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Our adventures with Pieter and Sarah began the minute they stepped off the plane. After a quick hug and hello, Sarah hurried over to get some local currency (Vatu) out of the ATM at the airport. The machine promply ate her card! Being a Sunday, the people at the airport advised us to go to the ANZ in town on Monday morning. It turned out not to be quite that simple! For a start, the bank was busy, with queues heading all the way to the door at every teller. There was a teller for foreign exchange, who eventually helped change some NZ$ to Vatu, but this person could not help with lost cards. The next two tellers were for withdrawals only, then there was a teller who only handled deposits. Finally there was the teller who handled lost cards. After already standing in the money exchange queue for quite some time, Sarah had to go to the back of the line at the lost cards queue and wait some more. As it looked like we would be there a while, Karl decided to get some more cash out of the A TM outside the bank. Heather joked "Don't lose your card" and looked up just in time to see the dismay in Karl's face as the machine shut down after swallowing his card too! Fortunately, the security people were able to retrieve Karl's card quickly. Sarah was not so lucky. In all, Sarah made 5 trips to the bank that day, to wait in line to see if her card had been delivered from the airport ATM. The last visit was after the bank had closed - they arranged to let her in the back door to meet the man who had been clearing hungry ATM's full of cards all day long - his full time job apparently! By the time Sarah got her card back, it was definitely time for celebration.
The next day was the wedding of course and then a restful day to recover :-) In the remaining week we were together we played tourists in Efate. Swinging on a rope to drop into the Blue Hole for a swim, a cultural dance, traditional village lunch, a drive around the island including over the WWII airstrip, a coconut demonstration and stops at various lookout points to see little islands and resorts dotted in the twinkling sea below. We visited the Tanna Coffee factory, where we learned that the coffee processed here, in Efate, comes from over 500 growers on Tanna Island. The cyclone has destroyed much of the crop and they are now down to only 10% of usual production. It will take three years to get volumes back to pre-cyclone levels as they have to wait for new plants to grow.
Of course we did some sailing and snorkeling along the coast of Efate as well as at Lelepa Island and Moso Island. We were treated to many displays of flying fish defying gravity, along with a surprise visit from a pod of dolphins and a few turtle encounters. More seeds were distributed, this time to the two villages on Moso Island, along with some children's clothes donated by Sarah. The northern village has just started a turtle hatchery and will soon be offering glass-bottomed boat rides too.
We spent one morning at the Mele Cascades - a spectacular area with more and more cascading waterfalls at every turn along the path. At the top, we were treated to a torrent of water thundering down from the top - quite a sight! Then it was off to Hideaway Island for lunch at the resort and a snorkel in the marine reserve. Bigger fish here as they are not eaten for dinner! Another day we had a trip to the Aelan Chocolate factory. This enterprise, run by a French Vulcanologist, Sandrine, is a fair trade business, designed to get better returns for the 2000 growers of cocoa beans on Epi, Malekula and Santo islands. They had only been operating 1 week before the cyclone hit and when we visited they were still busy doing repairs to get fully operational. We were impressed with Sandrine and the journey she had been on with the growers to get better growing and fermenting practices in place and improve the quality and taste of the chocolate.
If you think it is strange to find a French Vulcanologist running a chocolate factory in Vanuatu, you will think it even more strange to learn about our dinner at Spice, an Indian restaurant. This restaurant is run by Neal, who is an Irishman. Not only is he an Irishman running an Indian restaurant in Vanuatu, he is actually a Geologist by trade! Go figure! Still, the food was delicious and the service was fabulous.
Our last night together with Pieter and Sarah, was spent with Nettie, an old friend of Karl's, who made us a tasty Dutch meal at her place. A fun and memorable evening.
After 12 days together, including our very special wedding day, we said a fond farewell to Pieter and Sarah on Friday. Yesterday we took Nettie and Lynette out for a day of sailing and snorkeling at Pango Point, which was good fun, followed by dinner with Nettie on board Aradonna. Today we rounded Devils Point in calm conditions. After having visitors on board for the last two weeks with so many stories and plenty of laughter - the boat now seems strangely quiet. There is not a breath of wind, the water is like glass - it is almost an eerie stillness. Our snorkeling activity produced the only ripples on the water! Time now to enjoy some music while relaxing and reading.

