Somehow the rattrap car actually managed to claw its way out of the Blue Hole, without us in it of course. We clattered down the road to check out some WWII bomber wreckage. It was a B something or other (17?), sorry not up to speed on 70 year old aircraft. It was apparently shot up by the Japanese somewhere over the Solomon Islands and was trying to make its way back to one of the airstrips here on Santo when it crashed. The foliage has reclaimed most of the site, but the tail section, wings, engines were all easily identified.  Our guide claimed that all crew survived the crash which was hard to believe judging by the condition of the crash site.

We stopped at a pretty beach (our 789^th so I’ll spare you the description) on the way to what was our most eagerly anticipated stop; Million Dollar Point. There’s a lot of story behind this place but it’s basically just a massive underwater dump. After the war the Americans had loads of equipment left over. Jeeps, six-wheel drive trucks, bulldozers, semi-trailers, fork lifts, tractors, artillery, and cases of Coca-Cola all had to be dealt with. Apparently the local Franco-British government in charge at the time had a chance to buy the equipment but held out waiting for them to offer a better price. The Americans called their bluff, built a road straight out into the bay, and spent days driving all of this stuff off the end of it. It was an amazing but sad sight, all these war relics only a few feet off the beach. Incredibly in the relatively short time since, the corrosive sea has transformed most of the junk making much of it unrecognizable.

thursday september 10^th 2009 (luganville - vanuatu)

The SS President Coolidge was a 654 foot long luxury liner complete with 2 swimming pools, a barber shop, beauty salon, and gymnasium. During the Second World War it was called upon by the American military to transport troops in the South Pacific. In October 1942 she struck two ‘friendly’ mines on her way into the harbor - apparently the civilian captain wasn’t cleared for military secrets such as mine placement (amazing I know, and this happened here more than once, the Tucker suffered the same fate). The ship was doomed so in order to save the lives of the 5340 men on board the Captain wisely ran the ship onto the beach. Only two men lost their lives, one in the initial explosion and another Captain that went back to rescue some guys in the infirmary and ended up going down with the ship. The Coolidge now lies on her port side in 70 – 240 feet after it slid back off the beach only 90 minutes after being grounded. Now it’s one of the world’s premier wreck dives.

We’ve dove plenty of wrecks before but an ocean liner of this size, totally mind boggling, accessible from shore in warm water was a one of a kind experience. We spent 3 days exploring the numerous holds and decks. We saw her cargo including guns, cannons, stacks of meter long artillery shells, helmets, jeeps, big trucks and the 2 huge turbo electric turbines that powered her. "The Lady", a porcelain statue of a busty one handed lady in Victorian dress leaning against a unicorn, chandeliers, and a mosaic tile fountain are all visible remnants of the ships happier pre-war times.

Token description for non-divers; imagine getting drunk and then floating weightlessly through a museum at night with flashlights. Nitrogen narcosis can be a lot of fun.

Our camera is waterproof to 30 feet and we were much deeper so had to borrow some photos of the Coolidge and million dollar point. You won’t be able to enlarge them because the resolution is so low.

saturday september 12^th 2009 (luganville - vanuatu)

Random statement: Vanuatu has killer beef products.

I’m addicted to Natangora Café hamburgers and have eaten one for lunch every day for the past week. You can have a steak prepared and served with rice and sautéed veggies at the market for 4 bucks. The butcher here sells Scotch Fillets for 15 bucks a kilo. I’ve never eaten so much red meat in my life.

monday september 14^th 2009 (luganville - vanuatu)

A long time ago my Dad’s older brother packed up and moved to the Solomon Islands. I have no memory of him leaving but do remember that he visited us once. I was probably 12 or 13 years old so I think he’s been there at least 20 years. At that age the pictures and stories might as well have been from the moon. To me his home seemed impossibly far away. I haven’t had any contact since but it would be rude to pass through the neighborhood without stopping in for a beer, so we are off to Guadalcanal in search of a long lost uncle.

There are plenty of islands we could stop at along the way to break the trip up, but we are getting pretty excited about Indonesia and want to start putting in some decent mileage to start closing the gap. We’ve planned a 600 mile passage. First we follow the east coast of Espiritu Santo on our way north. Once clear of Santo we set a course for San Cristobal island. We’ll probably sail along the North coast of San Cristobal which will offer some protection from the trade winds, and plan to complete our formalities in the capital (Honiara) on the north coast of Guadalcanal.

