Youtube Video
Continue reading "Fun with the Orangutans Video"...
Showing posts with label Video. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Video. Show all posts
Friday, October 05, 2007
Fun with the Orangutans Video
One of our most favorite events of our adventure! We visited the Tanjung Putting National Park in Kumai (Borneo), Indonesia. The Orangutans were captivating to watch!
Youtube Video
Continue reading "Fun with the Orangutans Video"...
Youtube Video
Continue reading "Fun with the Orangutans Video"...
Saturday, September 16, 2006
Banam Bay, Malekula
Banam Bay, Malekula (9/15 - 9/16)
Banam bay was an easy motor-sail up the coast from Port Sandwich. It was again a bit crowded, the most boats we've been at anchor with in a long time (about 15), but it's a big bay and there was plenty of room. We went in that afternoon with a number of other cruisers to see the dance performance. At the Nekowiar I thought I had gotten used to the nambas (penis sheaths), but as we entered the dancing area for the men, I found myself trying hard to not stare! Apparently there are different types of nambas, and some cover quite a bit more (or less) than others. Here, they wore minimal coverage, with, as we call them, "the boys" hanging right out there! I had seen pictures, and some men at the Nekowiar had these type nambas as well, but still it was shocking to be around twenty men raging from 17 to 80 years old, all practically naked. We were greeted by a line of about five men, who all shook our hands, and then one would put a leaf wreath over your head; you had to bend forward, and holy-moly, look at what you're looking directly at now!
The men performed four dances for us, and they were all terrific. They were laughing, singing, and energetically jumping around. They wore bean pods around their ankles to add to the beat of the older men playing the drums and tam-tams (ni-Van carved drum). A few 'photography' friends, as well as some of the books on photography, have said that when filming or shooting, try to get at a different angle; either lower or higher. So I was squatting down, filming, I glanced away for a minute, and when I turned back and looked through the viewfinder, one of the dancers had turned and was enthusiastically jumping towards me ... and oh my gosh the 'boys' were coming right at me! I nearly dropped the camera!
We moved to a different area to watch the women's dance, where the main attraction was a little girl trying to keep up with her mom. The women's dance wasn't quite as exciting or energetic, but we still enjoyed ourselves. Afterwards the men had us introduce ourselves and then provided us with drinking coconuts and their local dish, lap-lap. We had to pay for the dancing, but it was well worth the small fee, and one of the things I feel they are totally justified in charging for.
We returned to Billabong, just before sunset, and Chris decided to make a quick dinghy fishing run. About ten minutes later I saw him coming back and figured he had broken something or tired quickly. Imagine my surprise when he returned with a dog-toothed tuna! Word got around the fleet quick, and the next day he was hosting more fishing lure 'sessions'! Besides the barracuda which we threw back, we caught two other good-eaten fish during our short stay!
Banam Bay has a great beach with thousands of neat shells; we spent part of our morning just walking the beach and admiring the shells ... usually joined by curious children checking out what the whities are doing! On our second evening in the bay we walked inland a bit to another village, who had string band. They had the box-stick-string bass instrument as well, and a five-gallon barrel for the drum. The locals and cruisers all danced, and there was an abundance of laughter.
Continue reading "Banam Bay, Malekula"...
Banam bay was an easy motor-sail up the coast from Port Sandwich. It was again a bit crowded, the most boats we've been at anchor with in a long time (about 15), but it's a big bay and there was plenty of room. We went in that afternoon with a number of other cruisers to see the dance performance. At the Nekowiar I thought I had gotten used to the nambas (penis sheaths), but as we entered the dancing area for the men, I found myself trying hard to not stare! Apparently there are different types of nambas, and some cover quite a bit more (or less) than others. Here, they wore minimal coverage, with, as we call them, "the boys" hanging right out there! I had seen pictures, and some men at the Nekowiar had these type nambas as well, but still it was shocking to be around twenty men raging from 17 to 80 years old, all practically naked. We were greeted by a line of about five men, who all shook our hands, and then one would put a leaf wreath over your head; you had to bend forward, and holy-moly, look at what you're looking directly at now!
The men performed four dances for us, and they were all terrific. They were laughing, singing, and energetically jumping around. They wore bean pods around their ankles to add to the beat of the older men playing the drums and tam-tams (ni-Van carved drum). A few 'photography' friends, as well as some of the books on photography, have said that when filming or shooting, try to get at a different angle; either lower or higher. So I was squatting down, filming, I glanced away for a minute, and when I turned back and looked through the viewfinder, one of the dancers had turned and was enthusiastically jumping towards me ... and oh my gosh the 'boys' were coming right at me! I nearly dropped the camera!
We moved to a different area to watch the women's dance, where the main attraction was a little girl trying to keep up with her mom. The women's dance wasn't quite as exciting or energetic, but we still enjoyed ourselves. Afterwards the men had us introduce ourselves and then provided us with drinking coconuts and their local dish, lap-lap. We had to pay for the dancing, but it was well worth the small fee, and one of the things I feel they are totally justified in charging for.
We returned to Billabong, just before sunset, and Chris decided to make a quick dinghy fishing run. About ten minutes later I saw him coming back and figured he had broken something or tired quickly. Imagine my surprise when he returned with a dog-toothed tuna! Word got around the fleet quick, and the next day he was hosting more fishing lure 'sessions'! Besides the barracuda which we threw back, we caught two other good-eaten fish during our short stay!
Banam Bay has a great beach with thousands of neat shells; we spent part of our morning just walking the beach and admiring the shells ... usually joined by curious children checking out what the whities are doing! On our second evening in the bay we walked inland a bit to another village, who had string band. They had the box-stick-string bass instrument as well, and a five-gallon barrel for the drum. The locals and cruisers all danced, and there was an abundance of laughter.
Continue reading "Banam Bay, Malekula"...
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Port Resolution & Mt. Yasur
Tanna, Vanuatu
August 24 - 29, 2006
We sailed around from the Evergreen mooring balls to Port Resolution on a beautifully clear day. We were against the wind and the seas were a bit uncomfortable, but Port Resolution was a must, as it provided easy access to Tanna's active volcano, Mt Yasur. It didn't take long before we spotted plumes of smoke emerging from the volcano's crater. It was easy to spot the big blows from the huge amounts of smoke that drifted upwards. We had heard that many people hear the rumblings and/or see the glow from Mt Yasur even in Port Resolution, but that first night we didn't see or hear anything.
