I don't know who is winning the World Series, I don't know if Obama is still ahead in the election polls and I do not have a Halloween costume. And to be totally honest, I don't really care. What I do care about is what the wind is doing, what the seas are doing and what's for dinner. Of course I want the Giants to win and of course Obama is going to win, but out here - 500 miles from any significant landmass - priorities change.
We are about 80 miles away from Chesterfield Reef (which I do not consider significant landmass). We are averaging about 7 knots, which would make our arrival time about 8 PM. Unfortunately the sun sets at 6 PM and although it is a full moon, it is kind of sketchy to be going into unknown reefs in the dark. But sitting out in the ocean for an extra night is really, really unappealing. Especially after last night.
Last night the wind and the seas picked up. When I got up for my watch at 00:00 the wind was at 26 knots, we had the mainsail double reefed as well as the genoa reefed. The seas were at 2+ meters, although it is hard to tell in the dark, but every once in a while we hit a wave that put Rutea over on her ear and a few loose items crashed around the cabin. This makes for very poor sleeping conditions - imagine trying to sleep on an erratic roller coaster - and makes the idea of a calm anchorage that could be attained this evening all the more appealing.
Fortunately, the wind and waves have both calmed down this morning, the sky is bright blue and we are cruising along at a nice pace. It is still a bit rolly but I think a shower might be in order, after all its been 4 days...
-----
At 10/29/2012 10:07 PM (utc) Rutea's position was 19°11.00'S 159°36.00'E
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Monday, October 29, 2012
Saturday, October 27, 2012
Day 2
The skies are clear and bright, the ocean calm and blue. The wind is light out of the East and we are sailing along smoothly. Last night the moon was so bright it never really got dark, and there was just enough wind to keep the sails filled and keep us moving comfortably forward.
In spite of getting a bit of a slow start yesterday morning - the wind was at 0.0 and there was a 3 knot current running against us - it has been a very nice passage so far. I've spent my days reading "Lonesome Dove" (semi-tedious but appropriate passage material), making a collective effort on NYT crossword puzzles (definitely tedious) and eating.
The best part about this passage, aside from the excellent weather we are having, is that once we get to Australia they are liable to confiscate all of our food. OK, not all of it, but all fresh stuff - eggs, meat, rice, beans, fruit, veggies, etc. This means all the treats are a free for all, and I get to eat whatever I want, as it would be a tragedy to see Customs confiscate the last bag of Cheez-its or biscotti. Granted, they probably wouldn't confiscate the Cheez-its, but it is better to be safe than sorry. Last night Dad made an awesome chicken dish and we have already discussed the many options for dinner. As you can tell, eating is one of our favorite pastimes. I am just stoked that the seas are calm so we are not too seasick to eat all these treats!
We have about 400 miles to Chesterfield reef, which is more or less half way between Vanuatu and Bundaberg, Australia. We are sailing along with two other boats, Mark and Diligaf, and all of us are planning to stop at Chesterfield. Should be a party once we get there, as there are also strict regulations on how much alcohol you can bring into the country, so we gotta drink up!
-----
At 10/27/2012 10:46 PM (utc) Rutea's position was 16°36.00'S 164°47.00'E
----------
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In spite of getting a bit of a slow start yesterday morning - the wind was at 0.0 and there was a 3 knot current running against us - it has been a very nice passage so far. I've spent my days reading "Lonesome Dove" (semi-tedious but appropriate passage material), making a collective effort on NYT crossword puzzles (definitely tedious) and eating.
The best part about this passage, aside from the excellent weather we are having, is that once we get to Australia they are liable to confiscate all of our food. OK, not all of it, but all fresh stuff - eggs, meat, rice, beans, fruit, veggies, etc. This means all the treats are a free for all, and I get to eat whatever I want, as it would be a tragedy to see Customs confiscate the last bag of Cheez-its or biscotti. Granted, they probably wouldn't confiscate the Cheez-its, but it is better to be safe than sorry. Last night Dad made an awesome chicken dish and we have already discussed the many options for dinner. As you can tell, eating is one of our favorite pastimes. I am just stoked that the seas are calm so we are not too seasick to eat all these treats!
