After two days of intense diving activity we were dived out; it was time to move on. We cruised over to Oyster Island and anchored in a stunning bay next to another inviting resort. It was a beautiful sunny day, one of very few thus far. A yachtie acquaintance of Rod’s, Harold aboard Cassiopeia, says he hasn’t seen good weather here since March! As soon as we settled at anchor, we jumped into the dinghy to visit a nearby blue hole.

There are several blue holes on Vanuatu, deep freshwater pools of crystal clear blue water fed by cold underground springs. The water bubbles up to fill the pool and then spills over to create a tropical river that winds its way to the sea.  Although I said previously we were ‘dived out’, actually we took our scuba gear along to better explore the pool.

It seemed like a very long dinghy trip up the meandering river, although Rod says it only took us 10 minutes. The following day Mike and I repeated the trip in our kayaks and it required some 45 minutes of paddling each way, not accounting for photo stops. Around the last curve we arrived at the blue hole, shaded by a giant banyan tree with a rope for swinging out Tarzan-style over the pool. The water was cold! Much chillier than the ocean. But no freshwater rinsing the salt off our gear afterwards, which was a bonus. And lucky for us to see it on a sunny day when the hue of the water was an intense electric blue.

This is the last of the blogs from Vanuatu.  We have cleared out of the country at the immigration office, celebrated with a departure dinner last night at the Oyster Island Resort, and are just waiting for a break in the weather before heading to the Solomons. This morning we woke up in a gray drizzling cloud with rumblings of thunder, but we expect by tomorrow we’ll be on our way.  Perhaps another departure dinner is in order!

After a lunch break and required shore time (for decompression reasons), Alfred led us on a second dive not too far away from the Coolidge. Million Dollar Point has a fascinating and somewhat startling history.

From 1941-1943 the US rapidly deployed its forces in the South Pacific, trying to stem the rapid advance of the Japanese through the islands. By 1942 the Solomon Islands, only a few hundred miles distant from Vanuatu, had been taken by the Japanese forces and the Vanuatu archipelago was next. Then US troops arrived to establish a massive sea base, the largest in the Pacific. Battles were never fought here. Luganville on Santo Island was the staging grounds for battles fought further afield. 50,000 troops were stationed in the town at any one time, and more than 100 ships anchored nearby – so many that observers said it was nearly possible to cross from one side of the harbor to the other without getting wet, just going from deck to deck to deck of the warships anchored in close proximity to each other.

Here hospitals tended the wounded and sick, repair stations patched up damaged ships and planes, and soldiers were sent out to bitter fighting in the jungles of the Solomons. Jack Kennedy’s survival story from the sinking of his PT109 took place in the Solomon Islands.

But in 1945, Japan defeated, the US withdrew its military presence from Vanuatu equally as rapidly as the build-up, abandoning massive amounts of military equipment including tanks, jeeps and cranes as well as more mundane items such as tents and cooking pots. The US offered the unwanted equipment for sale to the remaining governing body, the French, for a price as low as 8¢ on the dollar, but were declined on the premise that the equipment would be abandoned and available for no cost at all.

Instead the US dumped it all into the ocean! A jetty 70 meters long was built out from the beach to access deeper water 50 meters in depth, and bulldozers and cranes pushed everything into the deep blue sea. At the end the bulldozers were lined up, keys in the ignition and engines running, and sent driverless to plunge into the water on top of each other and everything else. And finally, in closing, the military dynamited the jetty into oblivion.

Thus was born Million Dollar Point, where millions of dollars of equipment deteriorate on the sandy bottom. Local fishermen say the waters surrounding this area were unfishable for years due to the contamination from diesel fuel, gasoline, and rusting metal. However as the years passed, this has created an astonishing dive site unequalled anywhere else in the world. Piles of tires and jeep axles are slowly growing a reef of coral and fish habitat now that the pollution has washed away.

