Efate and Tanna

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Nearly 1,900 km northeast of Brisbane lies the Melanesian nation of Vanuatu, consisting of 83 islands in an archipelago. It has a population of approximately 340,000. Recently, I took a flight from Brisbane, and in just 2½ hours I was in Port Vila, the capital of Vanuatu. It sits on Efate, the country's third-largest island at roughly 900 square kilometers, and by far its most populous.

I intended to spend a little bit less than two weeks here and visit at least three islands. The national air carrier, Air Vanuatu, had issued me tickets to visit Tanna as well as Aneityum. 

At the airport, I discovered that I did not need a visa, but had to navigate a bit chaotic immigration scene. There were multiple lines, but it seemed like anybody could go in any line. The immigration officers' desks were raised, and one needed to stand on two raised steps to be able to see them eye to eye. Eventually, I got my passport stamped, and I was admitted.

I got some cash from the ATM and was surprised to get crisp plastic bills for 5,000 vatu & 2,000 vatu denominations. Taxis outside quoted 2,500 vatu (about $21 USD) for a trip to the local Holiday Inn 6 km away. I negotiated and the driver agreed for 1,500, but made me wait while he got another passenger to earn him a little bit more fare.

My flight had a delayed start from Brisbane, and by the time I reached the hotel it was almost nightfall. Sunset was at 5:43 PM, and I noticed I came down with a headache, body ache, fever, etc., so I decided to just rest and finally woke up after a long 14-hour sleep.

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The following morning, I felt a little better, I discovered that there was the 83 Islands Distillery, a rum distillery nearby.

Here I was, almost 2,000 kilometers east of Australia in an island nation that appears as little more than a speck of green scattered across the vast South Pacific. Positioned just shy of the International Date Line, the sense of remote isolation was immediate, and I was excited to set off on my very first excursion.

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Set up in 2019, the rum distillery sources its sugarcane and molasses locally and makes a variety of rums which I tasted right after a tour of the manufacturing facilities. It has cultivated about 50 farmers that grow and supply it sugarcane daily.

It was raining outside and I had a great time enjoying 6 different rums, including the spiced kava chili rum, and enjoying some cassava chips and peanuts. I fell into an easy chat with the bartender/guide. Since I was the only tourist on that side of the counter, he poured me a generous taste of their locally distilled cucumber dry gin on the house.

An infographic in the detailed why Vanuatu rum ages so distinctively compared to spirits from cooler climates. Here, the equatorial heat and shifting atmospheric pressures drive an accelerated aging cycle, acting as a natural pump that forces the fresh cane distillate deep into the oak pores and draws it back out. This rapid interaction and controlled oxidation yield rich esters like ethyl acetate, creating bright, fruit-forward flavors. Every single barrel ends up capturing a precise, chemical signature of the island's weather and terroir.

Another display highlighted the historical and agricultural roots of the spirit itself. While mass-market rums rely on shelf-stable molasses, crafting a terroir-driven spirit begins with fresh-cut sugarcane, a plant first domesticated over 8,000 years ago in Melanesia and transported across the Pacific by ancient Lapita navigators. In Efate’s rich volcanic soil, the crop thrives, but distilling from pure juice is an unforgiving race against time: the cane must be crushed and fermented within hours of harvest to capture its wild, grassy, and vibrant profile.

I sat admiring the drenched, vibrant hillside outside the distillery as the rain came down. Little did I know that over the next few days, I would be treated to even more dramatic displays of the island's untamed natural beauty.

My fever returned, and I confined myself to bed up until dinner time. The hotel had a huge dinner buffet that night with barbecued seafood among other offerings. I had an early dinner and went back to sleep for another 14 hours.

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My plan included a flight to Aneityum Island, but Air Vanuatu, the national carrier, called me on the phone saying my flight had been canceled. They offered a flight the following day from Port Vila to Tanna with an overnight stopover, and a flight from Tanna to Aneityum; however, there was no return flight available for the entire duration of my stay in Vanuatu. That was a non-starter. They asked me to look for a ferry or check with Unity Airlines. I desperately called different places and discovered that my Aneityum plans were doomed.

I decided to take it in stride and spend more time discovering Efate, the main island where I was staying, hunkering down for a full week. Despite being grounded by fever, spending those first two days at the Holiday Inn turned out to be an easy place to rest and recuperate. In between long stretches of sleep, I could step outside for gentle strolls along the grounds, soaking in the calm turquoise waters and serene lagoon views.

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I found a place about 10 km southeast of the city in a remote spot with beautiful ocean views called Coco Beach Resort. This time, I discovered the local bus system. There were plenty of them, 15-seater vans easily identified by license plates marked with a red “B.”