We have about 400 miles to Chesterfield reef, which is more or less half way between Vanuatu and Bundaberg, Australia. We are sailing along with two other boats, Mark and Diligaf, and all of us are planning to stop at Chesterfield. Should be a party once we get there, as there are also strict regulations on how much alcohol you can bring into the country, so we gotta drink up!
-----
At 10/27/2012 10:46 PM (utc) Rutea's position was 16°36.00'S 164°47.00'E
----------
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Thursday, October 25, 2012
The End of Days (in the S.Pac)
Diving is a good second when there is no surf to be found!
It is hard for me to wrap my mind around the fact that we are leaving the South Pacific - Australia is considered to be the Coral Sea - at least the East coast where we are going. It is a great consolation that we intend to stop at Chesterfield reef, an atoll about 500 miles from here that is supposed to be a paradisical stop-over with great diving, snorkeling and other cool wildlife activities. It also breaks the trip up into 2 four day passages rather than one 7-8 day passage. I like this. However, this is weather permitting, so we will see how things go.
Aside from bingeing on junk food and internet, Mark and I did one last dive yesterday. Actually, he is doing his last dive today, but our dive to see "The Lady" - a restored relief of a lady riding a horse - at a depth of 135 feet inside the Coolidge was enough for me.
In fact, that dive was pretty freaky. I know you are now sick of hearing about dive adventures, so this one will be brief. We descended to the deck of the ship at about 80 feet, and after getting the OK signal from all four of us, our dive leader descended into a pitch black square cut out of the hull of the ship. It is counter-intuitive to go down into a dark whole in a wreck 80 feet under the water, but I paid $50 for the dive and was not about to chicken out, so I followed.
We followed our guide down the black tunnel, dodging overhanging beams while looking down into the infinite darkness below, also being careful not to kick the walls or beams so as not to cloud the visibility. We descended another 50 feet inside the ship, making our way down to "The Lady". By the time were at 120 feet I was breathing as if I were running a marathon, really trying to slow my breathing but finding it hard not to suck the whole tank in one breath. In reality I had lots of air, but my adrenaline was pumping and I was pretty narked.
Being "narked" is a kind of high you can get from going down super deep, although depending on the person they can get narked at 40 feet or whatever. It is kind of fun, a trippy feeling like, whoah duuude, although some people make irrational choices when they are too narked, making it a bit dangerous. See the PADI dive manual for further explanations (it is a real thing!).
Anyway, we made it down to 135 feet to see the lady, and sure enough she was there riding her white horse. Our dive guide had told us on the surface that it is good luck to "kiss the horse's ass" (literally). Of course the last thing I wanted to do at that depth was take my regulator out of my mouth (a big PADI no-no), but I could use all the luck I can get, so I managed to give the ass a quick peck.
We had about 3 minutes down at 135 feet before we had to start ascending, which I was happy to do. On the way up our guide took us through a few more rooms on the ship, showing us old medical supplies and other random stuff. It was a super cool and technical dive - being that deep and in an enclosed area - but I didn't feel the need to do it again. And while I feel like I am pretty bad ass, in reality the dives get way deeper and gnarlier the farther you go in the ship. I'll leave that to the experts. After all, I only have my open water certification.
Enough about diving. Today is our last day in Luganville, our last day in Vanuatu and our last day in the South Pacific isles... at least for a while (I am not sure if Chesterfield is considered s.pac or not). I can't help but reflect and reminisce about the amazing experiences I've had out here but will refrain from rambling about them today. Perhaps I'll save that for entertainment while we are on passage, assuming we have smooth seas.
Gud bey Vanuatu! Mi likem yu tumas!
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
The COOLidge
It is hot. And still. There is not a breath of wind and the air is heavy. The sun beats down mercilessly, even though it is still morning. The austral summer is creeping up on us, and summer in the tropics not particularly fun. As opposed to the 'go to the beach every day and BBQ every night' California kind of summer, the tropical summer is marked by torrential rain, malaria outbreaks, lightning storms, cyclones, oppressive heat and all sort of other fun things. Thus, we are leaving the tropics. Soon.
As a matter of fact it looks like we will head for OZ on Saturday - at least that was the consensus of this morning. In the meantime, I have been spending my last few days basking in the soggy heat and also trying to hide from it. I have found that the best way to hide from the heat is to hang out underwater, and the easiest way to hang out underwater is to scuba dive. Thus, I have been doing lots of diving.
