Author: valeda

Note – Written Dec 10th, just getting around to publishing on Dec 24th…
Cue the cliche and oft-repeated Rolling Stones Chorus: “You can’t always get what you want… but when you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need.” I wanted to get a flight to Gaua. It didn’t happen, so I resorted to Santo, which surpassed all expectations by leaps and bound. I wanted to not be sick once I got to Malo, but being drained of energy forced me to slow down, heal my body, and be fully present in this village I’m so lucky to be a part of right now. There will always be mountains to climb and reefs to snorkel, but every village, every personal interaction is a unique and special experience, especially on an island off an island in a remote island chain in the South Pacific. And yet I could not feel more at home. Vomalehi, Vuro, and their whole family have taken care of me since I arrived, from the fresh lemonade and hot water awaiting my arrival (which was exactly what I needed in that moment), to the delivery of drinking coconuts and sour sop to my doorstep. And I know there are lots of yellow dogs in the world, but Rasta is going to be my Ted stand-in as long as I’m here. Slowing down leaves room to appreciate the little things, like the huge beetles pulling clean up duty in the dining gazebo, or the huge hermit crabs accompanying me to the bathroom at night, or appreciating the sounds of children’s ear piercing giggles, recognizing them as a cross-culture constant in childhood vs the sounds of the two devils incarnate ( I suppose Chloe & Rhiann aren’t so bad after all 😉 ). I still plan to hike to the blue hole and do more snorkelling tomorrow (really hoping I feel up to it!) but right now I am at peace with my plague and am so thankful for this solace to rest in!

Upon finding out that Infinity would be spending a few more days in Port Vila, my internal exploration alarm sounded and I booked the next flight to Esperito Santo. Santo is the second-most populated island in Vanuatu, which is kinda like how one-room four-tap Golden City Brewery was the second biggest brewery in Golden CO (behind Coors). Although I was trying like heck to get up to the remote Banks islands to set my feet on an atoll before leaving, the flights were full so Santo, with mountains to hike, reefs to snorkel, local villagers to meet and seats available, became plan B. While I was packing up it seemed crazy that I’d be leaving the place I’d called home and the people who felt like family. The last month and a half felt more like a year and a half. But although I was significantly more comfortable with the sailing lifestyle than I’d thought I might be, I don’t love it enough to prioritize it over all of the other things I want to see and do this year.
My last few days with the crew & the ship (although I didn’t know at the time they’d be that at the time) were a perfect bow on our time together; I made dinner with Clemens, had a day with the boat practically to myself, and found ourselves a couple nights of dance parties in Vila with the crew from the mega yacht anchored next to ours and participants of the Pacific Islands mini games.
Then Friday morning at the crack of dawn I said my “see ya laters” and hopped a ride to the shore & the airport. The check in process took longer than the flight and I was at the Beachside Resort just outside of the main town of Luganville before they’d even stopped breakfast service. The “resort” was modest (as was the price) but was exactly what I was looking for and needed in that moment, which was a nap on a comfy (stable) bed with clean sheets and ocean breezes. After I awoke a few hours later I headed out with my snorkel gear in tow, but not before chatting at length with Lorna who worked in the main office. Somehow or another we got on the topic of family and she proceeded to explain that in many parts of Vanuatu women cannot own land, which would explain why me being single seemed so foreign to many of the local women I meet. Apparently the male children of the family inherit the family land which keeps the familial villages alive. There’s even recent laws starting that although there are a significant number of orphans in Vanuatu, adopted children are also not able to inherit the land of their adopted parents. Lorna planted the bug that if I ever did want to adopt, I should consider a beautiful Vanuatuan baby with their striking blonde locks (which often but not always turn darker as they got older). Welp Lorna, the seed is planted!
So I grabbed a cab, and made a quick stop at the local market for some baby bananas, fresh peanuts and green beans to snack on. I hopped back in a cab, bounced 20 minutes down a dirt road, and arrived at Million Dollar Beach. The US had a base in Luganville during World War II. Story goes that after the war was over the US was in negotiations with Vanuatu to sell all of their equipment to them, but when both reached a price point they were no longer willing to budge on, the US then instead decided to push it all into the sea. Some was recovered, but I lost count of the number of tanks I identified resting on the ocean floor. It’s a eerie feeling to be swimming along and find yourself face to face with something so distinctly man-made as military artillery. But these tools of death were ironically now teeming with life, encased in huge coral gardens hosting a myriad of fish of all shapes and sizes.
