CONGRATULATIONS ANDREW MIEDECKE GRAND TOURING MASTER PAR EXCELLENCE!

Saturday 3^rd September

We got back from our bike excursion yesterday totally exhausted… Not bike fit any more – or maybe it was just very hot and we went very far! We tried to get to Million Dollar Point, and nearly made it, except the road stopped being beautifully sealed and turned into blinding white reflective compacted dust… Much too hot and uncomfortable to continue. But we did get a beautiful ride along the coast through lush jungle on either side, with beautiful houses and vilej huts snuggled into the greenery.

Million Dollar Point is where the Americans, at the end of World War II, drove all of their equipment into the sea, maybe in a fit of pique… Here is Lonely Planet again:

“After the war, the USA offered the Condominium government the surplus equipment but they didn’t respond so the lot was dumped. Everything from bulldozers, aeroplane engines and jeeps to crates of Coca-Cola went into the sea at what is now Million Dollar Point. The coral–encrusted equipment makes the point a popular diving and snorkeling spot.”

Oh those Americans, oh that Pandemonium!

The shops here in Luganville sell a strange miscellany of useful and totally useless items. I was most intrigued to see a big display of cheap fancy-dress wigs. A few offered instant long blonde hair but most of them were, astonishingly, big black afro wigs. Anyone less in need of big black afro wigs than the ni-Vans I cannot imagine… They already have the biggest blackest curliest hair imaginable.

We managed to get rid of our rubbish today. You may not realise what an issue rubbish is, on a boat. We dispose of anything organic overboard at sea but there is an inevitable build-up of bottles, cans, plastic crapola, paper. Our lengthy list of Instructions which Pete received when we moored at Aore resort stated that there is no rubbish collection on Santo, and that they would very kindly accept our rubbish, sorted and compacted, for $10 a bag. Beachfront doesn’t offer this service, nor do they have a 2-page list of instructions. (By the way, at the conclusion of the Aore Instructions, our kindly hostess says, “If you fail to obey our rules, you will be asked, nicely, to leave.” You may gather, by reading between the lines, that I took exception to the, ummm, tone of these rules and regulations…) At Beachfront, there is a wide concrete path leading from the beach to reception, with a carefully placed fresh-water tap for washing one’s dirty feet (the beach is indeed filthy – black sand, and full of, alas, crapola and detritus.) There is a small printed sign which says, “Welcome to Beachfront. Please make yourselves known at reception.” And that is ALL – no 2-page screed, no threats of eviction. We were able to buy WiFi time and nice cold drinks, all very harmonious and pleasant. Mind you if you ever come to Espiritu Santo, I think Aore would be a beautiful and gorgeous place to stay, with its crystal clear water full of fish and coral, its beautiful little bungalows, its immaculate restaurant. I just don’t recommend it as a place to moor one’s boat…

Oh dear digressing…I was telling you, how fascinating, about rubbish on boats. I love tossing vegetable scraps and leftover food into the sea. Sometimes I see little fish darting out to snatch tasty morsels. The small zebra-striped ones are the most voracious; they behave a bit like piranhas in a feeding frenzy, especially when there are meaty bits involved. Out in the ocean I just imagine the food sinking down to the depths, with different levels of bigger fish saying, “hmmm, teriyaki sauce; I think I refer wasabi.” So what do we do with all of the other crapola? When we are in marinas, there are always rubbish bins, free of charge. In Port Vila, when we were on our anchorage in the bay, we would take our bags of rubbish into the market area and deposit them tastefully next to everybody else’s big bag of stinky rubbish, and someone, later, would come along with a truck and take it all away. Our Aore hostess had said, very firmly, that there is no rubbish collection at all in Luganville, hence her charge for getting rid of yacht trash. We were a bit sceptical about this and when we went into town on our first day outside the Beachfront, we took careful note as we made our way into town in our jaunty little taxi. All along the road were…high wooden stands, for rubbish – high, to keep dogs from ripping and spreading stuff all over the countryside. So yesterday we loaded our backpacks with fragrant plastic bags of cans, bottles, paper, and unloaded them gently onto the roadside stands, where, undoubtedly, a nice little truck will come and take it all away. Neat solution!

My New Ecco sandals, bought, eventually, at the Birkenstock shop in Hobart, are a great success. My feet are very happy. I have kept my lilac and white plastic ones for special occasions like MUD and BLACK SAND. My new Eccos aren’t dark brown suede, like the old ones. They are a very beautiful shade of pale beige, with a delicate little pink strip at the front. Or…they were… I have tried to protect them from the worst of the Vanuatu slime and black sand but…they are now quite dingy and besmirched. But…still comfortable and supportive of my needy feet!!

Last night we had a very pleasant visit from our neighbours on Windy, a lovely monohull yacht on its way from New Zealand back to Australia though the South Pacific islands. Brad, from Port Stephens, bought the boat in New Zealand and was on his way back to Australia when he met Emilie in Fiji… They have been sailing together for two months now, and are very happy with each other. He does have another crew member, who is now maybe de trop… Or is Emilie de trop?? I said to her, “So, when are you leaving?” and she and Brad laughed heartily. She is from Paris and has been travelling the world for five years. But this is her first experience on a yacht, and I think she is coping very well. Brad has some of the best seasickness medication, from New Zealand, so her times of horror are few. They came for a pre-dinner drink, kindly bringing their own beer with them because (OH NO!!) we had no cold beer in the fridge – Pete was quite pale with the ghastliness of this situation. They stayed until about ten. We opened a bottle of red wine and I managed to concoct a plate of toasted cheese with tomatoes – much more delicious than it sounds. The bread was a gorgeous fresh baguette, and the tomatoes locally grown, about $1 a big bag, from the local market, and just bursting with flavor.

