Yesterday I took a much needed break from village life. After a certain point, even staring at my ceiling gets old. I woke up early in the morning to begin my walk into town. The sun had yet to come above the horizon, but a pale glowing light indicated that it was about to rise. The flying foxes flew over head, returning to the trees to sleep for the day. The only noise I heard was the flapping of their giant wings, along with my mama busily scratching coconuts in order to get coconut milk from them. I assumed the milk was going to be used to make some sort of lap lap, but frankly I didn’t want to stick around to find out. Enough lap lap already.
I passed my mama outside, indicating to her with a combination of gestures that I was heading down into town. She looked at me and gave me her normal laugh and smile, not saying a word, since she only knows a local native language, not the bislama language that I use to communicate with others. I started walking through cattle pastures dotted with coconut trees. The cows were already busy munching away at the grass and the birds were beginning to sing. I passed through the pastures, the hills, and the streams that I am so familiar with. I walked the narrow trail, overgrown with everything in green and covered in dew. After a few minutes I was soaked from the dew, which was much appreciated. Even though the sun had just come up, the heat was already heavy. I followed the trail, winding though the forest and the gardens, the mango trees and banana plants, reaching the ocean after an hour and a half of effort. I followed a new trail along the ocean, occasionally passing an isolated village with children wearing tattered clothes staring at me with curious eyes. I smile, wave, and keep walking. A cove comes into view. It is picturesque with black sand, deep blue water dotted with turquoise reefs, and not a single person within miles. Not a single villager, and never a tourist. I decide to take a break here and cool off. With no one around, no clothes are needed, and I jump into the water. I have never felt better, it’s paradise. But I can’t stay forever, the sun is rising higher into the sky and I still have 3 hours of hiking until I reach my first destination.
I get out of the water, and I am instantly dry. I continue down the dusty dirt path, coming across more secluded coves. No one is in site, only their carved wooded canoes laying on the sand. The sun is high in the sky now, its intensity unmatched outside of the tropics, and I am starting to get tired. I arrive at a nice bamboo house, complete with a rusted blue tin roof. This must be the home of Tom, the horse man. The women and children stare at me, wondering where has this white man come from. Eventually a woman approaches me and points me to Tom’s direction. I see he’s wearing long pants and long sleeves, he’s crazy. He comes and greets me and I tell him that I’ve come to buy a horse. He sends a boy to go get two horses, and he tells me to take a short ride on the horse. I agree, knowing that I am getting in way over my head.
A few weeks ago, I decided having a horse would make getting around not only easier but more fun. I have rode horses a few times back home, and thought I would give it a try here. But on Tanna, riding horses isn’t quite like hopping on the pony at the fair. Most of the horses are wild. A few of them are captured, tamed, and then trained. The problem is though that people here do not know how to train horses. There’s also no such thing as a saddle.
Knowing this, I hop on the horse. This should be interesting. They tell me to kick the horse on its side. Nothing happens. A boy runs to a tree, grabs a branch, and tells me to hit the horse with it. I do, but nothing happens. I try a little bit harder, and he starts into a slow walk. This isn’t so bad. I ride next to another boy on his horse, who is giving me pointers; how to speed the horse up, slow it down, and turn him in the right direction. After a few minutes I feel more comfortable and we begin to trot. My horse continues to pick up speed, and before I know it, my horse is going full speed ahead, leaving the boy and my guidance behind. He’s yelling at me to pull back on the horse. I’m pulling with all of my might, and at the same time squeezing my legs with all of my might in an attempt to stay on the horse. He just keeps going faster and faster though. I fly by villagers and they look amazed, as if I knew what I was doing. I guess they didn’t see the look on my face. He just won’t stop. After what felt like eternity he finally slowed to a walk again. The boy caught up to me and informed me that he didn’t stop because I was holding the tree brand in the air, which signals them to go faster or get whipped. I wish he had told me that before I got on the horse. I survived though, although a much serious threat to my life was later to come that day.