I spent a couple hours exploring then called my cabbie to take me to dinner, this place I’d picked out which ended up being halfway up the island, and ended up being randomly closed for the night. I look at it as an inadvertant scenic tour, which it definitely was. I also then was recommended the restaurant right next door to my hotel which not only was super convenient but super delicious… Fresh water prawns and a HUGE fresh Greek salad. With that I walked home to rest up for my tour to Millennium Cave the next day.
Here’s what I knew about the millennium cave: the awesome couple in a 20-ft sailboat who’d swung by to visit a couple times said it was absolutely amazing and that I HAD to do it. Alright. I knew it was an all day hike, but that only encouraged my interest. The tour company picked me up and gave a brief overview of the day ahead: drive to a village, hike to another village, start hiking through the rainforest, enter the cave, come out of the cave 500m later, have lunch by the river, float/swim down the river, hike back though the jungle to the village for snacks and the car. Sounds cool, but the somewhat touristy feel to it and the fact that there was a whopping 6 of us and 4 guides on the tour had me a little skeptical. Oh, and all the other guests had come straight off a cruise ship. So we started the hike, both of the villages were great but I’d had my immersion experiences in local villages already so not much to report there. I did VERY much appreciate that the tour was managed by these villages and all proceeds went back to their schools, hospitals and infrastructure. I was trying really hard not to get impatient with the two guys who were already struggling on the muddy jungle trail. We tramp through the jungle, up and down ladders, over expensive views of lush rainforest, resting a couple times along the way, and stopping for customary face painting as a tribute to the gods (or something).
Then we see this HUUUGE cave emerge before us, and we rappel down slick rocks into a river and find ourselves in a stunning cavern. I honestly was prepared for that to be the extent of millennium cave, which would have been impressive enough. But then we clamor forward through the river into the cave, and the guides do a quick check that the life jackets we had in tow were secure on our backs. We proceed to canyoneer through this cave, often reaching HUNDREDS of feet above us, teeming with birds and bats, all the while attempting not to lose footing on the invisible rocks beneath the sometimes waist high water, gushing by at rates that my rafting friends would have been proud of. By the light of some sub-par flashlights. Oh, and then there was occasional waterfalls cascading from the cavern walls and ceilings too. This continued for AN HOUR. From what I know about the renound Subway route in Zion national Park, you canyon for most of a day to arrive at a cylindrical tunnel that’s maybe a hundred feet long (you’ll have to fact check me there) and the Subway has been something I’ve wanted to do for a couple years… And yet here I was in this “cave” that would put that to shame, even if the trip ended there. BUT IT DIDN’T!
The cave eventually opened up to an adjoining river, which once we all trepidatiously crossed, we collapsed with a common look of “Where the hell did that come from?” and shit-eating grins. We had a quick lunch while “digesting’ the trip so far. Then the guides instructed us to put back on the life jackets for who knows what was next. The first guide instructed one of the guests to jump in the river, and when he looked confused just did it himself, floating with the current off to who knows where, Well, we hadn’t been let down yet! So we’re effortlessly floating down the river in this canyon with walls towering above us, topping out in a canopy of jungle. Cue six twenty to sixty year-olds giggling like school kids. The floating was interspersed with sections of bouldering up and over huge rock outcroppings and scaling the canyon walls, all with perfectly placed rappel lines, handholds and steps. Then we were floating down the river again, this time under waterfalls. Of course, waterfalls. That’s what we were missing. This also continued for another hour and a half or so. All the while we kept giving each other looks saying “Is this for real?!?”. Then we reached our exit point, climbed back up out of the canyon, through the forest and back to the village we started from a good eight hours beforehand. We were soaked to the bone, muddy from head to toe, and couldn’t care less. Mind blown. And I don’t have pictures to show for it (yet) because I don’t have a waterproof camera, so you’ll just have to believe that I didn’t instead spend my $7000 Vatu (about $60 USD) on a euphoric psychadelic drug trip. I should also have some photos in a couple weeks when one of the other guys on the tour sends me some, so thats a least a little proof of this “Disney-esque” not-even-a-national-park-yet experience.
