We keep marching on, putting consistent miles under the keels. With the "Autopilot Horizon" safely behind us, the last 24 hours have been uneventful, allowing us to settle into our routine.
We did hit one unexpected patch last night—a strangely "wavy patch" of much larger seas that lasted a few hours. The boat was pitching and rolling until the early morning watch, when things calmed down again. It was a good reminder that the ocean always keeps a trick or two up its sleeve, even when the forecast looks friendly.
We’ve seen the occasional ship out here, doing exactly what we are—heading in roughly the same direction—except they're carrying cargo, have a dozen more crew, and are moving a whole lot faster. So, I suppose, not really the same at all!
The autopilot is, thankfully, behaving itself, and we're holding a dead-straight course toward the waypoint just off Efate Island, where Port Vila is.
The Joys of Bureaucracy
Speaking of Port Vila, we've sent off the advance notifications, and the authorities are aware of our impending arrival.
Honestly, the bureaucracy is a strange and utterly unnecessary waste of everyone’s time. They requested copies of the ship's registration, then asked us to fill out a separate form that simply repeats all the information already visible on the registration document. But wait, there's more! They then requested all that information (already supplied in the form and the registration) to be typed out again into an email.
It genuinely doesn't make sense, but it’s part of the job. You just smile, send three copies of everything, and remind yourself that the fuel dock is just around the corner.
Our ETA looks to be Sunday afternoon, which means we'll almost certainly have to drop anchor for the night and complete the official clearance procedures on Monday morning.
I’m curious to see how much things have improved following the earthquake a few months ago. When we were last in Port Vila in February, the customs and immigration offices were completely cut off from the rest of the town. Thousands of tons of hillside had slid down, blocking the road entirely. That meant we had to meet Customs right on the fuel dock—which, honestly, could turn out to be incredibly convenient! We'll soon find out if we get that same dockside service, or if we'll be hitchhiking up a landslide.