Vanuatu Trip Debrief.

After an arduous 3-hr plane ride, we alighted the plane to the refreshment of a south pacific thunderstorm. Clearing immigration had never been so ‘taxing’ knowing the fact that the toilets were on the other side of the stamp-wielding official. Transfers were confirmed and hotel rooms found. Let the games begin. A handful of revellers were keen to experience the Vanuatu nightlife, the others, well; there is no other way to explain it - were soft. The night was long, the rain came harder, and the talk quickly turned to our next days dives. Sleep was agreed upon and the next thing we knew our wake up call came and went.

The biggest decision at the wharf the following morning was, ‘wetsuit or no wetsuit’, the majority optioned to experience the 29 degree water without rubber. Wise decision. A wreck and a reef were planned – the best of both worlds. With two dives down and 14 to go, people were disappointed with the abundant fish life, vibrant coral colours and the 40-meter visibility. I promised them better for tomorrow. Our night started with a few cocktails beside the pool, hoping the clouds would clear for a dramatic sunset - it didn’t happen. Then it was off to the Waterfront for a group arrival party with the owners and Divemasters from Nautilus scuba.  John MC’d, Julie sang. Let’s just say that we owned the restaurant that night. Day two started fairly much the same as the first, except for one small fact, we were woken earlier. The sun was trying it’s hardest to break through as we headed off for another day of wrecks and reefs. I don’t think I have dived before with so many cameras around me. Everywhere I looked flashes popped and videos whirred.

Our days diving complete, half the group tried to get in touch with the ‘rebel without a cause’ personality and hired scooters to explore the island on. Twelve of them headed off to see the waterfalls; three of them actually made it. It helps to have the map the right way around. Oh well. That afternoon the dive shop put on a slap bang BBQ for the group. After eating way too much we decided a dance was in order to work off our feasting. A short but eventful taxi ride to the other side of the island revealed a watering hole unlike anything else in Vila. Proper drinks, pool tables, and semi decent music. New friendships were formed; dancing partners came and went, especially for Dennis who thought she was a she, when really she was a he. Ah, things that happen on trip and that are suppose to stay on trip but never do, you gotta love it.

Our final two dives in Vila came with a surprise; Sun. A few of us decided that the afternoon dive only would be attempted due to, lets say, too much dancing. Our last night would be spent at an a la carte restaurant, which specialises in having nothing available on the menu. With money still in our pocket mainly due to the fact that half of us didn’t eat, we decided that there would be no better way to spend it then at the casino. Uh oh, bad mistake. Money was lost and won, laughs were had and stories were spun. Our day off consisted of a combination of activities, sleep, sleep and sleep. Seriously, Jet Ski’s, scooters and catamarans. Hobie cats work better when you don’t have to push them off the reef that you just ran them up on Dennis. Our afternoon flight to Santo deposited us on the doorstep of the worlds largest accessible ship wreck; The President Coolidge.

Five groups were formed and briefed. The majority had never been down on a President before. As we regrouped at the decompression reef, smiles were ever apparent behind regulators. And only to think, they have another nine dives left on this huge wreck. Boris the giant Queensland groper was there to model for the plethora of cameras. It felt like a disco with all those strobes going off. Later in the week, Boris put on a show by chasing turtles in front of us. Imagine a huge groper swimming past with a huge turtle half sticking out his mouth. Other strange and interesting sights included a nude dive by Troy who was gently convinced by Ziggy that it would be in his best interests. Still not sure why you wanted to dive with Troy Dennis?

As a diversion to the hectic nightlife in santo, it was decided that a trip to a traditional Kava hut was in order. Although, looking back on it now, I believe some of the group wished they could change their mind about how many of these deadly elixirs they should have consumed. As motor coordination slowly was lost, Chinese was consumed. Not long after, Marco had the titanic job of blowing out his birthday candles, the only problem is that, going on by how many times the candles continued to reignite themselves, he should be about 356 years old. Suppose you had to be there. As the week progressed, familiarity with the Coolidge also increased, along with the depth. It wasn’t long before people were reaching depths of 50 and 60 metres with bottom times longer than 90 mins. Some of us cheated on the air (Chris), others decided that they should find new rooms to explore (Marco), and Ziggy thought the swimming pool was an in ground style, so started digging in the sand.

A combination of John’s birthday and our last night in Santo was turning into a town affair. A stereo was acquired, and music emanated. People came from far and wide. Hotel Santo was bursting at the seams. As the night progressed, the only logical escape was off to the Coolidge bar. The one ‘dive’ that most of us had avoided, although Dennis did try to better Australian / English relations a few nights earlier, again with a friendly chap named Donald. I believe the majority of us ‘drowned’ that night. As our return flight back to Vila was fast approaching, a day tour was hurriedly arranged. A visit to Champagne beach for a bit of a swim, and of course for a bit of champagne. Then it was off to the blue Holes for, lets try something different, a bit of a swim.

Rob tried to get his trip covered by workers comp, and attempted to break his leg on the wharf, whilst Sarah came as close as humanly possible to being eaten by fish.

Our return flight to Vila was as dodgy as the one on the way up. I continue to ask why we do it to ourselves. Our safe landing was greeted with a resounding applause, ok, maybe a few fairy claps. Our last night in Vila before heading back to reality would have to be a memorable one. Dinner was planned at fashionable Errakor Island. The final feast devoured and retirement to the pool table was in order. Our own pool comp came into fruition. Balls were sunk, and drinks were drunk. Heads would never be sorer than the morning. A few die-hard fans headed into the capital to get their last breath of Vila nightlife. Oh their poor souls. Last minute souvenirs were acquired and tuskers consumed, or so I thought. The ‘countdown cheers’ had turned into how long it was before the trip came to an end. Just for future reference guys, your not suppose to drink the plane out of alcohol on the way home.

The staff of Pro Dive, Nautilus scuba, Allan Power Dive tours would like to thank the following on their attendance and good humour.

Ziggy (the camera man), Mick (what time do we get picked up?), Johnno, Chris (spare tank anyone?), Troy (I’ve got three months of this), Janelle (can we have Alfred No 1?), Stephen (would you have a battery to fit this), Rob (how much to million dollar point?), Minna (let’s get another Hawaiian shirt), Nathan (which way to the surf?), Jenni (I love night diving), Mark (we’re not fighting), Lara (talk to the camera), Aaron (I can’t feel my legs!), Dave (my camera is bigger than yours), Marco (I thought that was it for me), Dennis (gee, he’s cute!), Sarah (put me down), Julie (thank god they’re not picking on me) and Craig (another kava Aaron?)