From Anatom, it was an overnight trip to the next island, Tanna. The GRIB files lied and the trip was rolly with confused seas. Thankfully, it was a relatively short hop and we arrived in early afternoon. This was a unique landfall: although the night was clear, every few minutes there would be deep rumbles and red/white flashes on the horizon ahead. This was not a distant thunderstorm, but Yasur volcano, spectacularly active ever since Captain Cook became the first European to see it. As we drew closer we could see red molten lava being shot high into the sky, and as dawn came up we could set our course on the thick black smoke belching from the 800m cone.
We anchored in historic Port Resolution, a U-shaped cove open to the North, on the windward side of the island. Historic because this was Cook's first contact with the group he named the New Hebrides and also his first certain contact with cannibals. There were volcanic vents actually steaming all around Port Resolution and one boat took their dingy to shore and cooked eggs on one vent.
At the Port Resolution Yacht Club, an open air, thatched roof building set in a garden on top of a bluff overlooking the bay, we met up with some other people who had visited the volcano already but were planning a second trip the next night. We made arrangements to share the same truck. We walked around the local village and met some women weaving palm for a new roof.
We were disappointed that the Customs and Immigration folks had not come to finish our clearance, but we headed back aboard Emily Grace for a restful nights sleep. We found out the next day that it was unlikely that the officials would be coming and the Club made hints that we should probably hire the $45 taxi and spend 6 hours driving to meet them. We have been cruising long enough to understand that we were already officially checked in and would simply finish our check-in at Port Villa where all the officials are located right on the waterfront.
The next night, about 9 of us piled into the undersized pick-up truck that would take us to the volcano. Kim, Emily and I grabbed a seat in the extended cab, while the others rode in the back of the truck bed. For those in the back, the truck ride must have been just as dangerous as standing on the rim of the volcano.
The road to the volcano is a narrow, rutted affair that bears a closer resemblance to a cow path than anything you would think of as a road in the States. The truck bucked and kicked its way along the road as we continued up to the car park. Rounding a bend in the road, a moonscape spread out before us. The car park was a grey ash field, cleared of the chunks of black lava that dotted the rest of the flat and up the hill to the rim. Standing in the car park I was looking around for fences, or warning signs, but found none. But with a boom that rocked our eardrums, the volcano called to us, and we ignored our preservation instincts and climbed up to the rim.
We'd seen pictures of the volcano, so we were expecting a light show, but nothing prepared us for the sound, or the impact of the explosions. We stood on the ridge, looking down into the crater. Below us was a lower rim, scattered with debris from recent explosions. The debris was recent enough to have not yet been buried by ash and some of it was still glowing. Below that was the center of the volcano. Every few minutes the volcano would erupt, spewing out grey-black clouds of smoke and molten red magma and lava. Each eruption was accompanied by a clap of sound that felt like a mini-sonic boom, as it bounced off of our ear drums and compressed our chests.
We found out that the volcano has four levels of activity. Level 1 is the normal level of activity. The danger level is minimal, but there is always a risk that "a bomb may be ejected from the crater." When the activity has reached Level 2, bombs or slivers of lava are thrown up beyond the edge of the crater. During Level 3, ejected rocks may fly several hundred meters beyond the rim of the crater. During Level 3, access is restricted to the car park. If volcanic activity reaches Level 4, then access to the whole area is restricted and the locals evacuate. The night we visited, Yasur was at level 2.
When the sun set at 6:00, the pyrotechnic display really took off. I'll probably never be able to watch a fireworks display again without thinking about this night at Mt. Yasur. There were two separate eruption zones within the volcano, taking turns spewing red molten rock into the air from the glowing red center of the crater. Once they would blow, the whole scene seemed to shift into slow-motion, as the ash and brilliant red magma would float back down into the crater. If there was a long enough delay, the next explosion would be really big, producing a ball of flaming, rolling gas. During the big ones, we could feel the heat against our fronts as the wind cooled our backs, and we would be surrounded by a cloud of sulphurous gas.
For an hour we stood awe-inspired as the ground shook and rumbled loudly under us, great clouds of smoke billowed up and - every few minutes - firework-like fountains of red lava shot up directly in front, the prevailing wind conveniently ensuring that they landed on the far rim and not on us. We were warned to keep our eyes on the volcano, in case a bomb was sent our way that required evasive action. It took courage to turn our backs on the monster long enough for a family picture. The display was all the more impressive in that we went as dusk was coming on, and the red glow from deep inside the crater lit the underside of the clouds above.
We were all humbled by the power of Yassur and were a little relieved as we climbed safely down the rim back to the truck. As we headed back, we all agreed that this was once sight that few others would be able to experience and we were lucky to have been here as a family.
Tom
