Erromango Island (Vanuatu)

[Kyle]We had heard from a few of the rally members that their next scheduled stop was to be at the main village of Dillon’s Bay on Erromango, the next island to the north of Tanna. We wanted to visit Dillon’s Bay as well, but I wasn’t really in the mood to do it with 100 other people, so we decided to take the road less travelled and go to the seldom-visited eastern side of the island.

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 moon sun the boat was so still

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.

Tanna Island, Vanuatu

[Kyle]Even though Port Resolution is not a recognized Port of Entry for Vanuatu, we had applied for and received special permission to clear in there. Since we were a day earlier than the date we had sent on our Advance Notice of Arrival, we figured we would fly or Q flag, take an easy day aboard, and go ashore to meet the officials the next morning when they arrived from Tanna’s main town of Lenakel.

Port Resolution turned out to be a bit busier than we had expected. There were already five other boats there. Two of them were also flying Q flags. Listening to the radio chatter, it became clear that Customs and Immigration were on the way. Since one of the conditions of clearing into Port Resolution was that boats arriving would split the cost of transporting the officials, we made hasty plans to go ashore and present ourselves. As a bonus, Muse arrived and agreed to go clear in as well.

Customs was there, but Immigration was on the way in a different vehicle. Are you telling me they couldn’t come in the same truck?

Anyway, the guy was really nice. He cleared all of the boats in quickly and did me the favor of not asking me to row him to Begonia so he could ransack her for possible contraband. After waiting another hour or so for Immigration, The Customs man said he had just received a text from Immigration saying that no one was coming. We would have to take the two-hour truck ride to Lenakel tomorrow.

Ugh! The whole point of going to the trouble to obtain the special permission to clear in at Port Resolution was so we wouldn’t have to spend a whole day going through the whole Lenakel kerfuffle.

The Customs guy gave us our cruising permit and said we were legal to go ashore now, even without seeing Immigration. Our next order of business was going to be finding Stanley and arranging transport into town.

Stanley is the Tour and Transportation Manager for the Port Resolution Yacht Club. When I say Yacht Club, I mean “Yacht Club”. In place of fine dining under chandeliers, the PRYC is an unassuming place to sit out of the rain under a thatched roof and otherwise open to the elements. Stanley is equally unassuming. We were directed to the village, where we were told to ask around for him. After being pointed this way and that by several people, we came across a bunch of shirtless men standing and laughing in the road. When I said I was looking for Stanley, they all started pointing to each other. Eventually, the guy in bright red basketball shorts admitted that he was the Stanley I was seeking.

Phil (from Muse) and I told him about our need to go to Lenakel to deal with Immigration. Stanley said, “No Problem.” He could take us at 7:00.

”Uh, Is there any chance we could make that a little later?” I was thinking 9:00 or 10:00. 7;00 is basically sunrise. I really needed a lie in.

”No Problem. We will go at 7:15.”

After a bit of back and forth, he explained that he needed to have the truck back in time to drive people to Mt Yasur, Tanna’s volcano, for tours. Back up the time required for the return trip to Lenakel and some time spent running errands there and we pretty much should leave it no later than 7:15. After a little consideration, I decided I was a little worried about having enough time in town, so we settled back on a 7:00 departure. Ouch.

In the meantime, we had a stroll around the village and met some of our first Ni-Vanuatu, as the locals call themselves. The village was a postcard of communal bliss and everybody we met was smiling and friendly. Kids and adults alike sat out chatting and laughing with their friends. Kids played volleyball with soccer balls and soccer with volleyballs (Wilson!!!). Younger kids played with a popular toy I call Wheel and Stick. Everybody seemed like they were leading lives free of the stresses of the busier world at large.

The village at Port Resolution and the two others nearby are beautiful. Most houses are made with bamboo walls and thatched roofs instead of rusty corrugated tin. A few of them even had solar panels, that is to say a portable cell-phone charger laid on top of the thatch. Vanuatu has banned most single-use plastics and so there is almost no litter present. Most of the villagers we talked to are very conscientious about plastic and make a real effort to avoid using it if at all possible. So far, Vanuatu is very pretty.

Village scenes around Port Resolution
Life is simple, folks have plenty of spare time, kids are a priority
The statue is carved from fern trunks and depict a revered ancestor

The next morning, as we were all getting ready to pile into the back of a pickup for the ride to Lenakel, we got word that Immigration was on the way. This changed everything. Now we didn’t have to go to Lenakel. Except that we did. We needed a little more local cash than we had brought, so we needed to go anyway. Then we decided to add SIM cards and a few veggies to our list, so now we were making a whole day of it. When it came time to load up, it quickly became clear that there were more of yachties than space. Since the fare was per person, we decided just Maryanne would go while I stayed behind and did unpleasant boat things, which I had so far managed to avoid.

There was still not enough space, so Maryanne offered to run errands for several of the other boats. Soon, she was bristling with lists and carefully separated piles of cash to exchange. It was decided she would go into Lenakel with Immigration, and then find space for the trip back in the regular truck.

