Remote conjures images of isolated locations, kept separate from us by hundreds of miles and an arduous journey. The geographical definition for remoteness is shifting for me as I become more used travel that is a many-day experience and our comfort (or more often discomfort) is out of our control. A day of beating into the wind, slamming through steep seas, having gained only a little ground and left feeling seasick and exhausted, is my new reference point for a journey.
A dot in the Pacific might be a long way from anywhere, but it is what we find at each dot that now defines remoteness. There is a level of connectedness that we have become used to in cities; through technology and industrialisation, we are never far from a reliable supply of whatever service, product or piece of information we need. However, when this ease of connection is taken away – no internet, no motorised transport in or out, unreliable and limited supply chains – then a new definition of remote takes over.
On the small (we could walk around it in an hour) island of Uliveo, less than a day of sailing from Port Vila, this sense of remoteness was what we found. There is no internet or phone coverage and they travel to other islands in outrigger canoes. At the shop (which was opened on our request) my purchase of 2 bottles of oil depleted a quarter of the stock and we had ten times more tinned fish on the boat than they had on the shelves. One entrepreneurial resident of Uliveo built two holiday bungalows on the water, with just a phone number and email address as a point of contact. But the only tourists to the island come by yacht, and there is no website for prospective travellers, so the bungalows are likely to remain empty. The entrepreneur died recently just after completion of the villas; word on the island is that people became jealous and black magic was involved with his demise. Uliveo is remote.
I am now quite comfortable spending extended periods in communication black spots; I have forgotten what my ring tone sounds like and that makes me smile. When we are remote, I love the simplicity of limited choices; the people in the canoes ask what food I would like and I respond quite truthfully that I am happy with whatever is available. We signed the guest book at Uliveo and found we were just one of a few yachts stopping there each year. On returning to Vila, we have “good” internet, large supermarkets and an international airport all near our anchorage. We are no longer remote and that sense of calm I felt on Uliveo slips away a little. Tomorrow we set sail for New Caledonia and I am looking forward to seeing nothing but ocean in all directions.