Volcanoes and Villages
Those with an affinity for adventure will find more than their share of it on Vanuatu’s smaller islands, says Carrie Hutchinson.
In a small hut, an old man is huddled by a fire that fills the dark room with lung-clenching smoke. Even in the gloom, it’s easy to see that he is very old. Our guide, Jimmy, introduces us to Chief Kawia, the most important man in the village of Yakel. “He is 111 years old,” Jimmy says. “He’s lived on Tanna all his life.”
Jimmy is one of the few people in Yakel who speaks English and he’s acting as translator for our small group. He goes on to explain that Kawia has 11 children, and a wife who is about 109 years old.
Yakel is one of the few traditional villages – called kastom villages – in Vanuatu that can be visited by travellers. The women here wear grass skirts; the men are covered only by nambas (penis sheaths). The children play near simple dwellings and piglets snuffle in the mud. The only modern accoutrement, it seems, is Jimmy’s mobile phone.
After our meeting with Chief Kawia, Jimmy leads us around the village, taking us up a rickety ladder of branches into a tree-house. From here, you can see over the jungle to the mountains.
As our visit draws to a close, the entire population of Yakel gathers under a huge banyan tree. The women display baskets and other handicrafts while the men perform a traditional dance, some of the older children joining in. The percussive sound that comes from their clapping and earth-stamping is like that made by a whole troupe of drummers.
Those who’ve never visited Vanuatu might imagine that this nation of 83 islands less than four hours’ flying time from Sydney is another drop-and-flop zone, where stressed-out city types go to lie by the pool. While this is possible here, there is plenty of adventure to be had for those who are prepared to rough it.
While divers often head to the island of Espíritu Santo in the north, those who prefer land-based activities should take the short flight south of Efate to Tanna. Having arrived on the morning flight and eaten at the lodge’s restaurant, we’ve organised to visit Tanna’s major attraction, Mount Yasur. This active volcano is one of the most accessible in the world. Tours in four-wheel-drive vehicles go up the mountain and along black volcanic plains, as the sun disappears, so that visitors can walk right up to the rim and get the full impact of the lava’s fireworks.
Despite the fact that this is supposed to be the dry season, clouds have shrouded the mountain’s peak and, as we clamber out of the ute to walk the final leg of the journey to the crater’s rim, rain has started falling. Peering over the edge, we see only glowing orange mist. Then the colour brightens, a deep rumble shakes the earth and a huge explosion shoots a spray of molten magma into the air. The thrill of being so close to something so powerful and unpredictable – local authorities stop people from visiting once warning levels reach level three or greater – has the hairs on the back of my neck standing at attention.
Another once-in-a-lifetime adventure can be found on Pentecost Island. When the first yams are harvested in April, the tradition known as naghol begins. In other parts of the world, it’s known as land-diving. Each Saturday morning during the season – which runs through April into May and sometimes, June – visitors can fly to Pentecost and wander up to the hillside site, where the local men have built a tower out of local wood and vines. To the untrained eye, the structure looks flimsy and inadequate. Below it, the soil has been tilled to ensure it is soft. When our group arrives, the men partaking in the morning’s display have already chosen their vines.
Spectators slip and slide up the hill – rain has made conditions less than ideal – to find the best vantage points as final preparations are made. Dancers sing long and loud to encourage the divers to be brave, and one starts climbing the tower. At the top, he claps his hands, encouraging the crowd to join in. Then, he leaps from the tower: his body slams into the soft earth and everyone holds their breath until he stands up. The ritual is terrifying to watch, yet strangely compelling – it’s not uncommon for divers’ bones to be broken.
Even back on Efate, where things are more westernised and visitor-friendly, you can still get your fill of thrills. Off Road Adventures, for instance, runs a terrific two-and-a-half-hour buggy tour, The Scrub Run. I’ve scored a buggy named Claude
For about the first 30 minutes, his instructions are easy to follow, but then we pass a group of kids coming home from school. They all want high fives as we whizz past, and the co-ordination involved in lining up tiny hands and keeping the buggy on the track means I hit an enormous puddle – at speed. Claude sputters along for about another 150 metres, then dies. Alex gives me a withering stare and the other buggy drivers laugh and shake their heads. Phonecalls are made and a mechanic comes with a new buggy – this one bearing the tough Aussie moniker, Bruce – and we keep going.
The weather isn’t great but the clouds obscuring the mountain peaks are very atmospheric. As we head back along the main road, the rain gets heavier. Back at base, everyone is soaked through, covered in mud, but very happy. It may not be perfect every day in Vanuatu, but it comes pretty close. •
Photography by Carrie Hutchinson and Vanuatu Tourism.
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