers to return. An approach from me about hiring him, followed by a short conversation and hand shake, meant we had a vehicle and guide for the next day.

The volcano was now visible in the distance, the billowing smoke evidence of signs of activity. The roads were becoming steeper and the surface pot holes morphed into craters with cracks that looked as though they could swallow a whole wheel and axle and still want more.

As we approached the ash field the landscape transformed from lush green to grey lunar, and Mount Yasur stood proudly, towering before us an announcing itself with a menacing black eruption causing gasps of awe and excitement. The road up through the Park would have been a difficult walk, but our driver’s skill and experience was more than impressive as he guided us past smoking banks of vegetation and parked us neatly at the foot of the trail. The rest of the way was on foot and we passed the only post box in the world on an active volcano.

It now becomes difficult to convey the impact of standing on the rim, just yards away from an open fissure in the Earth’s crust that felt like a direct route to its centre; and to witness the release of such phenomenal energy. It was still half light as we approached, but the spectacle remained undiminished. The noise of the bubbling lava was distinct and all the time a fluctuating rumbling in the background kept building. Dense smoke rushed from an adjacent vent, the rumbling increased to an sudden crack, the pressure waves made you gasp and brace yourself, molten lava shot skywards in a powerful cascade falling to earth and peppering the surroundings with flecks of red. To be in the presence of such power was staggering and I suppose we should have been just a bit frightened, but I think we were just too mesmerised to think of fear. As darkness fell the sense of theatre, occasion and spectacle increased and we eventually walked off the top reeling from the experience and leaving Yasur to her own devices.

The next day Mansie turned up as agreed (why should we have doubted him? We shook hands didn’t we). The first stop was the banyan tree. Although Mansie had lived on the island all his life,  this was only his second ever viewing. It was another demanding drive, past remote traditional villages and smiling waving people to meet our guide Sam. It seems a long way to go to see a tree, but this was some tree, probably the biggest banyan in the world and literally covering an area the size of a football pitch, If you had that as a plaything as a child, you’d want nothing else, and just to prove it us three big kids dangled from one of its hanging roots and each swung out across the deep valley, doing our Tarzan imitations as we flew!.

We travelled towards the village of the magic tour stopping at the Nambawan Coffee House to sample the local brew served by the delightful Mildred. It was just a timber hut with a curly corrugated steel roof, but for us the setting and building were just spot on, good coffee too.

We arrived at the village and, complying with tradition, requested to proceed before being greeted by our guide Rex.

The village is a staged setting designed for the re-enactment of tribal life and customs. We were early and given privileged access to an authentic village a mile or so away for a visit to the early stages of a circumcision ceremony.  We were introduced to the chief who took us to the compound that housed the young victims, now at the end of the first of three weeks of isolation. I have to say, that for me,

it did feel a bit like an intrusion, but it soon became obvious that all they were doing was showing off something  they saw as a proud culture and tradition.

As we left, a very pleased chief presented us with a gift of kava.

Back at the magic village Rex was now in traditional costume, and after the introductions and warnings we all strode off into the village where immediately the undergrowth parted and ferocious warriors with distorted faces, leapt out screaming and threatening us with large clubs. It was all very convincing and very scary. The rest of the tour carried on in similar vein, with more scary bits and demonstrations of tribal traditions that ended with me being dressed up and appointed honorary chief and drinking kava.

Our trip ended back at the airport where we said goodbye to the very affable Mansie and boarded our flight back from one of the best visits we’ve made

The last few days in Port Vila were largely spent preparing for the next long sail. However, there was still time to explore; Pete and Jeremy each on a pair of motorised wheels and me on pedal power. They wanted to take on the trip of the 160 miles perimeter road, whilst my intention was to be a little more selective and travel to a place called the Secret Garden,

Pete and Jeremy’s scooter trip sounded like a success, although perhaps a little short of spectacular and it wasn’t until early evening that they returned. They visited a sadly run-down resort - the Blue Water, ironically! – whose main attraction seemed to be a couple of  “hand-feeding” pools; one containing turtles, the other one some sharks and other fish.  They also stopped for lunch at the Beachcomber bar & restaurant, after buying petrol from a nearby resident with a 50-gallon drum of it in his

hut!  Alan, mine host, made them welcome and encouraged them to enjoy the 2 outdoor pools (1 warm 1 freezing), and the indoor mineral spa pool piped in straight from the source. They recommend it to Tanna visitors.  Returning, they paused chez  the charming Ernest, an elderly native gent who used to work for the erstwhile British administration.  He has a roadside shed housing sundry WW2 memorabilia – his slogan is “Rust in Peace” – and his pride n joy collection of old Coca Cola bottles, at 674 the biggest in the Pacific he reckons.

Mine was great fun.

I eventually found the Garden after a little help from two French guys and their pick- up truck (ok, cheating a bit I know, but I still had to ride back).

The garden entrance nestled in a gap in the vegetation beneath a brightly painted sign. Inside was a little gem of a place and I was greeted by smiling faces. With my bike secured in the colourful shed that doubles as reception and office, I set off down a trail that felt like entering a mini rain forest and before long, as clearings opened up,  a world of tribal villages emerged and rudimentary  dwellings appeared providing an invitation to explore these reconstructed communities, where almost every pace in any direction was punctuated by a trail of illustrated information boards that told stories, conveyed history, recited mythology and explained the background and culture of this proud race of people. It was far too much to take in during one visit, and it was with some reluctance that I returned to my bike, pointed it at the town and headed off in searing late afternoon heat, up the slight incline, against a stiff breeze and thinking that I just might be better off on a scooter!!

That was just about it then. We really liked Vanuatu, but all good things must end and we set off early Sunday morning in the company of Angel and Aspen to the background of a forecast of iffy weather,

Watch this space!!!

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