So hot you can fry an egg...

Cooking an egg in the midday sun

It's so hot here...

Our anchor windlass button heated up in the sun and the windlass spontaneously started. We had to shut off the breaker quickly but by then, the anchor and about 15 feet of chain had dropped into the water (we are on a mooring). Fortunately, it was the down button. We'll keep the anchor locker lid down from now on.

The summit of the local hill. So bright...

Also, we have been having more fun with our water-cooled refrigeration system. Matt cleaned out a bunch of silt from the water in Honiara and also found coral polyps growing in the strainer (along with the usual tiny fish, crabs, and shells).

MS World Explorer wreck.

We had a fun New Year's Eve potluck with the local village and Field Trip. Wishing you all a great New Year!

Winning the Lottery in the Solomons

There is a study that shows that happiness levels for lottery winners decline after they win. Part of the reason is that they start getting bombarded with requests for money from relatives, friends, charitable causes--everyone. They can't give money to everyone and having to saying 'no' creates a feeling of guilt.

For me, being in the Solomon Islands creates the same sort of discomfort. In every anchorage, a regular stream of villagers in dugout canoes paddle out to our boat wanting to trade fruits, vegetables, shells and carvings for things they need. They might want clothing, sugar, tinned meat, soap, or myriad other items. They are desperate to trade and it's clear that they have very little.

Often, they have items that we don't want, such as papaya (it's not our favorite, it ripens quickly and a little goes a long way) or other item that we have too much of already. It's very difficult to turn them away with nothing, so often we trade for things that we might have to throw away because we haven't been able to eat it soon enough. We also don't trade for shells, mostly because we don't want them. Another boat that had previously traded for shells was appalled when villagers began bringing live cowries to them. On the other hand, they don't necessarily have much else to trade.

For us, it is important that we trade rather than give items away. Trading allows villagers to offer something of value in exchange for what they're getting, rather than making them feel like beggars.

There is a language barrier and Solomon Islanders are somewhat shy, so it can be difficult to come to an agreement. We don't always have what they want or know if what we have given is fair in their minds.

We enjoy talking to villagers and many times they do have produce that we want, but on balance it has been hard to get used to being a floating Wal-Mart. At some anchorages, the constant interruption makes it hard to get school or other tasks done.

The anchorages are the villagers' backyard (there are always villages in every anchorage and you aren't allowed to anchor in other locations) and we are coming in with our big, shiny boats that are worth more money than most of them will ever see in their lives. We will keep trying to balance doing what we can to help out (fairly) and keeping our sanity.

A Solomons Christmas

A hand-carved canoe Conrad bought with some of his
Christmas money

This Christmas marks the end of our fourth year on the boat. It is also the first Christmas where the boys didn't get any big, commercial gifts. No Lego or electronic devices. Instead, they got some local wood carvings, shorts that I sewed them, stocking stuffers of candy and small toys that Matt has had forever, and extra time for iPad games. They also got Christmas money from their grandparents and uncle.

My deeply conditioned Christmas capitalist self couldn't stop worrying about the boys' potential disappointment. As it turned out, I didn't have to worry. The boys said it was their best Christmas so far and a big part of it was that they got to be with their friends. How heartwarming and Christmas spirit-y is that?

The Holidays in Roderick Bay

Boat kids watching the dancing

After the stress of being in Honiara, we were ready to be somewhere peaceful for Christmas. We had heard about Roderick Bay from other cruisers and our friend Titus in Ndendo. Although the other islands in the Florida Island group have a reputation for thefts and for charging to anchor, John Roka has made an effort to keep Roderick Bay yacht-friendly. He has free moorings and canoes to patrol the anchorage at night.

 

After a short-ish motor from Honiara, we turned the corner into Roderick Bay and saw a lovely bay as well as the wreck of MS World Discoverer. Our friends on Rehua and Field Trip arrived first and were put on the two available moorings. The other two moorings didn't have lines, so we anchored in about 90 feet of water. After making sure that we wouldn't get too close to shore, we had a relaxing evening in the calm anchorage.

 

We spent some time with the folks from the village. Christmas Eve was spent among friends on Rehua. On Christmas Day, our breakfast was interrupted several times by dugouts wanting to trade. Later, a cruise ship visited the harbor and transported more than 200 people to the beach near the World Discoverer wreck to see some local "kustom dances".

