The Real (Eel) Thing (Moso Island, Vanuatu)

Well hello, dear reader, and welcome to the 350th posting of this blog! A momentous day because it's also my birthday. That's a lot of travel and there is still so much more to come. 2023 is set to be another big travel year, provided the 27th version of COVID doesn't spoil the party.

Where to begin today? How about the title? Way back in 2012, Jayne came up with a pun title after our visit to the Cliffs of Moher in Ireland, The Moher I See You. It's only 10 years in the past, dear reader, but she hasn't let it go yet. So when I suggested we call today's post Eel Meet Again she sneered with disdain.  Hours later she came up The Eel Thing and has been sniggering away at her own genius ever since. Anyway, The Real Thing by Australia's own Russell Morris in 1969 is still a classic rock song and has well and truly stood the test of time. In due course, you will understand the reference.

The day began with the usual soporific sounds of waves lapping the beach. The view out the doors presented blue sky with some cloud and in no way threatened our plans. 

Tough view to start the day

Breakfast was more pleasant because of the change in weather and the coffee machine was cooperating. Back to the villa to apply sunscreen (yuck) and pull on our reef shoes to walk along the beach down to the south-west point. The term 'beach' here is a generous term. At high tide there is, in fact, no beach because the water comes right to the edge of land. The beach is a strip of sand and smashed coral that exists only when the tide is less than high. So 'beach' walks must be taken when they can. Climate change and rising sea levels are serious and not the stuff of pathetic Peter Dutton jokes.

A friend on the way to the beach.

The tide wasn't quite low enough to make the point because there are tree overhangs and narrower strips where we would have been forced into the water to progress further. Turning back, we went to prepare for our secluded beach picnic.

The esky, chilly bin or cooler, as they are called here, was packed with our lunch, dessert and a bottle of rosé. We had been sunscreened to the hilt and carried our towels and snorkel gear. Jayne carried her fear of getting into a boat and so it came pass, as she was trying to maintain her poise and balance and step into the dinghy, it moved away just as Jayne attempted to test the water between the jetty and the dinghy. Sigh. It was ever thus. Finally safely on board, we travelled across the harbour to a 'secluded' beach on Moso Island.

Our secluded picnic spot.

The beach on this side of Moso is like the beach here at the resort, subject to change due to tide. It is a narrow strip of sand that is fringed by tropical vegetation and disappears completely at high tide. As for secluded, well, anyone thinking they might be enjoying a romantic interlude in the sun and warm, shallow water for their birthday would be sadly disappointed. Our section of beach was secluded. The couple sheltering beyond the next overhang of vegetation also enjoyed 'seclusion'. As did the couple in the other direction. Still it was certainly not crowded.

OK, don't quote me, but, Ambae Island volcano (I think).

Lunch could wait -snorkelling first while the sun was still shining. While the coral was less frequent than on Efate, the fish life was far more diverse. Pockets of coral contained all manner of life. If you're still searching for Nemo, stop - we found him and his extended family. There were clams of all sizes and colours. I don't have the colour palette to describe them or the colourful fish or starfish. And then, floating over one massive coral head, out comes a moray eel (and that is the obvious link to the title). It was huge. It put its head out about 30 cm and just floated there, half in half out, daring me to come closer. No thank you. After I made sure Jayne had seen it, I was off to check out more harmless fish. Not long later, we came across an enormous white-spotted puffer fish. He was undeterred and stayed in place just eyeing us from the sea floor.

Moso Island.

At some stage during our drift up and down the beach, a dinghy appeared with yet another couple in search of a secluded beach. The crew circled us a couple of times while we were snorkelling, dragging a fishing line. While our boat was a drop-off service, their boat and crew stayed with them and went snorkelling themselves. Nice work if you can get it. 

