Mike decides that today he is going to disconnect the electrical part of the generator from the diesel part so that he can identify which part of it is causing the horrid noise. This means spending a minimum of four hours in the black hole as this is how long it took the engineer in Fiji to do it. In reality it will probably take longer.
Since this might be our last day here, I am determined to do something more productive than lie around on the boat bemoaning the state of the generator and when Stephen comes by to tell me that he and the rest of the crew from Skylark have organised a taxi tour of the island and I can go with them. Leaving Mike with the generator, I disappear.
The tour takes most of the day. It’s immediately apparent that the island of Efate is a million miles away from Tanna. In Tanna, the locals welcomed us as guests. Here we are welcomed as tourists. They even get cruise ships here and the tourists swamp the town where there is a plethora of duty free shops and other establishments selling the usual load of imported tourist tat. There is also no such thing here as a free ride here, or rather, a free bit of sightseeing as we discover as we go around the island. You are charged everywhere. The waterfalls, caves, hot springs, they all have a price, and a little man in a hut collecting it. And they charge to go to some of the beaches and these beaches are meant to be public. It’s the first time I have encountered this. However, away from the town, the people still wave and smile as we pass. I wave to so many people I end up feeling like the queen.
We first go to a fantastic resort and have a drink. The Havannah has only opened relatively recently but is picture postcard perfect.
Dragging my feet, we go back to the taxi and continue around towards the north west side of the island. In a protected bay formed by two smaller islands, the Americans kept navy warships during World War II. Evidence of this is all around. An enterprising person (not in evidence as everything is closed) had gathered together WWII memorabilia and has it on display and for sale, things like old coke bottles and bullet casings and bits of old aircraft. It makes an interesting museum – of sorts.
Over the road, someone has put up a sign in regarding the state of the world cup football – the message? Miracles can happen! It would be a miracle for England as we are already knocked out!
A little further along the coast we pass more evidence of WWII – part of an old tank just sitting and rotting in shallow water on the beach.
We pass acres of coconut plantations, the trees all neatly lined up in rows, then open areas of grassland as we round the top of the island, where there are herds of cattle. It’s the first time we have seen evidence of livestock. We stop for an incredibly mediocre meal at the Beachcomber Lodge. Overcooked pasta with a marinara sauce that tastes unlike any other marinara sauce I have ever eaten – and they only serve chardonnay which earns them a black mark in my book.
Eventually we come to a bridge over a river where some young guys are hurling themselves off rocks into the fast-flowing water. It’s only when I turn to look in the other direction that I see the devastation that the recent rain has caused. The course of the river has changed and the water is still coming down from the mountain in a torrent, bringing rocks, trees and bushes with it. This was the same rainfall which caused the damage to the roads in Tanna.
We eventually end up on Eton Beach which is lovely – protected by a coral reef, and where the cold, fresh water coming down from the hills meets the incoming tide of salt water.
Finally, it’s a drive through the main town of Port Vila and back to the boat. With a level of trepidation, I approach to find out whether it’s good or bad news regarding the generator, and find Mike on his second Dark and Stormy – but is he celebrating or drowning his sorrows?
I turns out that after spending five hours trying to disconnect the two parts and not getting very far, Mike has given up but not before managing to get himself squeezed into a position in the black hole that enabled him to see what he thinks is causing the problem – the plate which attaches the generator to the flywheel is connected by studs and nuts. The nuts seem to have come loose and are making contact with the stator part of the generator and making a clanking sound. (As you can imagine, this was dictated to me. I don’t understand any of this and have no wish to! I just want the f***ing thing to work!!!) This apparently is good news, and is nowhere near as bad as he had imagined although it will still probably require us to pay for two days labour in Australia but no parts.
Leaving him to his rum, I go over to Skylark as Stephen has an interesting contraption to help his neck. It turns out that he has the same problem that both Mike and I suffer from, and has a traction gadget. The mind boggles. Basically you put yourself in some sort of spring loaded noose and let it stretch your neck to relieve the muscles. I have to have a go!
Yes, it’s weird. Yes, it looks decidedly … painful, but actually it feels quite nice and I end up taking it away for Mike to have a go too.
Having deposited the contraption of Jeannius, I head off to the bar to have a natter with friends, first joining Jutta, Jochem and Matt, then Maggie and Bob, and lastly Oisean and John. I give up with the camera after the first drink.
Eventually I go back to the boat and dig something out of the fridge for Mike and I to eat before he goes rummaging for himself.
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