Tanna, the “Island of Fire” in the Pacific
Updated: 1 day ago
Tanna, Vanuatu — September 12–19, 2025
The time had come. As easy as it is to fall in love with Fiji—with its breathtaking scenery and friendly people—it’s all the harder to eventually leave this fascinating country behind. On the other hand, we were looking forward to embarking on a new adventure and discovering something new. Now things were getting exciting. After spending three days browsing the stores in Lautoka and Denarau and thoroughly restocking our supplies—who knew when we’d come across well-stocked shops again?—and taking a fantastic one-day hike to Mount Batilamu with the “sea nomads” Doris and Wolf in between, Mirko and I felt perfectly prepared for our next adventure. We wanted to take advantage of the upcoming weather window and sail to Vanuatu.
“Vanu… what?” was the most common reaction I got when I told my friends and family where I was headed next. V-a-n-u-a-t-u. No, not Vanatu either, as even Mirko mispronounces it—even now, after the hundredth time. The archipelago is located in the South Pacific, about 200 nautical miles west of Fiji and just a short sail from New Caledonia. Vanuatu has been independent from the United Kingdom and France since 1980 and has been a parliamentary republic ever since. Vanuatu has a population of about 330,000 and consists of 80 islands, 65 of which are inhabited. Most of the islands have many small villages, each home to just a few families. In addition to English and French, there is another official language called Bislama. It’s a really funny language that sounds like a mix of “broken” English and French and is also known as “Pidgin English.” It is thanks to this that people from different parts of Vanuatu are able to communicate at all, because with no fewer than 110 different local languages, communication would otherwise be virtually impossible. Even on small islands that are only a few kilometers wide, each village speaks its own unique language, which often remains incomprehensible to the other residents. This fact makes Vanuatu one of the most linguistically diverse countries in the world. And there’s something else that makes it special: According to the Happy Planet Index, Vanuatu ranks among the happiest countries in the world—not because of wealth, but because of its zest for life, sense of community, and an impressively sustainable lifestyle.
What many people don’t know (even if they’ve come across the name Vanuatu somewhere before): Vanuatu lies on the Pacific Ring of Fire and is therefore located in one of the most active tectonic zones on Earth. There are more than ten active volcanoes—including Mount Yasur on Tanna, Mount Benbow on Ambrym, and Mount Garet on Gaua—as well as several undersea volcanoes. Due to constant earthquakes and volcanic eruptions, the landscape is constantly changing. Some islands rise several meters after an eruption, while other areas sometimes sink below the water’s surface. As a sailor, you must therefore always keep a close eye on the depth sounder, whether during crossings or while anchoring, because Vanuatu occasionally holds unexpected surprises. For example, instead of the 60-meter water depth indicated on the nautical chart, we once found ourselves in only 15 meters of water—still enough, but a sign of just how much these seething giants influence the surrounding area.
To sum it up, the four days and nights of our crossing went something like this: At first we had rough seas with high waves, then the ocean suddenly became almost too calm—no wind—so we had to start the engine, whose hum accompanied us for hours. The weather changed every hour: sun—rain—sun—rain—sun. Fortunately, the sunshine prevailed. We ate a lot of pasta with pesto—the typical crossing meal—and, to my delight, there were still leftovers from the birthday cake from Mirko’s special day, which we had celebrated back in Fiji. When dusk finally fell for the third time, the silhouette of the first island of this country, still completely unknown to us, came into view. Vanuatu lay before us. After three days and nights at sea, we reached Tanna—the start of our Vanuatu adventure.
Als ich an besagtem Morgen aufstand, wusste ich gar nicht, wohin ich zuerst schauen sollte. Im Osten die orangefarbene Sonne, die ihre sonnenstrahlenförmigen Arme direkt aus dem Wasser in den wolkenlosen Himmel zu strecken schien – noch etwas verschlafen, fast gähnend. Und im Westen die Insel Tanna, auf der sich einer der aktivsten Vulkane Vanuatus erhebt: Mount Yasur. Sein ständig aufsteigender Rauch wirkte, als wolle er die tropische Insel in seinen aus dem Krater quellenden Schwaden einhüllen.
