I am standing on the rim of an active volcano. Bathed in a dreamy surreal light as the sun sinks behind this ancient crater and into the lumpy South Pacific sea, the earth hisses and rumbles from this powerful place. KABOOM!!! With no warning, bright orange molten lava and dark gray billowy ash explode hundreds of feet into the air directly in front of me and the intensity and sound of it reverberate through every cell in my body. I stare intently at the lava rocks hurled through the space and calculate their erratic paths hoping that none will attempt to fall in my direction. After around ten seconds the explosion dissipates and I draw in a lungful of oxygen realizing I have been holding my breath ever since the explosion initiated. Around me I hear a chorus of "Oh my God! That was so intense!", "Unbelievable", and "Holy Shit!!" exclamations from the group of tourists who have assembled this evening to watch this incredible event. In the core of my being, I tremble. I am captivated by the power. Like staring at a campfire and watching the flames flicker, I am absorbed by the volcano's might, it's spontaneous explosive energy, sheer brute strength, and dazzling fire that pierce the glow of twilight. I can't believe we are actually allowed to be up here. I can't believe we are really here.
We are on a fascinating island called Tanna in the country of Vanuatu. The volcano is Mt. Yasur, one of the most accessible live volcanoes in the world. Some people on this island believe Mt. Yasur is the originator of the universe. Others believe that this is where their spirit will go after death. Regardless of belief, there is no doubt that this mountain is powerful and deserves respect. Vanuatu lies directly on the ring of fire and there are more active volcanoes here than any other South Pacific country. Mt. Yasur is special though, as you can actually drive to within 150 meters of the rim and it is often extremely active.
We arrived yesterday. After a three day passage from Fiji and just like Columbus did in 1774, we finally sighted the obscure entrance to Resolution Bay and slipped between the coral shoals to anchor amongst the six other sailing yachts already bobbing in the bay’s rolls. Framed with dark volcanic rock, sandy beaches, coconut trees, and steaming hot springs, Resolution Bay is a beautiful place to begin our Vanuatu adventures.
Vanuatu is made up of 83 islands rising from the sea and built on coral and volcanic rock. There are a little over 200,000 people living in Vanuatu, the locals are called Ni-Vans, but like all countries in the South Pacific, some ex-pats live here as well. The Ni-Vans are mostly Melanesian, but there have been Polynesian influences here too. History has brought Spanish, French and British explorers here. Then the black-birders arrived carrying off the Ni-Van's to work in the sugar-cane industries of Fiji, Australia and New Caledonia practically as slaves. The missionaries followed. And of course, the epidemics like cholera, measles, smallpox and chicken pox that wiped out the population from estimates close to one million people, to a decimated 41,000 by 1935.
The Ni-Van culture is fascinating. The people live in extended family villages, growing their own food and supplementing it with fishing and hunting. There are chiefs, taboos, a history of cannibalism, the practice of magic, many special ceremonies, men wearing nambas (penis wrappers), ritualistic drinking of potent kava, and, most importantly, pigs. Pigs represent wealth. You want to marry a girl, 10 pigs. You want to rise up in village position, more pigs. A feast, kill some pigs. Special ceremony, pigs. If you really want to be special in traditional Ni-Van culture, you would raise a pig by removing it's upper teeth, hand-feed it and keep it from foraging or fighting. Then around seven years it's tusks will complete a circle and penetrate its jaw, very valuable. If you can do it for around 14 years and get a pig with double-circling tusks, you will club the pig and hang the tusks around your neck. Highly-esteemed!
It was Sunday afternoon as we piled into the back of the 4x4 Toyota pick-up truck. Wooden benches were nailed together in the bed where the eight of us yachties and a few Ni-Vans from the Port Resolution village all squished together. No cushions, no roll-bar, no seatbelts, and definitely no child-seats, this is Vanuatu. The engine revved to life, reggae beats vibrated through the steel, and we were off with John, our Ni-Van driver, dressed like a Wesley Snipes rastaman outfitted with a tam and some aviator shades. We hurled along the rutted and often washed out dirt road first through the village where all the smiling kids stared and waved at all of us white people. We shot through the forests of Tanna alongside enormous banyan trees, small villages, rooting pigs, people carrying bundles of taro plants, kids walking back from school, and over cattle grades made of wood logs that looked way too small for their task. Don't get me wrong, this was no leisurely sight-seeing truck ride. We were hauling ass! Dodging tree branches that tried to smack your face, rutted washed out road sections that threatened to launch you off your hard wooden seat, and steep four-wheel-drive-only hills that smashed you into your nearest neighbor, this was all business.