We drove back to Luganville, dropped the cruisegoers off at the boat in full gloat mode, and I was dropped off at a wharf 30 minutes down the road where I’d be whisked off to Pantanas guesthouse on Malo island. Is it possible to make so many good decisions in so few days? Because as soon as I arrived I was once again pinching myself. I was dropped off at a beach with children playing and an older grandparent-esque couple, Vomalehi and Vuro, waiting for me at the entrance to their home. They showed me around the property and I was presented with the most perfect hut, complete with patio overlooking the ocean and LED lights and outlets powered by solar panels. I mentioned that I’d been feeling a little under the weather (a detail I was trying to not let distract me during the day’s adventures) and Vomalehi led me to the dining gazebo where fresh squeezed lemonade & hot water for tea were waiting. I felt completely at home and taken care of. So I unpacked some things, chatted with my hosts for a little while, met their happy dogs (one which looked a lot like my childhood dog Ted!), was presented with a home cooked dinner of beef stew & rice, and I happily passed the f*** out, amazed by all the experiences I’d had that day and was still so lucky to find myself in the midst of!
 
 

The troops were rallied, a guy in a pick-up gave us a reasonable price for a ride across the island, and we were on our way. Side note, we had no set plans, but only the possibility of running into the chief of a small village who (if we found him) may be able to guide us on a night hike up to perhaps the most accessible active volcano on Earth, except he’d be doing so at the risk of angering the tour operating company; the volcano is on his family’s land but the tour operator says the chief cannot bring others up there since they have sole rights to tours. Through the open truck bed we whisk by numerous small villages with roadside stands selling veggies, fruits, eggs, kava root and, diesel. We crest the high point of the island and peer into the thick blanket of rainforest below, a lush carpet of mixed greenery continuing down to the ocean shores. Or gazes are raised across the valley to see a stark contrast – a black hillside, rising up to thick black clouds. In case there was any question on what was hiding there, just then low grumbles sounded from above confirming that the mountain was alive. We hop back in the car, a buzz with anticipation, and stop minutes later when we emerge onto a vast ash field, an alien landscape providing an eerie frame for the monster before us. We watch in awe as be intermittent gurgles emerge from the mountain, followed like clockwork with new billows of smoke spilling from the summit. The truck delivers us onward back through the jungle to the far island shore and the nearest accessible town to the chiefs village. Because I hadn’t yet mentioned: the chief’s village is a good hour hike from the nearest road. We mention the chief’s name to the town’s people who look confusedly at this truck of white people speaking a language they don’t understand (14 distinct languages thrive on the small island of Tanna) and after about 20 minutes we are following a girl who speaks French who is gladly leading us up a trail, apparently in the direction of the chief’s village. Sure enough, an hour of a straight-up scramble later, we emerge from the jungle onto the most idyllic village with about 7 beautiful woven huts, pristine landscaping lush with flowers and abundant gardens, and children playing. They smile at our arrival, we mention that Captain Clemens sent us, and the town welcomes us with open arms. We’re introduced to each of the family members one by one. We are given a tour around the immaculate village as the Chief’s family steps into action preparing food for us and a place to sleep. The chief then takes us on a hike to meet his horse, and he shows us the viewpoint where we can assess the weather on the volcano’s summit. Although the sheer possibility of ascending the volcano was in question due to tour rights, he poses the question whether we would like to hike to the crater rim tonight given the clouds hindering visibility. We all agree without hesitation that we’re committed to the hike regardless of mother nature’s plans for the evening. Plan made.
We return to the village, and the men from our group are invited to join the men from the village for their daily Makanal. They retreat to a separate hut where women are strictly prohibited , where they sit around, discuss the issues at hand, and drink a slightly mood altering beverage prepared by young boys chewing up the kava root and thereafter spitting it into a bowl that is filtered through coconut husks and shared. As much as I would have loved to experience the makanal, I arrived to town aware of the gender roles of the kastom and the chief even apologized that we would be excluded so I left my equal rights pumps in the corner and joined the women of town in the common cooking and dining hut to chat. The Philoman’s sister Mary had very good english so we exchanged life stories. She was 30 and had 3 children from a previous marriage with a man who lived in Tanna’s main village, and was due in January with her third from her current marriage. That said, it was very apparent she lived a happy and empowered life. She was impressed by my previous position as a female building satellites and called me “strong”; however even though she wanted to stay in touch she did not look listful of my life. They say that Vanuatuans are the happiest people on the planet. They have the resources they need as they live in very fertile areas lush with an abundance of native fruits and vegetables. They have kastom traditions and purpose to teach their children and connect their community. Many children do go to a “modern” school until they’re teens, at which time some move to one of the bigger cities for college and a higher paying job. But many others return to the village to raise children and continue to contribute to their community.  Money is unnecessary within the village, and as such they happily share meals and a bed to sleep with complete strangers. More than one of us commented that never in our lives had we experienced such immediate and unwaivering generosity.

