The airport in Tanna is a pretty simple open-air affair.
The pickup that brought me back to the airport. Yes, he parked on the grass. Yes, there was a parking lot just to the right of the picture. No, I have no clue why he felt it necessary to park on the grass when other vehicles were parking in the lot.
The landing strip and pad.
A little door goes through to the departures lounge.
We flew back on an old beat-up 18 seat airplane.
I sat directly behind the pilots. No safety briefing happened in this plane!
And away we go back to Efate Island.
The boat from Port Vila on the way to Tanna. The crossing takes about 14 hours in good conditions. Some hearty souls take this option to go to Tanna.
Another island.
Coming into Port Vila. The harbor and marina are in between the two bits of land.
After spending a few hours drinking Tusker, the local beer, I boarded a flight back to Sydney. Goodbye Vanuatu! I hope to return someday soon!
Driving up the flank of the volcano to a small armada of parked pickups.
The moonscape.
As we drove past, hisses were heard and hot steam and gas shot out of the embankment at our vehicle. The driver quickened the pace lest the paint get damaged from the noxious gas.
The path to the crater rim.
Yes, you can send a postcard from the volcano.
The route to the top. I quickly abandoned the tourist route and walked along side where the guides walked. It was much easier going.
An assembled host of tourists had come to watch the eruption.
An ash cloud rising up from the caldera.
Douglas Versus the Volcano.
An ash plume soars skyward.
An ash plume escapes the volcano.
Another plume of ash rises to blanket the land beyond with fine volcanic love.
The people in helmets were highly prepared and never left their perch. Some of us were slightly more adventurous and decided to go into the crater for a closer look.
Magma shooting up from the caldera.
Mount Yasur showing its stuff during daylight hours.
Before most blasts of ash or fountains of lava, the volcano would start roaring like a jet engine.
We walked a ways along the crater rim to where we could look directly into the caldera. The guides and guards didn’t seem to mind. But they didn’t follow us either.
Dusk approaches the island of Tanna and Mount Yasur.
More rumblings in the night.
It was rather difficult to capture the true awe-inspiring beauty and raw power of Mount Yasur with my puny camera. The magma was flying well over 1000 feet up from the crater rim. Chunks of the lava hit the opposite side of the crater and often were propelled down the flank of the mountain. We were glad that the wind was to our backs to keep molten rock the size of school buses from hitting us.
I could have stood at the volcano’s edge watching the eruption all night but eventually and with great reluctance we headed back to the truck and rode on to the bungalows for dinner and a night of sleeping to the gentle sounds of the wind and the waves. If I ever go back to Tanna, I want to stay for at least a week to really enjoy the island and have more opportunities to witness the volcano’s might and destructive capacity. Hopefully I get the chance to make it back.
The path down from the bungalows to the beach leads through a dry ravine cut into the ash deposits.
A deserted beach perfect for strolling.
A dugout canoe complete with outrigger pulled up after a day’s fishing.
A fishing hut.
Another canoe in the grass.
Standing in the sea.
A coconut prepares for a voyage of discovery across the Pacific.
Cook’s Hat Island.
More canoes pulled up for the day.
Climbing the path back to the hotel. A German bartender who works half the year in a ski resort in Austria and a Sydneysider who works at one of the universities joined me on the outing. The German bartender’s girlfriend stayed back at the hotel for a nap.