A few days ago a group of us got a dive trip together to dive the SS Coolidge, which is considered to be one of the best wreck dives in the world. The Coolidge was an American luxury liner (think Titanic) that was converted into a troop carrier in WWII. As she was entering Luganville on October 26, 1942 to deliver troops, tanks, jeeps and other military stuff, she hit an American mine, due to lack of updated information (oops). The captain, realizing that the ship was going to sink, ran her up on the reef and called for all 4,000 troops to abandon ship. Amazingly only two people died, thanks to the quick thinking of the captain.
And now we have an awesome wreck to dive. The Coolidge is considered a technical wreck dive because it is so deep - the bow sits in 70 feet of water and the stern is in 250. It would take over 15 dives to see the whole thing, but I have no desire to dive to 250 feet, so we stuck with the intro dive which took us down to 103 feet.
After getting all our gear set, we all rolled off the dive boat and into the water. Because the wreck is so deep and because they do not want it pillaged, you have to go with a dive tour to dive the Coolidge. So we had a few local dive masters take us down. As I descended down the mooring line I saw the bow of the ship start to emerge from the depths of the gloom. It is absolutely huge so it was hard to tell what I was looking at, until I recognized the winches for hauling up the anchor.
At about 90 feet there is a hole in the side of the hull, and our guide led us into the cargo hold. Inside the hold there are still jeeps and tanks, lunch trays and cooking pots. It is so eerie to be swimming around in a pitch black cargo hold with only the beams of a few flashlights to illuminate ghostly relics of WWII, as well as the schools of fish that live in the wreck.
After leaving the cargo hold we swam down to 100 feet where, on the sun deck (or what used to be the sun deck) there are old corroded helmets and guns. The dive master tried to put one on my head, but it was so heavy I started to sink. It must have weighed 10 pounds. The thing that amazed me most about this dive is the fact that so much of the original stuff from the ship is still there - doorknobs, shoes, coke bottles, shells (as in bombs), guns - but I guess that is what happens when there is a lockdown on a dive site.
Because we were so deep we could not stay long, and after a few minutes at 100 feet we had to start our ascent. On the way up I saw some cool looking lionfish, a titan triggerfish (my new favorite fish) and some nice coral. The wreck disappeared back into the gloom and we headed back to the boat for our surface interval.
The next dive was a mellow dive on Cindy's reef, full of beautiful coral, an occasional shark and huge schools of fish. There were also a few clips of bullets strewn about the reef. I don't know if there was much actual fighting in Vanuatu during WWII, but there sure is a lot of junk leftover from it.
Speaking of junk and wrecks, Mark and I heard of a plane wreck that was supposed to be a good dive, so yesterday we went looking for it. Our only directions were, "look for the cattle fence that goes down into the water East of the resort, head off at a 45 degree angle, go down to 90 feet and it should be there." Unfortunately there was more than one cattle fence to the east of the resort, but we followed the directions to no avail. It was kind of fun anyway, and at least a good way to stay cool.
And so it is getting to be about that time where we say goodbye to people not going our direction, and talk incessantly about weather with those who are. Last night we had a goodbye party for our good friends on Sarah Jean, who are heading back to New Zealand. We couldn't convince them to come to Australia with us, which is too bad because they are good people. We spent the afternoon snorkeling and when we got tired of that, swam to Mark's boat for a beer. Then we all jumped in the water and swam to Rutea for a beer. Then we all swam to Riada for a beer, and so on, to complete our booze cruise/pub crawl-swim. Of course the sun was setting as we all swam back to our respective boats, made all the more exciting by the exclamation, "Last one to their boat is shark bait!" I have never seen everybody swim so fast.
Tonight Mark and I are heading back to Luganville (oh yeah, we left the Luganville anchorage for a few days to get into some nice water) to do a dive or two more on the Coolidge before we head out. A few more provisioning trips, a few more internet sessions, clean the bottom of the boat, check the rigging, check the fuel, check out and we are outta here!
P.S. I am absolutely gutted at the idea of leaving the South Pacific, but really excited about getting to OZ. As we say out here, it's all good!
