It did, but after the next morning's first foray on deck, the dirty footprints were back. As we were admiring Lake Letas a couple of days later, we realized why: The ash plume from Mount Garet was being blown directly toward Matanda Bay.
As we were preparing to leave for Sola, Maryanne asked if I wanted her to throw a few buckets of seawater over the decks again to get rid of last night's accumulation.
"Nah, don't bother."
Our departure went pretty much like a mirror image of our arrival. We left the calm, windless bay, and within ten minutes, we were beating into twenty-knot headwinds and a two-and-a-half-meter swell. Within an hour, we had taken enough waves and spray over the deck, and the cabin top, and the bimini, to completely clear the accumulated ash.
Our arrival into Sola Bay passed through the Maseunar Channel. As we entered, within a few seconds, the waves completely disappeared and the wind halved. We turned downwind and slid the last mile to the anchorage in front of Sola town.
Around Sola
The anchorage here has a reputation for being uncomfortable. It is not undeserved. The generally high winds and big seas outside the bay arrived at the anchorage as a short swell that caused Begonia to surge back and forth on her anchor rode and roll just on the high side of comfortable. We put out extra scope and backed down hard on the anchor to make sure it was holding. Behind us was a big reef where the swell dissipated as loud, crashing breakers that ensured that we could never completely relax. Still, as the only catamaran, we had it way better than the poor monohulls, who rolled from gunwale to gunwale. During our brief two-night stay, we noticed that most of them got in and got out as quickly as they could, staying only a few hours, or at the very longest, a single night, with a first-thing departure.
We were here for the same reason as everybody else. Sola is the northernmost station in Vanuatu where it is possible to complete departure formalities for vessels heading that general direction. The town is very quiet, with far more really nice people ambling on foot down the middle of the main road than riding in vehicles. It has a handful of very basic shops, and lots of administration offices. With a more protected anchorage, they would surely have a lot more long-term visitors, but after spending a night getting rolled out of their bunks, the minds of the majority turn to finding the next place.
And so it was with us. Even though the motion in the anchorage wasn't terrible for us, the only way for us to get ashore was by doing a dicey beach landing through breaking waves. We did it the one time, because we had to, but casual visits ashore had little appeal after considering the risk of being drenched in sandy seawater for trying.
Maryanne and I double-bagged all of our important paperwork and managed to get ashore with nothing more serious happening than Maryanne stepping off the dinghy and finding the seabed was further down than she expected. She maintained her balance and managed to escape with only one really wet leg.
We walked to Immigration, where a very nice young man cleared us out efficiently and with characteristic ni-Vanuatu good cheer. We then went to Customs for the rest and to pay our port and navigation fees. The Customs officer was also very nice. He told us the agency was trying to move away from the more aggressive policing-like stance some field offices have had in the past. I'll be happy when that memo makes it to the lower echelons in Port Vila.
We had a reminder to remember that everything isn't always about us. The Customs guy apologized for being a little slow with our paperwork as he hasn't been in the office for a while. Because so many yachts had called into Sola to clear out today, he had been called in from his bereavement leave, which he told us was not a problem at all and that we had no need to apologize for interrupting. Earlier in the week, an interisland ferry had capsized and gone down as it went between Ambrym and Santos Islands, in the next district south of us, with the loss of most of the people aboard. Many of them have still not been found. He told us that several of his family members had been on board. When he looked us in the eyes and wished us a safe journey, we could tell that he meant it as more than a standard nicety. All we could do was wish him the best in return. {Maryanne:MV Matui ferry disaster occurred on September 11, 2026, and has had a huge impact on the whole country where everyone seems to know someone that was involved. Just a handful of survivors made it, and the biggest frustration is that the boat was over 24 hours late to arrive before any alarms were raised and searches for survivors began. It also seems that the boat was not licenced to carry passengers after several prior infractions - but it was carring over 50 passengers - most of which died. }.
After being officially cleared out of Vanuatu, and since we were not planning on crossing the surf line in the dinghy any more times than necessary, Maryanne and I decided to walk the entire length of the village and see everything we could before it was time to return to Begonia and depart Sola ourselves.
We stopped at every single little hole-in-the-wall shop and purchased an eclectic variety of things: A giant bag of rice, flip-flops, matches, nails, some children's clothing, batteries. None of it was for our use. We intended to use it as trade, mostly in exchange for fresh produce, at villages along our travels. The guy that sold us the nails – three boxes of three-inch ones – had a pretty good laugh wondering aloud what anyone on a boat would need with such big nails. Obviously, it's to keep our cockpit cushions from flying away.
Rumor had it that one of the stores in town sold ice cream. We asked at every one and mostly they laughed at the absurdity of such a thing. Then we saw a kid on the street holding an ice cream cone, WITH ice cream on it, and pressed him for his source.
Apparently, there was another triple-secret store in the village, which we never would have found on our own, as it appeared to be just another house set WAY back from the road. Maryanne tended our wheelie cart with the stash while I was led along the garden path to the house.
Inside were two shelves of stock on one side of the house's front room, and a chest freezer on the other. I was told that, yes, they have ice cream, but only vanilla. I ordered one for me and one for Maryanne to hold while I eat my other one.
The process was a bit slow. I hadn't accounted for this. As I was waiting for Maryanne's to be prepared, the tropical heat quickly caused mine to reach that emergency melting stage where I had to slurp mine up fast before I dripped half my ice cream on their nice, clean floor mat. I barely made it.
While all this was going on, the proprietor was talking softly in a local language (there are seventeen distinct ones on Sola alone) to someone just around the corner. Eventually, he explained that the other person was his granddaughter, who looked maybe four or five years old. She said she wanted to meet me and shake my hand because she has never seen a white man before.
Aw, jeez! What do I do? This is a big moment. No pressure!
She presented her hand and sweetly said, "Hello."
"Hello, It's very nice to meet you" I said, "Your land is mine now. You work for me."
I didn't! I wouldn't! I'm kidding!! I only did the first part. She was very cute.
Still, the urge to crack such jokes is probably why it is not sensible to nominate me to be making any first impressions.
Anchorage location >> On google maps
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