John and his village re-did the show the next evening for us, complete with elaborate costumes and floral arrangements. The music they produced with Pa VC pipe drum set and flip flops was impressive. We ate a dinner of local food and the evening ended with us dancing with the locals- much to their delight and laughter.

Honiara Hell

Honiara, while not as bad as some people had reported, was not a relaxing place. When we arrived in Point Cruz, we had to med-moor (for the first time) to the wall in very tight quarters. Fortunately, our friends on Rehua had arrived earlier that day and Seathan was a big help in getting us situated. Though the population of Honiara is only around 64,000, the city itself was overwhelming in contrast to the small villages we had been frequenting for the last six weeks. There were hordes of people, cars everywhere, and smells of copra and other industry.

We tried to get as much provisioning done as possible before everything closed for the holidays. We were already too late for the chandlery, hardware and some other shops.  We also had to finish the check in process with customs, biosecurity and immigration, finishing what was started back in Lata. We hustled through the check list of things we needed to accomplish, both because we wanted to get it done, but also because we were a bit concerned being away from the boat.  Although some people said that it was safe to leave your boat unattended, others warned that there had been thefts (one local guy said you would get robbed, no question, if the boat was left alone). In reality, Honiara probably carries risks similar to any 'big' city but we were more wary nevertheless.

Near 5 p.m. on the second day, we came back on board after a morning of errands and lunch at the local burger joint. The wind started to pick up and one of the workers from the boat next door motored over to let us know that the 130 foot steel fishing boat on the other side of Rehua had been known to drag anchor in the past. As the squall started to hit and the wind blew harder, all the tightly packed boats around us started to sway. A stern line on one of the boats to the other side of Rehua snapped and its crew struggled to put out another line. The fishing boat that we had been warned about started moving closer to Rehua. Rehua started up its engines to get ready to flee, as did we. When the big boat was within three meters of Rehua, they dropped their stern line and picked up anchor as quickly as possible. We did the same.

We went around the corner, about a mile away. The anchorage was safe, but not very protected. There was a bit of current that kept the boat broadside to the swell that the squall had kicked up. It was very wavy, with unsecured items falling down inside the boat and the waves were hitting us on the side and all over. I actually took seasickness medication for the first time in years. Audrie from Rehua, was still on shore and had to wait at the yacht club several hours until things were calm enough for her to be picked up. Field Trip, which was on a mooring, came over later that evening because the mooring ball was bashing against their boat. They picked up Audrie and dropped her off on Rehua. Everyone had a bumpy night until the seas finally calmed down in the early morning.

Rehua got their dock line the following day and picked up ours as well (the fender they had tied to their line was no longer there). We decided to stay at anchor and dinghy the mile into town. It was challenging to get things accomplished both with continuing squalls as well as a mid-week bank holiday. One day, I dropped Matt and Conrad off at the fishing wharf to do errands. A squall came through that set up a good size swell and made a pick-up untenable, even hours after the squall had passed. Matt found a cooler to temporarily store the frozen meat he was carrying and I dinghied over to Point Cruz to bring our immigration documents, so we could finish that up before we left Honiara.

Lots of villages. No internet.

Port Mary, Santa Ana Island. Our boat became the playground
for the local kids, who were on holiday.

Since we left Luganville almost two months ago, we have been in some of the most remote places that we have cruised to date: The Banks and Torres Islands (Vanuatu) and The Reef Islands (Solomons).  The internet has been even scarcer than usual and, more often than not, nonexistent.  Hence, our failure to update the blog for over two months.

Chief Godfrey at a rock spinning ceremony.
Veutumboso Bay (Vanua Lava, Vanuatu) 

Retrieving a wayward coconut crab.
Hayter Bay (Torres Islands, Vanuatu)

We traded for coconut crab, which we hadn't tried before.

Mark and Sarah with one of our cooked crabs.