We decided to hike from Port Resolution to Mt Yasur and arranged for a truck ride back. We had heard that the trucks tended to get up there a bit late and we wanted plenty of time to explore and take photos (optimally you want to arrive during late afternoon and stay until after dark so that you witness the volcano in both the day and night). Plus it just feels more 'proper' to hike up a volcano than to be driven! We were told it would take us about 2-1/2 to 3 hours, and that most of the walk was pretty easy, with just the last 20 minutes or so being difficult. If one drives (four wheel drive being necessary), you can get right up to the base of the volcano, which then leaves you with an easy 5-10 minute walk up to the rim. The walk was mostly uneventful, although attractive, as we eased our way along a dirt road surrounded by lush green flora. Along the way we stopped near Shark's Bay to view a bungalow being built high up in a Banyan tree. About half way to the volcano we heard our first rumble; it was a low deep growl that raised goose bumps of excitement on my skin ... I couldn't wait to see what came with that rumble! While I was excited at the chance to see an active volcano, I have to admit I was preparing myself to be disappointed. We had heard SO many glowing reports about the volcano, I figured there was no way it could live up to my extra high expectations. And while we had read about the dangers (including the three deaths to date), both in the guidebooks and on a few signs prior to entering the volcano's territory, I truly was thinking Just how dangerous could it be if thousands of tourist visit it each year? How naive I was on both accounts, our adventure on top of Mt Yasur turned out to be an adrenaline junkies dream; both life threatening and gripping. In addition, its power and brilliant light show easily exceeded my expectations.
By the time we entered the road that led up to Mt Yasur, its grumbling had turned to roaring and provided consistent background noise. Our anticipation was ever increasing. After already walking a good 2-1/2 hours the steep and rocky incline up proved difficult and took us about 45 minutes. Every time the road turned I would anxiously peer around hopeful that at any minute Mt Yasur would come into view. At last a barren ash covered field spotted with old lava rocks lay before me. And now we could easily see the plumes of smoke that accompanied each roar. Steam escaped from a number of vents and we could feel the warmth through the red and grey ashy dirt.
Just before heading up to the rim, we stopped at the "Volcano Post". The world's only post station on an active volcano! Okay, a bit cheesy in the tourist department, but how could we resist mailing a few post cards (unfortunately we had forgotten our address book when we flew out to Tanna, so our mailing list was a bit short). We didn't stay long, as we could now see the lava debris shooting skywards from within the volcano's crater, and like kids in a toy store, we had to see it NOW! I almost felt as though if we didn't get up there right away, then at that very moment Mt Yasur would go dormant and we would miss our one and only chance!
None of us were prepared for just how loud and heart-stopping the BANG of the eruptions would be; every time at least one, if not all, of us jumped. We rushed up to the edge of the volcano and peered down into a huge crater, where existed yet another crater, where all the action was occurring. At first we joked about not being close enough, but it didn't take long before we realized that we were plenty close after all. We were so amazed and stunned not only by the noise, but also the huge amount of debris that was flying out of the inner crater's mouth that we hadn't even managed to get out our camera gear. Chris & John (boys being boys) were harassing each other about their skittish jumps each time the volcano went off. KABAM!!! And Chris jumped back has John laughed and just as John was antagonizing him KABANG, another huge blast sent John jumping back and Chris laughing. The four of us stood looking into the crater, still goggling over the smoke, lava rock, and noise that emerged from the volcano when grrrRRRRR KaaAAABAAAM. And with that huge blast it went something like this among the four of us:
The four of us split into a mad frenzied confusion. Okay some kept their heads; John stood still and looked up tracking the huge lava ball that was now heading right for us. Chris moved, but still looked upwards, ensuring he was moving away from the potential landing spot of the magma rock.
MJ and I were a little less successful with our survival instincts. MJ went into such a panic that both laughing and running she peed her pants. Afterwards she couldn't remember if she had looked up or not. I, in one of my less intelligent moments, just plain out ran ... laughing, screaming, and shouting Where do I go? Where do I go? over and over. I didn't run very far, because in my panicked state I seemed to only be able to go left and right, as if dodging bullets. With each frantic turn came the only thought able to cross my silly mind Where do I go? (to which no one ever did answer!!!)
KAPLOP! The large piece of magma thundered to the ground ... having traveled just over our heads, and landing less than 15 feet from where we had all been standing barely moments before! Full of adrenaline and still just a bit overwhelmed with a range of emotions from shock and panic to giddiness, we all turned to stare at this foreign object that had just hurled itself towards us. It was as if we were looking at an alien; staring wide-eyed and not daring to approach. Of course the cameras came out immediately, it was a must that we get pictures of "our lava rock", but it still took a minute or two for the shock to subside enough for any of us to actually go near the rock. Once we had gained our wits we continued to laugh in amazement (and a bit of relief), and as the initial shock waned, Chris and John got to poking and playing with the over-heated piece of magma. Flames immediately emerged when Chris pushed a stick into the soft brightly glowing rock. He created a 'coconut face' by poking three holes into the lava rock, all of which fire spewed out of.
We had arrived on the rim alone, but now a few tourist were showing up, and we excitedly told them our story and showed them "our" lava rock. We also decided that perhaps we weren't standing in the best spot and moved a bit over on the rim, to what we hoped was a safer location. Both MJ and I were also lectured on the appropriate lava avoidance procedure (basically look up and wait to see where the debris is going to fall before moving --- do not just run blindly!). I guess it wasn't one of those facts of life we needed to learn growing up! Still, with each ear-splitting eruption it took huge amounts of will power to not turn and run. More than once I felt my head attempt to recede much like a turtle's into his shell, and after the 'our lava rock experience' my knees continued to tremor, right up until we were sitting back in the car park. I was scared, enthralled, overjoyed, and overwhelmed. I couldn't stop laughing, smiling, or shaking! It is no wonder that volcanoes are held as magical, spiritual places among natives. It is yet another example of just how powerful nature is and how much respect mother earth deserves.
As the sun set the show only became more spectacular. With the fading light, the magma that shot from within the crater now glowed a glorious red. It was the most brilliant fireworks display I've ever seen. Although Lonely Planet mentioned three erupting sections within the volcanic crater, we could only distinguish between two of them. One seemed to growl and moan before ejecting a small amount of magma with an earth shattering bang that sent everyone shrinking back from the rim ... it made up in noise what it lacked in display. The other ejected tremendous amounts of glowing magma high into the air, with a large amount landing on the inside of the outer crater (just below the rim where we stood). Both let forth huge amounts of smoke; sometimes brown and dense, other times light and grayish, and often accompanied by an intense sulphurous odor.
While I could've stood in awe and watched the show all night, it was also a bit stressful ... I was never relaxed, my heart rate was up, and with each loud explosion I'm sure I gained a few new white hairs. More often than not the BAMs and BANGs of the eruptions would shake the ground beneath us, reminding us of just how much force was used in expelling the large amounts of magma from within.
Periodically Chris went to check on "our" lava rock, reporting back over and over that yes, it was indeed still wicked hot! Heat be damned, he and John still managed to break off a chunk ... now there's a souvenir!
