Vanuatu - South Pacific 2007

My new sweetie, Nina Maclean and I are off to the South Pacific to sea kayak in the Vanuatu Island Chain.

Landis Arnold at Prijon/Wildwasser has been an immense help. He took our Prijon Kodiak kayaks, the ones we paddled from Kamchatka to Alaska, and cut them into three pieces for us. So, you say, he cut your kayaks into pieces? How's that a help? Landis built bulkheads into each of the segments so we can bolt them back together. This way, we can take the kayaks apart, ship the segments on airplanes, bolt them back together, and go paddling anywhere in the world. Yahoo!

We also can connect the boats together as catamarans for long crossings, or sail or paddle them individually for shorter crossings, or when we are paddling close to shore. If all works out, it will be a "Yacht in a Suitcase".

We can cross oceans in this craft, just as you can in a nuclear powered aircraft carrier, but we can also explore mangrove swamps, which you can't do in said aircraft carrier. Of course we can't wage war from our yacht, but then George W. isn't our commander, so all in all, which boat would you rather be in?

We leave our Montana home on August 15. Watch for updates about once a week.

After Nina's near miraculous recovery, we paddled out, once again, onto the open sea. I felt strong, with several days rest, but Nina hadn't eaten much for several days and rallied with an amazing recovery to make the long crossing to Malekula. Then, finally, after all this time, we got several days of the expected trade wind weather and we actually sailed for the first time on the whole expedition. After a week of mixed paddling and sailing, with one rest day in a village where people were especially kind, we reached the northern city of Luganville where there were convenient flights back to Port Vila.

I feel that we've only begun to explore this tropical paradise and I'm already learning from the mistakes we made and planning the next expedition to this region. I was just beginning to relish the feel of a kayak in the open sea and the next expedition will involve longer crossing and more time at sea.


Thanks to Patagonia, Prijon, and Lendal Paddles. Each of these sponsors contributed, each in their own way, to make this expedition possible.

We're on our way home.

Here are a few images of village life in Vanuatu.

This week was about stumbling, but not falling down. As usual, Jon calls from a tropical beach. He says that Nina was sick all this week, but really sick and they couldn't figure out what it was. She tried taking various drugs for whatever illness they thought it could be, and each one made her sicker. Finally, just as she had her stuff packed and was getting ready to board a little plane to take her back to civilization, they realized that it was the drugs that were making her ill - in particular the one to prevent against getting malaria. She stepped back off the plane, changed medicine, and paddled northward along the island chain with Jon.
Whew.
The winds that thwarted them earlier have died down and the sea is flat calm. The rain too has let up and the going should be easy for the next few days.
While I was waiting for her to get better, I wandered into the forest to watch the folks shelling coconuts to make copra for cosmetics for all of us.

Jon called me on Sunday from the north coast of Epi Island, sitting on a rock next to the worlds biggest spider.
He and Nina arrived on Epi via third world freighter - 100 people crammed together overnight in a small space with random baggage and malfunctioning plumbing. A group of muscled, mean, rough-looking guys got into a big pillow fight and giggled a lot.
Now they have been paddling north along the island in continuing anomalous weather - torrential rain every day, even though this is the dry season. The winds that turned them back from their first crossing (35 knots it turned out to be) have died down, and the rain is not cold, just wet.
The people they meet are all friendly and everyone has some kind of story for the travelers - one man talks at length about his pig, another about movie stars, and further on, someone takes them on a guided tour of medicinal plants of the jungle.
Now they are ready to make another crossing, 6 or 7 miles to Paama Island. The wind is calm, a squall darkens the sky to the south, all is well.

We've left Port Vila, with showers, ,linen sheets, smoothies, and real coffee back into the real world of Vanuatu. It makes one think what poverty is. Is poverty about not having stuff? Then most of the people here are very poor. But if you define wealth as being with family, singing, having good food to eat, then the people here are very wealthy.

People everywhere have been kind to us. The bring us grapefruit and payapyas. Let us camp on their land. Share food and take us into their hearts.

We started this journey with a bit of an expedition mentality. Now we have decided to go on a honeymoon. Travel slowly, snorkel a lot, take photos, hang out on beaches, visit people in the villages.

The journey has changed. It has also changed us as individuals and as a couple. But if it hadn't caused change, it wouldn't be a journey.

Ok, gotta get on board the L/C (landing craft) Brisk for a night ride to Ambrym Island. (The Captain decided to go to Ambrym, not Epi, so that's where we are going. It's the journey, not the destination.)

We left Nguna at first light on Monday, Sept 3.

The southeast trades have been blowing stronger than usual, or stronger than they blew the last time I was here, or something. We got out onto the open sea and the swells were big, with complex strucutre on top. Wind gusts strong enough so that I had to think about holding tight onto my faithful Lendal wing paddle so it wouldn't blow away.

We paddled for a couple of hours and when I looked back, Nguna was getting a little fuzzy. Mataso was starting to gain strucutre. I guestimated that we were 1/3 of the way, but I was too wet and busy bracing to take out my GPS and confirm. My Prijon Kodiak was handling well. It is my old friend -- after all we crossed the North Pacific together. I was just starting to reminisce fondly, get into the feeling of the open ocean, dig deep and pull hard for Mastaso, when Nina called out.

She had been doing well and paddling bravely in the big seas, but just didn't have the power to overcome both the distance and the cross wind. So we made an emergency decision and fell back to the shelter at the north west corner of Nguna island.

The next day we paddled back to Efate, and then took a truck back to Port Vila. Tomorrow we hop on a tramp steamer/freighter/copra boat to Epi Island and resume the journey and the adventure.

