Author: Scott
It seems that as I age there are fewer and fewer instances where my expectations are shattered in a positive way. So often reality presents a more monotonous result than the shiny and vibrant expectations my brain conjures. Today was one of the most underestimated adventures I can remember experiencing as an adult. Today we met Yasur, purported to be the world's most accessible active volcano!
Ever since we longed to sail in Vanuatu we have wanted to visit the island of Tanna, home of Yasur. Stories have circulated among the cruising community of the volcano that has claimed the lives of those who venture too close to the active crater. Even after hearing these tales, we really weren't prepared for what we would experience upon viewing the beast. These stories were actually confirmed on the wall of the Tanna Yacht Club, with the numerous government warnings and an account of three people who were killed one evening when a "bomb" flew directly at the viewers. Last year our friends Bob and Dianna on "White Swan" also visited Yasur and they had shared their experience with us, and even their vivid account of their time with Yasur did not prepare us for how profoundly this adventure would embed itself in our soul.
The day started out functional with chores on the boat, not to mention a bit of a sleep in, still trying to catch up on our rest from the passage from Lifou. Pam answered a knock on the boat in the late morning; it turned out it was our first visit from a dugout canoe in Vanuatu. It was Stanley (our guide from our trip to Lenakel) and four of his nephews visiting yachts in search of someone to make a birthday cake for his two year old daughter, Naomi. Pam apologized that we didn't have any cake making supplies on board. So, their next stop was Graeme and Rebecca on Listowel Lady (LL), Rebecca came through promising a chocolate brownie cake.
After our chores and sleep in, we dinghed over to LL and scooped up Graeme and Rebecca for an exploratory hike on the beach, where we hoped to find the steam vents and possibly a hot spring that we could see from the boats. We had a beautiful zip through the bay and landed the dinghy on a calm black sand beach. No sooner had we arrived than we were visited by many villagers and even more children. Pam became an instant celebrity when she broke out stickers for the kids. From a distance you couldn't even see Pam, as she was surrounded by the mass of children. We eventually got our hiking shoes on and extracted Pam from the horde. A woman named Mary offered to guide us to the vents and hot spring and we set off to have a squiz.
Walking through the palm jungle I had the feeling that a dinosaur could meet us at any turn of the path. There were millions of coconut palms, banyon trees, huge ferns and thousands of other species of flora and fauna. We only had time to visit the first vent, but it made a nice prelude to the upcoming volcano trip. The vent spewed up quite a quantity of sulfurous steam, and Mary said that the hot spring further up the trail served as a place for the villagers to wash laundry. The return trip was a little more parlous, as it was downhill, but the trip back gave Pam and me a chance to test out the walking sticks that we purchased in New Zealand.
We had to rush back to the boats to pickup the birthday cake, as we were invited to attend Naomi's party at 15:00. We were slightly delayed as a villager stopped us as we were preparing to depart the beach and asked Graeme to trade gasoline for some fruit and vegetables. Graeme agreed to provide the gasoline, but the man would have to paddle his canoe out to LL because there was not enough room for a fifth passenger in the dinghy. We had a short rest at LL while we waited for the villager to paddle his way out to the boat, but once the gas was provided we were off to land again.
This next visit to land would be our final trip to land for the day. We came equipped with all our cameras and gear necessary for the volcano trip at 16:00. When we arrived to the village we were immediately offered palm frons and woven mats allowing us to sit in the center of the village on the hard pack of dirt. At first we sat with villagers staring from a distance but with little contact, then slowly we were visited by many children, dogs, pigs, and eventually the adults came over to interact. We soon realized that all this attention was due in part to the fact that the truck would be late from town and so therefore our trip to the volcano would be delayed. To further put us at ease and maybe sooth and butter us up a little, we were offered heaping plates of rice, grated papaya cooked in coconut milk, a green gelatinous material cut into squares, and some form of cooked animal that we all secretly hoped was pork. Pam and I had wrapped up a green hat for Naomi and she seemed to like it, at least we think she liked it as her English two year old vocabulary was limited to "hello, hello, HEllO, hello". Graeme and I also took the time to introduce ourselves to Ron the village Chief. Ron is 78, suffers from asthma, and has a very good use of the Queens English. We chitchatted about life in the village and finally it was time to pay for the tour and meet the truck. Although we did eat in the village we never did really participate in the birthday festivities.
When the truck arrived we learned that the vehicle would be different from the truck we rode to town in the previous day. This truck was a little more rickety looking with a metal cage of bars over the back to hold on to. The four of us were joined by Jim and Martha from the day before and another American couple. This made eight in the back of the truck, a squishy fit. The ride to the volcano was as jarring and abusive on the backside as the trip the day before. We also soon discovered that though the cage of bars around us gave us something to hold on to, they turned out to be a brain bashing addition to our experience riding in the rolling torture chamber. The ride out to the volcano took nearly an hour and we were in near darkness upon our arrival.
