As soon as we lifted anchor, two rally boats did the same and accompanied us out of the bay. Then two more joined us all few minutes later. After that, we noticed Muse’s AIS target was showing they were moving as well.
It was a little bit farther to Port Narvin, the main village on Erromango’s east coast, than it was to Dillon’s Bay on the west, so we hoisted the spinnaker to get the most out of the wind. It wasn’t long before we had pulled ahead of everybody and even managed to sail out of range of Muse’s AIS signal.
Departing Tanna with a smoking Mt Yasur, once we were sailing along the west coast of Erromango we soon dubbed it the 'cave coast'
We were slowly diverging from the fleet, looking forward to some peace and quiet, when one of the boats barreling up behind us announced to some rally friends that he was going to go up the east coast instead of going to Dillon’s Bay.
Okay, so it will be two boats plus anybody who was already there. That’s hardly twenty-three. Still, I worried that more would follow suit and Port Narvin would end up getting the same treatment as Port Resolution, only in proportion to their smaller size. We dug out the satellite pictures of the coast and started studying.
There was a somewhat protected bay adjacent, but it seemed too near for comfort. If the boats behind us saw us there, they may decide we were at the anchorage for Port Narvin and all join in. We headed for the next cove along the coast that looked promising. It had no village, was far from any roads or trails and, from the satellite picture, seemed to have no sign of humanity.
We approached very slowly, winding around the shallows on either side to a spot as close to the beach as we dared. It took us two tries to get the anchor to set on the stone bottom. Still, we were awfully close to rocks on three sides.
As we were lining up sights to keep an eye on any potential anchor dragging, a couple of Ni-Vanuatu stepped out from behind a big boulder and gave us a hearty wave of welcome. Where did they come from? I really wanted to meet them and see what life was like for them way out in the boonies. They sat on the beach and waited patiently for us to settle.
It was a really beautiful spot, but those rocks were just too close for comfort. Maryanne and I knew we would never be able to sleep through a night here, so we reluctantly pulled up the anchor and left. We were too far from the beach to communicate with anything other than gestures, so we gave them a big sorry shrug and waved goodbye as we threaded our way back out to sea. There’s a story they’ll be telling for a while.
The next cove was even prettier, bounded by high cliffs pockmarked with big caves. It was flat calm inside and there was plenty of room to swing. Try as we might, though, we couldn’t find anywhere less than forty meters deep. Next!
Two subsequent coves were so small and unprotected that we didn’t even bother checking them out. It was a good thing we had been so fast on the sail to Erromango that morning. We still had some daylight left to keep looking.
The coast on the north side of Erromango is spectacular. We started calling it the Cave Coast because of the almost continuous array of caves so deep and wide that they could each house multi-story buildings. This would be a fantastic place to charter a dive boat to go explore the nooks and crannies.
After another hour or so, we eventually ended up way at the northwest corner of the island at Ponamlas Bay. Had we known we would end up there, it would have been much shorter to sail up the west coast past Dillon’s Bay. As it was, we had taken all day to get there. We needed to do whatever we could to make Ponamlas work, because we didn’t have enough daylight to get all of the way around to Dillon’s Bay, the only other protection on the island.
Ponamlas Bay - and an unusually calm night - Kyle even got this shot of the
It worked out great. The bay was big, wide and calm. The anchor dug into the black sand bottom like it was afraid of the light. We had gone seventy-five miles in half a day, with a lot of sail changes and a few anchor attempts thrown in. It was all we could do to get through dinner without nodding off. At least we could stay a few days to rest up.
At first light, we overheard several voices coming from just outside our hatch. Then they started knocking on the hull and calling hello. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, fumbled for some clothes and emerged to find a panga full of people backed by a double-bright sun.
Squinting and shielding my eyes with my hand, I tried my best not to appear too annoyed by my early wakeup call. The guy at the engine and the guy sitting on the cabin top were dressed normally, but everybody else seemed to be in their Sunday best. Well that makes sense, it was Sunday; they must be off to another village for church. (We found out later that they weren’t. School holidays had just started and they were off to the opposite side of the island for a two-week vacation.)