Traces of great explorers can still be seen everywhere in Vanuatu. We anchored in Port Resolution—a bay that Captain Cook himself named after his ship when he first landed here in 1774, drawn by the red glow of the volcano, which was very active at the time. The bay lies directly within the caldera of Mount Yasur.
Black beaches, small, scalding-hot springs, and wide rivers as warm as a bathtub that flow directly into the sea. Everywhere, bubbling, steaming holes from which smoke rises between the trees. Soft, iridescent volcanic rock that crumbles beneath your feet. A vast, open field of black ash where volcanic sand whips into your face like in the desert. And winding right through the middle is a small canyon carved out by the volcano itself. You’d think this strange, volcanic landscape would be exciting enough, right? It is, yes. Yet hidden within it all is a fascinating, completely foreign culture that’s entirely different from our own.
What a spectacle; the sun is rising right on the horizon. We saw the volcano, Mount Yasur, from a distance. The Vanuatu flag is raised.
It all began at the anchorage, where we were soon surrounded by a few outrigger canoes—small, slender canoes with a side-mounted outrigger. The curious passengers greeted us warmly but said nothing else, instead silently observing our boat. It wasn’t until later that we realized they were actually just waiting for more canoes to arrive so they could start fishing together using a large net.
On our first walk through the village, we weren’t greeted with the usual enthusiasm we’d come to expect in Fiji, nor were we led to the chief for the sevusevu. The Ni-Vanuatu—as the traditional locals are called—tend to be rather reserved and shy at first. Here, they did greet us warmly with a “Halo,” but after briefly examining our pale skin, they went back to their daily business undisturbed: washing clothes in the freshwater lake (though “fresh” here refers only to the salt content, not to the clarity of the water), catching fish in the same lake (with a slight soapy taste—yummy), cooking in the cooking huts, entertaining a horde of children, building huts, or collecting coral sand from the beach for house construction.
The islanders of Vanuatu mostly live in wooden huts on stilts, with walls made of padanuss mats and roofs woven from leaves—occasionally, a solar panel is even mounted on top. The center of the village is a large square, with one or more churches standing at its edge, from which several paths lead into the maze of houses. The paths are lined on both sides by tall, colorfully blooming hedges, in which small gaps appear here and there, revealing a cluster of houses—a sleeping hut, a cooking hut, an outhouse (toilet), and perhaps one or two other houses for other purposes.
A family meal can be this simple. A local with his outrigger canoe There are already raised beds here, too.
People usually visit Tanna for one very obvious reason: to climb Mount Yasur. The volcano, which even Captain Cook called the “Beacon of the Pacific,” is one of the most accessible active volcanoes on Earth—and it was also at the top of Mirko’s and my list.
Through word of mouth, we came across Donovan while organizing the tour—a young local from a village near Port Resolution Bay. For a few years now, he’s been offering a hike through the villagers’ land to the volcano, where you then spend the night at its base. When we met, he invited us to have dinner with his family. Aside from the… um, “delight” (?) of unidentifiable meat, unsalted rice, and greens with breadfruit—it’s not about the food, but the company, right?—he told us that the money he earns from the tour goes directly toward a project to install a water pump for running fresh water in the village. Donovan believes that the large company that fenced off the volcano is depriving the locals of their land and their share of tourism revenue. That’s why he deliberately avoids the company. This stance has gotten him into trouble several times—he’s been arrested, but never convicted. So his approach can’t be entirely illegal, right?