Finally, around 6:30pm we made our way down to the car park. Our ride was late so we sat in the back of another truck waiting, and watching the glow and intermittent explosions from above. We finally were calm enough to eat a snack (how silly to think we'd be able to 'picnic' up on the rim!). We still talked continuously about our experience and the amazing power of the volcano, chatting away as if we hadn't all been up there together! Just as we were getting ready to leave a huge earth shattering burst sent a brilliant display of red magma into the air, catapulting a gigantic piece way beyond the rim, where we could easily see its glow even from the car park!
Earlier we had learned that the current activity level of the volcano was classified as a "2". During levels 1 and 2 tourist are allowed up to the rim. At level 3 you are only allowed up to the car park (at the base of the volcano), and at levels 4 & 5 you are not allowed up the road at all. As we drove away, viewing the pulsing red piece of magma we all laughed at the idea of visiting an active volcano (at any level) in the States ... as if! Here there were no rules, no security or guides directing you, no rails to retain you, you are truly at your own risk! Between safety paranoia and law suits, such an attraction would never be 'allowed' in America.
Much like the hike up, the truck ride was an adventure in its own. First our ride never showed, but luckily another truck had a bit of room to spare. The truck struggled down, dropping into huge crater-like potholes on the tight, narrow dirt path (road is really too strong of a word for what we traveled over). Once on the slightly larger road, our speed increased throwing back huge puffs of dust and bouncing us all over the wooden benches of the open pickup. Once again we were covered in dirt and dust and exhausted from an extremely great time! After a cold beer at the Port Resolution Yacht Club (to toast our survival of flying lava), we took the dinghy back to Island Sonata, this night we could clearly see a splendid red glow emerging from just over the trees.
Back on Island Sonata the adrenaline still coursed through us and we endlessly chattered away as we reviewed our photographs and video. It was easy to laugh and joke since "our" lava rock missed us all, but it was daunting to think of just how dangerous it was up there! And we had to laugh at the group we rode back with, as they all wore hard hats, as if that would help at all if hit by flying lava. If the force of the flying rock alone didn't kill you, it would only be a matter of seconds before the extreme heat vaporized both the hard hat and ... well no need to get gross, you get the point.
As I attempted to drift off to sleep that night I was continuously awakened by the sound (in my dream) of Mt Yasur erupting, and my brain telling me to look up look up, don't close your eyes or it'll land on you! I would open my eyes to discover all was safe as I was in bed and sleeping was okay, but no matter how much I tried to relax into sleep, it took hours to finally let go. Still the next morning I would've gone back in a heart beat if we'd had the time!
Continue reading "Port Resolution & Mt. Yasur"...
August 24 - 29, 2006
We sailed around from the Evergreen mooring balls to Port Resolution on a beautifully clear day. We were against the wind and the seas were a bit uncomfortable, but Port Resolution was a must, as it provided easy access to Tanna's active volcano, Mt Yasur. It didn't take long before we spotted plumes of smoke emerging from the volcano's crater. It was easy to spot the big blows from the huge amounts of smoke that drifted upwards. We had heard that many people hear the rumblings and/or see the glow from Mt Yasur even in Port Resolution, but that first night we didn't see or hear anything.
We decided to hike from Port Resolution to Mt Yasur and arranged for a truck ride back. We had heard that the trucks tended to get up there a bit late and we wanted plenty of time to explore and take photos (optimally you want to arrive during late afternoon and stay until after dark so that you witness the volcano in both the day and night). Plus it just feels more 'proper' to hike up a volcano than to be driven! We were told it would take us about 2-1/2 to 3 hours, and that most of the walk was pretty easy, with just the last 20 minutes or so being difficult. If one drives (four wheel drive being necessary), you can get right up to the base of the volcano, which then leaves you with an easy 5-10 minute walk up to the rim. The walk was mostly uneventful, although attractive, as we eased our way along a dirt road surrounded by lush green flora. Along the way we stopped near Shark's Bay to view a bungalow being built high up in a Banyan tree. About half way to the volcano we heard our first rumble; it was a low deep growl that raised goose bumps of excitement on my skin ... I couldn't wait to see what came with that rumble! While I was excited at the chance to see an active volcano, I have to admit I was preparing myself to be disappointed. We had heard SO many glowing reports about the volcano, I figured there was no way it could live up to my extra high expectations. And while we had read about the dangers (including the three deaths to date), both in the guidebooks and on a few signs prior to entering the volcano's territory, I truly was thinking Just how dangerous could it be if thousands of tourist visit it each year? How naive I was on both accounts, our adventure on top of Mt Yasur turned out to be an adrenaline junkies dream; both life threatening and gripping. In addition, its power and brilliant light show easily exceeded my expectations.
By the time we entered the road that led up to Mt Yasur, its grumbling had turned to roaring and provided consistent background noise. Our anticipation was ever increasing. After already walking a good 2-1/2 hours the steep and rocky incline up proved difficult and took us about 45 minutes. Every time the road turned I would anxiously peer around hopeful that at any minute Mt Yasur would come into view. At last a barren ash covered field spotted with old lava rocks lay before me. And now we could easily see the plumes of smoke that accompanied each roar. Steam escaped from a number of vents and we could feel the warmth through the red and grey ashy dirt.
Just before heading up to the rim, we stopped at the "Volcano Post". The world's only post station on an active volcano! Okay, a bit cheesy in the tourist department, but how could we resist mailing a few post cards (unfortunately we had forgotten our address book when we flew out to Tanna, so our mailing list was a bit short). We didn't stay long, as we could now see the lava debris shooting skywards from within the volcano's crater, and like kids in a toy store, we had to see it NOW! I almost felt as though if we didn't get up there right away, then at that very moment Mt Yasur would go dormant and we would miss our one and only chance!
None of us were prepared for just how loud and heart-stopping the BANG of the eruptions would be; every time at least one, if not all, of us jumped. We rushed up to the edge of the volcano and peered down into a huge crater, where existed yet another crater, where all the action was occurring. At first we joked about not being close enough, but it didn't take long before we realized that we were plenty close after all. We were so amazed and stunned not only by the noise, but also the huge amount of debris that was flying out of the inner crater's mouth that we hadn't even managed to get out our camera gear. Chris & John (boys being boys) were harassing each other about their skittish jumps each time the volcano went off. KABAM!!! And Chris jumped back has John laughed and just as John was antagonizing him KABANG, another huge blast sent John jumping back and Chris laughing. The four of us stood looking into the crater, still goggling over the smoke, lava rock, and noise that emerged from the volcano when grrrRRRRR KaaAAABAAAM. And with that huge blast it went something like this among the four of us:
Wow look at that!
That one's huge ... oh my.
Oh my GOD it's coming this way.
AHHHHH.
The four of us split into a mad frenzied confusion. Okay some kept their heads; John stood still and looked up tracking the huge lava ball that was now heading right for us. Chris moved, but still looked upwards, ensuring he was moving away from the potential landing spot of the magma rock.