After almost an hour in the water it was time to move back onto land to enjoy our picnic lunch. A prawn salad wrap, beef banh mi, fruit salad and berry muffin. And the rosé of course. The boat was scheduled to pick us up at 2pm. While trying to board this time, the devious boat shifted toward Jayne, trapped her foot and tried to drag herself underneath. She ended up back in the water. Finally we were seated on board and headed back to the resort to snorkel the point off the restaurant beach where a turtle had been spotted yesterday. No luck today. Time for the plunge pool and to wash off the sunscreen.

Dinner was the usual excellent offering. Rather than me providing a woefully inadequate truncated version of what was on offer I remembered to photograph the menu. Tonight the wine was Moët of course, although it almost didn't make the table. There is a very small height adjustment between where we were seated and the next part of the restaurant. After parading the bottle to Jayne, Marco stepped back and slipped and the ice bucket went flying. Fortunately the Moët and Marco were fine.

Apologies for the poor camera work.

Toward the end of dinner, as Winnie was pouring the last of the bubbles, I was clearing some birthday messages and said the 'b' word out loud. Winnie's ears pricked up, "Is it your birthday?" Ssshhhh, Winnie, it's a secret. "But, we have to sing to you." No, Winnie, ssshhh. She left the table clearly conflicted. I was uncertain she could keep the secret. It was time to go, lest I be subjected to the staff being forced to sing happy birthday.

Post dinner it was plunge pool time. Although the clouds and rain haven't exactly been welcome they have certainly reined in the temperature. So today, sunny and cloudless, was as hot and humid as it has been since we arrived.

Until next time.

All through the night (Efate Island, Vanuatu)

As you would have read in the last post, my dear reader, we had much rain overnight and again in the morning. Hence today's title with a nod to the great Cyndi Lauper and her She's So Unusual album of 1983. Goodness, it seems like yesterday. As does the rain. It poured through breakfast and we lingered waiting for a break in the rain. In the end, we gave up, unfurled the industrial sized resort umbrella and puddled our way back to our villa.

The outlook is still delightful, even with the rain and we sat on the (interior) day bed and watched the rain fall. At some point, I decided it was time to evict Sebastian, our crab visitor. I could see him, but encouraging him out from his hideaway was something else. In the end I dragged the daybed out from the wall and tried to prompt him to leave via the door by flicking my computer cable in his general direction. No luck. He reared up and snapped his little claws at me. Hardly intimidating - he's not big enough to hurt me and I was trying to save his life. Surely he must be missing the moisture of the shoreline and a regular food source? A couple of attempts saw Sebastian scuttle back underneath the daybed to the protection and darkness it afforded.

Always a risk of thunderstorms. The view from the deck.

The rain had started to ease off so we ventured out to the water sports hut to secure some snorkelling equipment, should the clouds clear. There had been someone stationed there since around 6am but with the torrential rain they didn't see much business. Equipment in hand, we looked to the sky, east and west (we have no idea where their weather comes from) and hoped for a similar afternoon to yesterday.

A single chain. Well it is unattached.

With the rain lessening we opted to walk the beach heading away from the resort, at least as far as where the beach kicked back around and we couldn't see any further. Who knows what lies beyond there? The warning to wear reef shoes at all times was good advice. There were sharp pieces of broken coral everywhere, not to mention glass and rock. The walk to the point was uneventful as was most of the walk back. We passed another couple from the resort who asked had we seen any snakes. We thought they were taking the piss. Apparently not. They'd seen a small snake on beach the day before. Harmless they were told.

Not more than 50 metres later I almost stepped on a snake. It was about half a metre in length, the body was banded black and white with a yellow mouth. A Banded Sea Krait. Harmless? No. Venomous? Yes. Fortunately not aggressive and rather docile. It just kept snaking along (see what I did there?) the shore line, doing whatever it wanted to do. I waited for a while for it to catch a wave back into the water, to no avail. It's not our first encounter with a sea snake but it's certainly the first time on land. Apparently these snakes breed and lay their eggs on land. Google it.