We are aiming to leave tomorrow or Wednesday so it’s time to take care of some laundry, diesel, water, etc etc… I’ll leave you with a few of this weeks’ favorite Bislama signs:

tuesday september 15^th 2009 (luganville - vanuatu)

 We bought an LED masthead light back in Port Vila which Jaime installed today. They last way longer and use only a fraction of the power compared to the regular bulbs - we get excited about some pretty strange things these days. This involved a trip up the mast which is never popular with Jaime but the anchorage was dead calm which helped matters considerably. Once our fancy new light bulb was up and running, engine checks were completed, and fluids topped up, were ready to go. Just one last thing; I decided to quickly check the raw water strainer before we slipped off our mooring. It was damaged beyond repair. Figures. The engine cools itself by drawing in and flushing sea water in a circuit. This little metal screen filters out any nasty bits from cycling through the circuit and clogging things up. A plugged strainer leads to a restricted flow of cooling sea water, which leads to an overheated engine, which leads to grey hairs and alcohol abuse. The strainer is a little metal mesh tube-shaped screen with a plastic cap on each end to hold it in place. Ours had corroded and separated itself from the plastic caps, leaving us with three separate pieces to deal with. I check this thing all the time so knew that it was beginning to corrode but would not have guessed that it was so close to the self destruct stage. We put our departure plans on hold and reviewed our inventory of epoxy’s, adhesives, silicones and sealants. With a little ingenuity and a lot of patience we managed to piece the stupid thing back together and hold it in place long enough for the epoxy to set up. It wasn’t damaged beyond repair after all. We would need to let it cure before we could insert it back into it’s housing though, so that means one more night in Santo. One more Ni-Van pizza before we leave the country.

 wednesday september 16^th 2009 (santa maria - vanuatu)

 We’re anchored beside a little island 80 miles north of Luganville. After we left we couldn’t wait for it to get dark so that we could try out our new LED masthead light. Also known as a tri-color, this light is crucial for preventing collisions. You can tell which direction a boat is heading and even what type of boat you are looking at by the colors and position of this light. We flipped the switch and gazed up at the top of the mast to admire Jaime’s handy work. Something wasn’t right, the lights were reversed. The colored lens was facing backwards. This meant that to any vessel looking at us at night, our back was our front and our starboard was our port. Not a great way to start a 600 mile passage through waters frequented by fishing boats and island traders. We would have to fix it. Santa Maria was the nearest island, only about 40 miles North of our position. We reefed our main, furled our headsail and altered course. We needed to keep our speed down, but not much chance of that; the trades were blowing strong and our course change put us on our fastest point of sail. By 3AM we were 10 miles off shore, which was as close as we were willing to get in the dark. Some of the islands here are reported to be miles from where they are charted so we didn’t want to push our luck. We spent a miserable couple of hours rolling around listening to the waves crash and the wind howl so as soon as the sky began to go from black to grey we immediately pointed for the island. As soon as we were underway there was instant relief from the waves and before the other boats in the anchorage had their first cup of coffee we were dropping our hook and getting settled. Our first order of business? Getting some sleep.

 We woke up and discovered a bit of a problem; the windy night had forced a sizable swell to wrap around the island we were using for shelter. It had found its way into our anchorage and now we were rocking back and forth pretty good. A few feet of movement on deck is exaggerated considerably as you gain altitude up the mast. So the further up you go, the further you are going to be swinging around from side to side. By design the masthead light occupies the loftiest piece of real estate on the Slapdash (there’s a reason they call it a ‘masthead light’). This wasn’t going to be fun but after a couple of false starts already we were anxious to just right the wrong and get going as quickly as possible. We dug out our harness, attached a main line and a safety and I started winching Jaime up the mast. A few minutes later she was dangling from the tip top, struggling to get the lens off while the sea did its best to shake her out of her tree. It was stuck. After a valiant effort she had to abandon the mission. We met on the deck and regrouped. We could a) run dark to the Solomon’s, b) trick everyone into thinking we were going in reverse, c) stay here and wait for the swell to settle down, or d) Jaime could try and winch my big carcass up the mast. The first two options weren’t really options and the trades were forecast to be strong all week so we could end up waiting days for the swell to settle. So we decided to try and reverse our usual roles, Jaime would run the winch and I would go have a look at the jammed up lens. In a few minutes I was strapped in and roped up. I climbed up onto the boom and Jaime began to crank the winch. The line tensioned up and I tried to climb at the same time taking as much weight off the line as I could. Jaime is a tough girl and although the progress was agonizingly slow I was gradually making my way up the mast, about 2 inches at a time. Finally at the top I could see what Jaime was dealing with. The mast was rocking back and forth so wildly that it was almost impossible to let go to try and get any work done. Basically you would hold on for dear life between sets and then quickly let go and try to get something done. I eventually managed to remove, rotate and replace the lens though so at least the trip up wasn’t for nothing. The gravity assisted decent was much easier for both of us and soon we were both safely on deck with nothing to do but get the hell out of here.