Since arriving in the Solomon's,  we have been in the company of not just one, but two other kid boats (Field Trip and Rehua). After checking in at the tiny hamlet of Lata, we decided to head off to the relatively unvisited Reef Islands.  Only one other boat has visited this year and the villagers viewed us as a bit of an oddity, as if the circus had just arrived in town (and with 6 rambunctious kids, it sort of had).  There were no stores here and we were running low on fresh produce when luckily, Matt (along with the guys on the other boats) helped some of the villagers with repairs to their outboards and other engines, which garnered us some gifts in the form of  much-needed produce.

Mohawk Bay, Reef Islands (Solomon Islands)

Fenualoa, Reef Islands (Solomon Islands)

Fixing an engine for some produce was a deal that worked out for both sides, but there was no time for Matt, Mark and Seathan to rest on laurels because word got around that the cruisers were working miracles with engines and sewing machines. Engines and machines started coming out of the woodwork and pretty soon all the cruiser men's time was spent fixing. When we got to the next anchorage, 13 miles away, word had already traveled and the men were working on generators almost as soon as we arrived. 

Halloween. Rowa Islands (The Banks, Vanuatu).

The sailing has been challenging because of the unsettled weather. Wind has been more often than not accompanied by squalls. Our headsail ripped during one trip when the webbing chafed through (Rehua ripped their genoa on the same trip). We were fortunate that Field Trip has a heavy-duty sewing machine and was willing to help us fix it. We owe them a bunch of new needles that snapped under the strain of all the material being sewn together.

We hung around this curious cuttlefish (bigger than a football)
for about 1/2 an hour, until we got cold.

We also experienced our first major earthquake. We awoke at 4:30 a.m. one morning to a heavy rumbling noise while the boat was getting pushed and jerked about. We were sure that the anchor had failed and the boat had gone up on the reef. When we figured out that the boat hadn't changed position, we slowly made out that there had been an earthquake. We found out later that it was a 7.8 magnitude quake that happened about 40 miles away. Fortunately, it was deep enough and had an island between us and the quake that there was no tsunami. A coconut tree or two fell down at the village near us and a couple of buildings in Kirakira collapsed, but no one was injured.

It is miserably hot and humid, especially when it rains and we need to shut the hatches and choke off the little air movement there is. We kind of minimized the warnings we got about the heat and humidity here, but it is the worst we have experienced in our four years on the boat. I'm sure that about half an hour in Chicago's subzero temperatures would make me appreciate the warmth, but right now I am just hot and cranky.  Unfortunately we still need to get even closer to the equator before we get to the Solomon's "main" cruising grounds...

We're greeted by a lot of teeth
reddened by betelnuts.

Conrad helping to grate cassava.

Cubs win!

Millenium Cave and normal life

The anchorage at Loltang Bay, Pentecost

A few weeks ago, I felt like I was done with cruising. It was hotter than hell, our usual breeze had deserted us, and swarms of flies had descended upon us. Tempers were short. My rope burns were still oozing and I had gotten a secondary skin infection that wouldn't go away. It was truly miserable.

Face 'paint' (mud) on the cave tour

A few days later, the flies flew away and the breeze came back. Life was good again. What a difference a day or two makes.

We have spent more time in Vanuatu than many other countries, but there are so many islands that we have sped through many of them. Even though we spend much more time in places than most tourists, we are still tourists. The other day on the Millenium Cave Tour, we met Cole and Caroline, a nice young couple working for the Peace Corps in Luganville. They have been in Vanuatu for almost two years and speak fluent Bislama. They were able to have real conversations with the Ni-Vans we met on the tour. They have enjoyed depth where we have just skimmed the surface. We're okay with that--it's just a different experience.

The cave tour itself was a lot of fun. We trekked through the forest, climbed up and down steep hills using handholds and ladders, scrambled over boulders, climbed and waded through huge cave, and floated down a stream through a steep canyon.  Along with the volcanoes, this adventure sent Vanuatu towards the top of the list of favorite places for Conrad.

We had spent a few days in Ratua and visited the blue hole at Malo. We returned to Luganville and were pleasantly surprised to find out that the package my parents sent from the States had arrived with the parts for our leaky freezer pump (Matt had put in our spare water pump temporarily). Matt was able to put the new seal in our freezer pump. It was still leaking when Matt put water into it, so he put some sealant on it, which seems to have done the trick.

 

The kids have been enjoying time with their friends on Field Trip and Rehua.