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On Thursday we sailed 50 miles from Ambae to Santo Island and its main town of Luganville. We anchored in a peaceful spot very near the Aore Resort, a lovely complex with a great restaurant serving delicious food in a covered lanai overlooking the harbor. We immediately went into full dive mode. I was finally allowed in the water so next morning I checked out my equipment and refreshed my diving skills along the shore of the resort. Satisfied that all body parts were functioning – my own as well as my equipment’s – Mike and I signed up for some commercially guided diving on nearby WWII relics, beginning with the renowned USS President Coolidge.

Our dive guide gave us the short version of the history of the Coolidge. The ship was built in 1931 as a luxury cruise liner, 654′ in length and 22,000 tons, accommodating 350 passengers. During WWII as the US built up its presence in the South Pacific, thousands of troops needed to be transported to Pacific stations. The government acquired the Coolidge, gutting it and ripping out the staterooms with their queen and king sized beds, replacing them with stacks of cots thus enabling the ship to carry 5,000 troops at a time!

The civilian captain of the Coolidge retained his role on the now military ship and made several successful runs with the ship in 1942. On October 26, 1942, the Coolidge arrived at the entrance to Luganville Harbor, which has more than one approach between small islands at its mouth.  The ship radioed shore but received no reply over a stretch of several hours. Eventually contact was made with a Navy destroyer that advised it was all right to enter the harbor but they were on alert for patrolling Japanese subs.

With this information, the captain opted to enter via the secondary channel, reasoning that any submarines would be lurking at the primary channel. He did not know, and with lack of military expertise did not suspect, that this second entrance was mined. As the ship entered the passage, the captain received the confusing radio message from shore ‘Stop you are standing…’ which made no sense to him but he did stop as told. What ‘standing’ meant was that he was standing over a mine field. Right then a mine exploded in the vicinity of the engine room, blowing a massive hole in the hull. The captain went into reverse to back out of the mine field but hit a second mine which blew another massive hole in the hull. With the Coolidge rapidly taking on tons of seawater through the breaches, the captain then threw the ship into forward and ran it aground; the thousands of soldiers on board then waded to land. Only two men were killed, one who was in the engine room when the first mine exploded and an officer who rescued three sailors trapped behind a sea door. The three escaped but the heroic officer drowned. There is a memorial to him on shore near the wreck.

The intention was to salvage all the equipment off the ship later, but in less than an hour the Coolidge slid backwards from shore into deeper water into its final resting place – lying on her port side only meters from shore with the bow at 20m and the stern at 65m.

The landed troops camped out on the adjacent beach for months. The sand is littered with pebbles of old seaworn bits of glass, green from coca cola bottles, brown from beer bottles, and clear from water bottles. Our guide told us that with a metal detector it is possible to locate all kinds of odds and ends including dog tags and other paraphernalia.

The captain was court-martialed a few months later in San Francisco but eventually exonerated of wrong-doing.

We donned our dive gear on the beach and staggered through the breaking surf before swimming out to buoys marking the bow of the wreck, then descended with our guide to the deck of the ship some 20+ meters below the surface. This first dive was a surface reconnoiter of the layout. We saw cannon and unexplored artillery shells on the deck, swam along the promenade, and eventually descended into one of the cargo holds for an interior view. Shoes, cups, combs, rifles, medical supplies – all are on display. Very little was ever salvaged from the fully laden ship.

This was a relatively deep dive, pushing the decompression limits of our dive computers and requiring a couple of lengthy (and boring) safety stops along a shallower sandy bottom.

The following day we went diving again, this time with a different outfit which offered boat access to the wreck, a much easier way to go! Our excellent guide was Alfred who has been diving the Coolidge for 14 years. Apparently we passed inspection because he took Mike and me on a much more technical dive deep into the interior of the ship. At 40 meters he shined his torch in the gloom on ‘The Lady’, a famous wall carving of a lady and her steed from the Coolidge’s more cultured days. The majority of Coolidge dive tourists don’t have the opportunity to see The Lady due to the depth, so I was especially pleased to capture a decent photo of her. Nearby Alfred illuminated a chandelier, now laying on it’s side. Taking off his dive gear (30 meters underwater!), he swam to a row of porcelain toilets (hanging down from the transposed ceiling) and demoed their use!