Immigration arrived and stamped our passports and those of a few others, including Muse’s. Then Maryanne was whisked off, leaving us all behind.

Phil and I decided to ease into our boat jobs with an exploratory walk to a nearby black sand beach. We didn’t find it. We ended up on a white sand beach where we were able to walk along and have a long chat about manly things like transmission seals and electrical connectors, not at all about our feelings or what the other boat husbands have been up to.

Maryanne arrived. She got lucky and got a much more comfortable seat inside the cab of the truck. She was greeted as a returning hero as she doled out SIM cards and multi-colored wads of Vatu, the local currency.

Maryanne gets her first view of Mt Yasur and the ash plains on route to the main town of Lenakel

Plenty of fresh fruit and veg available in town

The forecast was for low clouds and intermittent rain for the next couple of days. We agreed with Stanley to hold off on the volcano tour for the time being and just focus on wandering around the local area.

We wandered through the villages and along the beaches and spent some time between showers visiting other boats. We ended up at the center of a collision between two rallies going in opposite directions. Boats were arriving in twos and threes every few hours. By the evening of our third day, there were twenty-three boats anchored in Port Resolution. On one of our long walks with Muse, we were looking down on the bay from above and Phil remarked that we looked like an invasion fleet.

We ended up at the village on the far side of the bay, where we met a bunch of Ni-Vanuatu on the beach. This village is nearest to Mt Yasur and is at the end of a line of hot springs emanating from the volcano. We were met by a woman there who introduced herself as Fina and offered to arrange a hike up the cliffs behind to see some steam vents and some bubbling mud for 1,000Vatu (~$9). Yes, please! She fetched her teenage son Jackson, and introduced him as our guide.

Visiting the vents and springs to the NW of anchorage
Our Guide Jackson and his Mother and little brother

Before we left though, we asked to see the hot spring on the beach that uncovers at low tide. It was surrounded by a group of villagers who were busy cooking their lunches in the hot water. Fina plucked a sweet potato out of the pool with a stick and handed it to us (Hot potato! Hot potato!!). Delicious! There was also corn and taro bubbling away in there. What a convenient way to save on firewood. As the tide comes in, the scraps wash away to feed the fish and cool water mixes with hot to make for a nice, warm place for a soak.

After our steaming hot sweet potato, Jackson led us up the hill on a path that took us to the aforementioned geothermal features and which also provided us with a good view of the invasion fleet. It really did seem like we were overwhelming the local population as if collectively we had turned it into Cruise Ship Day.

Plenty of fun around the anchorage and village
Local kids always at the ready to help us launch our dinghy

The fun wasn’t over. When the weather cleared, we signed up for tours to Mt. Yasur with the backlog of all of the others who had been waiting. This included guests in Tanna’s few lodgings.

Maryanne, being cheeky like she is, managed to score us and Muse an extra side trip to the volcanic ash plain along the way. The road to Lanekel passes over it, but not until after the turnoff for the road to the rim. She had been raving about it since her trip to Lenakel and wanted to make sure the rest of us got to see it.

Yasur volcano's ash plain

Despite arriving early - the waiting was fun!

We were the first to be dropped at the Visitor’s Center, where we ended up having an hour to play around on their tightropes and tree swings before the throngs arrived in time for the cultural show (dancing). Then we were herded into the backs of several pickups like so much cattle and then driven to market. Ahem, I mean the trail to the rim. Moo.

Traditional dance was performed once all the tourists had arrived

It was just before sunset when we crested the rim and got to see the bubbling pool of lava far below. Occasionally there would be a boom and a big spray of lava would burst upwards. Clouds of smoke sporadically came our way. The smell wasn’t as sulfurous as I we had experienced at other volcanoes with white sulfur dioxide gas. Mt Yasur’s smoke clouds were gray. We quickly discovered they were composed mostly of ash. The ash is formed by aerosolized lava that solidifies in flight. What we ended up with at our level was a whole lot of fine falling sand. Ow! We quickly learned to keep our eyes shut when the clouds approach.

The volcano in action - best seen after dark
This is what brings most tourists to Tanna

On a couple of occasions, the explosions were large enough that we could see waves of lava surf breaking on the banks at the edge of the lava pool. One was big enough that a fraction of a second after hearing the boom, we were hit with a shock wave that threw everybody back half an inch. That instantly stopped the festive atmosphere of the visit and had us all looking to our guides to see if they would start yelling at us to evacuate. They seemed unflustered, so we all slowly went back to watching the spectacle and trying to photograph the display in the fading light.

On the way down, I was really glad that Maryanne had packed headlamps for us to use. We had become avid headlamp users after climbing Stromboli in Italy, and Maryanne knew we would need them for the descent. There was no moon and only a few of the guides had weak flashlights. A lot of people were trying to pick their way down using the flashlights on their phones. We knew they had probably run their batteries taking photos and video, so didn’t have much time left. We and the other dozen or so with headlamps ended up spreading out to try to light a path for the others to follow. I’m glad she brought them. It would have been tough to find our way down a black mountain at night with no lights.