MJ and I were a little less successful with our survival instincts. MJ went into such a panic that both laughing and running she peed her pants. Afterwards she couldn't remember if she had looked up or not. I, in one of my less intelligent moments, just plain out ran ... laughing, screaming, and shouting Where do I go? Where do I go? over and over. I didn't run very far, because in my panicked state I seemed to only be able to go left and right, as if dodging bullets. With each frantic turn came the only thought able to cross my silly mind Where do I go? (to which no one ever did answer!!!)
KAPLOP! The large piece of magma thundered to the ground ... having traveled just over our heads, and landing less than 15 feet from where we had all been standing barely moments before! Full of adrenaline and still just a bit overwhelmed with a range of emotions from shock and panic to giddiness, we all turned to stare at this foreign object that had just hurled itself towards us. It was as if we were looking at an alien; staring wide-eyed and not daring to approach. Of course the cameras came out immediately, it was a must that we get pictures of "our lava rock", but it still took a minute or two for the shock to subside enough for any of us to actually go near the rock. Once we had gained our wits we continued to laugh in amazement (and a bit of relief), and as the initial shock waned, Chris and John got to poking and playing with the over-heated piece of magma. Flames immediately emerged when Chris pushed a stick into the soft brightly glowing rock. He created a 'coconut face' by poking three holes into the lava rock, all of which fire spewed out of.
We had arrived on the rim alone, but now a few tourist were showing up, and we excitedly told them our story and showed them "our" lava rock. We also decided that perhaps we weren't standing in the best spot and moved a bit over on the rim, to what we hoped was a safer location. Both MJ and I were also lectured on the appropriate lava avoidance procedure (basically look up and wait to see where the debris is going to fall before moving --- do not just run blindly!). I guess it wasn't one of those facts of life we needed to learn growing up! Still, with each ear-splitting eruption it took huge amounts of will power to not turn and run. More than once I felt my head attempt to recede much like a turtle's into his shell, and after the 'our lava rock experience' my knees continued to tremor, right up until we were sitting back in the car park. I was scared, enthralled, overjoyed, and overwhelmed. I couldn't stop laughing, smiling, or shaking! It is no wonder that volcanoes are held as magical, spiritual places among natives. It is yet another example of just how powerful nature is and how much respect mother earth deserves.
As the sun set the show only became more spectacular. With the fading light, the magma that shot from within the crater now glowed a glorious red. It was the most brilliant fireworks display I've ever seen. Although Lonely Planet mentioned three erupting sections within the volcanic crater, we could only distinguish between two of them. One seemed to growl and moan before ejecting a small amount of magma with an earth shattering bang that sent everyone shrinking back from the rim ... it made up in noise what it lacked in display. The other ejected tremendous amounts of glowing magma high into the air, with a large amount landing on the inside of the outer crater (just below the rim where we stood). Both let forth huge amounts of smoke; sometimes brown and dense, other times light and grayish, and often accompanied by an intense sulphurous odor.
While I could've stood in awe and watched the show all night, it was also a bit stressful ... I was never relaxed, my heart rate was up, and with each loud explosion I'm sure I gained a few new white hairs. More often than not the BAMs and BANGs of the eruptions would shake the ground beneath us, reminding us of just how much force was used in expelling the large amounts of magma from within.
Periodically Chris went to check on "our" lava rock, reporting back over and over that yes, it was indeed still wicked hot! Heat be damned, he and John still managed to break off a chunk ... now there's a souvenir!
Finally, around 6:30pm we made our way down to the car park. Our ride was late so we sat in the back of another truck waiting, and watching the glow and intermittent explosions from above. We finally were calm enough to eat a snack (how silly to think we'd be able to 'picnic' up on the rim!). We still talked continuously about our experience and the amazing power of the volcano, chatting away as if we hadn't all been up there together! Just as we were getting ready to leave a huge earth shattering burst sent a brilliant display of red magma into the air, catapulting a gigantic piece way beyond the rim, where we could easily see its glow even from the car park!
Earlier we had learned that the current activity level of the volcano was classified as a "2". During levels 1 and 2 tourist are allowed up to the rim. At level 3 you are only allowed up to the car park (at the base of the volcano), and at levels 4 & 5 you are not allowed up the road at all. As we drove away, viewing the pulsing red piece of magma we all laughed at the idea of visiting an active volcano (at any level) in the States ... as if! Here there were no rules, no security or guides directing you, no rails to retain you, you are truly at your own risk! Between safety paranoia and law suits, such an attraction would never be 'allowed' in America.
Much like the hike up, the truck ride was an adventure in its own. First our ride never showed, but luckily another truck had a bit of room to spare. The truck struggled down, dropping into huge crater-like potholes on the tight, narrow dirt path (road is really too strong of a word for what we traveled over). Once on the slightly larger road, our speed increased throwing back huge puffs of dust and bouncing us all over the wooden benches of the open pickup. Once again we were covered in dirt and dust and exhausted from an extremely great time! After a cold beer at the Port Resolution Yacht Club (to toast our survival of flying lava), we took the dinghy back to Island Sonata, this night we could clearly see a splendid red glow emerging from just over the trees.
Back on Island Sonata the adrenaline still coursed through us and we endlessly chattered away as we reviewed our photographs and video. It was easy to laugh and joke since "our" lava rock missed us all, but it was daunting to think of just how dangerous it was up there! And we had to laugh at the group we rode back with, as they all wore hard hats, as if that would help at all if hit by flying lava. If the force of the flying rock alone didn't kill you, it would only be a matter of seconds before the extreme heat vaporized both the hard hat and ... well no need to get gross, you get the point.
As I attempted to drift off to sleep that night I was continuously awakened by the sound (in my dream) of Mt Yasur erupting, and my brain telling me to look up look up, don't close your eyes or it'll land on you! I would open my eyes to discover all was safe as I was in bed and sleeping was okay, but no matter how much I tried to relax into sleep, it took hours to finally let go. Still the next morning I would've gone back in a heart beat if we'd had the time!
Continue reading "Port Resolution & Mt. Yasur"...
Friday, August 25, 2006
Vanuatu Volcano Video
We almost got hit by a lava ball! Mt Yasur active volcano tour (where a huge lava ball landed just feet away from us!) Mt Yasur is located on Tanna Island in Vanuatu
You Tube Video
Continue reading "Vanuatu Volcano Video"...
You Tube Video
Continue reading "Vanuatu Volcano Video"...
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Nekowiar Festival Video Part 2
The climax of the three day event including the Toka and a HUGE pig killing ceremony.
Journal and Photos here
Youtube video
Continue reading "Nekowiar Festival Video Part 2 "...
Journal and Photos here
Youtube video
Continue reading "Nekowiar Festival Video Part 2 "...
