Reef Islands, Banks

ur latest adventure could be an episode of Back to the Future- way, way back. For five weeks we’ve plied the very remote waters of northern Vanuatu, two island groups named the Torres and Banks, just a scratch on a chart below the most southeastern islands of the Solomons. The rest of Vanuatu has basically forgotten the Torres islands, where a meager 600 natives inhabit. By one chief’s estimate, the last copra boat (dried coconut is called “copra” and is the only real economy of most south pacific islands) came 7 months ago, by his son’s it was more like a year, but then time is not measured except with very passing interest. It has also been thankfully overlooked by just about everyone else as well. We haven’t seen a single yacht in all our time here; as well as no electricity, no plumbing, no “conveniences” of any kind. They have a store, but it never opens, as there isn’t anything to sell. Most adults own a grimy, holey, t-shirt and some of the young men have batteries for their flashlights (to catch coconut crab at night), but you take these away and you have a people that are living now just as they have done for hundreds, if not thousands of years. The children are naked and wear the innocent and curious smile of children who know no evil and trust their surroundings. Saoirse (our yacht) and I are closing in on 20,000 miles in the South Pacific and the people of the Torres and Banks islands are the most removed from western culture I have yet visited. Most people would come here and be shocked, and leave with a sense of guilt at all we have versus all they lack. But look closer and you may be surprised. I was.

What they ‘lack’: pollution- of any kind. No trash. Crime is unheard of, as well as mental illness, STRESS, fast food, hurry of any kind, malnutrition, hunger, diabetes, cancer, drug abuse, and of course- money. But then there’s nothing to buy. No one’s obese, no one’s skinny. People live a long time here. Their teeth take quite a beating, but then I don’t go for dentists too much either.

Big Daddy

What they have is a way of life few can imagine, and probably no one born in western culture could live, but I find it enviable. From the ocean comes what we’ve feasted on daily: mahi-mahi, wahoo, yellowfin tuna, lobster too large to feed four people, reef crab, coconut crab, fresh water prawns, cuddlefish (like a big squid- makes incredible calamari). From the earth comes papaya, pineapple, mango, lime and lemon, coconut, passionfruit, grapefruit, and a host of other treats I’ve never even seen which all grows abundantly- and organically in the rich volcanic soil. One night we were coming back from catching a coconut crab for dinner and decided we really preferred lobster, even though we’d eaten lobster almost every day for a week. In about a foot of water, on the way back to the dinghy sat a nice 6 pounder so I just grabbed him and threw him in the catch bag. We laughed all the way to the dinner table. Time here is in abundance, naps are taken frequently, and food that would cost several hundred dollars in restaurants at home cost only the effort to catch.

My father and his girlfriend Wendy have been with us for this portion of the journey and they just place an order for lunch or dinner and Francis and I jump in the water and go get it.

“Parrotfish or barracuda Dad?”

This baby fed the whole village!

“How about a lobster?”
“Coming right up.”

This place is for real- it exists, we’ve been here for weeks and I still wake up and wonder if I’m in a dream. You have to remind yourself that the waters here, while teeming with delicious edibles also apparently hold a few threats to human intruders like tiger sharks and massive sea crocodiles (one ate a German fellow in the Solomons a few years back while diving on his anchor while his wife looked on in horror from the bow). But the only threats we’ve seen are the sun’s tropical rays and my father in a speedo, which frankly puts a crocodile to shame.

Unfortunately, with the approach of the cyclone season we must sail to safer waters, leaving paradise in our wake. Last night I sat for a long while under the fourth full moon we’ve had in Vanuatu this year, wondering if I will ever see these places again. A lifetime could be spent exploring this crazy planet and in the end you would have seen but a sliver, and understood even less. I’m no closer to figuring it all out than I was 5 years ago when we left- what it all means, where it all leads, the why’s and what’s a never ending barrage that probably even plagues the natives of the Torres islands. But one thing I do know- the more you see, the greater the hunger for more.

So the adventure continues.