-----
At 10/23/2012 9:02 PM (utc) Rutea's position was 15°31.37'S 167°09.90'E
----------
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As a matter of fact it looks like we will head for OZ on Saturday - at least that was the consensus of this morning. In the meantime, I have been spending my last few days basking in the soggy heat and also trying to hide from it. I have found that the best way to hide from the heat is to hang out underwater, and the easiest way to hang out underwater is to scuba dive. Thus, I have been doing lots of diving.
A few days ago a group of us got a dive trip together to dive the SS Coolidge, which is considered to be one of the best wreck dives in the world. The Coolidge was an American luxury liner (think Titanic) that was converted into a troop carrier in WWII. As she was entering Luganville on October 26, 1942 to deliver troops, tanks, jeeps and other military stuff, she hit an American mine, due to lack of updated information (oops). The captain, realizing that the ship was going to sink, ran her up on the reef and called for all 4,000 troops to abandon ship. Amazingly only two people died, thanks to the quick thinking of the captain.
And now we have an awesome wreck to dive. The Coolidge is considered a technical wreck dive because it is so deep - the bow sits in 70 feet of water and the stern is in 250. It would take over 15 dives to see the whole thing, but I have no desire to dive to 250 feet, so we stuck with the intro dive which took us down to 103 feet.
After getting all our gear set, we all rolled off the dive boat and into the water. Because the wreck is so deep and because they do not want it pillaged, you have to go with a dive tour to dive the Coolidge. So we had a few local dive masters take us down. As I descended down the mooring line I saw the bow of the ship start to emerge from the depths of the gloom. It is absolutely huge so it was hard to tell what I was looking at, until I recognized the winches for hauling up the anchor.
At about 90 feet there is a hole in the side of the hull, and our guide led us into the cargo hold. Inside the hold there are still jeeps and tanks, lunch trays and cooking pots. It is so eerie to be swimming around in a pitch black cargo hold with only the beams of a few flashlights to illuminate ghostly relics of WWII, as well as the schools of fish that live in the wreck.
After leaving the cargo hold we swam down to 100 feet where, on the sun deck (or what used to be the sun deck) there are old corroded helmets and guns. The dive master tried to put one on my head, but it was so heavy I started to sink. It must have weighed 10 pounds. The thing that amazed me most about this dive is the fact that so much of the original stuff from the ship is still there - doorknobs, shoes, coke bottles, shells (as in bombs), guns - but I guess that is what happens when there is a lockdown on a dive site.
Because we were so deep we could not stay long, and after a few minutes at 100 feet we had to start our ascent. On the way up I saw some cool looking lionfish, a titan triggerfish (my new favorite fish) and some nice coral. The wreck disappeared back into the gloom and we headed back to the boat for our surface interval.
The next dive was a mellow dive on Cindy's reef, full of beautiful coral, an occasional shark and huge schools of fish. There were also a few clips of bullets strewn about the reef. I don't know if there was much actual fighting in Vanuatu during WWII, but there sure is a lot of junk leftover from it.
Speaking of junk and wrecks, Mark and I heard of a plane wreck that was supposed to be a good dive, so yesterday we went looking for it. Our only directions were, "look for the cattle fence that goes down into the water East of the resort, head off at a 45 degree angle, go down to 90 feet and it should be there." Unfortunately there was more than one cattle fence to the east of the resort, but we followed the directions to no avail. It was kind of fun anyway, and at least a good way to stay cool.
And so it is getting to be about that time where we say goodbye to people not going our direction, and talk incessantly about weather with those who are. Last night we had a goodbye party for our good friends on Sarah Jean, who are heading back to New Zealand. We couldn't convince them to come to Australia with us, which is too bad because they are good people. We spent the afternoon snorkeling and when we got tired of that, swam to Mark's boat for a beer. Then we all jumped in the water and swam to Rutea for a beer. Then we all swam to Riada for a beer, and so on, to complete our booze cruise/pub crawl-swim. Of course the sun was setting as we all swam back to our respective boats, made all the more exciting by the exclamation, "Last one to their boat is shark bait!" I have never seen everybody swim so fast.
Tonight Mark and I are heading back to Luganville (oh yeah, we left the Luganville anchorage for a few days to get into some nice water) to do a dive or two more on the Coolidge before we head out. A few more provisioning trips, a few more internet sessions, clean the bottom of the boat, check the rigging, check the fuel, check out and we are outta here!