Instead of paying close to 3,000 Vatu for a taxi, I caught a bus ride for a mere 300 Vatu. The resort was fairly priced, featuring 16 bungalows scattered through lush grounds. It felt quiet, with only one other guest staying there. Situated right along the shore, the soothing sound of waves lapping the beach provided constant background music. The property itself was framed by a verdant forest of massive trees, climbing creepers, and open grass, making it remarkably tranquil.

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My fever returned, so after sleeping for a few hours, I took a stroll around the neighborhood and found the resort named South Pacific Memories. It was founded and run by a Norwegian who had discovered Vanuatu only a few years prior and decided to make it home. It was an elegant property, costing more than double what I was paying, but they offered a fantastic tapas menu for lunch. I enjoyed a relaxing late meal there before heading back for another 14-hour stretch of sleep.

The following morning, I woke up feeling much better and headed to another neighboring spot, Pacific Cove, which served a sumptuous à la carte breakfast. There were plenty of guests staying there, and I struck up conversations and made a few friends. They gave me a great tip on how to bypass the pothole-ridden roads that usually turned the drive into town into a one-hour ordeal.

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The secret to escaping the rough roads was taking a water taxi. A quick phone call summoned John, who promptly arrived with his boat. For a 1,000 Vatu fare, he whisked me across the water toward town in just 10 minutes, offering stunning open ocean views and vistas of small islands scattered along the way. I passed Iririki Island, completely occupied by an exclusive resort with bungalows dotting the shoreline. Soon enough, I arrived at Port Vila, ready to explore the town on foot.

I walked around and was pleasantly surprised to discover an Indian restaurant named Taste of India nearby. Hankering for something bold and spicy after four days of bed rest, I headed inside and enjoyed a hearty, satisfying meal of a huge grilled Pomfret.

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Energized, I continued exploring on foot until I reached the Cathédrale du Sacré-Cœur, perched on the hillside overlooking the harbor. Its surrounding walls were covered in vibrant biblical murals featuring proverbs and moral teachings inscribed in Bislama language, such as “Respectem ol man...” After taking in the artwork, I wandered further downhill until I came across the Waterfall Café.

There, I discovered kava, Vanuatu’s traditional drink made from pepper root, famous for its deeply relaxing and mildly sedative, numbing properties. 

Taking the same route the following day, I returned to town and continued exploring on foot. I noticed that while many of the local businesses were owned and managed by Australians, they were staffed by warm, local Ni-Vanuatu. Everyone I encountered was remarkably easygoing, polite, and welcoming, both the expatriates and the locals alike. Scattered around town, several casinos were still up and running. Today’s highlight, however, was attending a Melanesian cultural night at The Melanesian Port Vila Hotel.

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After the performance, I headed over to the Waterfront Bar and Grill to enjoy a fantastic fresh seafood dinner right by the harbor before making my way back to Coco Beach Resort.

The following morning, I got an early start and headed to E-Bikes Vanuatu, renting a flashy yellow 100cc scooter from a shop run by an Australian. The scooter was well maintained, and the helmet felt clean and brand new. My host had recommended two key spots to visit that day: Tanna Coffee in Mele, followed by The Havannah.

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Riding on the right-hand side of the road, I made it to Tanna Coffee in just about half an hour. The coffee was rich and delicious, and the setting was pure paradise—tucked away in a lush rainforest right by the ocean. After spending an easy, relaxed two hours taking in the atmosphere, I geared up, hopped back on the scooter, and set off on the long ride toward The Havannah.

Climbing from near sea level up an 800-foot mountain pass along a steep incline, I then descended the winding curves on the opposite side all the way back down to the water. Soon, I arrived at the entrance of The Havannah, an upscale resort set amidst stunning coastal scenery and a lush tropical forest. The long entryway was flanked by massive banyan trees, their sprawling root systems and lush canopy creating an imposing, natural archway.

The restaurant itself was impeccably appointed—a serene, tranquil haven overlooking Havannah Harbour, with a charming little beach tucked right up against the outdoor dining area.

After having a grand meal, I started riding back to Coco Beach, which was a 1½-hour ride away, through a pitch-dark, steep, and winding road through the rainforest. Riding very carefully, I made it back.

Since I was staying on the western coast, the following morning I woke up and, after having a great breakfast in downtown Port Vila at the local café, I decided to ride towards the east to the Blue Lagoon and Eton. I kept riding right next to the ocean, even though the roads were extremely bumpy, unpaved, and filled with potholes.

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Finally, I reached a place named Banana Bay Beach Club, just 2 km shy of Eton. This was a very cute spot set up by an Australian lady who moved there eight years ago and built it up during the COVID shutdown.

After enjoying a nice lunch, I continued riding and decided to just circumnavigate the whole island. Getting back to Port Vila from there meant I would have executed a full round trip around the island, and that seemed like a great adventure to embark on. It was still light at 3:00 PM, and I continued driving through the beautiful scenery of dense rainforest on one side and the ocean with coral strewn beaches on the other. The road was bumpy at times and smooth and paved at others.