Again, having pushing our deco limits, we lingered at our safety stops while Alfred entertained us by lying on his back in the sand and blowing impressive bubble rings that grew in size as they floated to the surface.

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From Pentecost Island we moved on to nearby Maewo, where the signature feature of our anchorage was a beautiful 30′ waterfall plummeting to the sea. For yachts with fewer amenities than AVATAR (items like a washer and dryer and plenty of fresh water) this provides a great opportunity to catch up on the laundry.

From Maewo we have crossed over to the misty island of Ambae, catching a mahi mahi en route which went on the evening’s dinner menu. Our protected anchorage is actually the caldera of an ancient sunken volcano with one wall collapsed enough to let in the sea. Ambae provided James Michener with inspiration for the mysterious fictional island of Bali Ha’i in his book Tales of the South Pacific. During World War II the US fleet, Michener included, set up a significant presence on the islands of Efate and Espiritu Santo (more commonly referred to as Santo). More than 500,000 Allied soldiers passed through Vanuatu over the course of the war. On this trip we have met islanders who still remark on the fact that US forces protected the ni Vanuatu (Vanuatu people) from invasion by the Japanese.

It is a gray drizzly day here, perhaps not that uncommon. A native of Maewo told us that he has never, in his entire lifetime, seen the summit of Ambae free of cloud cover. Ambae has its own semi-active volcano, Mt Lombenben, again only accessible via heroic hiking conditions – this time through lush cloud forest to access the volcano and its three crater lakes, one blue, the other hot and lime-green, the third dry but with a cold water spring. Again, lacking a helicopter, we elected to pass. This is a ‘must see’ attraction that will have to be postponed for our next lifetime. We did hike to two smaller more accessible lakes, swampy and muddy but both volcanic craters in their previous incarnation.

I went paddling in the harbor in a light mist just for the exercise and scared up a couple hundred mackerel, averaging a foot or so in length, the entire school leaping clear of the water in a panic, straight towards my kayak, shoulder high, parting around me like a stampede of buffalo. I’m really surprised I didn’t catch one or two in the boat. It was quite startling!

After dinner, in the black of night before moonrise, we had an awesome display of phosphorescence – the best I’ve seen since 2005 in Fiji, our very first year of South Pacific cruising. Overhead the sky was gray and overcast, but the black lagoon waters twinkled with luminescent plankton mimicking an entire universe of stars. Sitting on the aft swim step and kicking my feet in the water stirred up a regular fireworks of light. Occasionally a deeper and larger glimmer would signify a passing fish. Further out we could see my school of mackerel, a submarine glow of light the size of a swimming pool, shifting and gliding through the water.

Tomorrow morning we’re off to Santo, a 50 mile passage to the big city with resorts, restaurants, Internet, and the world’s largest accessible wreck dive!

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On Ambrym it is possible to take guided treks to the rim of the volcano craters, but we were forewarned that the trip was 5 hours each way on steep terrain bushwhacking through jungle and wild bamboo forests, crossing strips of slippery lava and climbing upwards through steamy mountain gorges. Eventually the hike opens out onto the vast arid ash plains of the volcanos and the real work begins. Undulating grey ridges are exposed to full sun, the track consisting of a dry slippery crust interspersed with boulders, and finally a narrow razor backed saddle snaking upwards between the two calderas amidst numerous vents puffing out acrid smoke! We decided this was an expedition beyond our capabilities and took a pass. Possibly we need to upgrade our yacht and add an onboard helicopter to our inventory of toys!