Monday, August 21, 2006
Nekowiar Festival Video Part 1
3000 villagers from Tanna, Vanuatu get together once every four years and dance for three days/nights straight. The energy they put into this festival was unbelievable; the ground literally shook. We even camped in the village so we didn't miss anything!!
Journal and Photos here
Youtube video
Continue reading "Nekowiar Festival Video Part 1"...
Journal and Photos here
Youtube video
Continue reading "Nekowiar Festival Video Part 1"...
Sunday, June 04, 2006
Passage Journal: Marshall Islands to Fiji
May 14 - May 30 2006
Current Location: Arrived Savusavu, Fiji
(from Majuro, Marshall Islands)
Current Position: 16°46.6' S 179°19.9' E
Next Destination: Undecided (somewhere in Fiji)
Miles Traveled: 1787.3
Miles to Go: 0
Yipeee! We’ve done it, finally arrived in Savusavu, and oh what a blessing it is. We officially pulled into the anchorage on Wednesday, May 31 around 7a.m. It’s our first time returning to a location already visited, and it feels a bit like returning home. After nine months visiting flat atolls, the surrounding luscious green mountains of Fiji are breathtaking. And we feel we’ve earned the peaceful waters of the anchorage, as less than twelve hours after writing our previous BLOG (posted 5/25) all hell broke loose.
As the sun was setting on the evening of the 25th, we could see we were surrounded by a number of thunderheads, but nothing so dense to be concerned about. The first squall hit around 7:30pm, marking the beginning of our most exhausting night in our passage-making history. Squall after squall hit, pounding us with enough rain to solve most of the world’s drought problems and with winds between 30-38 knots. They continued the entire night. Twelve hours straight. Hitting so close together that we never got more than 20-30 minutes rest. Our definition of a “squall” was redefined. Once the word “squall” would conjure up images of a large thunderhead throwing down some rain and wind for about 5-15 minutes before passing by … a bit inconvenient, but short-lived. Not this night. These squalls lasted from 30-90 minutes. They didn’t just throw down some rain; they pelted us with water bullets. The wind howled down at us and the waves tossed us around like rag-dolls. It was truly ugly.
Neither of us slept much, if at all, and when dawn finally broke we anxiously looked around hoping to see some break in the system. Depression hit fast when all that surrounded us was a thick layer of clouds and thunderheads. During one of the “calm” periods Chris did a quick deck check and found our main sheet block shackle had worked itself completely out of the threads, the only thing holding it was the pressure of the sail on the line. If it had come loose during a big squall we would have had some serious damage. That morning I talked to a single-hander, Russ (on Hygeleg) on the SSB Radio. He along with Indra and Navire, were a few hundred miles ahead of us. They were all hove-to waiting for a system even further South to break up before continuing on. Russ confirmed that he and Indra had also gone through the system we were currently in, and it had lasted about two days. Not what I was hoping to hear. As the SSB radio net was a twice a day event, Chris later asked me (as I was the one who had been listening in everyday), “How the hell could you have missed them talking about this kind of weather for two days straight?”. In my defense, I didn’t have a copy on Indra or Navire. Hygeleg complained of squalls in addition to a bunch of stuff on his boat breaking; so when he talked about how exhausted he was I attributed it to everything, including him being a single-hander, not just bad weather. I figured, okay so we might hit a few squalls … never had I imagined this! Had I picked up on it, we could’ve pulled into Funafuti, Tuvalu and waited for better weather, but now it was too late, we were going to have to ride it out. What’s even worse is the system had further developed by the time we had arrived. Needless to say, from then on I was much more attentive when I listened to the net.
That day we experienced less squalls, but the winds had picked up to a constant 20-25 knots and the seas were building and extremely lumpy. It was like being in a washing machine. The worst part was that we still had to run close-hauled in order to keep our Easting and not loose our rhumbline heading. The day was dark, dreary, and wet; never did any blue sky seem to poke through. The squalls that did hit were just as intense as the night before, but now we seemed to have a system down and so they didn’t seem quite as bad. Around 4pm I was getting hopefully that perhaps the night wouldn’t be so awful. It wasn’t the most comfortable ride, but with fewer squalls we could at least get a bit of rest. After two meals of granola bars I was thinking something warm and soupy would be comforting and a bit more nutritious. It was still too rough to cook anything ‘real’, so cup-o-soup was on my mind when the next squall hit. The squall packed a punch, making it too rough even for cup-o-soup. I kept waiting for it to end, but alas it was there for the long-haul and I conceded once again to another granola bar meal.
When things are bad, it’s good to remember they could always get worse. And unfortunately in this case they did. Now we weren’t just surrounded by squalls with painful rain and high winds. Now we had lightning. The worst thunder and lightning either of us has ever seen in our lives. LIVES – not just since cruising. Bolts of lightning cracked so bright and so long we had to shut our eyes against them. Thunder that rumbled then roared then growled, all in one continuous long song. There was so much electricity in the air that half the time our instruments didn’t work, reading crazy wind strengths (such as 200 knots). Chris was sure we’d be hit; how could we not? We crammed our oven full with electrical instruments and computers, and threw over our grounding strip. And waited.
Around 10pm, I was down below trying to get in a nap, when Chris called me up. The wind had died and we were stuck in, as Chris called it, the belly of the beast. It was as if we were inside a thunderhead. We couldn’t see more then our boat length away – in any direction. Rain poured down. And everywhere lightning flashed, you could see the bolts darting through the clouds. 360 degrees of surrounding lightning; and here we were sitting there with this huge metal pole standing 60 feet tall. Not a place to just kick it, so we turned on the motor and went full throttle. And went. And went. It felt as though we were doing circles, we had no reference points and it didn’t seem like we’d ever make it out. For two hours we motored and sailed as the winds died and increased. The entire time the thunder roared so loud it shook us to the core and the lightning continued, each flash circling 360 and briefly lighting the surrounding dark masses of clouds.
About an hour into it, I was standing in the center of the cockpit facing starboard, with Chris behind the wheel, when WHACK. “What the hell was that?” Chris, ever so calmly, as if it is a normal occurrence, says “A bird”. “See”, as he shines his flash light on a small bird spread flat on the port side. He was tangled under one of our lines, so I moved the line to free him. Whether dazed, injured, or just plain tired he didn’t make a move to leave. At this point Chris and I were so exhausted and fed-up with the weather that we had nothing but empathy for the poor fellow. He didn’t seem to take well to the motion of the boat (who would), and was having trouble standing. Chris bundled up his sweatshirt and placed the bird into it, providing some assistance against the rocking. Meanwhile the bird’s family seemed to be following us, SQWACK … SQWACK. Our new friend sqwacked back occasionally but made no move to leave. Chris, in his delirious state, actually called out to the birds, inviting them aboard, shining his flashlight onto the decks in a runway fashion. No one else joined us, but they did follow us for a good bit. At one point Chris moved the bird slightly forward of the cockpit, near the railing, to give him a better chance to fly off with his mates, but the bird stayed. So we left the guy, desperately trying to maintain his balance and looking at Chris and I as though we were fools to be on such a moving beast, in the cockpit to rest.
