THRILLS AWAIT
Lamen Bay is a shallow bight on the northwestern end of Epi Island, Vanuatu. There are cascading jungle vines, grottoes carved into rocks and dark-sand beaches lending the water a deep, tranquil turquoise. And it was in Lamen Bay that, after more than 11,000 miles underway, the wilderness began to deliver the high-octane thrills my husband, Dominic, and I were looking for.
Snorkeling, we could watch turtles swim in pairs, dashing through schools of fish and startling each other. While we admired a swooping hawk from the paddleboard, a pink dugong the size of a small whale circled.
We lingered in the bay for three nights to wait out a patch of foul weather in the forecast. Though punctuated by gloriously clear mornings, we spent two afternoons watching the clouds darken and form spouts through raindrops the size of bullets. There were three active volcanoes in view, and we spent one night watching two calderas smolder an angry red as the third was underneath a violent lightning storm.
Sailing north to Awei, we had two squid lures trolling behind Helios, our Island Packet 380. We reeled in our flasher to find it chomped in half, all its mirrors ripped off. Our next anchorage was protected from the swell by islands and reef; the waters were pancake flat and the views stunning.
Diving the eastern edge of the pass, I spotted a large lobster hiding in a rocky nook. After spearing it, Dominic put his gloved hand on the rock to retrieve the catch, and a giant moray eel reared its head from an adjacent crevice. The eel’s jaws were less than 5 inches from his shoulder.
Later, we dived the fringing reef, finding schools of cornetfish and oversize parrotfish. Once on the far edge of the coral head, we looked into the abyss and saw a gray shark charging toward us. The shark bolted by once more, clearly hunting, and we drifted directly back to the dinghy.
After a jaunt on the paddleboard, I was on all fours tying the painter to the board’s handle. Dominic came into the cockpit just in time to say, “There is a sea snake swimming toward the board … the sea snake is coming onto the board … crawl forward slowly and stay calm.”
Stay calm I did not. But I survived, grateful that my forward motion jostled the snake into the water.
When I report stories like these to my mother, she asks what we’re doing out here — no washing machine, no dishwasher, but plenty of sharks and venomous snakes, lightning storms and active volcanoes. At first, I responded with how alive the adrenaline rush feels. But in truth, it’s the opposite. What I savor is the sense of peace that comes from swimming with fear, learning to relax and watching it float on by.