Instead everyone (except me!) went on an awesome scuba dive along a massive lava wall where they saw schools of barracuda, turtles, big tuna and bigger grey sharks in amazingly clear water. I spent the time blogging and editing a few photos from previous days.

And in the wee hours of the following morning Mike and I went topsides to admire the red glow of the twin volcanos lighting up the sky. The guidebooks say the volcanic activity is closely monitored and evacuation plans are at the ready.

We made an early start to cross from Ambrym to Pentecost Island, bypassing a few inviting anchorages including beautiful Waterfall Bay as the wind direction was uncooperative. This turned out to be fortuitous as ultimately we fetched up in the protected and scenic bay of Loltong Village. The approach into the harbor is marked by navigational leading lines and a massive banyan tree. We spent a quiet night in our non-rolly anchorage spying out the resident dugongs in the harbor.

The locals, aware that dugongs can be a tourist attraction, have been trying to think of a way to tame these massive but gentle creatures – but so far have not come up with a successful strategy. Dugongs graze on sea grasses in shallow water and therefore are not subject to bribery by food. One friendly dugong named Bondas was known to inhabit Lamen Bay on Epi Island and allowed swimmers to approach and swim with him, even tickle his belly, but most are shy and quick to avoid humans.

Next morning starting at daylight about 5:30′ish, I kayaked along the shore. Plenty of villagers were up and about at that time of day, so I waved and called out ‘good morning” and snapped photos of giggling children, and thus visited from one end of the town to the other. Near the end a man and wife beckoned me ashore where they served up (on a Christmas plate) a wedge of watermelon for my refreshment. Pentecost is noted for sand drawings, and the wife sketched out an elaborate design in the sand with her forefinger while her husband told me the story (about an unfaithful wife and a jealous husband) that went along with it. Their oldest son lives in Los Angeles with his Mexican wife whom he met on a religious visit to Israel!

When the late sleepers of our group were finally in gear, we all returned to the village and were given a guided tour by the chief’s second son, who also manages the Vat-ulo Yacht Club on the beach. We made arrangements to return for an evening’s entertainment featuring an official presentation of sand drawings and legends (this was attended by the majority of the village children), to be followed by a sunset dinner on the beach. I was allowed to photograph the completed drawings, but not the works in progress, before each was erased with a brush of the hand and the next drawing created. This particular sand drawing represents a catamaran.

Sunset offered up another green flash, but then misting rain drove us inside the yacht club restaurant, a clean, airy and inviting house built of woven mat and thatch and draped inside with floral island sarongs, leis of artificial flowers, country flags from visiting yachts, and Bob Marley posters. By the light of one real candle and a pair of battery operated ones off AVATAR, we were served a wonderful multi course feast of fresh island dishes – tuna salad, yams and taro, mysterious but tasty leaf wrapped cylinders, a chicken stew (my favorite) and a fresh fruit salad for dessert. Each dish was served alone, then withdrawn as the next made its appearance. As the meal progressed our helpings got smaller and smaller as our stomachs got fuller and fuller and we weren’t sure when the parade of dishes would end!

Full of good food and company, we retired for the night with an early departure scheduled next morning for the island of Maewo.

Slideshow of photos below, including some not included in the above blog.

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We are moving right along on our speed tour of the Shepherd group of islands of Northern Vanuatu, as the real goal of this cruise is the Solomon Islands. After two nights in Epi we moved on to Ambrym Island which features twin live volcanoes, Mt Marum and Mt Benbow, that occasionally erupt and disrupt the local village way of life! Ambrym is also called The Black Island because of its black volcanic soil. As we cruised along the northwest coastline an inversion layer created a dreary landscape, pressing down volcanic soot and ash to blanket the mountain tops while matching smoke from garden refuse fires rose up to blend into the gray haze. I thought we had seen black sand beaches along the coast of Epi, but they were just a muddy brown compared to the gritty beach sand here, the color of backyard barbeque charcoal briquets. The scenery is mountainous and lushly vegetated under the pall of the volcanic smog.