The Banded Sea Krait

The god of weather smiled on us. While we watched other brave souls make use of stand up paddle boards, pedal boards and hobby cats, we sat on the deck and cooled off in the plunge pool, as required. Around 1pm the clouds cleared and the sun smiled down at us and said, sunscreen. We didn't need to be told twice. Slathered in that slimy disgusting substance, we grabbed our goggles and flippers and headed for the water.  Coral always looks so much better in full sun.

Pawpaws grow wild. Everywhere.

We were not disappointed. There was an amazing display of a range of corals in brilliant colours from iridescent purple and pinks to yellow. They grew in clumps, on their own, covered the seabed en masse, and in single formation. Large areas had been damaged, I assume by anchors, but there was as much regrowth as there appeared to be death and destruction. There were also lots of trepang (sea slugs), huge iridescent blue starfish and tropical fish of all colours and sizes. The two most interesting sightings, from my perspective, were numerous pipefish, members of the seahorse family and a crown of thorns starfish. We spent around 45 minutes in the water and it was the best snorkelling we have experienced for quite a while. Fiji does not compare, well, not where we were, earlier this year.

Looking back to the villa from the beach.

Après snorkelling, it was back into the plunge pool and then to lunch. Not really. I can't imagine how anyone could eat a cooked breakfast and then a three course lunch and a three course dinner. I swear I'd explode. No, we went to the restaurant in the hope of something small and were confronted with a three course menu. Sensibly we both opted for the 'starter' of Vietnamese paper rolls to tide us over until dinner. That and a French rosé. Then, yes dear reader, you guessed it, back to the plunge pool to watch the passing parade on the beach and in the water.

Despite the forecast storms, the sun remained shining. And we remained close to the pool. People returned from snorkelling and sailing, the sun started to dip, the sunset cruise departed and life continued. Until dinner. Inevitable and delicious, I feel I need to do more to justify the food.

But first it was time for Sebastian to go. I was concerned that he might come out when we were not here but be unable to make good his escape. Armed with the strongest of weapons, a hand towel, I moved the day bed. As Sebastian scuttled along the wall, I threw the towel on top of him, scooped him up and delivered him safely to the garden. Mission accomplished.

Dinner. Still very good, although we preferred the previous night's fare. An amuse bouche of kumara chips with coriander yoghurt and a balsamic reduction. Tasty. Tonight's entrees: crab bisque and prawn salad, the mains were pan fried fish and spicy chicken breast followed by a nougat glacé and a cheese plate. Somewhat different to the buffet we didn't enjoy in Fiji, every night.

The sunsets were more spectacular in Fiji.

Another days ends. Until next time.

Under the Sea (Sydney to Vanuatu)

Who'd have thought it dear reader? Sydney has 5 consecutive days of sunshine and we decide to pack up and head for a country that has thunderstorms predicted every day for the duration of our stay. I guess my spirit is longing for rain, that old Sydney weather. We are heading for Vanuatu. A trip that was booked three years ago before the plague descended on the earth. No, not Scott Morrison, the other plague. The Corona, as it was tagged in Europe, or Covid, if you're Australian. 

And yes, my astute reader, I am avoiding celebrating another birthday at home. Facebook reminded me this morning that 13 years ago I was sitting on a rock in the Tasmanian wilderness about to climb Cradle Mountain and walk the Overland Track. An adults only resort, The Havannah, in Vanuatu is much more in keeping with my age and ability (and Jayne's taste) these days. Although I will be back bushwalking in Tassie in February, so stay tuned.

I have finally cashed in my Pacific francs three years after the New Caledonia holiday. Covid has seen the closure of many of the money exchange store fronts that used to dot the city and when in Europe, my attempts to exchange them for Euro proved fruitless. Now I am the proud holder of 10,000 vatu and I'm pretty certain that won't be coming home.

Duty free is not what it used to be in a GST world and an attempt to purchase an Apple watch was unsuccessful. Given the saving was about $30 I'm not overly disappointed. I'll order one when we return. 