The parking lot for the vehicles is about a quarter mile from the crest of the crater. The entire terrain has a mars like quality, amplified under the bright moonlight of a nearly full moon. I would have felt right at home if were wearing space helmets, talking on radios, with our ray guns strapped to our sides. Instead we were equipped with hiking shoes, flashlights, camera gear, and our trusty walking sticks. Our young driver, suspiciously called our "guide", gave us about two sentences of a warning: "If a bomb flies in the air don't turn your back and run, just stand and watch it like a cricket ball, and then move out of the way". Oh great I thought, this visually impaired guy has been hit by just about every kind of ball imaginable and now I would be dodging hot lava with my incredible low-vision ball tracking prowess. I was in trouble!
The climb to the crater is steep with the path strewn with rocks from prior explosions. I kept thinking that I could be standing where each of the rocks came to earth, this experience was definitely a flirt with the odds, but unlike winning the lotto, when you get hit by the unlikely molten bolder you don't become a millionaire, you just become squished and dead.
As we climbed the hill an eerie silence fell over us all, and our exuberance from earlier turned to solemn whispers. There is something about potential danger that makes people quiet. From our vantage point, down the hill from the mouth of the crater we could see huge puffs of smoke with a red glow at the base of the crater. As we drew nearer we could hear the rumble of the volcano and with each stop closer we could hear the thud of projectile rocks striking the ashy surface of the crater, and those thuds didn't sound all that far away. I was walking with Graeme and Pam was walking further down the hill with Rebecca and as we made each stop to wait for the others to catch up I could hear more and more lava "bombs" landing closer.
When we finally reached the vantage point where the other viewers were gazing fixedly down the mouth of Yasur, I had the briefest of seconds to think 'now that red pit of lava doesn't look so bad', when to my complete terror the ground beneath my feet shook with a tremendous roar. The red semi-safe looking lava exploded before my eyes. It was like someone turned on a sun-strength blow torch and we were going to be barbecue. I remember thinking "holly s---" and unconsciously stepping back. The torrent of fire shot straight up hundreds of feet in the air, and lava bombs fell all around us, somehow just falling short of our vantage point. Someone in the crowd eeked out a shaky "that was the best so far tonight". I actually thought "this isn't safe maybe we should go". Just then, the column of fire died down, I caught my breath, and as if to underscore my concern for safety and survival, Yasur erupted again with an equal furry. This next blast seemed to freeze my brain in time, because in the few seconds of the fury, I had time to think with complete clarity. 'How can it be that people are allowed to do this? In the states with hyperactive litigation rampant there is no way this would be allowed. I know that people have died doing the very same thing I am standing here doing, and yet each night people come to witness this incredible spectacle. There is no fence, no net, no return from a step too far forward. Not to mention that at any time a molten blob of lava rock could shoot into the sky and erase any of us from existence. FAR OUT! How can I ever forget this experience? It is the force of nature caught in an instant, the spark that builds worlds, the roots of our existence, unbelievable!' In that instant I knew I was changed somehow.
At some point my own self preservation instinct was lost in the glory of the experience. The eruptions became something that my fear could grasp and I stood transfixed with the others wanting more and staring almost catatonic into the abyss of Yasur. More fire, more thumps, more noise, we want more! At that moment I probably would have stood there fixed in my shoes and been evaporated by a bigger and grander display if it were an option. I have simply never seen something so raw and awe inspiring. So, I stood there as Yasur built up energy and breathed fury into the sky.
I don't remember any of the individual eruptions now, just a stream of waiting, explosion, fire, lava, noise, waiting, glowing, heat, fire. We were all communicating but if there were a tape recorder it would probably sound something like this: "Wow! That is so… Did you see… I wonder… WwwwooooooW! Did you get that? Oh my god… I'm scared!"
The spell for me was finally broken and I came out of my stupor as I heard our driver telling us it was time to go. I think we would have just all stood there glassy eyed through the night if we weren't pried from the spot. We each slowly and begrudgingly turned away from the mighty Yasur and started our trek back towards the truck. With each new fit from Yasur we were stopped in our tracks to whirl around and get a final glimpse at Yasur's wrath. Finally, I was standing by the truck with my memory on rewind and replay.
The trip back was just as bumpy but we were now volcano viewing veterans. The shrieks and protests were cut in half with our minds as numb as our backsides from the potholes. At some point the truck stopped so a young man could jump on the rear bumper hanging on to the cage and Pam quietly pointed out that he was holding on to the metal bars above me with a huge bush knife teetering over my head. 'No problem' I thought, I have faced Yasur tonight, I am invincible.
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