Around midnight, we finally we broke out. Seven hours of nasty lightning finally coming to an end. It was blowing 16-20 and still raining, with occasional lightning flashes here and there, but the clouds no longer blended with the seas and the lightning no longer circled us. Chris finally attempted to rest while I took watch. Eventually our bird friend moved, practically flew into my head, scaring the you-know-what out of me. I thought he wanted to leave, so I lifted the cockpit wind-curtain, but at the same time a wave hit and the bird lost his balance and fell on the floor. I scooped him up and held him to the hole in the wind-curtain. Just about then another huge wave hit and the bird half fell and half jumped from my hands, landing on our swim step. He didn’t look happy at all, but there was no way I could reach him, so I left him, hoping he’d fly away before another wave washed him off the step. The next time I looked out he was gone. I had to convince myself that he surely flew off to safety before a wave came and washed him out to sea.
We went an entire five hours without a squall hitting. We were overjoyed. The next morning was still overcast, but a bit calmer. Maybe, just maybe it was almost over. BAM. Another squall. A white out of rain. We couldn’t see past our bow. But no wind this time, so we were motoring. Unfortunately the seas weren’t dying and they seemed to be coming from three different directions. The three boats up ahead had started sailing again and were reporting the same conditions. By now we were both beyond exhaustion. We’d hardly been able to sleep, and what sleep we did manage was uncomfortable and broken. It is amazing how your body handles such exhaustion. While there are times that the waves and winds can sound a bit like voices, it is usually easy to tell your mind is just playing tricks on you … unless, that is, you are sleep deprived. On more than one occasion Chris reported hearing voices and music. He was especially thrown off when one day we were within VHF range with Indra. Chris hadn’t realized I was talking to them on the VHF down below, and with the high winds he could barely make out Rob’s voice on the cockpit mike. He thought his mind was playing tricks again until he finally realized he actually recognized the voice this time. We had to be extra careful the more sleep deprived we became. There were times when I was so tired I couldn’t get the instruments to focus; they were just blurry numbers before my eyes. Onetime Chris was checking and couldn’t manage to clear his brain enough to compute what he was looking at on the instruments and what it all meant. He had to just stare at the numbers trying to remember what he was supposed to be accomplishing. Staying awake during watches and alert during squalls became more and more difficult; our watch timer was barely doing the trick of waking us if/when we fell asleep. Thank god is was just about over.
The 28th was our first day without rain since the whole mess had begun. The winds were still up (around 20 kts) and the seas still confused, but what a difference a little sun can make in your outlook. We hadn’t fished since the first squally night, but as we passed over a few shallow banks, Chris threw over one line just for fun. We instantly caught a very funky looking reef fish with big ‘ol teeth and a huge wide-open mouth. Not knowing what he was and being still a bit rough to attempt fish cleaning, we threw him back. Another time the “fish on” snubber was pulled bar tight until the 400 lb test line snapped like it was a thin piece of thread, I would have like to have gotten a look at THAT fish!
The 29th was still lumpy and windy, but now we could see the light at the end of the tunnel, as the next day we’d be in Fijian waters and we knew it would be calmer once we got into the Somosomo straight. After all the crappy bad-weather meals I was looking forward to something real and was excited that Chris would once again be able to fish. The next morning was utter bliss. Clam and near flat. Mostly sunny. No black ugly clouds on the horizon. Fijian mountains in the distance. And Chris fishing. With six lines running, we looked more like a fishing vessel than sailboat, but it paid off. By 8am we had already pulled in a good size Mahi Mahi. We also had caught a Barracuda, but opted to not keep it. We spent the day enjoying the calm seas and light winds. Chris played with his magnitudes of fishing gear in between boat chores, such as draining 25 gallons of water from our forward bulk-head. I straightened up down below and kept the boat on course. It is amazing how many things can get jarred free and end up flying across the cabin. With all the commotion we had also managed to burst a few of our home-brew bottles … Billabong smelled like a brewery. We enjoyed extremely fresh fish tacos for lunch and looked forward to another fish meal for dinner. The winds continued to lighten, so we eventually had to motor. Life aboard Billabong was slowly returning to normal.
Since we had our track and waypoints from last year, we were able to get into the Savusavu bay at night. It was around 11pm and we didn’t want to go all the way into the harbor at night without knowing if and what mooring balls were available, but we knew the approximate location of a mooring ball out at the point (about 3 miles from the harbor). We had never attempted picking up a mooring at night, but the thought of a restful night of sleep tempted us into trying. Surprisingly, it went really well, and we soon found ourselves enjoying a calm, cool, quiet evening. You don’t realize just how loud the wind and rain are until you are still. I found myself enjoying the stillness of everything; the air, the wind, the boat, and myself. We both let out huge “Ahhhhhhhhs”, and then hit the sack. It is technically against check-in regulations to moor or anchor prior to clearing into the country, so we got up at the crack of dawn and headed into the anchorage.
It’s hot and muggy due to lack of breeze, but it’s calm. We’ve seen a few familiar faces and have enjoyed being recognized by some of the locals. Navire, Hygeleg, and Indra all made it in on Wednesday as well, so that evening we went out to share ‘war stories’ over cold beers. Navire, having sailed for 10 years and having been around the world nth amount of times commented that this was some of the roughest seas/weather ever encountered. It didn’t help that early on they tore their main sail and had to use their tri-sail, which makes it difficult to point. Hygeleg has been out sailing for over 20 years and he said this was his worst passage yet. While not the worst weather he’s seen, the confused rough seas and endless squalls combined with a torn main sail and broken auto-pilot made the passage nearly intolerable. Indra had to battle a broken wind-vane, leaks, and a severe burn caused from a pot of boiling water falling onto Margie’s hand when a squall came up unexpectedly. All in all, it made Billabong’s passage seem not-so-bad considering we didn’t break anything or hurt ourselves.
After more than 1600 nautical miles of the 1787.3 mile trip to weather (an approximate 45 degree apparent wind angle) and 373 hours, 19 minutes of continuous moving, we are quite thrilled that we have only day-trips to look forward to for the next month or two!
Continue reading "Passage Journal: Marshall Islands to Fiji"...
(from Majuro, Marshall Islands)
Current Position: 16°46.6' S 179°19.9' E
Next Destination: Undecided (somewhere in Fiji)
Miles Traveled: 1787.3
Miles to Go: 0
Yipeee! We’ve done it, finally arrived in Savusavu, and oh what a blessing it is. We officially pulled into the anchorage on Wednesday, May 31 around 7a.m. It’s our first time returning to a location already visited, and it feels a bit like returning home. After nine months visiting flat atolls, the surrounding luscious green mountains of Fiji are breathtaking. And we feel we’ve earned the peaceful waters of the anchorage, as less than twelve hours after writing our previous BLOG (posted 5/25) all hell broke loose.