Breakfast was in the Qantas First Class Lounge thanks to the continual extension of my platinum frequent flyer status.  I can't say I've been a happy Qantas flyer of late, but the disappointment fades when the glass of Pommery is poured - after breakfast, of course. The Neil Perry menu is as good as you'd find in any top end Sydney café. Fresh fruit, muesli, omelettes and the ubiquitous BLT. Time to sit and relax, pre-flight.

Celebrity spotting has never really been my thing. I'm not sure whether it is just disinterest on my part or the inability to recognise the rich and famous. Today was different. As Dan dropped us off, the car in front of us disgorged Manu Feildel and his family. Then as we were finishing our champagne, Dr Brian Cox was being escorted to ... well, I assume his flight, although one would have thought that someone with so much education could find his own way to the gate. I did.

A coral atoll somewhere east of Coffs Harbour

The flight was a code share. Tagged Qantas but owned and operated by Air Vanuatu. I booked Business because, well, lots of vouchers from Covid days but also my back gets twingey around the 3 hour mark. Business class on an aged Air Vanuatu 737. No individual screen, just radio channels and a shared screen that showed the map. And the food was truly airline food of days gone by. It was all pretty average and dated by modern standards - except the staff, they were delightful. Fortunately we both had a book to read. Jayne and I, not the staff, they had other things to do.

Coming in to Port Vila

The flight was not all smooth going. About two hours in we were met with "convected air". Looking out my window convected air translated into a mass of storm clouds. Inside the plane, it translated into severe turbulence until the pilot decided to go around the storm. Good news. Clear air again.

The storm prior to landing

We arrived at Port Vila airport just as another storm front passed through. No air bridge. Down the stairs and across the sodden tarmac to the shed. Sorry, I mean terminal building. For those old enough think Coolangatta in the 60s, or Hobart in the 90s (snigger). We were through customs, collected our bag and we were safely inside our air conditioned transport inside 15 minutes. It was very humid and the 30 minute trip to the resort proved to be interesting. The road was severely pot-holed and our driver reported that this was generally how the roads were. It wasn't uncommon to meet a car driving on your side of the road to avoid the wash-aways and potholes.

The drive took us up and over the spine of Efate and down the other side to Havannah Harbour and our resort. It is truly stunning and the cloud cleared to provide us with a beautiful, if incredibly humid, afternoon. Our accommodation looks directly onto the water and has its own plunge pool on the deck, something we have already put to good use. As we were relaxing there prior to dinner, we noticed a crab edging along the deck toward the door. At dinner, John, one of the staff, asked if we had named him. Clearly Sebastian is the only name for a crab. Hence today's title from the The Little Mermaid.

At some stage, Sebastian made it inside and his fruitless attempts at escape during the night were very loud and sleep disturbing. As I write this he is ensconced beneath the day bed in the lower level of our room. Every attempt will be made to evict him before bed this evening.

The view from the restaurant

Dinner was delightful. Three courses plus an amuse bouche and while it is a set menu, there were three choices for each course. They have resisted the tendency to overfeed their guests despite catering for three meals a day. The serving sizes are just right. Last night in a defiant show of independence, I ordered exactly what Jayne did. The amuse bouche was Vietnamese prawn paper rolls, followed by spicy prawns with chilli and chocolate. Yum. The main was veal topped by a scallop and bernaise sauce. Accompanied by a beaujolais and followed with Tiramisu. I'm very much looking forward to our other meals.

Aside from Sebastian doing his best to disturb our slumber, we also had to contend with thunderstorms and rain. Living in an apartment as we now do, we have been insulated from the sounds of thunder and rain for the last eight years. There is something mesmeric about the sound of the waves lapping on the beach with the rain pattering on the roof and windows. It's not really the weather we had hoped for but The Havannah is a beautiful place and if it rains all week, it rains all week and we'll sit in our room with the doors open and look out over the harbour.

The rainy skies the next morning

I make no promises about the frequency of my posts this holiday. We are here for five nights only. As usual I will post them on Facebook and Twitter (if the clown prince billionaire allows it). There will be photos of the accommodation - I'm just waiting for some sunshine to show it off in all its glory.

Until next time.