Happy Vanuatu

Mt. Marum's lava lake

Before we came to Vanuatu, a few people that had been here before would say something along the lines of, "They're very poor--they have nothing." From a Western perspective, that may be technically true. There is very little electricity or plumbing. Stores are few and far between. But from what we have seen, a typical village in Vanuatu seems to want for nothing that really matters.

Kids in Banam Bay, Malekula Island

The people are laid back and friendly. The houses are simple--bamboo and sometimes concrete block, wood or corrugated metal--but lovely. There are usually ornamental plants lining the litter-free paths. Most villagers have gardens that provide all the food they need. Growing, gathering, and preparing the food in underground 'ovens' is hard work--exhausting to even think about for someone with a stove, refrigeration, and flour I didn't have to grind by hand. But there is plenty of water and everything grows like crazy. There are even puppies, juvenile chickens, and baby pigs everywhere.

Bakery in Lamen Bay, Epi Island

The Ni-Vanuatu (as people from Vanuatu are called) seem to have it figured out and their place on the Happy Planet Index seems to agree. Of course, modern society can't be avoided. Many Ni-Vanuatu have phones and a lot of the men we have talked to have been to New Zealand or Australia to pick fruit to make money for things they can't make or grow.

Cacao beans drying in Banam Bay

It's not all rainbows and unicorns. You see signs here and there, like the one in a yard that warns kids not to stone birds with their slingshots. We met a man whose kava garden is three hours away to keep the local teens from stealing the precious crop. There is a judicial clerk in Loltong, the Administrative center on the island of Pentecost, who processes disputes among villagers. We have had a couple of chiefs complaining about people in their village giving tours and not paying a share to the village.

Lamen Bay turtle

With the number of cultures and languages in Vanuatu, it's amazing that everybody seems to get along as well as they do. It is not uncommon to find that what at first appears to be one village is actually four or more villages, each with a separate language and culture. People are very aware of race, unabashedly calling Caucasians 'white-skins' and not really comprehending that an Asian person could be from America. One man asked me yesterday whether it was okay for me to marry a white man. I think he meant from a cultural standpoint because my background is Korean, but I'm not sure.

Smol nambas dance in Banam Bay

Most of the dancers were later playing soccer

I was thinking that our boat hadn't needed a lot of repairs lately and I guess someone was listening. Our windlass gearbox started making an unpleasant grinding noise and Mark on Amelie IV suggested it might need oil.  Oil in the gearbox?  That was news to us. There didn't seem to be a place to add oil, but sure enough, located in an almost invisible--and almost equally unreachable--position there was a small cap that allowed us to add some oil.  (Turns out we're really supposed to remove the old oil too, but the instructions for that involved removing the whole windlass and turning it upside down to drain it.  Really? That's like having to remove a car engine and turning it upside down to drain its oil. In other words: not gonna happen.  After adding the oil, it ran much more smoothly but the chain kept jamming intermittently and eventually sheared off the pin (Woodruff key) that coupled the motor to the gearbox.  Matt contorted  himself into the anchor locker, replaced the pin and banged the chain stripper back into position (it had gotten a little out of whack when Matt was troubleshooting it). The bottom line is that it works now, we didn't have to spend $3000 on a new windlass (not to mention shipping and installing it), and Matt has recovered (mostly) from being stuffed into the anchor locker and covered with grease in the blazing heat (it took a lot of rum over ice).

We also broke a shackle on the main halyard from an accidental jibe in light wind, fixed an intermittently buzzing engine instrument alarm (again), and replaced the stop solenoid on the port engine (the one we had welded by the artist in Fiji). Of course, those were the repairs we had parts for.  The gooseneck on the boom needs a new washer/spacer and our freezer water pump valve has a slow leak. Not sure where we're going to find those.  Okay, the airing of grievances is over for now.

We're continuing to make our way north in the island chain. On Ambrym, we did a challenging day-long hike up to Mt. Marum to see one of the few lava lakes in the world with our friends on Amelie IV. Our friends on Field Trip put together an inspiring video documenting their hike to the volcano.

