James Michener wrote the book upon which "South Pacific' was based while living in Vanuatu (or New Hebrides as it was known when the English ruled and were shockingly bad at coming up with original names for places). It's not hard to see how his imagination was fueled. The country still has the feel of a 1950's Hollywood epic, bathed in glorious Technicolor and full of characters from central casting.
I'm not sure if Michener ever made it to Tanna, but the world of grass skirts and smiling children that he created still lives there. Tanna means "Earth" in Melanesian and it's easy to see how they came up with that name. For it contains all the primal characteristics of God's original creation before it became tainted by the hand of man. Dense jungle opens up to expansive plains upon which wild horses roam. Coral reefs gave way to the might of the Pacific and best of all; Volcanoes erupt every minute to create scenes straight out of Dante's Inferno.
Tanna really is as authentic as Island life gets. People still live in houses made of materials gathered from the nearest banana tree and when it rains they find a wild Pandanas plant and pluck one of its massive leaves. They then use this as an umbrella, like some character out of middle earth.
Everyone who comes here has one common objective and that is to see the Mount Yasur volcano. And having seen it, I'd recommend that everyone does before they die. I'm a cynical old traveler and I'm rarely in awe of new sights. I think the last time I stood open mouthed before a new location was back in April 1998, when I came around a corner on the freeway into New York and saw the skyscrapers of Manhattan for the first time.
Mount Yasur had a similar affect on me, jaw dropping amazement at one of the earth's truly great wonders. They call it the most accessible volcano in the world and its only after you've been there and back that you realise they are talking about how close you can get to the plasma spewing vents and not the trip. Because accessible is a word I'd use for that trip like I'd use the word enjoyable for reading the death notices in the paper.
I guess they'd call it an off-road safari, but that suggests that Tanna has roads for you to be off. It has a collection of mud paths which in rain (as happened on our trip) turn into a lottery of potholes and furrows that would scare the suspension of a Sherman tank.
We embarked on the open back of a four by four truck. Sami, our driver seemed to using the occasion to practice for the World Rally Championships as we set off at mad pace into the mountains. Initially the road was just bumpy as we sped past villages of smiling children that ran alongside our truck like exuberant Catholics chasing the Pope mobile. But gradually the path disintegrated into a mass of mud and rocks and we were flung around the back like bingo balls. As we climbed into the hills the rain came and the patched up tarpaulin above us started to give way. Water started to pour in so that instead of bingo balls, we started to resemble rag dolls in a washing machine.
The jungle grew thicker around us as our truck fishtailed its way along the muddy paths. I began to wonder if we were part of the set for the next Indiana Jones movie and Harrison Ford was about to swing into the back of the truck from a secret diamond mine inside an ancient Aztec tomb behind the tree line.
He didn't turn up, so Sami the driver had to take the part of the action hero. Rivers appear like rainbows here when the rains come and Sami had to navigate a few on the way up. I figured we were wet enough already do I wasn't too concerned. But Sami seemed to enjoy it and I figured that's all that matters.
Once we made it to the top, the ride up suddenly seemed irrelevant. We walked the last 100 meters to the lip of the volcano and the roar from the centre of the earth told us that Yasur was home. For the next hour we were treated to a cocktail of sound and light that was like the 1812 overture as written by Thor.
Every ten minutes or so, the mountain would rumble in preparation for the big event. Then the fissure would glow even brighter before exploding tons of molten rock hundreds of meters into the air. Sami told us not to worry because most of them would fall short of where we were standing. The word "most" concerned me. It was like standing before a firing squad and being told not to worry because most of the bullets would miss.
I passed on my concerns to Sami and he explained that if a five ton rock was heading in our direction we shouldn't run. It was dark and the ground was covered in debris from previous rocks that had fallen in that area (a fact in itself that did not inspire confidence) and we would break our necks in the process. He suggested that we merely take a step or two to the right. I got the feeling Sami was a little fed up being asked that question. So I decided not to worry and to just enjoy the show.
The trip back was almost as much fun. The river we had struggled across on the way up was now twice as high and Sami hooked up with another driver to get both trucks across. Then, for reasons known only to themselves, they decided to race each other down the mountain in the pitch dark. I guess they get bored doing the same drive every day.
But do it once and boredom will be the last thing on your mind.
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