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In the Realm of the Giants

14. März
8 Min. Lesezeit


Vanuatu – October 28 to November 16, 2025


Many sailors who—unlike us—don’t want to leave the South Pacific behind for good never make it all the way up to the unknown northern part of Vanuatu. For most, the journey ends at Espiritu Santo. We were therefore just two of the few cruisers who truly came to appreciate the unique characteristics of these remote regions. Here you encounter the giants of Vanuatu: smoking volcanoes, ancient landscapes, the endless ocean—and, on land, those quiet inhabitants you hardly expect to find on such a scale.


Kava, Water Music, and Tradition

Gaua, Banks Islands

The Banks Islands of Vanuatu consist—in addition to a few smaller ones—of three main islands: Gaua, Vanua Lava, and Ureparapara. Each of the islands in the Banks group that we visited differed significantly from the others, both in terms of landscape and culture. Gaua, our first stop, is best known for its traditional villages and wild, unspoiled nature. For us, the island became one of the cultural highlights of our time in Vanuatu.


Right at our first anchorage, Bushman’s Bay, we unexpectedly found ourselves in the middle of a kava ceremony as soon as we arrived on the beach in the dinghy. When Chief Willi welcomed us, he immediately invited us to join in. I hesitated briefly—usually only men are allowed to participate—but he smiled: “Everyone drinks here, and women often enjoy the kava even more.” So Mirko and I lined up with four other people. Across from us, someone was holding a bowl of the green, milky liquid. First, we poured a small sip onto the ground for the ancestors, then we drank the rest of the kava in one gulp. Mirko grimaced as usual, while I savored the spicy flavor that’s so special in Vanuatu.


On Gaua, we also experienced the special tradition of water music. Women adorned with flower wreaths stood waist-deep in the water and created a melody all their own by rhythmically tapping, scooping, and slapping the water with their hands. From the beach, we watched spellbound and listened to the unique sounds. Later, we were told that this art has been passed down from mother to daughter for generations.


Afterward, the men surprised us with traditional music: They dug a hole in the ground, covered it with a wooden plank, and lined up in a circle—one with a drum, the others with bamboo sticks. When the chief began to sing, the drum and bamboo sticks joined in rhythmically, filling the square with a powerful, earthy melody. Finally, we, too, were invited to join in the dance. It was an afternoon full of joy—for us as well as for the villagers.



Hike to Mount Garet

Gaua, Banks Islands


Gaua has an incredible amount to offer, not only culturally but also in terms of its scenery. From Matanda Bay, we set out on a day hike into the heart of the island with Michel, the young chief of the small village. If you look down on Gaua from above (you don’t have to fly into space—Google Earth is more than enough), you’ll immediately spot Mount Garet, the active volcano at the center of the island, whose massive caldera dominates the landscape.


The hike was one of my favorites here in the island nation—though not necessarily because of the trail itself. The underbrush was sharp and left many small scratches on my legs, which resulted in a two-week ban on water. (Scratches + saltwater = ☠️ … long pants instead of shorts would definitely have been better here.) What made it special was our small hiking group—and, of course, the volcano itself. Michel showed us the resources and traditions that shape life on Gaua—from gardening and kava cultivation to the types of wood used for houses, canoes, and ropes. In between, his uncle Roy—an 11-year-old boy (yes, you read that right)—regularly supplied us with fresh coconuts to drink. While we were refueling, Michel tried to shoot birds with his slingshot—without success. Only a few leaves ever rained down on us.


The best part of this hike, however, was the uncertainty. There were no descriptions online and no accounts from other travelers—we didn’t know what to expect, and that’s exactly what made it all the more exciting. After about three hours of walking, we stepped out onto a wide, open meadow, completely unaware of what lay ahead—and suddenly, the full splendor of the landscape unfolded before us. Mount Garet, a picture-perfect volcano, stood smoking in the center of its caldera, shaped over centuries. At its feet lay Lake Letas, Vanuatu’s largest freshwater lake. Its deep-blue, gently rippling surface seemed unreal, and the sight had a fairy-tale quality. At that moment, I could have sworn I was standing in front of a giant painting.



(No) Crocodiles in Sola

Vanua Lava, Banks Islands


From Gaua, it was a day’s sail to Sola on Vanua Lava, the main town of the Banks Islands. Here we found ourselves in the only part of Vanuatu where crocodiles live—and not just any crocodiles, but saltwater crocodiles, which are considered the most dangerous species of crocodile in the world. But it wasn’t just the giant reptiles that made sure we didn’t stay long in Sola. Aside from the necessary formalities, there was nothing particularly exciting to do, nothing really good to eat, and nowhere decent to shop. It was only by sheer luck that we didn’t have to set off for our next destination—an uninhabited atoll—with nothing but corn, canned tomatoes, and a breadfruit. A local was so eager to get a few kilos of our freshly caught marlin that he promptly organized an entire wheelbarrow full of vegetables and fruit from various private gardens for us. Then it was “Anchor up!”—and we left the choppy anchorage of Sola to sail to Rowa Atoll, just a few nautical miles further north.