As the sun was setting on the evening of the 25th, we could see we were surrounded by a number of thunderheads, but nothing so dense to be concerned about. The first squall hit around 7:30pm, marking the beginning of our most exhausting night in our passage-making history. Squall after squall hit, pounding us with enough rain to solve most of the world’s drought problems and with winds between 30-38 knots. They continued the entire night. Twelve hours straight. Hitting so close together that we never got more than 20-30 minutes rest. Our definition of a “squall” was redefined. Once the word “squall” would conjure up images of a large thunderhead throwing down some rain and wind for about 5-15 minutes before passing by … a bit inconvenient, but short-lived. Not this night. These squalls lasted from 30-90 minutes. They didn’t just throw down some rain; they pelted us with water bullets. The wind howled down at us and the waves tossed us around like rag-dolls. It was truly ugly.
Neither of us slept much, if at all, and when dawn finally broke we anxiously looked around hoping to see some break in the system. Depression hit fast when all that surrounded us was a thick layer of clouds and thunderheads. During one of the “calm” periods Chris did a quick deck check and found our main sheet block shackle had worked itself completely out of the threads, the only thing holding it was the pressure of the sail on the line. If it had come loose during a big squall we would have had some serious damage. That morning I talked to a single-hander, Russ (on Hygeleg) on the SSB Radio. He along with Indra and Navire, were a few hundred miles ahead of us. They were all hove-to waiting for a system even further South to break up before continuing on. Russ confirmed that he and Indra had also gone through the system we were currently in, and it had lasted about two days. Not what I was hoping to hear. As the SSB radio net was a twice a day event, Chris later asked me (as I was the one who had been listening in everyday), “How the hell could you have missed them talking about this kind of weather for two days straight?”. In my defense, I didn’t have a copy on Indra or Navire. Hygeleg complained of squalls in addition to a bunch of stuff on his boat breaking; so when he talked about how exhausted he was I attributed it to everything, including him being a single-hander, not just bad weather. I figured, okay so we might hit a few squalls … never had I imagined this! Had I picked up on it, we could’ve pulled into Funafuti, Tuvalu and waited for better weather, but now it was too late, we were going to have to ride it out. What’s even worse is the system had further developed by the time we had arrived. Needless to say, from then on I was much more attentive when I listened to the net.
That day we experienced less squalls, but the winds had picked up to a constant 20-25 knots and the seas were building and extremely lumpy. It was like being in a washing machine. The worst part was that we still had to run close-hauled in order to keep our Easting and not loose our rhumbline heading. The day was dark, dreary, and wet; never did any blue sky seem to poke through. The squalls that did hit were just as intense as the night before, but now we seemed to have a system down and so they didn’t seem quite as bad. Around 4pm I was getting hopefully that perhaps the night wouldn’t be so awful. It wasn’t the most comfortable ride, but with fewer squalls we could at least get a bit of rest. After two meals of granola bars I was thinking something warm and soupy would be comforting and a bit more nutritious. It was still too rough to cook anything ‘real’, so cup-o-soup was on my mind when the next squall hit. The squall packed a punch, making it too rough even for cup-o-soup. I kept waiting for it to end, but alas it was there for the long-haul and I conceded once again to another granola bar meal.
When things are bad, it’s good to remember they could always get worse. And unfortunately in this case they did. Now we weren’t just surrounded by squalls with painful rain and high winds. Now we had lightning. The worst thunder and lightning either of us has ever seen in our lives. LIVES – not just since cruising. Bolts of lightning cracked so bright and so long we had to shut our eyes against them. Thunder that rumbled then roared then growled, all in one continuous long song. There was so much electricity in the air that half the time our instruments didn’t work, reading crazy wind strengths (such as 200 knots). Chris was sure we’d be hit; how could we not? We crammed our oven full with electrical instruments and computers, and threw over our grounding strip. And waited.
Around 10pm, I was down below trying to get in a nap, when Chris called me up. The wind had died and we were stuck in, as Chris called it, the belly of the beast. It was as if we were inside a thunderhead. We couldn’t see more then our boat length away – in any direction. Rain poured down. And everywhere lightning flashed, you could see the bolts darting through the clouds. 360 degrees of surrounding lightning; and here we were sitting there with this huge metal pole standing 60 feet tall. Not a place to just kick it, so we turned on the motor and went full throttle. And went. And went. It felt as though we were doing circles, we had no reference points and it didn’t seem like we’d ever make it out. For two hours we motored and sailed as the winds died and increased. The entire time the thunder roared so loud it shook us to the core and the lightning continued, each flash circling 360 and briefly lighting the surrounding dark masses of clouds.
About an hour into it, I was standing in the center of the cockpit facing starboard, with Chris behind the wheel, when WHACK. “What the hell was that?” Chris, ever so calmly, as if it is a normal occurrence, says “A bird”. “See”, as he shines his flash light on a small bird spread flat on the port side. He was tangled under one of our lines, so I moved the line to free him. Whether dazed, injured, or just plain tired he didn’t make a move to leave. At this point Chris and I were so exhausted and fed-up with the weather that we had nothing but empathy for the poor fellow. He didn’t seem to take well to the motion of the boat (who would), and was having trouble standing. Chris bundled up his sweatshirt and placed the bird into it, providing some assistance against the rocking. Meanwhile the bird’s family seemed to be following us, SQWACK … SQWACK. Our new friend sqwacked back occasionally but made no move to leave. Chris, in his delirious state, actually called out to the birds, inviting them aboard, shining his flashlight onto the decks in a runway fashion. No one else joined us, but they did follow us for a good bit. At one point Chris moved the bird slightly forward of the cockpit, near the railing, to give him a better chance to fly off with his mates, but the bird stayed. So we left the guy, desperately trying to maintain his balance and looking at Chris and I as though we were fools to be on such a moving beast, in the cockpit to rest.
Around midnight, we finally we broke out. Seven hours of nasty lightning finally coming to an end. It was blowing 16-20 and still raining, with occasional lightning flashes here and there, but the clouds no longer blended with the seas and the lightning no longer circled us. Chris finally attempted to rest while I took watch. Eventually our bird friend moved, practically flew into my head, scaring the you-know-what out of me. I thought he wanted to leave, so I lifted the cockpit wind-curtain, but at the same time a wave hit and the bird lost his balance and fell on the floor. I scooped him up and held him to the hole in the wind-curtain. Just about then another huge wave hit and the bird half fell and half jumped from my hands, landing on our swim step. He didn’t look happy at all, but there was no way I could reach him, so I left him, hoping he’d fly away before another wave washed him off the step. The next time I looked out he was gone. I had to convince myself that he surely flew off to safety before a wave came and washed him out to sea.
