It was like looking down through an open portal into another dimension; a hot inhospitable world of absolute chaos.
In February 2019 I flew to the remote Pacific island of Tanna, Vanuatu. Freddie, the hostel owner, picked me up in Lénakel, the largest town and we drove through dense jungle and over barren volcanic plains to his accommodation - The Volcano Roaring Front. Built on the shores of where the lush green vegetation met the lifeless ashen ground that encircled Mount Yasur.
Mount Yasur, the volcano I had come to Tanna to visit, was perfectly framed in the open window of my treehouse. It stood tall and ominous with a permanent plume of grey smoke that dominated the hot tropical sky.
I started settling into my new temporary home when I heard a distant boom like someone had fired a huge cannon from across the plain. The treehouse then began to slowly shake and sway. I glanced up through the open window in a mild state of panic to see a choke of dense smoke rising from Mount Yasur. This was a mere cough from the sleeping giant, a minor eruption that was so frequent that Freddie was oblivious. "Oh, yes that happens all the time," he said smiling acknowledging my concerned face.
Freddie left to allow me to finish unpacking. I continued to stare out the window. "What would happen if Mount Yasur actually woke up?" I thought to myself. Looking at the vast lifeless landscape in front of me, I knew my answer.
The less I know the better
The following evening, Freddie drove me across the plain to the Mount Yasur visitor centre which was built at the base of the volcano. I was surprised to see the centre also had accommodation for those who are brave enough to spend the night there.
A local guide gathered up our group and led us in a seating area. "Let me tell you why I no longer lead tours onto Mount Yasur,” she started, a strange way of breaking the ice with a tour group. “My brother on the east coast, Mount Yasur took him. My brother on the west coast, Mount Yasur took him”. She then revealed her left hand which she had kept hidden behind her back... or rather the smooth stump of where her left hand used to be.
"I was leading a tour with people like you when Mount Yasur erupted." The excitement in the group had dissipated by this point and was replaced with silent horror.
"My friend from Germany, she fell behind, but because she was my friend, I went back to get her" supposedly losing her hand in the process. The details of her story were vague and I was left with many questions; how exactly did she loose her arm? I imagined that she was reaching out to her friend who had fallen down a cravat when a large chunk of scolding hot magma struck her arm. And what happened to the rest of the group? Were they able to sprint away down the ashen slopes dodging the rain of lava to safety, or did Mount Yasur take them like she took her brothers?
But I did not dare ask them. The less I knew about this woman's ill-fated story the better.
She ended her grim introduction with a smile and a request to "leave a good review on trip advisor and make sure you mention me and my interesting story".
liquified fury
Another guide came to collect us and led us to a convoy of off-road trucks that would take us near the summit. This guide was a young man who thankfully appeared both physically and mentally intact.
"Mount Yasur is currently at level 2, which means we can visit her today" he said cheerfully as we climbed into our allocated trucks.
The convoy took us most of the way up Mount Yasur to within a short walking distance below the outer rim. The inner edge of the rim fell steeply into a dark pit shrouded by a thick column of grey rising smoke. A deep boom like a subterranean thunderclap sent a shockwave rippling through the smoke.
The bleak rocky landscape that surrounded us was a mixture of various shades of black. It was a stark and unworldly contrast from the lush green island that now seemed so far below. We continued our ascent along the outer rim until we reached the summit; a small plateau flattened out by the boots of previous visitors.
Here I finally had a clear view down to what I had come to see; the lava lake, although lake sounds far too tranquil for what I saw. It was a black rocky cauldron of boiling magma, constantly churning and bubbling, writhing in unimaginable heat. It was like some satanic scientist had found a way to condense pure fury into liquid.
I felt a strange sense of supernatural terror staring down into the lava lake. It was like looking down through an open portal into another dimension; a hot inhospitable world of absolute chaos.
This orange portal would often open and explode into life hurling a spray of scorching hot magma, the firey chunks cooling as they fell, fading from bright orange to blood red and black, blending into the rest of the black rocks that formed the rim of the bleak cauldron.
I witnessed all of this majestic madness through the magnified view of my heavy telephoto lens and camera; expensive gear I had precariously perched on top of a tripod, its legs slipping on the steep loose gravel. Whilst the sight of the lava lake was incredible, I was constantly terrified a wrong move would send my camera toppling over down the gravelly hill towards the lava, and maybe me with it.
Our guide had mentioned that Mount Yasur was at “Level 2”. I asked him what this actually meant. "Occasionally rocks will land in the car park," he calmly replied with a smile. I didn’t find his answer reassuring as the car park was a long way away, certainly further than running distance.
six Miles under
The guide allowed us to stay for a while until he politely announced it was time to leave and began to pull us away. I could have stayed all night watching the dancing magma. But I was also slightly relieved to leave and return to more stable ground.
I spent the evening staring at Mount Yasur from my cosy treehouse window, in awe of what I had taken in.
How can something so chaotic and terrifying also be so alluring and beautiful? I felt humbled that I had the privilege to witness the exciting inner workings of our planet, a privilege few will ever have. This planet, our supposedly stable home, is really just a thin rocky veneer over a ball of fury. Below our feet is a world of unimaginable chaos and nothing seems the same after you have caught a glimpse of it.
Mount Yasur is one of only four volcanoes in the world with an active lava lake and is quite accessible. If you are in the South Pacific and want to see something amazing and life changing, you should visit Mount Yasur to peer into the window of chaos. (But please be careful.)