Between Work and Adventure

Rowa Atoll, Banks Islands


Rowa was our first real atoll in Vanuatu—crystal-clear water, daily snorkeling, evening campfires on the beach, and island explorations. The uninhabited atoll consists of several shallow motus surrounding a vast, sheltered lagoon. The total land area of all the islands is only 0.1 km²—a lot of water, very little land.


Even though we were busy around the clock—repairing, tinkering, patching, washing, and cleaning—we had a wonderful stay in Rowa. First, Mirko took care of the clogged and leaky portside toilet, then the toilet pump. At the same time, we made mosquito nets for the hatches, repaired a broken fan and the broken sewing machine (which, however, is still acting up), replaced various gaskets, and installed an additional sun awning. We also adjusted the lines for the Code Zero sail and, as usual, did laundry and housework—so much for “living like you’re on a permanent vacation,” ha.


Mirko had to experience his first underwater adventures without me—after all, I was still not allowed in the water. So every day, I had to squeeze myself into rubber boots, which was a real struggle, just to stay dry—not even the small holes in my already brittle boots really helped against the heat that built up around my feet. Nevertheless, we enjoyed every minute of our stay on Rowa.



Anchoring in an Extinct Volcano

Ureparapara, Banks Islands


Less than 11 nautical miles from the atoll, we then anchored at a very special place. Here lies an island deeply shaped by its volcanic past: Ureparapara. What makes the island unique is its crater. Where magma once bubbled and lava flowed, the ocean’s waves now crash against the shore. Many millennia ago, part of the crater rim collapsed, forming a large, shallow lagoon connected to the sea through an opening on the eastern side. Anchoring in an extinct volcano like this was a completely new experience for us as well.


As peaceful as it was in Rowa, the atmosphere grew all the more bustling as we approached Ureparapara. Only about 300 people live here, spread across three villages. Yet it seemed as though there was a veritable bustle of activity. Rona, a 31-year-old mother of four, guided us through the village: past traditional wooden houses roofed with banana and pandanus leaves, along colorful flower hedges, and across small, lovingly built wooden bridges. The residents greeted us warmly and welcomed us—some remained lying in their hammocks, others tended their gardens, made coconut oil over an open fire, or were building a new house. If it weren’t for the solar panels glinting on the roofs from time to time and that one Starlink dish towering above the houses —which probably tempts the occasional villager to constantly watch nonsensical Reels on their smartphone via the free Wi-Fi—I would have believed I was in an open-air museum where you can observe what life might have looked like thousands of years ago.



The Giants of Isolation

Tegua, Torres Islands


In contrast to the Banks, the Torres Islands seemed almost deserted. The archipelago is the northernmost and, at the same time, the most remote part of Vanuatu. Fewer than 1,000 people live on its approximately 118 km²—about seven per square kilometer. We didn’t see a single one of them, but we saw all the more animals.


While snorkeling in Ngwel Bay near Tegua Island, we encountered a beautifully shimmering cuttlefish—a true rarity—as well as a family of eagle rays, amidst colorful reef fish and grim-looking groupers. Several eagle rays, each with slightly different patterns, glided leisurely through the anchorage beneath the Yum Yum until the smallest of them—the baby ray (aaaaaaw)—suddenly spotted something exciting and curiously drifted away from the group. We could actually watch as the mother ray set off a short while later to retrieve her little one.


A surprising encounter with wildlife awaited us on land as well: coconut crabs. Although we’d heard there were supposed to be many of them here, we were still amazed at how many we actually spotted in the thicket, on the damp ground, and among the moldy coconuts. These gigantic crabs are the largest land-dwelling arthropods in the world, and until then, they had been nothing more than a myth to me. Coconut crabs have an incredible leg span of up to one meter and can even climb palm trees to harvest and crack open coconuts. They can also live up to 60 years.


The first one was still a baby. To protect its soft body, it was still living in a shell—like a hermit crab—and hiding in a tree hollow. The next one was already much larger, without a protective shell; its shimmering blue carapace stood out clearly against the ground. What beautiful creatures! Soon we spotted many more of these mostly nocturnal crabs, some of them in the middle of lunch—they barely noticed us.


The Grand Finale

Hiu, Torres Islands


The grand finale of our Vanuatu trip, however, awaited us out on the water: a pod of at least 50 dolphins that we spotted just as we were about to set off from our anchorage in Yeu Metenia Bay toward Hiu Island. Excitedly, they swam alongside our dinghy, leaping out of the water in front of us and whistling to one another in their own dolphin language. It was overwhelming.


But the very best was yet to come: we swam with them! Of course, we didn’t let this opportunity pass us by and jumped into the crystal-clear water with our snorkels, masks, and fins. Experiencing the animals so close up and free in their natural habitat was a once-in-a-lifetime feeling. I was finally able to check off an item on my bucket list that had been there for a long time: swimming with dolphins.








 
 
 

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