We went an entire five hours without a squall hitting. We were overjoyed. The next morning was still overcast, but a bit calmer. Maybe, just maybe it was almost over. BAM. Another squall. A white out of rain. We couldn’t see past our bow. But no wind this time, so we were motoring. Unfortunately the seas weren’t dying and they seemed to be coming from three different directions. The three boats up ahead had started sailing again and were reporting the same conditions. By now we were both beyond exhaustion. We’d hardly been able to sleep, and what sleep we did manage was uncomfortable and broken. It is amazing how your body handles such exhaustion. While there are times that the waves and winds can sound a bit like voices, it is usually easy to tell your mind is just playing tricks on you … unless, that is, you are sleep deprived. On more than one occasion Chris reported hearing voices and music. He was especially thrown off when one day we were within VHF range with Indra. Chris hadn’t realized I was talking to them on the VHF down below, and with the high winds he could barely make out Rob’s voice on the cockpit mike. He thought his mind was playing tricks again until he finally realized he actually recognized the voice this time. We had to be extra careful the more sleep deprived we became. There were times when I was so tired I couldn’t get the instruments to focus; they were just blurry numbers before my eyes. Onetime Chris was checking and couldn’t manage to clear his brain enough to compute what he was looking at on the instruments and what it all meant. He had to just stare at the numbers trying to remember what he was supposed to be accomplishing. Staying awake during watches and alert during squalls became more and more difficult; our watch timer was barely doing the trick of waking us if/when we fell asleep. Thank god is was just about over.
The 28th was our first day without rain since the whole mess had begun. The winds were still up (around 20 kts) and the seas still confused, but what a difference a little sun can make in your outlook. We hadn’t fished since the first squally night, but as we passed over a few shallow banks, Chris threw over one line just for fun. We instantly caught a very funky looking reef fish with big ‘ol teeth and a huge wide-open mouth. Not knowing what he was and being still a bit rough to attempt fish cleaning, we threw him back. Another time the “fish on” snubber was pulled bar tight until the 400 lb test line snapped like it was a thin piece of thread, I would have like to have gotten a look at THAT fish!
The 29th was still lumpy and windy, but now we could see the light at the end of the tunnel, as the next day we’d be in Fijian waters and we knew it would be calmer once we got into the Somosomo straight. After all the crappy bad-weather meals I was looking forward to something real and was excited that Chris would once again be able to fish. The next morning was utter bliss. Clam and near flat. Mostly sunny. No black ugly clouds on the horizon. Fijian mountains in the distance. And Chris fishing. With six lines running, we looked more like a fishing vessel than sailboat, but it paid off. By 8am we had already pulled in a good size Mahi Mahi. We also had caught a Barracuda, but opted to not keep it. We spent the day enjoying the calm seas and light winds. Chris played with his magnitudes of fishing gear in between boat chores, such as draining 25 gallons of water from our forward bulk-head. I straightened up down below and kept the boat on course. It is amazing how many things can get jarred free and end up flying across the cabin. With all the commotion we had also managed to burst a few of our home-brew bottles … Billabong smelled like a brewery. We enjoyed extremely fresh fish tacos for lunch and looked forward to another fish meal for dinner. The winds continued to lighten, so we eventually had to motor. Life aboard Billabong was slowly returning to normal.
Since we had our track and waypoints from last year, we were able to get into the Savusavu bay at night. It was around 11pm and we didn’t want to go all the way into the harbor at night without knowing if and what mooring balls were available, but we knew the approximate location of a mooring ball out at the point (about 3 miles from the harbor). We had never attempted picking up a mooring at night, but the thought of a restful night of sleep tempted us into trying. Surprisingly, it went really well, and we soon found ourselves enjoying a calm, cool, quiet evening. You don’t realize just how loud the wind and rain are until you are still. I found myself enjoying the stillness of everything; the air, the wind, the boat, and myself. We both let out huge “Ahhhhhhhhs”, and then hit the sack. It is technically against check-in regulations to moor or anchor prior to clearing into the country, so we got up at the crack of dawn and headed into the anchorage.
After more than 1600 nautical miles of the 1787.3 mile trip to weather (an approximate 45 degree apparent wind angle) and 373 hours, 19 minutes of continuous moving, we are quite thrilled that we have only day-trips to look forward to for the next month or two!
Continue reading "Passage Journal: Marshall Islands to Fiji"...
Monday, October 24, 2005
Playing with Dolphins Video
Playing in our dinghy with a large pod of dolphins outside the anchorage in Onotoa, Kiribati
Continue reading "Playing with Dolphins Video"...
Continue reading "Playing with Dolphins Video"...
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
Fiordland New Zealand Video
We explored Milford Sound via a bike-and-boat tour and Doubtful Sound via a boat-and-kayak tour. Fiordland is an amazing area of the world to explore - beyond breathtaking!
Continue reading "Fiordland New Zealand Video"...
Continue reading "Fiordland New Zealand Video"...
Monday, September 13, 2004
Humpback Whales of Tonga Video
One of our most favorite moments ... snorkeling with more than ten huge humpback whales in Tonga.
Continue reading "Humpback Whales of Tonga Video"...
Continue reading "Humpback Whales of Tonga Video"...
Sunday, July 11, 2004
Stingrays of Moorea Video
These Sting Rays show up at a certain part of the Moorea reef everyday to be fed. With eyes on top and mouths on bottom, they have to feel there way around you to find the food.
Continue reading "Stingrays of Moorea Video"...
Continue reading "Stingrays of Moorea Video"...
Thursday, June 10, 2004
Sharks + More: Underwater Fakarava Video
The diving and snorkeling in Fakarava is top-notch. The coral and fish were fantastic, but it was the abundance of sharks that kept us coming back.
Continue reading "Sharks + More: Underwater Fakarava Video"...
Continue reading "Sharks + More: Underwater Fakarava Video"...
Wednesday, April 28, 2004
Marquesas Manta Rays Video
These guys showed up right off our stern one day in Tahuata, Marquesas Islands. We jumped in and enjoyed an amazing moment with these magnificent creatures.
Continue reading "Marquesas Manta Rays Video"...
Continue reading "Marquesas Manta Rays Video"...
Sunday, April 18, 2004
The Crossing - Mexico to the Marquesas - Video
March 25th - April 18th, 2004
24 Days Non-stop
2841 Nautical Miles
3269 Miles
Two people on board ... two stories to tell!
Continue reading "The Crossing - Mexico to the Marquesas - Video"...
24 Days Non-stop
2841 Nautical Miles
3269 Miles
| The Route and our location every night |
Continue reading "The Crossing - Mexico to the Marquesas - Video"...
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