The fuggy tropical heat was becoming increasingly oppressive as we jumped ashore, onto the rugged lava coast. It was a humid sultry day typical of this area of the tropics. We had journeyed by small boat about half an hour from the northern Ambrym village of Ranon to the even smaller village of Ranvetlam, passing a small local steamer loading a bags of the locally produced copra.
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| A small copra boat off the island of Ambrym |
The day before we had travelled in the same small boat, across the Strait between Ambrym and the neighbouring island of Pentecost. Here, on a remote beach, we had been met by a lone young man, proudly sporting a T-shirt with the inscription of ‘Ponwaha Assoc. Tour Guide’. Shyly he announced that his name was Arthur (Ata) and he was to lead us to the village of Wanur and he would be our guide for the day. Chief Paul, wearing just his ‘namba’ or penis sheath, greeted us on behalf of the people of Ponwaha District and we were then led to the ‘naghol’ site. This ceremony, precursor of the modern bungy-jumping craze, has been enacted on Pentecost since time immemorial. A structure, an intricate scaffold of branches and saplings, lashed tightly together by strips of hibiscus bark, is erected, probably 20-30 metres (up to 100 feet) high.
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| The 'naghol' tower from which the Pentecost Island 'land-divers' will jump |
There are platforms of varying height on this structure culminating in a single platform right at the very top. Here young men of varying ages, out to prove their manhood, tie flexible vines around their ankles and leap off, plummeting head-first towards the well-dug earth at the base of the tower, trusting that the vines will soften the impact with
terra firma.
Village women, enthusiastically cheering and singing, provide the encouragement. No stigma is attached to any young man who is unable to jump – we saw one youth abort that morning. Only one man can leap from the highest platform, and after the successful completion of his jump, he is carried triumphantly, shoulder-high, around the gathering. We felt privileged being the only outsiders at this particular ceremony and after a meal with Chief Paul, of chicken,
laplap (the local specialty of grated manioc or taro, wrapped in a banana leaf and cooked with chicken, vegetables, coconut milk etc. – ingredients do vary) and rice (no fresh fruit was available at the time of our visit as a recent hurricane had devastated the island's fruit trees), we embarked on our return journey, across a ‘lumpier’ sea to Ambrym.
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| Landing on the soft ground after the jump |
Today our experience was to be quite different. We were to climb up the 1334 metre active volcano of Mt Marum. As our boat arrived off Ranvetlam, the landing on the rocky coast, by way of a small surge pool, was the first obstacle. The last big eruption on Ambrym which had affected the coastal villages was in 1913, although there had been several smaller eruptions involving lava extrusions since then. The striations and swirls of classic pahoehoe lava flows are still very apparent in the coastal rock. The two volcanoes, Marum and Benbow, rest, brooding upon the skyline, fumes and ash often spilling down to the coast and out to sea. The rising and falling of the oceanic swell assisted our disembarkation, although great care still had to be taken, but was overcome without mishap. The village of Ranvetlam is about a hundred metres from the coast and we soon found our guides. After a short delay we were led out of the village by our guides accompanied by their dogs. The path wove its leisurely way through the village taro gardens, and small banana and pawpaw groves. In the largest coconut grove was the village’s copra-drying oven. Although copra is not as much in demand as it was in the past, a small amount is still produced, hence the small ship waiting offshore.
After crossing a small stream the path became steeper and we began the climb up to the caldera rim and the ash plain of the interior of the island. As we struggled upwards the day become hotter and the intense humidity did not help. Very soon we were strung out, the fitter members of the group keeping pace with the guides, the rest of us strung out, huffing and puffing, behind. After an hour or so a halt was called at the site of an old village. The clearing, now being reclaimed by the rainforest, showed little evidence that it had once been a vibrant village. All that was now left were a couple of deteriorating tam-tam (slit drums) lying in the undergrowth. Refreshments were by way of green coconuts cut from nearby palms – even the dogs were treated to coconut flesh which they ate with gusto.
We pressed on and every so often, through gaps in the forest we could see the coastline of Ambrym opening out before us, but we also couldn’t help noticing the heavy clouds gathering around the summits of both Marum and Benbow – and soon the rain came, a heavy, warm tropical rain which, although making the track greasy and slippery, did bring a welcome respite from the high humidity. Eventually, after several further stops to catch our breath, we crossed the ancient caldera rim and descended onto the black ash field which covers the inner crater of Ambrym. We passed isolated islands of vegetation, scattered over this mainly desolate black stony plain, as we walked on.
After an hour or so walking across the black lava we reached a spot that our guides had decided would be our overnight campsite. Fortunately the rain had now stopped and tents were erected. After a welcome rest for an hour or so, we set off again at about 4.30pm, this time carrying just a small day bag and a camera, now heading towards the summit of Mt Marum. Every so often fumes and smoke would drift in our direction, but on the whole a gentle breeze kept the fumes away. After half an hour we began more serious climbing, or perhaps clambering would be the operative word. Vegetation became sparser and the crumbly lava rock steeper and sharper. This was not helped by the fading daylight, but as the light faded, up ahead we could see the ethereal glow cast by the fires within Marum.
The last few hundred metres seemed to take forever and a final encouragement before finally we all stood atop the crater rim. The view before us was hard to describe. A brilliant red glow lit the night. As we inched closer to the crater rim, the red intensified, becoming bright, turning to orange and yellow with touches of purple until right at our feet, some 500 metres below, we could see a seething mass of molten magma, surging, bubbling, boiling, roaring, a sight somewhat reminiscent of the final scene with Gollum in the
Lord of the Rings when he falls, clutching the 'One Ring', into the fires of Mt Doom. The site was both terrifying and fascinating - there appeared to be nothing between us and these subterranean fires, not even a ledge or outcrop to break a fall. Every so often, pungent chest-tightening fumes would drift towards us. Instinctively I moved back, but still felt drawn to look over the edge once again, to peer deep down into the vent known as Mbwelesu. Perhaps this was the entrance to Hades!
After 30 minutes on the crater rim we felt it was time to head back to camp – a slow process, scrambling carefully down the steep lava escarpments, scoured out by the recent heavy rains. The night sky behind us was lit, more brightly now, by the angry red fires of Marum. No other light split this dark night, few stars could be seen through Marum’s smoke, but it was a welcome camp that we finally reached. Tomorrow was another day and we would retrace our path back to Ranvetlam on the coast.
© Neil Rawlins text & photography
From my ebook
A Stone from Anzac Cove & Other Travellers Tales, available from Amazon ebooks