The boys with Phillip at the Volcano Gallery in Port Vila

Conrad drawing a bwathigo (sandroing bird)

with Edgar at the Vanuatu National Museum  

 

Perry Versus The Volcano

We had heard so much about getting an up-close--and seemingly dangerously close--view of lava spewing out of Mt. Yasur that it seemed impossible that the experience could live up to the hype. It matched the hype and then some. In fact, our evening at the volcano on Tanna has surmounted our list of most memorable experiences so far in almost four years aboard.

                                                                                               

In the past, the volcano was basically unregulated.  Hire a guy with a pickup to drop you at the base, and you walked up to the rim, free to do whatever you wanted.  New this year was a concessions company that charged a somewhat hefty admissions fee ($100 US per person--lots of money in the islands).  The increased price for access to the volcano comes with guides, a visitor area, safety briefing, and a kastom (custom) dance performed by the local village. Matt quipped that the slick logos on the new white 4x4s and uniforms on all the guides resembled those worn by the employees in Jurassic Park and we all know how that ended.

The tour was scheduled to arrive at the volcano an hour or so before sunset so that we could see it in daylight and after dark. After a bumpy truck ride up a road whose sides were venting stream and gas, we arrived at the base of the summit cone and were unloaded into a barren landscape of grey rock and ash. As we climbed the short hill up to the crater, we could hear and feel the rumbling. Our jaws dropped when we saw the first eruption of molten lava being blown out of the craters and we felt the heat cut through the cold wind. We were able to walk up to a point where we could look almost directly down into the crater (no guard rails anywhere, naturally). One vent seemed to specialize in huge belches of magma that would throw lava hundreds of feet into the air, some landing just below us with a resounding "thud." The other vent would periodically let loose explosions of gas and towering ash plumes accompanied by a deafening roar that made you think, "What AM I doing here?" As impressive as it was during daylight, the spectacle only got better as the sun went down.  After nightfall, the glowing splashes of molten rock sprayed into the best natural fireworks show we have seen.

As we watched this, we discussed with some of the other folks how scary it all was, but comforted ourselves with the thought that it must just seem that way, and that we wouldn't be allowed here if there was any real danger.  Just then, we witnessed one Volkswagen-sized chunk of magma fly overhead, well past the viewing area, making it very clear that our observation point was in the line of fire. This was enough to spook Conrad, who decided he wanted to go back down to the lower area. Throughout the evening, the kids and I would venture up the hill and then back down again. I got Conrad to go up to the higher viewing area one additional time, telling him not to worry, but he refused to go more than twice. It turns out he was probably the smart one.

After several hours of watching the show, we were at the lower observation point getting ready leave while a few folks were still up at the higher point.  A particularly large eruption happened and we turned to see an armchair-sized chunk of lava land squarely on the trail connecting the 2 viewing areas. When Matt went up to inspect the still-glowing lava, he noticed that it had landed right next to the spot where his camera bag had been laying--and we had been standing--just minutes before. Even though the chunks of lava had the trajectory and speed of an easy fly ball, which should have made them avoidable, the consequences of an error in judgment were quite different and it would have be easy for someone to panic. We certainly felt lucky that night.

Feeding the pigs in Anelghowhat on Aneityum

 

 

 

 

Freshwater pools carved into the rocks

 

 

 

Mystery Island (on a non-cruise ship day)

For the most part, we are enjoying the sailing in Vanuatu. The sail to Tanna from Aneityum was a nice fast run. We ran the spinnaker the whole way and made good time to Tanna. Unfortunately, I let the spinnaker sheet get away from me a bit and got some nasty second-degree rope burns on my hands. Knock on wood, it is the most serious sailing injury we have experienced. Next time I will make sure to put an extra wrap around the winch when the winds are up. We also lost yet another gaff on a big mahi-mahi (at least this time we managed to keep the fish).

David in front of a giant banyan tree at Dillons Bay, Erromango

 

Our sail to Erromango was also a fast, if not bumpy, wing-on-wing sail with the whisker pole. We clocked 15.5 knots surfing down one wave. Some of the gusts as we came around the point of Erro were some of the highest we have ever sailed through. We are enjoying Dillons Bay, where the last act of Vanuatuan cannibalism of a 'white-skin' occurred (they ate the unlucky missionary because they wanted to know what white meat tasted like--really) for a day or so before moving on to Port Vila.

Cave of Skulls