Arrivals, sports and three types of departure

One of Dora's frequent lunches

Landing back (on Saturday 11 June) in Wellington from our Vanuatu adventure, we were greeted by Dora’s parents. Our flat was their base camp as they trekked out to relatives across New Zealand. During their ‘rest stops’ Dora was treated to frequent lunches, I was treated to a well-stocked fridge and we were all treated with evenings to ‘The Magic Flute’ and the Wellington leg of the Welsh rugby team’s tour against the All Blacks. Luckily, having lived in Vanuatu themselves, Dora's parents were also the most attentive holiday-photo-viewers we could wish for!

Westpac Stadium - view from our seats.

However, the start of the last few weeks of relaxation did not begin well for me. A short trail run with Dora prompted my immune system to call a time out in its battle with some Vanuatuan Virus, laying me out for several days. But by the weekend I was back on my feet to enjoy the aforementioned Rugby, where Wales challenged New Zealand in a spirited, but ultimately doomed, manner (final score: New Zealand 36 – 22 Wales). The afterglow of scrumptious pre-match meal at Douglas’, joined by Trish and Andrew, kept us warm throughout.

Me crossing the finish line,
where apparently I learnt to fly.

Me and our friend Tim
proudly clutching our medals.

Dora and I continue our sporting pursuits at a more amateur level, having completed several football matches and (for me) a half-marathon and some mountain biking over the past few weeks. In about three weeks we’ll also be adding ‘skiing’ to our ‘list of activities done in New Zealand’ (we have lots of lists) so watch this space.

Of course, the big news this weekend has been Brexit (Departure 1). I’ve also got carried away with the mood and exited my job (Departure 2), changing it for something with a shorter commute distance – a 7-minute walk instead of the current 8-minute slog.

First attempt at 'slow cooking'.
Paracetamol in top left unrelated.

This weekend we also bade farewell to Dora’s parents (Departure 3), after a farewell meal at our favourite – and only – Asian Tapas Restaurant ‘Chow’. We’re sure we’ll see them again, particularly if we manage to master the slow cooker they’ve kindly procured for us (in addition to the coffee plunger, sieve, apron and small frying pan)! 

p.s. We previously mentioned scuba-diving with Bill the American. He has kindly sent us some Go Pro footage from our dive - you can occasionally see us in the corners. Watch to the end for some great footage of some very curious Clownfish.

Notes from several small islands: Part II - Lava-ly Tanna

We rejoin our Vanuatu adventure as the sun sets over the islands and we land in Port Vila at last (you will remember the flight was delayed). Mindful of the airport taxi fares we  confidently jumped into what we thought was a local minibus for a fraction of the price, although realised afterwards that it was possibly just someone taking their family home from the airport. Our hotel Moorings' deck over the water was a romantic location for a yummy dinner (poulet fish, Thai pork belly). The evening was enlivened by Roger poking a large purple crab with a Tusker beer bottle ("it's definitely dead" - me) and almost falling off the deck ("it's not dead!").

Port Vila

6.30am: morning tea in front of the blue-green harbour and hills, framed by the shutters of the room. A quick swim (making the most of the hotel) introduced us to four cackling Australian women sitting outside their ground floor rooms smoking, who I distracted by pointing out the incoming cruise ship, so we could make our escape. Roger ate many fish-shaped fresh waffles at breakfast and then we set off to explore Port Vila. 

We called in on one of Dad's old colleagues then walked past Nautilus where I learned to dive, a new Chinese-built conference centre that looked like something out of Command & Conquer (for those who get this computer game reference), the dreaded French School, my old house, the International School, Independence Park where the French parachutists used to land on the annual independence parade, and down to the handicrafts and food market. We topped off the afternoon with a famous ice cream sundae at French cafe Au Peche Mignon. Then it was back to the airport on a second local bus, toward Tanna!

"Do you know where he's from?"
"Finland?"
"Oh yes. You know."

Our host at Tanna Yasur View Bungalows, Mike, welcomed us at the airport and we hopped into the 4WD to join "the French couple" who were suspiciously Nordic looking and indeed turned out to be Finnish. A long, bumpy journey in the dusk was rewarded by the sight of an unearthly red glow as we came over the hills - Yasur the volcano! We zoomed across the ash plain, through a stream and up two sharp muddy inclines. From our hut's little verandah we could see the glow and the milky way, enhanced by the intermittent rumbling of the ancient God. We had to wait until morning for the view - lush green vegetation and mountains all around. Thank you Charles and Lydia for the recommendation!

