Lords of the Flies

As we made arrival to the isle of Tanaa, the extremely active volcano, Mt. Yasur, greeted us with huge plumes of black smoke rising into the azure sky and its bellows carried across the water and met us with intensity. We made the narrow passage around the coral surrounding the isle and entered the anchorage below the rumbling volcano. Gazing into the steep slopes and verdant jungle, plumes of smoke rose from various points among the hills. Geothermal hot spots oozed smoke above the jungle canopy. The sound of people exchanging conch calls from one side of the bay to the other, carried over the water. I wondered what messages they were conveying. Melanesian women were seen cooking along the shoreline in a boiling, geothermal pool. A small, white sandy beach lay just beyond a labyrinth of coral heads waiting to chew up a prop. Even before stepping foot on her wild slopes, the Skip and I knew we had arrived to a special place, far from civilization and the lives we left behind. Little did we know, how surreal the entire experience would be. We were quick to find that this would be the isle where we could become lords of the flies in our own time.

Tanaa is an isle among a chain of isles called Vanuatu. You won't find wireless here and if you find the one guy with a satellite dish and a television, he will charge you an hourly rate. Well, he charges his neighbors anyway. Malaria is prevalent, will be found, and anti-malarial's are a must. The people are tribal oriented and bound to the land and shores in tradition, ceremony, and work. They are extremely friendly to sailors and are quick to invite people to a Kava ceremony (guys only-and no I didn't go but I heard it was very different than those in Fiji-no talking, Kava powder is mixed strongly with spit of all those participating, and two cups may take down an elephant-no thanks), let you observe ritualistic tribal dance where males wear only grass penis sheaths, or help you make your way up to the most accessible active volcano in the world. If you really extend yourselves, you may just line up a wild boar hunt through the brush as we did by making friends with the local chief, Whery.

The road to Mt. Yasur had been washed out in areas by a major rainstorm storm that hit a couple weeks ago. As we piled into the flat beds of pick-ups, we ascended the jungle road, amazed at the size of the wild Ficus with their aerial roots drooping down and obscuring the sun. Our driver precariously avoided the huge wash-outs in the road while maintaining a pretty good clip. One tire in those massive washouts and we all would have been flying like rag-dolls. Dust kicked up from the road and domestic pigs darted across in front of us, headed to their beds. Epiphytic orchids adorned much of the landscape. As we passed by, people were proud to show off their English skills with a resounding and genuine, "Hello!" As we encroached upon the volcano, the landscape changed dramatically and ash and lava rock dominated the scenery and turned into a moonscape. We hiked only 300 meters and there we were at the edge of the rim, looking down into the abyss of lava. Boom! Boom! The volcano thundered every 2 minutes, sometimes more often, and because of the vertical trajectory of the lava, we were looking directly at and above the chunks of lava being hurled thousands of feet. Truly spectacular and slightly dangerous. From time to time, they do lose a tourist or two here when the rocks take an unexpected trajectory. Four were killed a couple of years ago in one explosion. We stayed into the night to take some delayed-aperture shots. The Skip and I have been lived around volcanoes (he in Hawaii and I, in Costa Rica) and I have to say that Mt. Yasur earns its reputation because of its deep crater as being the most accessible active volcano and therefore quite likely the best way to truly feel what an active volcano is like up close and personal and get remarkable photos. I love an angry mountain and this one has a bad temper. After several hours of jaw-dropping viewing, we reluctantly piled back into the trucks and descended down the mountain and back to the village and our dinghy ride back to the "BEG".

The following day, the village extended an invite to a gift-giving ceremony with dance and blessing of the fleet from the Chief. Boats in the Arc assembled together bags of school supplies, fishing tackle, dive gear, medical supplies, building material, and anything else we could think of that would be hard for them to acquirer. We made our way to shore with bags in tote and were greeted by the village elders singing song and performing ceremonial dance. Entranced by the music and dance, we all made our way to grass veranda. Everyone in the fleet was presented a grass-weaved hat and necklace upon passing into the ceremonial center. Captains then lined up on one side of a grass field and the village patriarchs and matriarchs on the other, gift-bags were walked to the middle and placed down, first by the tribe and then by the Captains. The women of the tribe had weaved together fruit baskets filled with bananas, grapefruit, cacao, and limes and adorned them with a feathered dart stuck into the fruit. Amazing, experience. When the children started to sing, "This Land is Your Land" to lyrics written for Tanaa, some of us actually become a little teary-eyed. Not me, of course. Ha! That evening, the village invited us to a pig-feast of epic proportion. We ate pig, yucca, taro, rice, and various fruits with our fingers while reliving what only occurred a few hours ago and talking about the next venture on this isle. Great time.

The next day, Dad and I had to let our savage inner-souls out and prepped ourselves for the hunt, the kill. Dad, with M-16 bayonet affixed via cable and electrical tape to a short aluminum pole and I with a hunting pack and switch-blade, we picked up Silvio, a Brazilian sailor/hunter aboard "Matajusi" we'd meet the day before and made our way to shore to meet up with a local hunter with dogs for a jungle pig-hunt. Over the course of the next four hours, we covered 4-5 miles through mountainous, jungle terrain chasing the wild boar that reside and do a lot of destruction to crops on the island. Running, walking, treading lightly; we pursued them and managed to take a very small one; perfect for eating. An A-frame pack was made from branches and vines to carry dinner out. Over the course of the hunt, we learned different species of plants to eat, saw hundreds of flying fox bats with a wing-span of 2 feet or more, wore the jungle dirt and mud with pride, and received a great cardio-vascular work-out (well-overdue). For the Skip's birthday dinner, I basted the pig with a special BBQ sweet sauce and baked in whole, with bananas and pears stuffed inside and around the pig with a side of boiled taro and curried rice. The Skip said I out-did myself and Silvio was impressed. Meals are crucial to happiness aboard a boat and I take my cooking very seriously. Thanks! Happy Birthday, Skip!

Today has been a work-day, with this edition of the blog being a nice break. With all the maintenance issues and gift-giving, we have torn the boat apart and are slowly putting her back together. We are still without a water-maker but the good crew aboard "Wild Tigris" offered to bring us some. Let's hope we can get it fixed today or we may just have to take them up on their offer. We are down to 200 liters. Just another normal day aboard the "BEG". No-shower policy in effect and dish-washing is a scientific endeavor. Wind has just shifted and black ash from the volcano is now raining down on the boat. As always love and miss you all. Te amo, Merce. BEG out.
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