PORT VILA, VANUATU —The hotel phone buzzed at 5:54 a.m. Roused from a deep sleep, 40-year-old Australian lawyer Veronica Riding groggily answered the phone.
“Good morning, madam,” a friendly voice at the other end said. “I gave you my torch last night. Would you mind returning it?”
Riding, her husband, two children and my family of four had arrived late the night before at the Warwick Le Lagon Resort and Spa, one of the five big hotels on Vanuatu’s main island of Efate. The flashlight was a loaner from a porter. He wanted it back. Now.
Vanuatu (van-oo-AH-too) is one of the South Pacific’s rawest vacation destinations. In an age in which travelers expect modern conveniences and fast service, the archipelago is a throwback to an era before free WiFi, legal-liability waivers and Taylor Swift. Its islands offer — and this is why we went — unspoiled tropical landscapes, friendly locals and a heritage that draws upon ancient Melanesian culture, colonial France and famed British explorer James Cook.
A former French and British protectorate, Vanuatu won independence in 1980. Eighty percent of its 250,000 citizens — known as Nivans — inhabit jungle villages spread across 65 islands. A form of pidgin English, Bislama, is the national language. Most families live in thatched huts; bows and arrows are still used to hunt game (including bats known as flying foxes), and children as young as 7 wield sharp machetes against the thick foliage.
Our plan for a week-long tropical break from our home in Australia went wrong before it began. It’s supposed to be a 3 1/2-hour flight from Sydney to Vanuatu’s capital of Port Vila. But Vanuatu’s international airport doesn’t have an instrument-landing system, which means even some large airlines struggle to land during rainy weather, which is common. Our Virgin pilots tried three times before giving up. We then flew to Fiji, refueled and returned to Brisbane, a round trip of some eight hours. (We finally arrived the next evening.)
After breakfast, Veronica’s husband, Alex, checked his young boys into the resort’s child-care center. We took up positions around the main pool, palm-tree-covered island positioned photogenically in the background. After about half an hour, a 3-year-old wandered past. The child, who was unaccompanied, was our friends’ son, who had broken out of Kids Club.
We were barely a day into our vacation, and already we were wondering what was going to go wrong next. The pattern for the week was set: It was gorgeous, exotic, occasionally scary and often farcical. And fun. Mostly.
A wild ride to a volcano
Like other South Pacific island nations, Vanuatu specializes in water sports: snorkeling, scuba diving, fishing, sailing and kayaking. It also has a live volcano.
Mount Yasur is on the island of Tanna, 130 miles south of Port Vila. Four or five tour companies offer trips, and Le Lagon arranged a tour for us through Air Taxi Vanuatu, which describes itself as offering the “best prices” and “strictest safety standards.”
After waiting an hour in the run-down domestic-departure terminal, we were shown to our aircraft. The 1969 single-engine Cessna six-seater was painted yellow in the style of a New York cab. The plane was so old it had a label on the control panel that said: “Smoking is permitted except during takeoff, landing, refueling operations and in emergencies.”
Tanna came into view after an hour, a thick mass of green jungle ringed by cliffs. The runway was paved but not level — we hit a large bump right at the touchdown point.
A couple of SUVs were waiting. We set off into the jungle. The potholed, single-lane dirt track would have done justice to a Guadalcanal supply route during World War II. After an hour and a half, the dense green opened up to a field of gray. We had hit the lava plain on Yasur’s western edge. Orange clumps of lava, long cooled and solidified, emerged from the ash. Then, frustratingly, we returned to the jungle again. The walk up the steep side would have taken an hour, our guides said, so they intended to take us to an easy access point on the other side.
Finally, we arrived. An official Vanuatu post box and a “Think Safety!” sign marked the path to the rim. Our guide merely said: “If you hear an explosion, don’t run. Pull your camera out and look up at the sky.”
On cue, there was an explosion. Rocks were flung up into the sky and fell back into the crater. A shudder of fear raced through our group.
From the SUVs, it was a short walk to the rim. At the top, there were no restrictions on movement — no fences or even warning signs. From the initial vantage point, it was impossible to see the bottom of the volcano’s two craters. Our “guide” sat playing with his cellphone (there was coverage) and offered no advice. A cloud of sulphur wafted over the group, choking my 9-year-old. “Am I going to die?” he asked. (He was fine.)
Because the tour company wanted to squeeze in a scenic flight before dusk, we were told to be ready to leave in 30 minutes. It seemed a little abrupt, given that we would end up having spent more than six hours traveling to and from the place.
I set out along the rim with my son. Steam poured from the craters. Every two or three seconds a low boom sounded, signifying small explosions that threw up glowing pieces of molten rock.
The last time Yasur killed anyone was in 1994, when a Japanese tourist was hit by a rock during an eruption. She wasn’t the only one who died — so did her local guide and driver. But our Nivan escorts said the tourist insisted on going in when it wasn’t safe and was responsible for the death of all three.
I wasn’t so sure. In any environment where life is in balance, aren’t we responsible for our own choices? I pondered this question on the way back to Port Vila, as the Cessna’s fuel gauge showed that both its tanks were almost empty.
After an uneventful landing, I mentioned this to the airline’s chief pilot, who had not been flying our plane. He told me there were 80 minutes of fuel left. “You can’t rely on the fuel gauges in these aircraft,” he said. “Too much fuel is not so good if you crash.”
As I left, our pilot for the flight encouraged me to give feedback on TripAdvisor.
All in all, Vanuatu felt like a first date in high school. Both sides were eager, but the experience was challenged by awkwardness and inexperience.
That said, we had a good time. The children, oblivious to the adults’ frustrations, couldn’t have been happier.
On our last night in Le Lagon, we got a call from the front desk at 4:30 a.m. “Your flight for Sydney leaves at 7 a.m.” the friendly voice said.
“Thanks, but we’re on the 3:20 p.m. to Brisbane,” my wife replied. We rolled over and went back to sleep. They’ll get it right someday.
If you go
WHERE TO STAY:
Warwick Le Lagon Resort & Spa
Elluk Rd, Erakor Lagoon
011-678-22313
A family-oriented resort close to the capital, Port Vila, with a golf course, tennis courts, sailing, kayaking and a swimming pool complex. Rooms from $226.
Holiday Inn Resort Vanuatu
Tassiriki Park
011-678-22040
Also near Port Vila, has a private lagoon, two swimming pools, tennis courts and a golf course. Rooms from $200.
WHERE TO EAT:
Le Jardin des Saveurs
Elluk Rd, Erakor Lagoon
011-678-25405
Regarded as one of Vanuatu’s better restaurants, Le Jardin des Saveurs serves classic French cuisine, including snails. The dining room overlooks the Le Lagon golf course. Entrees start at $20.
L’Houstalet Restaurant
Captain Cook Avenue
011-678-22303
The signature dish of French chef Clement Martinez, who opened L’Houstalet in 1973, is the islands’ Flying Fox. Also serves pizza and traditional French dishes. The casual restaurant has a pool table and bar. Entrees start at $18.50.
WHAT TO DO:
Mt. Yasur Volcano Tour
Air Taxi Vanuatu, Port Vila Airport
011-678-555-44206
A one-hour flight to flight in a light aircraft to the island of Tanna and a two-hour drive to the volcano in SUVs. Tour operators ask customers to arrive at the airport at 7:30 a.m. and aims to return to the airport at 3:45 p.m. $360 per adult and $240 per child, including a simple lunch.
INFORMATION:
vanuatu.travel