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By about 5:30 PM, I was back in Port Vila and felt like the day was well spent having seen the entire island, riding roughly 130 km. I found the Stone Grill Restaurant and was able to secure a spot for dinner. The sunset was right in front of me from my seat at the restaurant, and I was enjoying self-grilled seafood on a hot stone while watching the sun disappear below the horizon.

The following morning was my scheduled flight to Tanna. I woke up at 5:00 AM, returned the rental scooter in town, and caught a local bus to the airport. I checked in by 9:00 AM as instructed on my booking for an 11:00 AM departure. But right at 11:00 AM, an announcement came over the speakers that the flight was delayed by an hour.

Two hours later, the inevitable happened: the flight was canceled entirely. The airline staff promised to call later in the day with updated plans, offering zero compensation for the disruption. Having already experienced their cancellation routine with Aneityum, I had wisely held off on pre-booking accommodation in Tanna, at least sparing my wallet another loss.

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I took a bus back into Port Vila and spent a quiet, leisurely afternoon waiting for updates. Sure enough, the airline reached out to confirm that my flight had been rescheduled for the following morning.

The next day, I repeated the entire early morning routine, crossing my fingers that the plane would actually take off. This time, luck was on my side. Boarding the twin-turboprop ATR-72 plane, we were airborne and touching down at White Grass Airport on Tanna in just under forty minutes.

Spanning roughly 550 square kilometers with a population of around 30,000, the island's premier draw is Mount Yasur, one of the world's most accessible active volcanoes.

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After retrieving my checked backpack from the open-air baggage area, my immediate task was finding lodging. Right outside, I met Charlie, a local operator who was already loading three travelers into his rugged 4x4 destined for his rustic bungalows near the foot of the volcano. Charging 2,500 Vatu for the cross-island ride and 2,500 Vatu per night for a hut, he offered to take me along. I hopped into the truck, and our first stop was a roadside village shop to stock up on bottled water before venturing into the interior.

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An hour and a half later, the first stretch along smooth pavement before giving way to rough tracks of black volcanic sand, we arrived at a lush rainforest grove dominated by massive banyan trees.

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The grounds featured simple, rustic bungalows with one or two beds, along with a handful of treehouses built high into the canopy. I decided to pay extra for a treehouse, which looked directly out toward Mount Yasur and I had a great view. There was no running water, but the view of the volcano rising above the jungle made up for the lack of amenities.

Over an easy chat, Charlie shared his story. A father of four sons and a two-year-old daughter, he had spent the past 13 years hosting researchers from the University of New South Wales (UNSW) in Australia, welcoming them to stay on his land free of charge. In a return gesture of goodwill, the university team was working with his community to install a five-kilometer gravity-fed pipeline from the mountain above. Once completed, it would supply fresh running water to his property and generate micro-hydroelectricity from the natural flow. Charlie beamed with excitement at the prospect; currently, he had to drive his 4x4 down to the river several kilometers away every single day just to fill storage drums and haul them back.

After chatting with Charlie, I took a short nap and woke up a couple of hours later around 3:00 PM. Charlie mentioned that his brother, Philip, was a volcanologist and promised to take all residents on an early 3:00 AM trek up the crater with him the following morning. Eager to make the most of the remaining daylight, I set off on a half-hour walk toward the vast volcanic plain, ducking through occasional passing showers.

Out on the ash plain, I crossed paths with Schwann, a fellow traveler I recognized from the canceled Tanna flight the day before. He was staying on the other side of the island near the airport and had hired Diggi, a 4x4 driver for the day to explore the volcano and nearby sights. They generously invited me along to check out the local thermal hot springs. We drove down to the coastline and took a twenty-minute hike along the shore, watching thick plumes of steam rise from the rocks heated by the subterranean volcanic furnace.

Schwann was eager to reach the crater for sunset, arriving at the official visitor entrance right around 4:30 PM. After they dropped me off at the gate, I began the walk back toward my treehouse. Along the dirt road, I crossed paths with another traveler staying at Charlie’s bungalows who was hiking up toward the entrance on foot. Her ambitious plan was to take in the erupting crater at twilight, return to the village for a few hours of sleep, and head back up at 3:00 AM to witness the volcano at sunrise.

Spurred on by the idea, I changed my mind and decided to join her, but I did not have any money on me. She spotted me the cash. By the time we walked up to the visitor center, the scheduled tour group had already departed. We paid the standard entry fee of 9,750 Vatu each, but we were now on our own to reach the base of the summit, a steep, 45-minute uphill trek through ash.