 We ate lunch, were entertained by local Ni-Van kids in dugouts and then tried to leave Vanuatu for the third time.

friday september 17^th 2009 (guadalcanal passage – day 1)

 Finally underway. The trades are still strong, anywhere between 20 – 30 knots and right behind us. We don’t really have an effective downwind sail so we are just running under a reefed main. Occasionally I’ll try to set the headsail out the other side in a ‘wing and wing’ configuration but for the most part we seem to be gusting along between 6 and 8 knots which is enough to keep me from fiddling around with the sails too much.

 Our first day out brought us a beautiful yellow fin tuna and 145 miles closer to our destination. We’re still enjoying following wind and sea, and apart from a close encounter with Korean fishing boat things are going swimmingly.

 Sailing is surprisingly noisy. You get used to an assortment of clangs, slaps, howls, whistles, splashes, gurgles and squeaks. Before long you can even identify their origins, whether they are good or bad and if they warrant attention. This afternoon I heard something that didn’t belong. It was barely audible but a low frequency thump had definitely joined our symphony. On deck I was shocked to see a big rusty 100 foot steel Korean fishing boat steaming along on a course that was far too close for comfort. The swells were quite large by this point and this thing was chugging along taking the waves off the beam. It was long and low slung, barely visible between the swells. With the sun in our eyes it was easy to see how we had missed it until now. It looked like a ghost ship. We passed close enough to see right into the bridge and could plainly see the deck and all the rigging. They must have been sleeping below deck or something because there wasn’t a single person visible. We are pretty vigilant with our watch routine but this little incident really bothered me. We crossed paths about 200 meters apart, which may not sound like much but in the open ocean that’s a hairs width. They would have cut us in half and probably not even known about it. Even if they did, apparently a lot of these boats are fishing illegally, so I don’t know if they would have stopped.

 sunday september 20^th 2009 (guadalcanal passage – day 3)

 The wind hasn’t changed so we’ve made great progress and should arrive tomorrow. We’ve already sighted an island or two so have been in the Solomon’s territorial waters for a while already. The sea was pretty unruly but now the long island of San Cristobal is off our Port side and providing us with some shelter. That means we get to enjoy all the wind without the big swell that usually accompanies it.

 This afternoon we were sailing along a good 10 – 15 miles off shore in water that’s charted to be 6000 feet deep when all of a sudden our depth sounder found bottom and began counting down. Pretty soon we were in 200 feet, then 150 and so on. We’ve had plenty of hits and false reading like this before but I could see a change in the water color and wave action – both indications that this was not a false reading and the water below us was much shallower than its surroundings. We swung the boat around to stop moving and pulled out a chart and a cruising guide. We checked our GPS position on the electronic charts. No source could tell us anything about this shallow patch, it was unsettling. During this time we continued to drift and could now clearly see the bottom. We were in 40 feet of water! We sailed along the edge of the transition until it finally started to drop off again, then got back on course once we had skirted our way around the shoal. It was at least a couple of miles across and only 40 feet deep where we altered course. I’m sure there are things like this all over the place but it was the first time we had encountered something as significant with no reference made on any chart. Between the masthead light, the fishing boat, a squall that toyed with us for a few hours last night and uncharted shoals, my nerves are beginning to fray. What next? 

 monday september 21^st 2009 (guadalcanal passage – day 4)

 The wind has finally given up on us and we’ve started motor sailing in order to arrive before sunset. With the wind gone we are now experiencing a full dose of the Solomon Island sun. It is sweltering. I think I can smell flesh burning.

 Normally our longer passages take us from one point of land to another across an open expanse of ocean. This passage is unusual in that regard because we are in close proximity to a bunch of islands. We are sailing through the chain on our way to Honiara. This is significant because it’s not very fun to be sailing along a coastline through the night. The previously mentioned shoals, debris in the form of big logs, and local fishermen in unlit skiffs, are all in abundance along the coast. We don’t normally contend with stuff like that in the open ocean so you don’t worry too much about things going bump in the night. It’s fine during the day when you can clearly see all of this stuff but tends to be a bit stressful at night. You know that all of this stuff is out there and all you can do is try to convince yourself that you would see it in time to avoid an encounter. 