image Now where are we? image David retrieving anchor Passage Log 2 *** Minerva Reef Day 8, May 16 Position 23 39.484s 178 54.282w Janet *** Shortly after sunrise on Friday I was on the tiller steering through a narrow passage into Minerva Reef. What a buzz. Large swells were breaking on the coral either side of the entrance, the tide pouring out of the lagoon causing eddies which could easily slew Navire towards the coral.
"10 degrees to starboard," I heard David's voice in my headphones. "Now 20 to port." He was half way up the mast where he could clearly see the underwater coral jutting out into the pass.
We'd been sailing north for seven days, no land in sight, when 300 miles south of Fiji we saw a reef. This isolated chunk of coral was like a roadside layby where you pull over and have a rest before you continue your journey. Beyond the crashing waves of the ocean meeting land I counted four masts, we were not alone out there.
Suddenly we were in, there was no swell, the surface of the water was flat, the boat on an even keel. No more night watches for a couple of days, no keeping a course, no more reefing the sails for sudden squalls. Breathing out, I felt myself relax.
David and Piet had retrieved the anchor from its well at the bow where we keep it at sea, and we dropped it into 20 metres of crystal clear water. The moment I'd finished reversing and digging the thing in, I killed the engine and stripped off. Lathering my hair in shampoo to deal to a week's grease and grime, I dived into the turquoise depths. What a glorious temperature, no wincing, not breathtaking, just silky water caressing my skin. I swam around the boat and climbed out and washed under the solar shower Piet had set up.
"How about pancakes and bacon for breakfast?" David asked.
"Yes please," chorused the crew.
I broke out the bubbly I'd stashed in the fridge back in New Zealand.
*** "A whole night's sleep! Yahoo. Can't wait." I wrote in my journal.
Doing an ocean passage in a small yacht is like bashing your head against a brick wall because it feels so good when you stop, or like getting to a tramping hut and taking your pack off after a particularly arduous trek.
*** 4.30pm It was gloriously sunny when we arrived at Minerva but as the day wore on the light was rapidly falling. To the west was a large dark mass of cloud. The front we’d raced up here to avoid at sea was bearing down on us. David and Piet put up our water-catching gear in readiness for a deluge. We discussed running an anchor watch overnight if the wind got up too much. So much for the whole night's sleep.
We overheard someone's radio conversation on the VHF saying there was going to be a four-metre swell outside the reef. We knew that at high tide the sea slopped over into the lagoon putting constant pressure on our anchor increasing the risk of dragging.
"Winds up to 30 knots," said Piet glancing at the wind instrument. Bugger, I'm on the double watch tonight. Maybe Saturday I'll get the eight uninterrupted hours.
*** Day 9 Sunday, May 17, Minerva It was too windy and the sea too rough to launch the dinghy and go and stand on reef, so we spent the day aboard molested by an uncomfortable slop.
That afternoon a strange looking launch came through the reef entrance. As it came closer we could see it was a yacht without a mast. Later we learnt that it had got all the way to Minerva intact then as it was tacking outside the reef the whole rig came crashing down. Apparently it had just been checked. I'm sure every boat in the lagoon felt for them, it could of happened to any of us. They left the next day facing a very rough and rolly 300 mile trip to Fiji.
Anchor watch again. The alarm went off regularly as the boat slewed around in the wind. Better than being at sea though.
*** Day 10 Monday, May 18 1130 Headed back to sea. We’d debated staying longer and enjoying this haven but we needed to get to Fiji by Friday to avoid extra clearance fees on the weekend. Forecast was for lighter winds. David and Piet stowed the anchor and raised the main as I steered us across the lagoon to the reef entrance. I wasn't looking forward to the predicted three metre swells but I reassured myself only three more days to endure.
Piet got the day's gonad award for putting our position in as east instead of west.
Distance 79 miles. Feels like forever to Fiji.
*** Day 11 Tuesday 19 May, 22 38.179s, 179 17.430e Back across the dateline again.
"Day after tomorrow, day after tomorrow,” was my mantra. I felt a hungover kind of seedy and like I'd been in a barroom fight, my shoulder hurt. I was sick of the 2-3 metre lumpy swells, then being slammed by occasional squalls. I don't think I'm very good at these passages, I just wanted to get there. I meet people who seem to take it all in their stride, make it look easy. I wish I was one of them.
85 miles to go to Kadavu, and 132 to Suva.
Day’s run 145 miles, excellent progress.
*** Day 12 Wednesday May 20, 20 15.573s, 178 59.007e We took bets on how long it would be before we saw land but heavy cloud obscured Kandavu Fiji’s southernmost island. We sailed past it that night and only saw a lighthouse flashing.