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It’s been an incredible few days of exploration, but not all in the medium I was initially expecting. Savusavu Fiji made for a great home harbor for a few days. We explored town and stocked up at the incredible local market. We actually took the opportunity to run to the top of the hill overlooking town to get some much needed elevation under our feet. And the night before setting off, we soaked in the most stunning sunset that lasted for hours, the perfect bookend to our stay. We then raised the sails and moved onward to Lautoka, a more working class city more suitable for the provisioning necessary for the sailing ahead, stocking up not just for the trip through the South Pacific and thereafter the Marshall Islands, but enough for the entire passage up to Dutch Harbor, Alaska. The sail along the northern shore of Fiji’s largest island, Vita Levu was picturesque and easy; the view from the helm framed with mountains, neighboring islands, and a killer breakfast front and center (sailing’s not the only skill set Captain Clemens excels at). But truth be told, the following days and new destination brought on some new emotions. It’s easy to purely appreciate where you are when it’s beautiful, but when you find yourself in a fairly industrial harbor “stranded” in your boat with no way to get to shore, the mind starts to wander. I started questioning whether my need to truly explore the places we visit is met by the Infinity Expedition. There’s a huge amount of planning that’s going into the Northwest Passage expedition and as such there is less time and effort to spend on day trips for the majority of the crew. I was inspired to set up my own hike up Mt. Batilamu in Koroyacitu National Park, which was physically and emotionally rewarding as I was accompanied up and down the 2000 ft of elevation by Melisa, a guide from the small village at the entrance of the park. We then relocated for a few days to more remote islands, allowing us opportunities for nearby snorkeling along the reef and a scenery upgrade. Yesterday I went for my first ocean scuba dive after getting certified at the beginning of October; Clemens wins the patience award for literally holding my hand through the process. Today I kayaked out to the most perfect spit of sand peeking out only for a couple hours at low tide and was the one woman audience for the local wedding that ensued there. But in the space between, it occurred to me that the objective of this trip was not just to explore the far off lands on the remote South Pacific islands and that my satisfaction does not need to come purely from life on a sailboat. My intent in leaving my job and joining Infinity was also to explore the big “what’s next” question for this gift of a life I have in my hands. So in that sense, this trip is providing me with exactly the level of exploration I was hoping for 🙂 I have however decided that after another 4-day ocean crossing to Vanuatu later this week and a few weeks to thoroughly explore that fascinating island nation, I will start the journey home (with a week on the north island of New Zealand on the way) to spend the holidays with my family. From there my journey will take on a more familiar look as I’ll be ski-bumming the Western US and Canada a little after the beginning of 2018. There’s lots of other ideas materializing for the next year and beyond; for now I’m equally excited for the right now and all the opportunities and intentions that lie ahead!

Wow… What a week. 6 days ago we raised the sails and set off for Fiji from Tonga, a 4 day trip across the open ocean if all went smoothly. For 3 of those 4 days there was not a speck of land in sight. The ocean crossing stirred all the emotions. It was daunting, exhilarating, exhausting and stunning. I was surprised how quickly the continuous 10 foot swells became (almost) comfortable. We took shifts at the helm, through both the rare moments where staying on course was a breeze to the storms we encountered where mother nature threw all her elements at us in an attempt to send us any direction but straight forward. I came to understand the bumping and clanging noises that at first kept me up at night envisioning the ship falling apart beneath me. I also now appreciate the ability to prepare dinner or play settlers of Catan without the world around you changing orientation by a solid 90 degrees every second. But you manage. I know now it’s totally possible to hold a plank or jump rope on unstable ground (thanks Matt Johnson), and it’s probably even better training for ski season 🙂 There’s also no better feeling than seeing land again for the first time in days, especially when that land is the most idyllic spit of sand with two perfect coconut trees peeking out of the turquoise water under a sunny sky. We reached Savusavu Fiji the next day, cleared customs, had a killer local dinner in town and celebrated with an impromptu dance party on board the boat that night. This island is lush and rugged, and is far less developed than the main island to the south where we’ll be in a few days to do the bulk of our provisioning for the next month. We’ve already swam in a waterfall, hiked through the rainforest and snorkeled with sharks in just a couple days. I couldn’t ask for a better crew to work and play together with… We’ve got so many more adventures ahead! Still pinching myself daily in awe of this life I’ve found myself in!
Below: View from my room’s porthole
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