The call from Jon came a day early. They are getting ready to make a tricky crossing between Nguna Island and Mataso, 13.4 miles away. The wind is strong from SSE and will be blowing off beam as they paddle which will push them off course and make the paddling more difficult. They have been moving slowly and watching the weather for the past few days. Everyone says the wind is stronger this year than normal, perhaps because of global warming. A few last minute structural additions made the boats sound and waterproof.
Jon says they have been in and out of the cash economy for the past week. In one village there was a store so they went in to see if they could get some rations. There was a can of spam, two packets of top ramen and a big jar of red jaw breakers. The conversation went something like this:
Man at the counter - “would you like to buy anything?”
Jon - “well, if you had something that I wanted, I would buy it.”
Man – “what do you want?”
“Food.”
“Well, if you were hungry, why didn't you tell me. You don't get food at stores, everyone knows that.”
And he proceeded to give them mangos and tomatoes for free.

The point where they start their crossing has a restaurant where they can buy food, and huts where they can pay money for sleeping.

The boats are packed and they are ready to leave at first light, paddling towards the tiny speck of an island on the horizon.

Jon sends his thanks to Prijon for the boats and to Lendal for the wing paddles – wonderful... and to Patagonia for clothes and gear.

The satelite phone works.
The boats sort of work.
Either one or the other and I'm not too worried.

Call from Jon this afternoon and he says the boats float “well enough” but not completely well. They have been paddling along the west coast of the main island in the Vanuatu chain, Efate for two days. On the first day the usual SE trade winds switched to the NW and stacked against the swell making for a difficult landing in the surf. They came in through a reef and onto the beach where there was a restaurant. They asked the owner - if we eat dinner here, could we camp? And he replied – Why not?
Shortly thereafter, a black Buick limosine pulled up with licence plates reading PM1, followed by another limo with plates P1... the prime minister and president respectively of Vanuatu. Many more people came and much merriment was made, drinking kava and talking about cannibalism and the good ol' days. The head of security was at first a little bit suspicious of Jon, but after being cajoled with a postcard with pictures of Montana, he calmed down. All told, about 100 people attended the party, and there was music and dancing and NO guns... not even among the security guards.
The next day they paddled around Devil's Point and westward along the island where cows occasionally looked out at them from the shore. In a few days they will reach the end of the island, at which point hopefully they will have figured out how to keep the boats from leaking before they make the long open sea crossing to the next island.
Stay tuned... posts will go up on Sundays if all goes according to plan which is rarely the case.

A kayak is supposed to be an entry into an expansive world of ocean and sky, but, for the better part of a week, Nina and I have spent most of our time with our heads stuffed through the cockpit hole, or worse yet, the gear holes of kayak segments, in all sorts of contorted positions, tightening, loosening, fabricating, and adjusting bolts, plates, washers, and so on.

We put the boats together and then promptly took them apart in California. Now we put them together again here in Port Vila. Then we covered, smeared, glued, taped, fiberglassed, prayed, and cajoled.

Our most romantic conversations go something like this:
"Upper port long bolt."
"Got it."
"Tighten."
"OK."

Tomorrow we put them in the water. It's a beautiful place around here. Friendly people. Palm trees. Fat tourists drinking beer and smoking cigarettes. We're ready to go to sea and start camping out. Out of the city. If the boats float tomorrow, without leaking -- too much -- we'll be in touch later by satellite phone to my daughter Noey, who will post the posting. If the satellite phone works, which we haven't tried yet.

We're going to sea.

Thanks to Patagonia and Lendal paddles for helping us out with clothing and paddles, respectively.

figuring it out...

Aundrea (an innocent bystander) Writes:

Open the crates, pull out the pieces, set every thing up for assembly. Jon and Nina hadn't yet seen the handiwork, but were looking forward to the assembly process. The idea that Landis had come up with was to use some sort of construction foam and fiberglass with T nuts... this was done on the center portion of the kayak, and the front and rear portions could then be bolted up to the center piece. However, as the pieces were being put together, the t-nuts seemed to get looser - in fact some of them were so loose that it became difficult, if not impossible to line up the bolts. Jon was definitely NOT comfortable with the structural integrity of the work that had been done. His concern was that in rough seas, the T nuts could pull out, and the boat could end up being in more pieces than desired. He has had a boat come apart in rough seas before, in the middle of the night, an unpleasant and life threatening experience – one that he did not care to repeat!

After some consultation with all parties concerned, it was decided that some aluminum plates would be cut for reinforcement - sort of like giant washers. The core material would then be drilled through, and the three pieces bolted together. Of course modifications of this sort take quite a while, especially when one is doing the work in a location that is not one's home turf, so they are still in process as I write.

Two Days Later:

OK. The boats are together. Structurally strong. They leak. Jon and Nina are off to the airport with a stop in Santa Barbara to buy some silicone sealant. Meanwhile, fires rage around Jon's house in Montana.

As Nina says. The boats leak and the house may burn down. Let’s go adventuring.

In a rush, leaving for the airport. We will call my daughter, Noey, by satellite phone and she will take over from here. Stay tuned.

For the past several years, I've been thinking and writing about the healing power of nature. I'm not in need of any monster healing right now, but it seems that there's a background cosmic - civilization - ray damage to the human psyche. I'm not going to start whining about all the things that have been bugging me lately, it's just that it's time to go to sea in a small boat.

As soon as one sets out on a journey, well-meaning bystanders start waving the DANGER flag, and that's ok, but they're missing the point. It's not danger we seek, it's exposure, the sheer improbability of being at sea in a "yacht in a suitcase", and it's the unadulterated relaxation brought on by the alertness from that exposure.

Nina and I are ready. We fly to California, pick up some more gear and the boats, and then off to Vanuatu. Will post some photos from California.