We were on even more constant alert with land nearby, and land also means fishing boats, sometimes unlit ones.
Suva tomorrow. To keep myself going I kept visualizing the cold beer I would drink on arrival, complete with the droplets on the outside like in the ads. I visualized the fresh crunchy produce from the market, and best of all, a whole night's sleep.
Last night on watch.
Day’s run 95 miles *** Day 13, Thursday May 21, 18 23 .73s, 178 30.524e At dawn we could see the welcoming peaks of Vita Levu.
The harbour entrance looked comfortably wide but much of it was taken up with coral reef just below the surface so we followed our course closely.
Suddenly after nothing for nearly two weeks we had to navigate reefs, marks and a plethora of rusting hulks. David was back up the mast peering into Suva Harbour's murky depths .
The Fiji authorities regularly confiscate boats that are fishing illegally and tie them together in decaying flotillas, anchored to sea-bed, seemingly randomly around the harbour. We gave them a wide berth. In the yacht anchoring area was a hulk that just showed above high tide, a concrete shed, and a large barge. There wasn't a lot of clear space to anchor in. As we arrived the port authorities were radioing a nearby anchored yacht to get out of the way for a ship coming through. They weren't on board though. The ship went very close to them making us nervous about where to put down our pick.
We dropped the mainsail and raised our flags yellow for quarantine the pale blue Fijian flag. The anchor slid out through the fairway, I let out a big sigh and turned the engine off. Peace and quiet, for just a moment till all the relentless sounds of a busy harbour filtered in.
I radioed Suva Yacht club to arrange for customs officials to be brought out to the yacht. First the health officer cleared us, taking $180 Fijian for the pleasure. Then biosecurity checked us out but didn't take any of our fresh or frozen food away, as they can do. Customs wanted to know how much alcohol we had aboard and impounded half a dozen bottles of wine but later we paid the infinitesimal amount of duty on it and got it back.
"Welcome to Fiji. You are free to land," said the immigration man, after he'd stamped our passports right there on our dining room table.
But we didn't land, we just put our feet up and reveled in not doing anything.
Distance 13 miles.
*** At times the journey felt endless, the sea relentless. I felt for David with having the constant overall responsibility for the ship. At times I felt crazy for being out there in 12 meters of one inch thick plastic, and other times intrepid. Often I felt weak and inadequate, then had moments of feeling strong and in tune with my environment. At times I loved the vastness and emptiness of the ocean, of the flat unfettered horizons and glorious unadulterated sunsets. But I also felt anxious, lonely and vulnerable and wanted land, and friends and familiar landmarks to guide me along. I got sick of the saltiness, everything got saltier and saltier as we went on. I wanted a long hot shower and clean clothes and to sleep 12 hours in quietness.
But like childbirth the memory of the pain soon faded and I felt an incredible sense of achievement.

What a magical day we had at Paradise Cove in Vanuatu for our wedding! The weather forecast was not so good and it was apparently drizzling in Port Vila, but out at Paradise Cove we were very lucky as it stayed dry all day. The sun came out in the afternoon in time for our 3pm wedding and our small gathering of friends enjoyed celebrating with us on the white sand beach.
Our wedding plans had started back in January and we had originally booked a different resort, but it had suffered severe damage in the cyclone. Luckily, our Wedding Planner, Virginia, found us an alternative – and we were absolutely delighted with Paradise Cove. The bay is sheltered from the SE trade winds, which meant we could safely park Aradonna right outside the resort. It was so nice to have Aradonna sitting in the background for our wedding day.
The day started with a swim and snorkel in the bay, followed by lunch at the resort before heading to our bungalows to get dressed for the big event. Our good friends Sarah and Pieter were our witnesses and they performed their duties well. Pieter and Karl went ahead and waited on the beach beside the arbour, while Sarah helped Heather “dress”.
Heather wore a simple deep blue dress with a kerchief hemline, topped with an ivory lace cape. On Valentine’s Day, Karl had surprised Heather with a beautiful necklace that he had chosen especially for the wedding day. It looked stunning! Karl and Heather both wore lays made from white frangipani and purple flowers. Sarah and Heather both had white frangipani hair flowers.
Sarah walked with Heather down the path, through the beautiful gardens of the resort as the symphony music of “Canon” played. We were married on the beach, by a local celebrant, with Aradonna sitting in the background. Just perfect! Apart from the usual service, we had each prepared our own words and it was so nice to be able to speak from the heart on our special day.