We headed for a lunch spot where natural swimming pools are filled by a river of hot fresh water, warmed by the volcanic activity, flowing down from the uplands to empty into the sea! And with perfect timing we snagged an impressive 30 pound wahoo trolling with our brand new heavy duty fishing lines and lures. He was nearly as long as May is tall, and should provide several meals for the four of us, starting with the day’s lunch an hour or so later.

As soon as we reached our anchorage near the village of Ranvetlam, a local man in his canoe paddled alongside, greeting us as ‘most warmly, warmly welcome’ to his island. After a bit of negotiating with Rod he promised to organize a Rom Dance for us the next day. Rod has fond memories of Ambrym from a dozen years ago when he cruised this same locale in his own yacht Uhwilna, and the Rom Dance is one of his more favored memories that he was anxious to share.

An actively volcanic island fosters a culture steeped in magic and Ambrym is considered to be Vanuatu’s sorcery center. Here magic and sorcerers (man blong majik in Vanuatu’s official language of Bislama, a form of pidgin English) are held in high regard. Kastom (still observant of ancient ancestral beliefs and traditions) villages reside comfortably next to Christian communities.

Ambrym’s Rom Dance is a striking traditional ceremony with elaborate costumes consisting of tall conical brightly painted masks of banana fiber and a full cloak made of banana leaves. Each dancer in his costume represents a spirit. In years past it was rare to have the opportunity to see these dances as the costumes were traditionally destroyed after the dance to keep the spirit from taking over and haunting or impersonating the dancer. But now some villages are prepared to perform the dance for tourists, given sufficient notice. The senior chiefs dance without costumes, instead adorned with penis sheaths and boar’s tusk pendants, a symbol of status.

Our host met us the following morning on the beach and guided us on an uphill hike to the nearby kastom village of Fanla where we were greeted with refreshments of green coconuts and given a tour of the village while the dancers made their last minute preparations. Then we were seated on the edge of the ceremonial grounds to enjoy the spectacle. I was allowed to photograph to my heart’s content but our guide warned me it was tabu to touch a dancer or his costume, so stay well clear lest I be subjected to the punishment meted out to tabu breakers!

When the festivities concluded, we had some time to shop a small impromptu market of wood and stone carvings, before embarking on the (thankfully) downhill trek home. But at the last house in the village Rod spied a friend and acquaintance, named John, his guide during his visit 12 years ago. John remembered Rod with enthusiasm and came down to AVATAR later in the day to reminisce. John was also hoping to raise the school fees he needed for his three children (when he last met Rod he was newly married) so he brought along a handsomely carved wooden mask which he sold to us at a discount for friendship’s sake. He promised that no magic spell had been applied to our new mask. If it had, the spirit of the mask would go walkabout at night and the sound of its footsteps would keep us awake on the boat.

Eventually we sent John on his way with a ziplock baggie of frozen wahoo, some shiny new sunglasses, and hopefully enough vatu to educate his kids.

We arrived Wednesday morning at Bauerfield International Airport (built by the US during WWII) in Vanuatu after a relatively uneventful three leg fight from Tucson via Los Angeles and Nadi, Fiji. The only glitch occurred in LA after our 747 had already pulled away from the gate on schedule. The pilot came on the PA system to announce that a passenger insisted on getting off! As a result we had a significant delay as the jumbo jet was towed back to the gate, a search ensued for the passenger’s luggage which in the interest of security also had to be located and removed from the cargo hold, followed by topping off the fuel tanks before we could finally leave. But we made up for some of the lost time in flight and the connection in Fiji wasn’t that tight, so our final arrival was punctual to the minute. Parked on the tarmac to greet us was a gigantic US Air Force cargo plane, possibly a C17, which just about dwarfed the entire terminal. No idea what the our Air Force was doing In Vanuatu that day!