Tom told me to come back in a few days and I can try riding a few more horses, and then hopefully take on home with me. With that I was on my way. Next stop, the airport. I came to the air port and found the only other white man there, laying in the shade on the ground. I assumed this was Doug, John Robert’s father. John Robert’s was a Peace Corps Volunteer on the island of Erromango, the closest island to Tanna. He was killed in November, only 2 weeks away from finishing his service and going home to see his family for Thanksgiving, which he was so excited about. His dad had come to Erromango to visit the village where his son had lived and hopefully give him some closure. But before he headed back home to America, he decided to stop and stay on the island of Tanna. Doug had something that he wanted to see here, and I was happy to join him and some other volunteers to see it with him. Five of us hopped into the back of a truck and started the very long, uncomfortable, dusty, and bumpy ride to Yasur Volcano.
We arrived at Yasur a few hours before sundown. The volcano itself isn’t all that large, only standing at about 1000 feet. For those geology and nature geeks out there like me, Yasur is a cinder volcano, surrounded by a desert of ash which starkly meets with the lush green mountains surrounding it. The contrast of jungle and ash, green and black, is an amazing site. From the truck, I could see plumes of smoke rising from the top. Apparently, the volcano was more active than normal. My lucky day.
As soon as the truck stopped, I jumped off the back and was ready to head to the top. I think I passed a sign filled with warning and cautions, but I ignored it and rushed as fast as I could up the slope. There was a volcano to see! I got to the top, and headed to an area where other tourists had already gathered. Within seconds of arriving at the rim, there was an echoing boom, followed by pieces of molten rock hurled 100’s of feet into the air. I was hooked. At least every minute there would be an eruption. Some bigger than others, most resembling gigantic fireworks that would cause some serious destruction. Between the eruptions, I could hear the lava churn below. The volcano was angry at something, at least that’s the feeling I got.
I quickly grew tired of standing next to tourist and watching these explosions. I wanted a better view. Being that this is Tanna, and there are no such things as safety precautions, you are allowed to go anywhere you want on the volcano. I started wandering, but was told by some friends to stay close by. That settled it; I needed to get closer to the volcano and further from the tourists. I started walking around the rim of the volcano to the other side. As I walked, I kept one eye on the volcano vents, tracking the molten rock flung into the air, hoping that I would avoid meeting it. No need to worry, the lava wasn’t able to reach me from my position, but I figured I would play it safe anyways. After some more climbing I reached a nice point looking down at the vents. I sat down with my camera, mesmerized. Boom. I could feel a small shockwave hit me before I saw the explosion. Fiery orange rock was shot into the air, some pieces the size of me. As the sun went down, the fiery orange color grew in intensity. The vents and smoke rising above them were glowing red. The real show was beginning. I watched the explosions get larger and larger. Sometimes, two vents were erupting simultaneously in a deafening rumble that shook my stomach. Some blasts made the ground shudder; stronger blasts rattled the ground like an earthquake. I wanted to stay all night, all day, and the next night too, but I knew I had to force myself to say good bye to Yasur. I stood up and started heading back towards the others.
And that’s when it happened. An explosion which overwhelmed my sense of sound with the sound of a bomb detonating sent a shockwave that nearly sent me to the ground. The sky was instantly filled with red fire balls; they faced me like a wall quickly closing in. For a fraction of a second after that blast I thought that was the end of this volcano, that it was the end of me. I started back peddling, started to turn and run, and then came to my senses and looked up in the sky, hoping to avoid the molten rock raining down. Up until this point, no lava had reached me, but this burst sent lava clear over my head, 100s of feet behind me. I watched it land, realized that indeed I was alive, and then I began to run, my body full of adrenaline. I didn’t want to stick around for the next blast. As I ran down the volcano I couldn’t help but to stop and admire a giant rock lying on the ground, glowing like an electric neon sign.
My heart was still racing, yet I was laughing. I was laughing and running, thinking to myself, this is going to be even funnier if I finally get off of this thing in one piece. I don’t know why it was funny; I guess I just get my entertainment in strange ways. I met my friends at the bottom, grinning from ear to ear, laughing to myself, and thinking about when I will be able to come back to Yasur again.
