After Maewo, we made a pitstop at Ambae, spending two nights in Lolowai, an anchorage on the island’s northern edge. We were hoping to hike to the volcanic lakes on the island, but were disappointed to find it would require a very expensive ride to the village at the start of the hike and an overnight stay in that village the night before.

Directions to Maewo's Batcave:

First, find Barry. This is easiest done by finding Dyson, an eight or nine year old who hangs out at the waterfall, a day in advance and having him relay your plans to Barry. Meet at the waterfall at 7:30 am. Scramble up the rocks to the left of the waterfall...

One of our favorite parts of the anchorage at Maewo was the waterfall that cascades from a natural spring on the ridge and falls into a landscaped swimming hole we could see from Helios. The pool is filled with fish that loved to eat coconut and nibble on swimmers, and there is a hidden cavern in the far corner behind the falling water.

Leaving Loltong, we cruised north across a narrow channel and dropped the hook in Asanvari, a cove on the southwestern tip of Maewo. Known as the ‘Island of Water’ and a cruiser favorite, we were excited to get to Maewo as it marked the most northerly island we are planning to visit in Vanuatu.

We spent a few nights in the calm, protected anchorage of Loltong Bay at the northwestern end of Pentecost. It was a relief to have a calm boat for two nights in a row! There is a small reef at the northern end of the anchorage that made for a good snorkel

We first heard of Udu from an anthropologist we met while walking through the village with Mathew. Little did we know, but our stopover in Loltong Bay coincided with the yearly rising of the Pacific coral sea worm, or udu as they’re called in Vanuatu.

Once we stocked the icebox with mahi, we spent the next few days cruising up the western coast of Pentecost. Pentecost is a finger shaped island, its longest axis running north-south between Maewo and Ambrym. The island was lush, covered in bright jungle greens despite it being the end of the dry season.

Our fishing mojo returned as we cruised in the waters around Malekula. We hooked a 1.35 meter bull mahi in between squalls as we sailed from Gaspard Bay to Banam Bay. It was an exciting catch—we were in 1-1.5 meters of choppy, confused seas as Dominic reefed the sails and reeled in the catch.

After leaving Awei, we spent a few nights in Gaspard Bay and then worked our way around the southeastern lobe of Malekula to Banam Bay.

The anchorage behind Awei, part of the Maskelyn group on the southern tip of Malekula, has been our favorite anchorage in Vanuatu so far. It is protected from the ocean swell by both islands and the reef connecting the two, making for waters that are consistently pancake flat. The islands define the anchorage to the east and west, letting dawn’s fingers climb slow and dusky up the mast before the sun appears and brings with it the sweltering, fly-swatting realities of spring time in the tropics.

There’s something untamed about Vanuatu. Ni Van Mother Nature doesn’t hold back—she's as likely to wow with her majesty as she is wound with her might.

After getting our fill of wildlife on our way out of Port Vila, we spent the day sailing north to Havannah Harbor. We had excellent wind, 14 knots from the southeast, and calm, easy seas. Our views of Efate’s western coast were palm studded and brownish-green dry. Conditions held until we were enclosed by Efate’s fringing islands, Lelepa and Moso. Once in Havannah Harbor’s lake-like bay, we anchored in the northeastern bite.

Port Vila was alright as far as urban centers in the South Pacific go. The weather was calm, and the holding was excellent. The water was jade and cellophane clear. Plenty of cruising boats came and went; a dinner cruise ship with a wild upside down sail cruised by at sunset; helicopter tours launched in the afternoons.

We couldn't to find a guide to take us to Aneityum’s waterfall, but our friend Kenneth was willing to point us to the trail and send us off to explore on our own. The first part of the trail was a road that extended through a sparse field of pine trees still smoking from the fire that burned the night before. 

We spent six glorious days exploring Aneityum. Pronounced a-nee-shum, it is the southern most of Vanuatu’s 81 islands that are sprinkled on a roughly northwest-southeast axis in the Pacific waters west of Fiji and northeast of New Caledonia. Aneityum was larger than we were expecting, a mountainous island home to a village of 2,000 ni-Vans (the Melanesian locals who make up 98% of Vanuatu’s population) and fringed with golden beaches.