Luckily, I still had the phone number for Diggi, the driver who had taken us out to the hot springs earlier. I gave him a quick call, and he agreed to drive over in his 4x4 and ferry us up the mountain track. Forty minutes later, we pulled into the upper parking area and tackled the final, steep ten-minute climb on foot to the crater rim.

Standing at the caldera edge felt entirely surreal. At one point, I found myself peering so close into the abyss that a single misstep would have sent me tumbling straight down into the roaring cauldron of spewing magma, a visceral thought that sent shivers straight down my spine.

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The safety guardrail along the rim was rudimentary at best, almost comical in its simplicity. It consisted of nothing more than a lone horizontal wooden beam held up by four-foot vertical posts spaced fifteen feet apart, offering zero real barrier between the spectators and the sheer drop. A crowd of tourists had already gathered along the ridge. Glancing over, the guy standing next to me gave a dry grin and muttered, “Don’t fall in, mate, no one's coming down to fish you out.” It was a grim joke, but looking into the fiery pit below, it felt uncomfortably accurate.

Mount Yasur was deafening. Every few minutes, a violent, crackling roar shook the ground as incandescent bursts of lava launched high into the dusk. As darkness settled, luck was on our side: the prevailing wind blew parallel to the rim where the onlookers were gathered. With each strong gust, thick sulfur clouds parted, revealing dazzling glimpses of churning magma below. Several prepared tourists donned protective face masks, but caught off guard by the impromptu trip, I had nothing. I stood there completely mesmerized by the raw power of the world’s most accessible active volcano, until the breeze suddenly shifted, delivering an intense wave of acrid sulfur fumes.

High on the rim, a bright full moon hung in the night sky, casting a silver reflection across the open ocean in the distance. Having taken in the magnificent spectacle, I made the descent through the ash back to where Diggi was waiting with the 4x4. He drove us through the dark tracks and safely dropped me back off at the treehouse.

Back at the lodge, dinner was served—a simple, comforting plate of steamed rice and vegetable curry, which I rounded out with the crackers I had picked up earlier at the village store.

Before I turned in for the night, Philip stopped by the treehouse to firm up our sunrise plans, telling me to be up and ready by 2:30 AM for the trek back to the crater.

Charlie had reassured me about staying in the open-air treehouse surrounded by dense canopy. He explained that unlike in Australia, Tanna has no venomous snakes, no dangerous spiders, and virtually no harmful critters lurking in the bush. Free from the worry of lethal wildlife, falling asleep to the rustling palms and the distant rumble of the volcano felt surprisingly peaceful.

Right at 3:00 AM, Philip showed up ready to head out. He knocked on the door of the fellow traveler who had joined me the evening before, but having satisfied her curiosity at sunset, she decided to sleep in. The traveler staying in the treehouse opposite mine was feeling unwell and couldn't join either, making it just the two of us. Philip handed me a hard hat and a protective gas mask, and under the narrow beam of my headlamp, I fell in behind him into the pitch-black jungle. As we walked, we chatted about geology; I told him about my past treks to active volcanoes, including Masaya in Nicaragua and the bubbling lava lake of Erta Ale in Ethiopia.

As we walked, Philip asked how my evening had gone. When he realized I had already visited the crater the night before, the atmosphere shifted. I quickly noticed we were cutting along an unofficial, private track rather than the main route. Philip explained that he used to work for the official volcano management company but had left after a bitter dispute, claiming they hoarded profits, starved local families of fair income, and ripped off visitors with exorbitant fees.

However, when it came to settling our own arrangement, the numbers didn't align. I had been told the previous evening that a repeat visit would cost a discounted 6,500 Vatu, but Philip insisted on charging me 10,000 Vatu for his private detour. The mood soured quickly, and neither of us felt like pressing on. We turned around in the dark, and by 4:00 AM, I was climbing back up the wooden ladder into my treehouse bed.

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Waking up at 7:00 AM, I caught the 7:30 AM cross-island transport back toward the airport. I shared the ride with Nik, an adventurous young Slovenian traveler, and Ralf, a veteran Estonian globetrotter.

Crossing back over to the western coast, I checked in to the Tanna Evergreen Resort. Perched right on the water, it offered sweeping ocean vistas where I spent a tranquil evening watching a brilliant Pacific sunset unfold, bringing a relaxed close to the Tanna adventure before my flight back to Port Vila the following morning.

The next morning, the flight from Tanna to Port Vila took off right on time, bringing my Vanuatu journey to a close. Gazing down at the turquoise waters and coral reefs fading beneath the wing, I felt a lingering pull toward this untamed corner of the world.

While I was eager for the next chapter of travels ahead, I couldn't help but feel a touch of melancholy leaving such raw, untouched nature behind, and missing out on visiting Aneityum and Espiritu Santo islands. But in travel, missed destinations simply lay the groundwork for a return.