We had found an Au Bon Marché in the main street, and had bypassed all of the other little Chinese grocery stores in the main street, expecting to find the same glories and wonders as are proved by this chain of supermarkets in Port Vila. Alas not so… This Au Bon Marché had a strange miscellany of items – bars of soap, tubs of oil, tins of tuna, rubber hoses, plastic buckets, a few limp onions. I was in search of potatoes and the Chinese cashier said, very firmly, “NO POTATOES.” Computer said NO. But a kindly ni-Van woman came up to find me and gently led me, with a conspiratorial glance at her grumpy boss, to a big basket full of potatoes. They also had a hutch of fresh baguettes, so we were happier than might be expected with Au Bon Marché Luganville.

In the late afternoon, we looked out and saw a large yacht with two sails heading for our bay – Infinity! We were very happy to see them; this is our fourth meeting, in the islands of Vanuatu (Tanna, Port Vila, Uri Bay, and now Luganville.) We had noticed a large group of divers and snorkelers off the boat in (shark-infested!!) Uri Bay, off Malekula Island, and have just found out that they were diving for Crown of Thorns starfish. They heaved a huge pile out of the water; so much damage to the coral is caused by these dreadful pests. They are trying to train local villagers to recognize what damage they are doing as well.

Another project they are involved in is a Fifty Years Hence program. They are interviewing villagers about how they see their lives in fifty years’ time, with no prompting at all from the interviewers about climate change and environmental issues. I will let you know when their website is complete, so you can look it up and see the results.

This morning it is still overcast and Pete is a bit sneezy and headachey so we are just bobbling gently on the water, enjoying the peace and quiet of this little bay. Windy was supposed to be up and running, off to the Blue Holes along the coast, but we have just noticed that they are still there, also bobbing around peacefully, at 1.00…

In the early afternoon we went to the Beachfront café to try to connect to the internet. However, some of our Infinity friends were there and it seemed rude even to touch my computer… So I sat in the café and played with Sage’s baby girl Rhian, 3 months now, and chatted to various Infinity-ites. At about five we all took a taxi to the “closest” nakamal. We were told it might be a ten minute walk. Or maybe…it would take an hour. Alex, one of our English friends from Infinity, showed the whites of his eyes at that. He and a few other people off the boat had gone for a walk on the first Vanuatu island they got to – Aneityum aka Anatom, I think. “Oh yes, a lovely walk; it will take about three hours,” was the cheery advice. “Or maybe it might take…ten!” In reality it took all day, all night, and half of the next day… They were all young and fit but got very cold up in the highlands in their tropical attire. “So,” said Alex firmly, “We are taking a taxi!” (And indeed it would have been a very long walk, especially for those of us carrying the baby…)

We arrived at the most lovely nakamal (kava bar) yet, set right on the water under big shady trees. Some local ladies were lined up at a trestle table with delicacies for us to buy. We bought some navele – native nuts, threaded on thin bamboo skewers – but declined the grilled and blackened flying foxes, complete with charred wings… The kava was very strong; Pete and I stopped at two. We enjoyed our few hours there very much. There were about ten people from Infinity, some we hadn’t met before, and the crew from this boat are always lively and full of chat and information. One of the crew, Australian Katie, lives on Efate, in Mélé village. She works for the Fisheries Department, and is impressively fluent in Bislama (Pidgin.)

Captain Clemence had stayed behind on the boat; Sage, his girlfriend, wanted to stay with us. We had booked a table at the gorgeous little French restaurant in the middle of Luganville and invited her and Rhian to join us. Rhian slept through the whole experience but the rest of us enjoyed our dinner very much. Le Jardin des Saveurs restaurant is owned by a French chef, M. Mourois, and it is an oasis of elegance and tranquility in a hot dusty little street. We all had delicious food – French onion soup, terrine, chocolate soufflé for dessert. I had what was intriguingly described as “shrimp breakouts” in creamy peppercorn sauce; Pete had an enormous and fabulous fillet steak. Delicate young Sage only had terrine and soup…and a share of the soufflé.

Monday 5^th September

The black sand beach at the Beachfront resort was hideous when we first arrived – full of nasty things washed up from the sea – dead things, mouldy things, generally yucky things. But over the past few days a slow-moving but hard-working man with a wheelbarrow has cleaned it all up and it is now pristine. I now no longer have to avert my eyes from the dead what-is-that-dead-little-squashy-body???? Between the waterline and the grass when we lug our tender up onto land.

We were meant to be going for our dive on the USS Coolidge wreck today but it is too overcast, visibility will be poor. We still have chores to do – Customs to visit, forms to fill in, food and beer to buy. Yesterday I bought some postcards which Pete found in the only shop open in Luganville on a Sunday. A lady sitting up the back of the gloomy depths of the shop had to open a glass cabinet with a key to retrieve the cards; I imagine that we were the first people to request to see them for many a long year. Goodness knows how old they are. One of them features a blurry photo of “Banks Islanders in ancestral Dancing Costumes” photographed by G. Fung, Santo, New Hebrides. My favourite one is a very depressing shot of a strip of concrete, a glimpse of water, and some Quonsett huts converted into shops, and titled, “General view of Santo, New Hebrides.” Espiritu Santo is a stunningly beautiful island…how did they come up with such a dreary photo for the postcard?? Also, Vanuatu hasn’t been known as the New Hebrides for over thirty years…

We might be leaving tomorrow, out of range for a while, but I suspect I will be able to do one more blogpost