P.S. I am absolutely gutted at the idea of leaving the South Pacific, but really excited about getting to OZ. As we say out here, it's all good!
-----
At 10/23/2012 9:02 PM (utc) Rutea's position was 15°31.37'S 167°09.90'E
----------
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Saturday, October 20, 2012
The Lowdown
Hunks of junk at Million Dollar Point - Luganville, Vanuatu
I
should not have had very high expectations, as the South Pacific is not known
for its charming cities. I was misled,
however, by the guide book which describes Luganville with a "sprawling
main street with breathtaking ocean views at every corner..." Maybe in its prime Luganville was a nice
place. But the dilapidated buildings,
the remnants of WWII warehouses and the Chinese stores selling cheap knock-off
goods are a bit of a downer for me.
You
might ask, why did we even bother to sail all the way up to Luganville,
anyway? There are a few reasons, the
first being that the government only allows us a one month visa for the country
and that expires tomorrow. We have
decided, along with encouragement from the weather, that one month in Vanuatu just is
not enough, so here we are extending our visas for another few weeks. This means that we will probably skip New Caledonia which I am a bit bummed about, but sailing
to New Cal
also means sailing into the wind for three days and personally, I think that
sounds miserable. At this point it looks
like we will sail straight from Vanuatu
to Australia.
The
second reason why we are staying in Luganville (for a few days anyway) is
because there is great diving here. One
of the best wreck dives in the world, the SS Coolidge, is right here in the
bay. We were going to dive it today but
it rained torrentially all night, which will make the visibility terrible. Perhaps we will get to dive it in a day or
two.
Yesterday
Mark and I went for a dive out at Million Dollar Point, which is a point just
outside Luganville where, upon leaving the country at the end of WWII, the
Americans dumped all their military gear into the ocean. The US military did not want to ship all the
tanks, cars, bulldozers and everything down to lunch trays back to the States,
and the French/British did not want to buy it off the US, so into the ocean it
all went. I think the idea was, "If
we can't have it then nobody can."
It
is kind of cool and pretty depressing to see all those materials - car tires,
tank shells, boat hulls, airplane wings, etc. - underwater. Coral has started to grow in spots and there
are lots of fish swimming around, but it makes me cringe to think of the
pollution it caused. I guess that is a
running motive of war: waste, destruction, greed...
But
I digress. There are lots of other cool
things to do on the island
of Santo besides dive on
WWII wrecks, and hopefully when the rain stops we will be able to venture to
check out underground fresh water caves and blue pools up rivers. We only have a few weeks left before we need
to head to Australia;
cyclone season (and the Austral summer) officially starts November 1, and I
have no desire to be in the tropics for the summer or for cyclones.
I
must admit that I am pretty excited to get to Australia. To be perfectly honest I find it a bit
exhausting to always be a spectacle, to have people gawk at me as I walk
through a village and to have to work so hard to communicate with people. I am looking forward to fitting in (so long
as I keep my mouth shut) and possibly even having more people my age to hang
out with. In the meantime, I suppose I
should start working on my Aussie accent, aaiiiiii maaaiiiiite?
Sunday, October 14, 2012
State of Nature
When sailing up to an island in Vanuatu there is no sense of time. The islands themselves have not changed very much in the past few thousand years - save the occasional cell phone tower - which seems to be one of the few modern concessions the ni-Vanuatu have. Upon sailing into an anchorage you might see smoke from a small fire seeping through the jungle, a canoe anchored on the shore and maybe a thatched hut or two. I can only imagine that Captain Cook saw the very same things as he arrived on these shores hundreds of years ago.
In fact, the ni-Van have retained their traditional ways of life more so than most ancient cultures around the world - partly from choice and partly due to their isolation - being at the edge of the world and all. In the Kastom villages they have rejected all things modern, and go about their lives just as they have since the beginning of time. The ni-Van in the Kastom villages still wear nambas (penis sheaths), grass skirts, do not have cell phones and (I am pretty sure) have stopped eating people. Although we have not visited any Kastom villages yet, it sounds like some cater to tourists, putting on dances and feasts when palangis arrive, while others completely ignore or ban white people altogether.
Even though the villages we have visited are not Kastom, it still feels like going back in time to walk through a village with naked children running around, chickens, dogs and pigs foraging in the bush, fierce looking men coming up to introduce themselves...
