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Check Out That Color!

Writer's picture: Pru WarrenPru Warren

Oct. 14

 

Oooh—captain just said the magic word on the shipwide PA: MONSOON! We’re not supposed to use any of the outside passageways or stairs, and we should expect a lot of pitching (that is, bow goes up, bow goes down). This gives me HUGE giggles and all but guarantees I will sleep really well tonight!

 

This morning we arrived at Lo, the northernmost island in Vanuatu. Everything I know about Vanuatu comes from the fact that my now-long-dead husband’s favorite show was “Survivor,” and they did a season in Vanuatu. And now here I am. Wouldn’t Jonathan be pleased?



Take a look, if you’d be so kind, at the color of even the DEEP water. I mean—holy smokes. Did someone dump a few vats of Blue Number Three dye in the ocean or something?? How can water BE that color? And how badly did Twig and I BOTH want to just jump over the side and go swimming?

 

Alas, swimming was not to be. That is, the snorkeling was canceled due to rough seas. DAMN it. Still, who wants to snorkel in rough weather? All that was left was another cultural visit to the island—population about 220 people. And because the seas were SO rough, we anchored on the wrong side of the island, where the waves were only six or eight feet high…

 

I estimate that wave height based on riding in a Zodiak and seeing that the top of the wave we were about to slide up was well over the head of the person sitting across from me. The ride from the boat felt pretty action packed and extremely fun. The spray did its best to let us know what it would have felt like to swim in those waters, and it was lovely.



We zipped thrillingly past the breaking waters and into a more protective cove. Again—what about the color of that water?? Let’s snorkel HERE…but apparently snorkeling on less than a coral reef is not good enough for Lindblad. So we were greeted (again) by a small tribe of local screaming men who beat the waters around our boat with their sticks, splashing us as they shouted their threats. Once again, Twig was tagged by a muddy hand, which very much annoys her as she was wearing white.

 

Once ashore, I asked Kura what the appropriate response was; were we to laugh and applaud? Scream our fear? Stare blankly at the men who “welcomed” us with such faux rage? “Scream back,” she suggested, which made me feel good since that’s what I’d opted to do.

 

Twig kindly carried my sneakers in her backpack so I could wade ashore in my sandals and then change for the mile-long walk across the island to the original landing spot, at the biggest village.



The walk was… you know. Okay, I guess. Pretty flat, and through a forest. But I kept having to go around clusters of Lindbladians who had stopped to take close-up documentary photographs of the way someone had woven the walls of their house. Like we were at DisneyWorld and this was a Photo Spot. It felt just icky.

 

It was nice that it was so shady, because the humidity was high. After a while, I was reminded of just how strongly I do NOT want to attend a “hot yoga” class. I don’t care how good it is for flexibility; I dislike having sweat roll down my face, leaving tracks through the sunblock and bug spray.

 

But eventually we made it to the village, which had been decorated for our arrival on a beach where big breakers were washing ashore.



Still, I photographed a few of the flowers they’d pinned up to greet us. Each bouquet was in a hand-woven basket of palm fronds. Beautiful work.



The introduction to the local culture was a little hard to hear, but the drumming of five guys in the middle banging long bamboo rods onto…what? A curved piece of wood on the ground? A hunk of bark? Something…and four guys seated at the ordinal points was the rhythm for the dancers.



Five females came first; two adults followed by three girls. Then six young men came after them, in colorful mushroom cap hats with feathers. The “Dance” was to shuffle tiny footsteps in a circle around the drummers. We were invited and encouraged to join in, which we did, to the hilarity and mirth of the locals. (Twig commented—“At last, a dance I can actually do.”)

 

The weather had delayed us for so long that we didn’t have time to stay in the village for long. We shuffled in the circle and then were given refreshment; they’d set out bowls of fruits and had coconuts to drink from. I had a magnificent hunk of grapefruit and immediately circled back to have a second hunk.

 

Then it was back to the boat, via the cave where the locals take shelter during cyclones.



It was as dark as the inside of your hat; all the Lindbladians flicked on the lights on their iPhones while our young guide, Lee Fam, worked her way into different parts of the cave to call out what those places were. The pantry. Where we cook. Where we sit to watch the trees blow in the wind. I thought I heard the squeak of a bat, but we couldn’t find any.



As we were getting into the Zodiak, our driver Lyle (expedition leader) said he’d seen some flying foxes—large fruit bats—earlier. “There’s one!” he called happily. Oooh! Big bat soaring through the sky! Nice.

 

The ride back to the ship was FAR more exciting. The waves had increased in vigor. Lyle asked if anyone in the boat had back problems. No one said anything, so he carried on. “To get over these breaking waves, we’re going to need to put on some speed. And then to get back to the boat, we’ll have to go fast over the swells.”

 

“Punch it, Dano,” said the man in front of me, which made me laugh out loud. Not only was it a classic reference that ONLY old people like me would get, but it also had that Hawaii Five-O touch of tropical adventure. Punch it indeed, Dano!

 

We all clung to the rope on the outside of the Zodiak (my hand was pressing hard against the Dano-caller’s low back; I had to apologize for the liberties I was taking with his body, but I promise it wasn’t butt level), and we slammed over countless ultramarine-blue waves. It was as fun as any other part of the entire day. Extremely jarring, very action packed, quite thrilling. Disembarking back onto the big boat was an anticlimax—even if I have to take a moment each time to admire the Lindblad choreography of how they load and unload an entire passenger list of landlubbers in extraordinary safety. These guys really know what they’re doing.

 

I assume every single person fled to their cabins to immediately shower away several inches of sweat, sand, bug spray, and humidity; that’s what I did. Now I’m clean and I have a cup of tea and the ship is beginning to feel like a horse at a slow gallop. Monsoon!! Fabulous.

 

I’m sorry we didn’t get to snorkel, but tomorrow is another day!

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Tonya Lunguy
Tonya Lunguy
Oct 14, 2024

What an exciting day!!! Monsoon!!! Woohoo!

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