Yasur View Bungalows

After breakfast with the Finnish couple (swapping travel stories and re-budgeting stories following the discovery of the doubled-in-price volcano entry fee) we bought a volcanic rock carved figurine from the tiny handicrafts stall and set off on a walk to the ash plain. A 'wrong' turn led us to the village, where preparations for a fundraiser football game followed by a boxing tournament were in full swing, with many willing machete-wielding men. We also ogled tree-top bungalows set high up in three huge banyan trees. We eventually made it to the ash plain for a geology lesson. 

In our absence our bungalow had become infested by homeless hornets, searching for the nest that had recently been cleared. Mike and a sidekick did a good job of swatting, and assured us that they weren't the type that stung. I assured Roger that they were the type that stung; there's no mistaking the little blighters that took to Julius' face when we were climbing our frangipani tree as kids in Vila.

Walking round the rim of the Yasur's crater

Following a series of daring raids into the hut by Roger to get volcano-appropriate clothes, we set off on foot for the entrance of Yasur Volcano Safari Tours. The walk turned into a run as we took a wrong turn in the bush (and ruined Roger's un-socked feet), but we made it in time to claim the New Zealand sign. We were welcomed to the Nakamal under a big banyan, sitting behind our country signs (Europe and England were separate..), then there were two custom dances and we presented some kava roots to the chief who asked the God (the volcano) to keep us all safe. Roger almost immediately removed his '"itchy" protection lai (plant hung around the neck), so I had double. 

The base of the crater climb

10 minutes in the back of a double cab truck and we were at the base of the crater, in groups of 10 following guides whose safety talk comprised "don't run away, look up" and "follow my instructions". On the short walk up to the rim we noticed a solo rock appear, tossed up above the rim, then falling back down inside. 

There were probably about 50 people up there in total and we all walked round the rim to the best viewing point, where we stayed until after dark. No safety ropes, platforms, fences or signs. Just you peering over the edge of the volcano. The clear evening, fortuitous wind direction (away from us) and recent increased activity of Yasur made for quite an experience. Constant rumbling and lava bubbling and spitting was punctuated every few minutes by booms and a dome of rising lava would blow its top, spraying globules of orange, red and white-hot lava into the air. The biggest of these threw lava as high as the rim we were standing on, and we felt the shock wave. 

Watch right til the end!

We were reluctant, if a little relieved, to leave the mesmerising two craters behind and stumble like Frodo and Sam back down the slope. Unlike Frodo and Sam we took a 4WD back to the base, with two French families. The tour ended with fresh fruit, coconut water and sugar cane. Then fish dinner back at Yasur View, where the hornets had thankfully headed to temporary residences for the night or (hopefully) died. 

Yasur View Bungalows restaurant

We joined the Finnish couple for the drive back over to the airport side of the island, where they were diving (they had a week on Tanna) at White Grass Resort. Welcoming White Grass let us dry all our clothes on their sun loungers and swim off their beach to a different sort of 'blue hole'. In return we bought their tuna melt sandwiches and alerted everyone in the restaurant to the dolphins we spotted. The blue hole was this time a natural bit of deep water in the middle of the reef, which we almost grazed our tummies getting to. We sadly saw a crown-of-thorns starfish (which naughtily eats coral), but also lots of life; Roger swam under an underwater archway; and we were surprised by a billowing black-plastic-bag fish, which we took to shore.

Back in Vila after a ride on a Twin Otter (little 18-person propeller plane where you can see into the cockpit), we had dinner (final Vanuatu beef!) at Cafe de Village on the waterfront. Fortunately chocolate fondue for two exactly used up our currency. Eventually we had to go back to the Airlines Business Hotel room: close to the airport but suspiciously laminated with no external windows and a packet of Chinese condoms on the sideboard. The beds were also like bare planks of wood.

Twin Otter

The next day, spines straightened, we dragged our feet to Bauerfield International for a 7am flight back to Auckland. What a trip. Tank yu tumas Vanuatu. Lukim yu!

Notes from several small islands: Part I - The Fallow Ships of Di-ving (say it quickly and you'll get it)

We started our exotic holiday with a night in a very non-exotic Ibis hotel near Auckland airport, which housed a surprisingly acceptable restaurant serving dangerously drinkable alcoholic ginger beer. Next morning saw us on a plane to Port Vila, Dora’s previous home for three years but a leap into the unknown for me (or at least into a moderately remote tourist hotspot). 