Convinced that we’d made the right decision in choosing Donovan, we set off one beautiful afternoon: Donovan, his wife Josline, and three boys between the ages of ten and 18 led our small group of six Tamtonga—the local word for “white people”—in single file through the lush jungle for a few hours. They provided us with fresh bananas and coconuts and stopped with us under a huge fig tree so we could swing over the underbrush with a vine, just like Tarzan. The undergrowth seemed almost peaceful until we suddenly felt a loud rumbling—both in our ears and in our limbs. It sounded as if waves were crashing against the reef. Were we near the ocean again? No—that was Mount Yasur’s first welcome! At that point, I had no idea that this was just a small taste of what was still to come.
Two hours later, we left the narrow path—whose tall reeds had blocked our view of the surroundings—and stepped out onto a wide plain. Before us rose a massive, black-gray pile of rubble that rumbled from time to time: Mount Yasur. For at least 800 years, this little giant—barely 361 meters high—has been spewing glowing red, hot lava—and we were now standing right in front of it. Across an ash field flanked on the left and right by impressive, cliff-like lava tongues, we climbed another two hundred meters over porous, black scree and sand up to the smoking crater rim. Yes, we were actually just climbing a volcano like that! I could hardly believe it myself.
The view from above of the black, red, green, and yellow landscape, which seemed to disappear into the endless blue of the sky in the distance, was breathtaking. Equally impressive was the view into the ash-colored crater of the volcano. Despite the cold wind and the biting air, which made me want to cry and cough at the same time, I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the glowing hole deep within the crater. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought this was the official entrance to hell.
We’d been told that Yasur wasn’t very active at the moment, and we hadn’t really held out much hope of actually seeing lava. But when it rumbled for the first time and spewed glowing fragments into the air, an astonished “Woooooooow!” escaped my lips, while the others in the group were left speechless. What an experience! Although it was getting darker and colder, we stayed up there for at least an hour, fascinated and in awe of this force of nature. In moments like these, you realize just how small and insignificant you really are.
A short break before heading up the volcano. Simply impressive: the steaming-hot crater rim. A lava fountain – simply WOW!
Back at the campsite, we wound down the evening around the campfire, shared our provisions, and one of the young tour guides told us a story. Because of his broken English, none of us really understood it, but we all listened spellbound as we stared into the flames. Afterward, we barely slept. I can’t say whether it was because of the thin pandanus mat, through which every pebble could be felt against my back, the heavy plantains for dinner, or the loud rumbling of Yasur, which left me sitting upright in my tent—more fascinated than frightened—as I dozed off. Either way, Mirko and I got up before sunrise and climbed up to the crater once more to witness the Earth’s spectacle live one last time before we packed up the campsite and headed back.
To put it in the words of a true Ni-Vanuatu: The experiences on Tanna were one of my “Nambawan” (Bislama for the English “Number One”) experiences in Vanuatu! Even today, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end with awe when I think about having experienced such a force of nature up close.
While clearing customs under the Swiss flag (which happened to be there—we didn't put it up). The village at Port Resolution from above Port Resolution The natural color palette of the volcanic rock We enjoyed it. Hiking group to Mount Yasur Fortunately, our guide had a high-visibility vest with him. Situation briefing at the campsite. In the background: the volcano. Our tent in front of the volcano Our campsite from above – what more could you need? The route led up over scree to the crater rim. Yasur spat like a world champion. I wonder what you’d pay for a view of a volcano—complete with the accompanying sounds—instead of a s Donovan, our guide And his helper Josline, who accompanied us to the Ash Planes. At 06:00, we headed to the Ash Planes by truck. Wolfi on the black sand dune Mirko actually wanted to be in the picture too. No other people for miles around. Until those two gentlemen appeared out of nowhere. Warmed by the volcano, this wide river was at bathtub temperature. The volcano was surrounded by canyons. This is where the breadfruit is prepared. An induction cooktop is likely not being used here yet. In all its glory: Mount Yasur The sea nomads Doris and Wolfi and the Yum Yum Crew Daniela and Mirko How huuuuge these banyan trees (fig trees) are. Something soooooo delicious: a fresh drinking coconut. Chickens and pigs share their food.
Steam was coming out of every nook and cranny | |
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