Rod, Mayflor and a taxi driver were on hand to greet us as soon as we cleared customs. A quick drive to the waterfront was highlighted by the unexpected sight of a banner strung over the main highway announcing the upcoming Vanuatu hunter/jumper competition!

We ferried our luggage by dinghy from shore to AVATAR anchored out in the bay, quickly unpacked and changed clothes into our standard cruising attire (shorts and a t-shirt) and we were off. First night out was Havannah Bay where we have been several times before. Next morning we pulled up anchor at 5:30 am (not a problem for Mike and me as we were still on Tucson time six hours later) for a half day’s cruise north to Epi Island. Last trip the weather blocked us from this destination, but this time around the trades are cooperating and we are visiting sights not seen before.

The weather is refreshing – not too hot or cold as here winter is winding down and spring is springing. The sea temperature is inviting as well, a nice combination for the first snorkel of the trip and a shakedown scuba dive to get everyone back up to speed.

Unfortunately for me, I had surgery a few weeks before this trip and am not currently allowed in the water! So while Rod, Mayflor and Mike explored the inviting clear blue waters and accessible reef, I was dropped ashore for a solitary walk on Epi. The beaches here alternate between golden sands and volcanic black sand. A significant freshwater river empties into the sea nearby. A local man was splitting open coconuts with an axe, spreading them out to dry in the sun to produce copra, and greeted me with a handshake and a smile. A herd of maybe seven children played nearby…he thought it quite funny when I asked if they were all his!

A bit further up the beach a footpath cut through the vegetation and connected with a well traveled dirt road that went for miles, connecting villages and homes. It paralleled the coast through a lush landscape of massive trees interspersed with local garden plots, clumps of shoulder high grasses, groves of coconut palms, flowering vines and well-tended homesteads scattered at regular intervals along the way. Dozens of small black and white swallows darted erratically over the meadows and treetops. Rainbow lorikeets squabbled high up in the palms. There is an eye catching species of dove here that has a brilliantly iridescent back of emerald green, called a Pacific Emerald Dove. And of course there are the ubiquitous mynah birds.

Tethered to trees along the track were occasional cows or horses; roosters and hens with their chicks ran free in great abundance. The gardens were planted with cacao, taro, bananas, paw paw (papaya), pamplemousse (giant grapefruit), corn and the usual veggies. A deafening chorus of cicadas rose and fell rhythmically in competition with the surf for background noise.

This road made for a great exercise track and my intention was to march along at a good clip burning a few calories and stretching my legs after the past 48 hours of inactivity. But my timetable didn’t allow for the frequent encounters with the locals, all of whom greeted me with a smile and a handshake, an exchange of names and pleasantries. One man asked me my age (probably precipitated by my white hair) and looked suitably floored when I told him the truth (66). This elicited a low whistle of amazement and a thorough visual once-over as he processed the incongruity of my apparently significantly advanced years with my hiking prowess! I’m not sure if I should be flattered or insulted.

I escaped from Jeffery with only a moderate load of goodies weighing me down, but not much further on met another man and wife who offered me a green coconut for a refreshing drink. We trekked into the palm grove where he knocked down coconuts with a 20′ bamboo pole and whacked them open with his bush knife. Back in his garden he pressed even more food on me, and eventually I was able to stagger back to the beach with a weighty load of groceries which included a watermelon, a pamplemousse, an abundance of gigantic cucumbers, cherry tomatoes (kept unsquished in my shorts pocket), a regular tomato, onions and 2 coconuts! This, on top of my already heavy camera, created a burden that was definitely contrary to doctor’s orders.

To top off a full day, we had perfect sunset conditions for the green flash, a molten yellow sun sinking into a flat calm ocean with no clouds on the horizon to obscure the setting sun. At the very last instant as the sun disappeared into the sea, sure enough we saw that final flicker of green. I photographed it but the images are less than convincing. They need a little help from Photoshop. However the first photo I ever saw of the green flash was printed in black and white!

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