Upon arrival we negotiated a quick return trip to some snorkelling on Hideaway Island, to make the most of the two hours before our onwards flight to the Island of Espiritu Santo. Our newly-purchased diving masks made this a great experience, despite Dora’s snorkel's habit of taking in water instead of air. Shooting back for our domestic flight, we boarded a disappointingly large propeller aircraft and arrived in Luganville around nightfall.

Tips for getting a taxi from Luganville airport: 1) ignore the official transport options at the airport; 2) wander around in the dark for a bit and 3) get a much cheaper taxi from Charlie, the President of the local taxi association, and get his phone number for some ad hoc tours later in the week. 

We were deposited for dinner at ‘Mamas’, somewhere that looked very ‘local’, where dinner is served to order through various hatches by wise old Ni-Vantuatu ladies. We were therefore very disappointed to be immediately joined by pretty much all the tourists, gap year students and volunteering do-gooders in town, although the value and quantity of the food more than made up for this. We decided to walk off our dinner by heading to our accommodation on foot, only to get slightly lost and picked up by a kindly 'Roderick' who drove us to the door of Coral Quays resort. Apparently we’d been wandering through some marijuana-infested badlands, which explained the disinterested/stoned glances we received from the youths who we’d been cheerfully wishing ‘good evening’.

Breakfast was held on a veranda with great views over the flower garden (a must-have for Dora-booked accommodation) before we were whisked away to dive the SS Coolridge, a US WWII troop carrier that tragicomically sank after running into a US mine, but conveniently beached itself and tipped over in a very accessible location. A little unsure of our diving skills after many years of non-practice, we nevertheless nodded confidently at the instructions that Tom – our guide – gave us, in an attempt to convince him of our credentials. Our first wreck dive was a great experience, particularly when we popped into the cargo hold to see what darkness looked like. [Dora: We also saw a Lionfish!] Once we’d emerged and snacked Tom told us stories about his worst dive guiding experiences, which we saw as a signal of confidence in our abilities.

The beach by M$P. Imagine this with a hundred times
more machinery, and vertical, and underwater, and with fish.
We'll get an underwater camera next time.

The second dive was also very wrecky. Million Dollar point is named after the value of machinery and equipment US forces drove into the sea at the end of WWII, when the colonial administrators of Vanuatu proved unwilling to pay a fair price to purchase them for the island. Again, this tragedy had a silver lining, as we dived amongst cranes, diggers and trucks that now house many a sea creature. A highlight of the dive was shooting through the insides of a sunken boat and feeling like heroic explorers, and seeing a cuttlefish. A lowlight was when I tried to turn a steering wheel and it broke and fell to the sea floor, kicking up lots of dust and leaving me with little visibility in quite a confined space surrounded by lots of sharp metal. I nipped out quickly enough and nonchalantly caught up with Dora and Tom, who remained blissfully unaware of my escapades; however, in my excitement I’d managed to consume most of air my air, so was forced to borrow Tom’s on the return journey.

As we headed back to Coral Quays the weather seemed to turn, so Dora and I did the sensible thing and tried to kayak down the coast. This was quickly abandoned when waves started swamping our vessel, so we spent a relaxed afternoon reading and limbering up for the 2-inch thick steak we'd eyed up for dinner.

On Monday morning our Millenium Cave hike-caving-swimming experience also had to be abandoned because of the weather, so we headed instead to some reef dives with an American called Bill. After a wobbly start where Bill unexpectedly fell out of the boat trying to put a fin on, we dropped to 12m to view the coral garden expanse. I spent most of my time practicing underwater somersaults, but an authoritative source tells me the highlights included a swarm of Barracuda, a nudibranch, pufferfish, clownfish and a huge clam. Some flying fish accompanied the boat on our way back, possibly confused the limits of their natural habitat given the amount of rain in the sky. 




On Tuesday Charlie took us on the promised trip to one of the famous 'Blue Holes' (via a hospital to check on a former colleague of Dora's family friends). These are crystalline fresh water pools located in dense tropical forest. Whilst Charlie was a little opaque regarding how they were formed ("the rain" *shrugs*) I'm 99% sure the ladder and rope swing is a man-made addition. I braved it first, overcoming any nervousness immediately upon discovering a millipede near my foot. Dora kindly dived into the depths to recover my mask in the subsequent splashy chaos. 

Our Paw Paw, Coconut Cream and
Pineapple Juice Smoothie ©

Returning to the airport, we found that our plane had developed a fault and would be seven hours late. We re-enlisted Charlie's services and headed out to the island resort of Aore with the American Bill and his wife, Sophie. There we spent the afternoon inventing smoothies, eating pizza and snorkelling amongst some very angry white fish. 

In Part II: Exploring Port Vila and peering down an active volcano!