Vanuatu was first charted in 1774 by Captain James Cook and he named the archipelago, New Hebrides. The islands became an object of rivalry between the UK and France until 1906 when they jointly administrated the islands.
Since the 1960s the indigenous people wanted and achieved greater autonomy. Independence was declared on the 30th of July, 1980 and New Hebrides became the Republic of Vanuatu.
Vanuatu is an archipelago of 80 islands straddling two continental tectonic plates on the Pacific Ring of Fire.
We arrived late afternoon in Port Vila (capital of Vanuatu) on the island of Efate (formerly known as Sandwich Island). The following day after customs and immigration clearance, we walked the Lini Highway (main street) which is a banking and trading area. The famous, busy market was hectic and we discovered lots of duty free shopping opportunities.
During our stay we had to spend one day cleaning Amelie and preparing supper for some of the OWR fleet.
Thursday, we had a leisurely breakfast that manifested into a lengthy lunch with Sotto Vento and Spent and then went to Independence Park to watch the local rugby, which never materialised. Oh well, back to the bar. Later that evening a gang of OWR frequented the local casino. Stephen was just ahead of his stake but Debbie, who rarely gambles, won enough to pay for the next day’s adventure.
Friday, we donned a stunning Harley-Davidson helmet for Stephen and an equally attractive Viking two horned helmet for Debbie and hired off road ‘Karts" to drive through the jungle, visiting a village on the way; beach karting (which was great fun) and finally across farmland. Everywhere we went we were met by happy children, waving and asking our names. On the beach two sisters were checking their brother’s hair for head lice, while he drew in the sand with a stick. A warm and caring vision. We were covered in mud and our final drive was along the Lini Highway at rush hour...... a fantastic day.
Celebrations leading up to Independence Day include the island’s 13th running of the annual horse racing event. Local butcher’s boys wearing crash helmets on horses that have been taken away for the day from their beef ranch duties, race a muddy course in the grounds of the island’s slaughter house. There were eight races with two horses running in three of them - Tanna and Spotty Bum, both favourites to win. Debbie went back to her non-gambling and in fact didn’t see a horse. Stephen successfully went through the day without taking a dime from the bookies. No entrance fee and the crowd was enormous, drawn from a combination of locals walking to the ground to well off merchants and farmers dressed in their finery. The police manned the shops and supermarkets on race day to ban the selling of alcohol to prevent the locals getting roaring drunk before the races. If you wanted booze that day, you had to go to the races which was part sponsored by the brewery. We followed this event with a hoe down at the local bar.
Sunday was the highlight of the week. Together with the crew of Crazy Daisy and Pearl of Persia, we were driven to the airport in a thatched roofed bus. Security wasn’t quite up to Heathrow’s standards, as all the security guards were on the tarmac taking photos with their iPhones of a classic, privately owned Hercules.
We were weighed and then told where to sit and with whom on an ancient three prop ‘plane, stepping on an upturned bucket to get into the ‘plane. 45 minutes later we landed at ‘White Grass’ airport on the island of Tanna to start our adventure.
If you think off road, then that’s the main highway in Tanna. After a speedy lunch we set off on the one and a half hour drive to Yasur Volcano. The drive was incredible driving through the centre of the island, passing close to indigenous villages where local tribal customs are still practised to this day. Huge Banyan trees (used as meeting places for the community to discuss issues) dotted around the island and evidence of the famous ‘Tanna’ coffee plantations. Great numbers of people making their way back from church or older children walking back to boarding school on Sunday afternoon in an unhurried fashion. Life is much slower on this beautiful island.
Our driver, Jack, who was born and lives on the island told us that when the missionaries came to the island the first two of them went into the cooking pot but after that the tribal leader made a deal to allow the missionaries to preach. He claimed that the tribal leader was his great, great, great Grandfather.
As we got closer to Yasur, the soil became black and the sky darkened until we were in the shadow of the fire mountain. The volcanic dust plains resembled a moonscape which encircled the base of Yasur. We approached Yasur from the windward side through a beautiful woven tollhouse manned by local village men. No money was exchanged but they counted heads in the trucks. In 1972, two Japanese tourists and their local guide didn’t return after disregarding local advice. Apparently they were running away from Yasur as it erupted and failed to observe where the tossed rocks fell.
Jack parked the 4X4 and we made the final 400metres by foot to the edge of the crater. It was very windy which gave us good visibility of the eruptions. The first eruption had us by surprise. We hadn’t expected the ferocity of the explosions with the loudest noise that we’ve ever heard. To see rocks and magma being flung 500 feet into the sky was simply staggering. We were spellbound watching eruptions every 3-4 minutes and our guide did not hurry the experience.
Resident scientists monitor Yasur’s activity levels on a scale from 0-5. At zero, nobody goes as nothing is happening (very rare); levels 1-2 (currently at level 2), you are allowed to walk to the crater’s edge; level 3, you view from car park; level 4-5, we don’t know but maybe in past times the locals who preferred their missionaries grilled could have found a use for the volcano!
The day ended by a sunset flight over Yasur. The full spectacle of the size of the crater and the clouds of volcanic dust and ash was breathtaking. The power of nature with the glow of molten lava inside the crater at twilight is an experience that we will never forget. The pilots kindly flew over the crater several times with the co-pilot snapping away with his ‘Go-Pro’ attached to the ‘plane’s window screen.
The following day, obligatory check out with more forms to fill in but with the bonus of the duty free shopping form, so we could spend our money, tax free. There is no direct taxation and Vanuatu is one of the last ‘true’ duty free zones in the Pacific.
We had a flurry of jobs to complete before we set sail to Australia (never thought we would hear ourselves say that) at 14.30 (local time).
Down Under, here we come, hope you’re ready for us!