After leaving Epi Island we sailed to an island off the south end of Malakula, called Maskelyne Island. We were promptly greeted by Ambong, who introduced himself as the secretary of tourism for the island, and who arranged for us to see Kastom dancing, go for a walk in the bush, a mangrove tour and out to see the giant clams. We did all of these things the past two days, but it was the dancing that was most remarkable.
A group of ten palangis arrived on the shore and we were given a brief welcome, before being led through the bush into something of a mangrove swamp. We arrived in a sandy little clearing and a man welcomed us to watch the dancing, or rather gave us permission to watch. Then there was a howl. A drum started thumping and male voices started chanting. They came out in a line with their feet stomping to the rhythm of the drum. And of course, they were wearing nambas.
Here is a description of men wearing nambas from Captain Cook's journal:
"The men go naked, it can hardly be said they cover their natural parts, the testicles are quite exposed, but they wrap a piece of cloth or large lead round the yard which they tye up to the belly to a cord or bandage which they wear around the waist just under the short ribs and over they belly and so tight that it was a wonder to us how they could endure it."
It obviously took some cajones (no pun intended) for these young guys to come out and dance for us in their nambas, as the missionaries did a very good job of convincing everybody to dress modestly. And whereas the nambas look extremely uncomfortable and just plain weird, it is amazing to see that this tradition has withstood the tests of time and the wrath of God (i.e. missionaries). The men performed a few dances and watching them, in that swampy mangrove, with their voices chanting and the drums beating, it was as close to time travel as I will ever get.
We are now at Banem bay on Malakula Island (named by Captain Cook), which translated means "Pain in the Ass" Island, or, as I prefer, "Badass Island". Malakula is known for black magic and big sharks/shark attacks, and although I have seen 2 sharks here - which is two more than I have seen anywhere else in Vanuatu - I am not too worried. As for the black magic, I will be sure not to piss off any of the locals so as to incur any of their wrath. This afternoon we are going into the village to see more Kastom dancing, and it should be interesting to compare notes on this dancing versus the dancing on Maskelyne Island. I'll let you know how it goes.
-----
At 10/12/2012 9:24 PM (utc) Rutea's position was 16°32.41'S 167°50.20'E
----------
radio email processed by SailMail
for information see: http://www.sailmail.com
In fact, the ni-Van have retained their traditional ways of life more so than most ancient cultures around the world - partly from choice and partly due to their isolation - being at the edge of the world and all. In the Kastom villages they have rejected all things modern, and go about their lives just as they have since the beginning of time. The ni-Van in the Kastom villages still wear nambas (penis sheaths), grass skirts, do not have cell phones and (I am pretty sure) have stopped eating people. Although we have not visited any Kastom villages yet, it sounds like some cater to tourists, putting on dances and feasts when palangis arrive, while others completely ignore or ban white people altogether.
Even though the villages we have visited are not Kastom, it still feels like going back in time to walk through a village with naked children running around, chickens, dogs and pigs foraging in the bush, fierce looking men coming up to introduce themselves...
After leaving Epi Island we sailed to an island off the south end of Malakula, called Maskelyne Island. We were promptly greeted by Ambong, who introduced himself as the secretary of tourism for the island, and who arranged for us to see Kastom dancing, go for a walk in the bush, a mangrove tour and out to see the giant clams. We did all of these things the past two days, but it was the dancing that was most remarkable.
A group of ten palangis arrived on the shore and we were given a brief welcome, before being led through the bush into something of a mangrove swamp. We arrived in a sandy little clearing and a man welcomed us to watch the dancing, or rather gave us permission to watch. Then there was a howl. A drum started thumping and male voices started chanting. They came out in a line with their feet stomping to the rhythm of the drum. And of course, they were wearing nambas.
Here is a description of men wearing nambas from Captain Cook's journal:
"The men go naked, it can hardly be said they cover their natural parts, the testicles are quite exposed, but they wrap a piece of cloth or large lead round the yard which they tye up to the belly to a cord or bandage which they wear around the waist just under the short ribs and over they belly and so tight that it was a wonder to us how they could endure it."
