I mentioned the sloppy seas as we left the reefs of Fiji. Those seas did not settle the entire trip to Vanuatu. By day two of it we were all feeling miserable. Lowe tends to get seasick on pretty much every passage for a day or so, but the rest of us usually survive okay. Not this time. All four of us tossed a contribution into the sea at some point. I’m pretty sure that was my first for this boat, and Ouest says it was hers as well. Looking at this picture you’d think it was just calm seas, but there were sloppy little seas popping up from every direction, non-stop, along with a pretty sizable short-duration swell on the beam. Not fun. And yet, it could get worse, and would.

On day three, with 220 miles to go to Tanna, Vanuatu, Ali walked up on deck and yelled out that we were about to hit a buoy. I quickly hit the autopilot button to turn us 10 degrees, at which point an autopilot alarm started screaming. I clicked OK then reset our heading and started the autopilot again. It would immediately disconnect back to Standby mode (hand steering) and sound the alarm.

Looking closer I could see that the rudder sensor was showing the rudder at centered one second, and then full to port the next second, despite the rudder itself not moving. The instant the sensor read full to port it would disconnect back to Standby.

Turning the wheel I could tell that nothing was wrong with the steering or rudders themselves, but because it had occurred right as we were turning around a runaway fishing net buoy we had to rule that out completely as a cause. We slowed the boat the best we could, but with the following winds it was difficult to get under 2.5 knots without turning the boat around and motoring into the seas. Personally, I don’t want to be anywhere near spinning propellors, so I opted to just go full rodeo cowboy style and jump in while holding onto the swim ladder. Streaming behind the boat I could see that we hadn’t caught anything. The problem was clearly with the autopilot, not the rudders. I wasn’t sure whether to be happy about that or not.

I spent the next couple of hours doing everything I could think of while Ali hand steered the boat. I disconnected everything I could. I powered up and down. I recalibrated the rudder. I disconnected the rudder sensor, which had quickly become the center of attention, but was bummed to find that was a sealed unit and there was nothing to be done to it. When I adjusted the arm by hand I could see the rudder sensor indicator on the autopilot move around, and I could also see it jump around on its own.

I eventually ran out of ideas, and as night three darkness descended on us I had to give up. At first we found that the autopilot would work from ten seconds to about three minutes. This might not sound like much, but it was easier and more accurate than hand steering. The alarm would sound, we’d hit the OK button, and then immediately hit AUTO again. We’d sit back and relax for a minute, then repeat the process. Eventually, though, that stopped working completely and the rudder sensor just stayed pinned hard to port. The autopilot was convinced we were performing a hard left turn at all times.

We hand steered for the next twenty-four hours, until I noticed that the sensor was starting to pop back to center now and then. As night four rolled around I set the autopilot and miraculously, it stayed on. Mostly. For a little while. My first shift went from 7-10pm, when Ali woke and came up on deck. I told her the alarm had only gone off twice in those three hours and she was visibly relieved to hear it. As I walked downstairs I heard the alarm sound. Ali reset it. As I climbed into bed seconds later, I heard the alarm again. As I passed out I heard it over and over again and I could just imagine the stream of obscenities spewing forth up above me.

The night continued like that, with the autopilot working for brief periods, then not working at all. We hand steered through short shifts until the next afternoon, when we very gratefully spotted Tanna on the horizon.

Captain Cook first spotted Tanna in 1784 and was no doubt just as excited as we were to find a well-protected anchorage inside. In true European explorer fashion he promptly murdered some locals, plundered everything he could, renamed the place to his liking, and left.

Somehow, despite Captain Cook’s history here, we are still welcome to show up in our sailboats. However, it is now expected that we will not kill anyone during our visit.

The nearest town is two-hours away, but Customs, Immigration, and Health are kind enough to make the drive out to Port Resolution when cruisers arrive. Usually, we don’t show up en masse like this, but good weather and political riots conspired to make Port Resolution a popular place. Cyclone season has come to a close, and this was the first pretty good weather window to make the crossing, for those of us coming from Fiji. Meanwhile, cruisers who had gone to New Caledonia (about 200 miles south of Vanuatu) had to evacuate the island rather suddenly when political violence erupted. Like with Cook, the trouble all started in Europe, when the French government decided that more European settlers to New Caledonia should have the right to vote there in local elections, with the result being the indigenous population (Kanak) would have even less say in matters—something they didn’t take kindly to.

It seems a lot of French citizens live on New Caledonia and own boats. Those that do, decided to jump on those boats and hightail it out of there. Port Resolution was the closest port. In addition, a yearly cruising rally from Australia that was supposed to be calling at New Cal, had to reroute to Vanuatu. The end result being a whopping five boats all clearing in at this tiny village on the same day, with more to follow in the days after.

This is us clearing in at the Port Resolution Yacht Club. Those that are reading this and following in our footsteps, be sure and reach out to Werry (wnarua@gmail.com) before you go and ask if there is anything you can bring for the village. We brought hammers, nails, and notebooks.

It’s really an incredible bay. Big enough for 100 boats, yet well protected. And with an active volcano just a mile or two away the ground, and sea are literally bubbling with hot water. In some places it’s obvious—you can see steam, or water shooting right out of the rock. In other places it’s less obvious. Ouest and I were walking along the beach and stopped where we could tell the sand was quite warm. Suddenly we both jumped in the air as boiling water singed the soles of our feet. After jumping back, a small stream of boiling water was bubbling out of the sand from our footprints. Later on a local showed us a pool near there that they boil their food in, and another slightly cooler one where they bathe.

Out swimming around the boat later, if we dove down to the bottom we could feel big pockets of hot water, too. Sometime in the next billion years this place is gonna blow.

The little guy in red put on a clinic, scoring at will.

A couple years ago the island was nailed by back-to-back Category 4 cyclones (hurricanes). You mostly wouldn’t know it, but a few of the palms on the beach didn’t survive.

Lowe is his group’s taxi driver.

The invasion.

Leah’s Restaurant.

Leah, coming out to meet everyone. One of the boys in our group is named West. She chuckled when she realized there were two of them.

New country, new experiences, new foods, and new friends.