After 20 minutes or so, we pulled into the deserted Tropical Retreat Guesthouse. No one was around. Stanley, Chief Ronnie's son from Resolution Bay village, was our tour guide. Stanley looked perplexed, "The dancers aren't here," he said, "I'll go get them". He brought us down to the dance space framed by an enormously beautiful banyan tree and surrounded by crude bamboo poles lashed together for audience seating. We were here to watch a traditional Kastom dance because some of the other "yachties" we were with thought it would be great fun. Nicole and I had our doubts about this one, thinking it may be more "touristy" than traditional for our like.
Fifteen minutes later Stanley returned with a smile. The male dancers arrived through a passage carved in the banyan tree wearing only nambas, which are traditional penis-wrapped accoutrements designed out of leaves or pandanus. There were about 15 guys, ranging in age from 8 years old to 60. The performance was actually good. It was after the show that you had to laugh. We were all back in the truck starting to leave when the group of men came out from behind the banyan tree all dressed in western clothing again and a couple of them catching a ride with us back to their village.
By five o'clock we had made it to the official Mt.Yasur parking lot, a gray barren volcanic ashy knoll below the eastern rim. The ground would shake with every eruption.
We spent a couple of hours on the rim and then piled back into the truck. We were all elated from the intensity of the volcano, but the evening wasn't over yet, we still had to drive back down to Resolution Bay.
We flew through the darkness, the dull headlights illuminating the truck's obstacle course through the terrain ahead. We were about half way back to Resolution Bay when some pigs made the poor decision of trying to cross in front of our charging vehicle. The driver gunned it, we heard a thump, and immediately a pig's high-pitched squealing. The engine stopped. Stanley and the driver walked back into the darkness towards the squealing pig. The pig was put out of its misery and dragged back to the truck.
Stanley had this guilty smile on his face, "Don't worry," he said, "It's a wild pig from the other village." We all looked at each other, wild pig, yeah right. We all knew how important pigs were in Ni-Van culture. There are no wild pigs.
"Is it OK if we bring the pig back in the truck with us?" Stanley asked us. So a warm bloody pig was thrown into the truck-bed and slid at our feet as we heaved and hurtled through the forest. It was perfect. Our first adventure in Vanuatu and we had already seen a live volcano erupting, a crazy vehicle adventure, witnessed a touristy, albeit traditional, dancing event, and now probably just started a village feud over killing someone's pig.
July 19, 2008 Island of Tanna
Thankfully I have a selective memory. I am already beginning to forget about the first days of our passage out of Fiji to Tanna, Vanuatu. But not before I tell you about it. We waited for over a week so we wouldn't have 30 plus knots of wind and 12 foot seas. Gar and I are learning to be patient. This time it helped but not all that much.
Leaving Momi Bay, we decided to put two reefs in the main. The forecast was for 16-18 knots. We figured we were sailing downwind and we could always unfurl the beastly genoa entirely. The wind was out of the ENE off of our starboard stern and continued to clock around to the E so we were sailing almost directly down wind in rolly 12-foot big seas.
I can still hear the waves hissing as they curled and frothed, towering above us, sometimes slapping the boat so hard she shuddered or was that me? The wind piped up to 25-30 and we were sailing fast, 7-8 knots surfing down inky dark waves. My knuckles must have been white; I know I was hiding unsuccessfully in the cockpit from green water and rain. We were both a little green ourselves. The shaft of the rudder of the windvane snapped. Darkness brought clouds and squalls and I began to question what I was doing out here.
This continued through the second day. The wind continued to shift back and forth from ENE to ESE. The autopilot was still possessed and changed course 180 degrees. The clouds built and scattered and we were surrounded by squalls. The surface of the ocean looked like shattered glass. We both felt small, vulnerable, and insignificant.
The ocean has so many faces. Overnight she became my friend again. My morning watch unveiled a moonlit sky, allowing only the brightest stars to sparkle. I could see constellations I didn’t know existed. The wind settled to a comfortable 18 knots out of the SE and the seas decided to lie down as well and dropped 4 feet overnight to eight. I was dry, the boat was balanced and flying at 6-7 knots and we had 178 miles to go to Vanuatu.
We can't have it all. The wind continued dropping and on our third day we had to turn on the engine on for a few hours to charge the batteries and to keep moving until the wind filled in again. Darkness brought clear skies and a rising full moon. We sailed beautifully throughout the night, following the moon west while the seas whispered, gently carrying us onward while the winds pulled us forward. By morning I was in love with my life. We had 24 miles to Tanna when I watched the giant yellow moon slip slowly into lilac seas while the sun rose into a pink painted sky. I'm grateful for my selective memory.