Pieter performed his task well and produced the wedding ring, which is a perfect match for the engagement ring, right on cue for Karl. As soon as the celebrant had presented Mr and Mrs Landhuis, champagne flowed, glasses clinked and our gathering shared hugs of congratulations all round. It was truly a “pinch me” moment. Good friends, a fabulous setting, sunshine, sea – everything was simply perfect! Dinner at the resort was delicious, with coconut prawns, veal escalope’s, tender eye fillet, fresh tuna steaks and beautifully presented fresh vegetables. We had brought our own wine with us, chosen months ago, and it couldn’t have been better! The Chardonnay, Pinot Gris and Shiraz we had selected got the thumbs up from our little group. We finished the meal with wedding cake, coffee and cognac before retiring to our gorgeous bungalow for a night on land! In the morning we had a leisurely breakfast at the resort before returning to our floating home as husband and wife! We are so very very lucky and very very happy!

Music in the park January 2015 David I'm calling this a retrospective but David was just a bit tardy posting it! *** On Barrier Radio Janet caught a brief ad 'Music in The Park at Okiwi. Bring your own instruments.' This sounded like us. What clinched it was Loma, from whom we had hired a car, who was intending to go and offered us a lift. Loma, large as life and well into party mode, roared into the Port Fitzroy parking lot not much more than an hour late. Janet and I and our instruments piled in.
We soon learned that Loma is one of eleven. She has six of her own, eighteen grandchildren and a couple of great-grandchildren. She looked about sixty, if that. But not much about her said Maori. She appeared bottle blond, light skinned, a little ditsy at first meeting, voluble, irreverent and great fun to be with. We took to her immediately. In describing her lack of sea legs she quipped, ìBefore Iíll take the ferry to Auckland itís got to be calm enough for me to apply lipstick in my reflection.î She turned out to be foundation tangatawhenua. The length of time your family have been on the island, as elsewhere, is defining, third and fourth generation conferring unparalleled status. ìWe moved back to the island about four years ago,î Loma said as she negotiated the narrow, winding road to Okiwi. ìBut weíve been here more than seven hundred. Weíre Ngatiwai. Just the one iwi which makes things simple although thereís two hapu.î Thatís about thirty generations of continuous occupation.
"Iím not that familiar with my tikanga,î Loma confessed, a little wistfully. ìSome of my grandkids who have grown up in kohanga come and speak to me and I have no idea what theyíre saying,î she laughed. Sheís tried learning. ìIt goes in and then goes out. But Iíve enrolled again.î Loma eased the car along a near invisible track, overhung with trees that momentarily blocked most of the sunlight. Once inside, the space opened out to reveal a cosy glade, a small grassy clearing enclosed by native bush thick with ferns and nikau palms. There were people gathered on rugs under a huge spreading Puriri tree and others standing around barbeques and chili bins of beer. As the sun slid across the sky small groups moved to occupy other patches of shade. A stage had been set up, complete with amps, mikes, speakers, even a fold-back speaker so that the musicians could hear themselves.
Loma found us a space under the Puriri and settled into her chair where she held court with family and friends all afternoon. She had a constant flow of grandchildren making requests and waiting on her. It slowly became clear that she is a much revered kuia, related, one way or another, to every Maori on the island, many of whom were at the park. There was always much banter and laughter emanating from around her spot.
It was an intimate group of no more than forty with people coming and going. We felt we had gate crashed a large family gathering but, attached to Lomaís coat tails, we were soon absorbed into the fold. Elaine, a diminutive copper-haired woman with an arresting, effortless, Aretha Franklin voice, played MC. She provided backing vocals and took the stage herself from time to time, supported by her husband Opo, on guitar. Remarkably she and Opo live on remote, exposed Mahuki, the outermost of the aptly named Broken Islands. They are the unofficial custodians of the islandís gannet colony. A dozen or so musicians, including the two of us, performed solo or in varying combinations. Elaine joined us during our second set which was a treat. There were several performers who would have been well received on much larger stages, especially a trio of gorgeous, young sisters from one of the two Katherine Bay marae. One guitar, three voices, sublime harmony. And Elaine could rival any diva. Janet and I rowed back to the boat in the lengthening shadows, warmed through with music, people, food, beer and sun and with a pocketful of invitations in the anchorage and across the island.