The guy on the cabin top asked for some fishing gear. I told him I didn’t know if we had any to spare. (That’s Maryanne’s department. She was slow to get up and join the discussion.) He looked at me like he thought I was lying. I changed the subject and asked if anybody lived here. (There was a ruin of a shed just in from the beach.) He said no. When I asked him if it was okay for us to be there, he also said no. We would have to ask the chief in the next village to the west for permission. He said it was about a kilometer away. The Chief’s name was Jason. He looked like he was expecting us to then up anchor, but Maryanne placated him with a packet of fishhooks and a promise to see the Chief first thing.
Well that provided some structure for our day. We lowered the dinghy, installed the electric motor and pored over our charts. The closest village we could see was Wargi, 2.5km to the west. We loaded up and headed out.
We arrived at the bay by the village, which wasn’t suitable for any boats. There were a couple of houses there and a cow skull prominently displayed on a boulder, but no signs of people. We dragged the Pudgy with much difficulty over melon-sized stones up to the high water mark and tied it up.
A dog arrived and started barking at us until he realized he would much rather be petted. Then I noticed a guy standing on the far end of the beach just looking at us. I waved hello and asked if it was okay to approach. When he said yes, I walked over to him and introduced myself. He was Nicholas. The two others who had just appeared were his brothers Moses and Shane. I asked about Chief Jason. Nicholas said he didn’t live there. He lived in the next village, but was on a trip to Dillon’s Bay at the moment. Aw, the luck!
We told him about our exchange with the panga that morning at our boat in Ponamlas. He and his brothers chuckled. When they first saw us arrive, they thought we were lost, either from sea or maybe one of the nearest guesthouses, which were at least twenty miles away. They were relieved that our situation was much more “normal” and that we weren’t as far from home as we had appeared. He told us to feel free to stay and enjoy Ponamlas as long as we wanted. Good enough for us!
We had a kind welcome from the brothers ashore at Wargi Bay
When we asked about their village, they explained that the whole thing was just the three of them. They were tending twenty cattle on a patch of fertile land. They generally went weeks between visits or resupplies by other boats. We had brought some rope and sugar and a few other little things, which we traded for some coconuts and bananas. I was happy to gather what we wanted from the ground, but Nicholas insisted on giving us fresh coconuts and ordered Moses up a tree to send some down.
Moses made climbing the hundred-foot tree look like sauntering over to the mailbox. Soon, it was raining coconuts. Nicholas opened a drinking one for each of us and then they all helped us carry our haul to the dinghy. They asked if we had any AA batteries we could bring them. We said that we did, but that we wouldn’t be able to come in the dinghy because the wind and sea were forecast to build. Nicholas said there was a three-hour trail he could take to Ponamlas. If we could take them to the beach, he would meet us there midday the next day. Sure, that works.
We didn’t enjoy Ponamlas as much as I had hoped. We went ashore to try to find the other end of Nicholas’ trail, but lost it after a short distance. We did find a house that looked like it was only used periodically, but could find no people. I was feeling really worn out and eventually convinced Maryanne to let us call it a day.
Exploring ashore at Ponamlas Bay
We went snorkeling the next day along the boulders at the eastern edge of the bay. The boulders made for a lot of interesting topography. There were pinnacles, big shelves and narrow crevices that disappeared into the depths. It went on for ages, but I ducked out early because I was already feeling exhausted and, despite the tropical water temperatures, I could not stay warm.
While snorkelling Maryanne was shadowed by an overly curious White-Tip reef shark that kept appearing from the gloom, and departing each time she faced it off
I then contracted the mildest case of Malaria ever. I almost certainly didn’t, but I had all of the symptoms: headache, muscle aches, listlessness, fever and frequent vomiting. Most versions of Malaria have symptoms that ebb and flow on 48 to 96-hour cycles, so when I started to improve, we started a timer to see just which strain I had. It never came back. After a day in which I only briefly emerged from bed for a light dinner, which I didn’t get to keep, I awoke the next morning feeling just fine. The symptoms never returned. I have no idea what it was, maybe some proto-malaria wannabe bug.
Maryanne spent the whole day in the cockpit scanning the beach for Nicholas’ arrival, but he never showed. She had wanted to snorkel the boulders on either side of the bay, but had skipped it because she didn’t want to miss him. Thus, she got nearly as much rest as I did. When we finally left for the overnight sail to Port Vila on the island of Efate, we were feeling fresh and ready to go.
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