It obviously took some cajones (no pun intended) for these young guys to come out and dance for us in their nambas, as the missionaries did a very good job of convincing everybody to dress modestly. And whereas the nambas look extremely uncomfortable and just plain weird, it is amazing to see that this tradition has withstood the tests of time and the wrath of God (i.e. missionaries). The men performed a few dances and watching them, in that swampy mangrove, with their voices chanting and the drums beating, it was as close to time travel as I will ever get.
We are now at Banem bay on Malakula Island (named by Captain Cook), which translated means "Pain in the Ass" Island, or, as I prefer, "Badass Island". Malakula is known for black magic and big sharks/shark attacks, and although I have seen 2 sharks here - which is two more than I have seen anywhere else in Vanuatu - I am not too worried. As for the black magic, I will be sure not to piss off any of the locals so as to incur any of their wrath. This afternoon we are going into the village to see more Kastom dancing, and it should be interesting to compare notes on this dancing versus the dancing on Maskelyne Island. I'll let you know how it goes.
-----
At 10/12/2012 9:24 PM (utc) Rutea's position was 16°32.41'S 167°50.20'E
----------
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Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Jurassic Park
THE DUGONG
We arrived here a few days ago - I am not exactly sure when because time here seems to slip away as does one day into the next, but frankly, the day and even the date really does not matter. What does matter is that there was a dugong sighting at the East point of the bay yesterday morning.
A few of us went into shore yesterday morning to check out the village and say hello/ask "permission" to walk through the village, go snorkeling, diving, etc. Not that there is a law that says we have to ask permission, but it means so much to the locals when we go into the village, introduce ourselves, ask if it is ok to swim and tell them what a beautiful place their land is. It can be a bit daunting to walk up to a motley-looking crew of locals and say, "Alo! My name is Corie. This is a beautiful place. Are there sharks in the water? Is it ok to walk through the village?" Usually their stoic faces melt into smiles and we are invited to go anywhere and take pictures to our hearts' content.
After introducing myself to the village chief and high-fiving a few of the little toddlers in the village square, Mom and I along with a few friends set off down the road to take a look around. As we were walking toward the "airport" (or rather a landing strip with a thatch hut as the "terminal") a truck pulled up. "Alo! We just seen the dugong at the point. Jump in the back and I give you a ride out to see it!" a local cried at us, apparently very excited to show us the dugong. We sped down the "runway" (grassy field) and pulled off at a beach where, sure enough, a dugong was hanging out in the shallows.
I wish I could give you a Wikipedia explanation of what a dugong is, but I don't have internet access so my interpretation will have to do: a dugong is very similar to a manatee (if not a manatee, I'm not sure), and looks like a cross between a seal, a dolphin and a vacuum cleaner. Otherwise, insert Wikipedia article [here]. Unfortunately I did not get a very close look at the dugong because I didn't have a mask with me, and it swam away soon after I went swimming after it (in all my clothes, I might add). I did, however, notice a nice wave peeling just off the point so I decided to get my surfer buddy and partner in crime, Mark, to go check it out with me.
After lunch we went out and surfed the wave which was exactly like a dugong - kind of slow and mellow, popping up in random places on the reef and throwing a bit of a punch when needed. Hence we decided to name the wave "Dugongs". So please be aware that if you ever surf the reef at the north point of Lamen bay on Epi island, you are surfing Dugongs.
After an hour or so Mark and I decided to head back to Merkava for a much needed beer. Just as we were climbing up on the boat Beth, who had been snorkeling around the anchorage started shouting "Dugong! Dugong! Right here!!" We grabbed our masks and cameras and jumped back in the water. Sure enough, we came up on the sea cow munching on sea grass, vacuuming up all the underwater foliage with its big, floppy lips. He did not seem to be bothered by the group of people free diving down to take his picture, and kept on eating except to come to the surface for a breath of air.
After following him for an hour I decided to leave the dugong alone, snapping a photo or two of a turtle along the way home. There are tons of turtles here and I just found out why: apparently there is only one month out of the year that people are allowed to hunt sea turtles on Epi island, otherwise they are protected. But they have to go to Port Vila every year to obtain permission to hunt the turtles, and this year they did not make it in time. This is a good year for turtles. And for the record, they never hunt dugongs.
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At 10/9/2012 9:06 PM (utc) Rutea's position was 16°35.74'S 168°09.81'E
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