 The water temperature is over 80 degrees now. We’ve climbed another 5 or 6 degrees in latitude and can sure feel it.

 tuesday september 22^nd 2009 (honiara – solomon islands)

 We’re safe in Honiara. A relative term I guess since we are on a mooring in front of the yacht club in a rolly deep anchorage with marginal protection. We were secured just after lunch and drinking and sweating out our first cold Sol Brew by three in the afternoon. The sun is sharp as a knife here. We love the heat but this will take a little getting used to. There’s a payphone out front so I tried a number I had for my uncle. He answered right away and said that he would be right over. You would think that there would be a little more drama associated with trying to track down a relative that you haven’t seen in over 20 years in a third world country but there wasn’t, it was that easy. A little while later he came sauntering in and after some introductions we ordered another round. He had some bad news though. My grandma (his mom) had died during our passage over from Vanuatu. He would be flying back to Canada tomorrow morning. So after all these years he is going to be back in Canada and I’ll be here. What are the odds? If we had been a day later I wouldn’t have seen him at all. After a while he showed us back to his house where we met up with his wife Tamania. We saw the factory he’s been running after which he treated us to a really nice dinner. It was a short visit but a really good one. We were happy to have crossed paths and learn a little bit about his interesting life.

 wednesday september 23^rd 2009 (honiara – solomon islands)

 Before he left Del said that he had a feeling that we might be here when he gets back. We told him that it would be a quick stop for us and that we would likely be well on our way by the time he returns. Turns out he might be right after all.

 We left the boat today at noon. Jaime did some shopping and I filled up a propane tank and a couple of diesel jugs. I was stepping out of the cab when the driver asked which boat was ours. I pointed out to our mooring and said ‘it’s right there’. He kept talking about something while I stared out to where I had just been pointing. At first it just looked like another boat was in front of ours and all you could see was the mast. But there was something wrong with our mast, in about two seconds I figured out what it was. That wasn’t our mast. But if that wasn’t our mast then where was our boat? My heart skipped a beat. I scanned the bay and couldn’t help but think about our friends off of Kauhale Kai. In Fiji when our boat went missing we found her rafted up to theirs; they had ‘pirated’ it. I knew they weren’t here though, and I had an ominous feeling that this time our missing boat problem wasn’t going to turn out quite as festively.

 Then I saw Slapdash. It was rafted up to another boat. The police boat! I was trying to think of what possible reason they would have had to impound our boat when I noticed that the mooring was still attached to our bow. That could only mean one thing. I had a big lump in my throat when I rowed over to check out the damage. On the way I got the story from a friend of ours that had been here on his boat all afternoon. The wind picked up a little and kicked up a bit of wave action. Our mooring had broken free and Slapdash was blown back onto the rocks at the end of the bay. A couple of local guys were on shore and at considerable risk to themselves, jumped in fully clothed to hold her off. They yelled back to shore for someone to call for help while they stayed there and pushed against the wind and waves in an effort to save this boat that belonged to some people they had never met. A big live-a-board dive boat was in the harbor and they scrambled to get three aluminum tenders over there, which arrived on the scene just in time. They managed to pull the boat off the rocks and reef, and deposited it in the safest location in the harbor; tied up alongside the police.

 The first thing I did when I got aboard was to check for water in the hulls. We weren’t sinking. Then I grabbed my mask, swallowed the lump in my throat and dove over the side to inspect underneath.

 What I saw was a testimony to the strength of our little boat. There were several patches of bottom paint missing from the bottom of the hull but no significant damage. The rudders were banged up a little but an easy fiberglass repair job. Fortunately our drive leg was in the full upright and locked position so no damage there. The biggest problem appeared to be a bent rudder post. That would have to be addressed but this stuff all seemed pretty minor when you are expecting the worst because you’ve been told that your boat has spent some quality time bouncing around on a reef.

 For the moment the boat is secure. I was hoping to intercept Jaime before she arrived on the scene and went through the same terror rollercoaster that I did but she turned up just as I was coming out of the water. Even from the beach I could see that her eyes were as wide as dinner plates but her shoulders relaxed when I flashed a thumbs-up at her from 100 yards away.

 We tried to get our heads around the situation. Both of us were fully aware of how close we had come to losing our boat. We were gone for about two hours. We’re looking out at the water now and it’s nice and calm with maybe 5 knots of wind under blue skies. Our heart rates eventually returned to normal and we were able to look at things a little more rationally. This was going to suck big time but it could have been so much worse. We thanked the cops for allowing us to leave the boat where it was, locked up and headed out to distribute beers and heartfelt thank you’s to everyone who was involved in saving our boat; especially those local guys on the beach.