Manaro Hike

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my sister, she has good timing. this is the last of the blogs that i had, and sure enough, i had an e-mail telling me i had mail in the university post office! (for those of you who know me as well, i too LOVE LOVE LOVE getting mail and would most graciously share my dorm address) anywho, there a beautiful, padded envelope awaited. full of a jump drive, letter, bookmark collaged for me by sher, and picture drawn for me by aldayer. yes, i had to use a tissue. enjoy - b

2 September 2009

After the G.A.D. Camp and before we could leave Ambae, there was one more adventure calling our name. Ambae is known for Manaro, a volcano that probably created the island. The hike to the top is notorious for being a long, challenging trek that is also surrounded by lots of custom stories and beliefs. The main one is that when they die, people’s spirits go to the top of Manaro to dance and be for the rest of time. It is a very sacred and taboo place for the people of Ambae.

So, the day after the camp wrapped up, six of us volunteers headed “on top” to a village called Abunga. There we had made arrangements to stay at a guest house that was set up especially to board potential hikers the night before their long journey. The people there were very accommodating and used to both English and French speaking tourists. It was possibly a nice break for them when we insisted that we wanted to eat “aelan kakae,” or local foods, and not rice and tinned meat. We enjoyed storying with them about our respective sites. It was also a special time for me as Abunga is the home village of my host mother on Maewo. She married and moved to Maewo, but her parents and brothers still live on Ambae. I got to meet a whole other set of extended family by having people come up to Justin and I and claim, “Mi mi wan bubu blong yu” or “Mi mi wan brota blong yu” (I’m a grandpa of yours / I’m a brother of yours) once the word spread who my host mother was. Justin must have made a good impression on the people as well as one man decided to adopt him into his family. This happens fairly often in Vanuatu, especially if a couple is from two different islands. That way, if they are visiting family on one island or another, the one who is not a native of that island still has family to turn to. So, if Justin and I go to visit my host mom’s family on Ambae, he too has a host papa to hang out with.

Even though we were excited to meet and greet new faces, most of us were exhausted from the weeks’ camp. I was rather sleep deprived, having stayed awake with the rat stampede the past five nights. There were three small, one room bungalows built of local materials for us to sleep in. One of them was already occupied, and since our group consisted of two couples, they pitched a tent and asked for two of us to sleep in the tent, apologizing that they didn’t have enough houses. I was excited by the idea of being able to zip the rats out of my sleeping bubble, so Justin and I opted for the tent. They laid out foam mattresses for our beds and I crashed out right away, woke up for dinner, and went back to bed. We planned to get up at 5:30 the next morning to get started on the hike.

We were off and hiking by 7:00 the next morning. The guest house set up a tour guide for us, who was also a relative of mine, and parceled up some leaf “pack lunches” for us to eat on the road.

The first quarter of the hike was cleaned exceptionally well. The bush was trimmed and the path was wide enough for us to pass along the trail without being attacked by mysterious jungle flora. But after about an hour or so, we got a little more up close and personal with our surroundings. The hike didn’t seem too steep, but there were lots of fallen trees, soft mud and overgrown places for us to maneuver around. I enjoyed the slower pace that our group seemed to assume so that I could check out all the unique flora: lots of ferns, mosses, banyan trees, and others that seemed to grow in layers upon layers and create funky forms that I thought were only possible in the world of Dr. Seuss. There were enough shades of green to constitute an entire 68 pack of crayons and then some. We were fortunate too for the multitude of vines and branches that blocked most of the sun from our path. Hiking under the cool shade was much more pleasant than having the scorching sun beating down on us would have been.
At one point in the hike, we crossed a fresh water stream that was about two feet deep. It was crystal clear all the way to the bottom. Our guide recommended we fill up our water bottles there, so we did. Looking back on it, I marvel at how none of us second guessed the water’s drinkability. I remember all the fancy water filters and refining systems that I thought would be so handy in times like these, but of course didn’t have anything of the sort on my person, and even if I did, probably wouldn’t have felt it necessary. My skin must truly be turning black, inside and out.

As we romped along, our guide was incredibly patient. As true to local guides in most scenarios, this guy was fit. He most definitely could have made the hike in less that ¼ of the time it took us. But he never seemed impatient to move on and kept himself busy cutting everyone a walking stick, and even replacing them with “better” ones from time to time. At one point, just for his own amusement I’m sure, he whacked off the end of a random, green-root-plant-tube thing and watched our reactions as a thick, clear goo came sliding out the open end.

Eventually, six hours later, we climbed up and out of a steep, stone path that seemed to be a river bed and into an eerie, flat field of ferns and mist. After a few moments in this new setting, I realized that what punctuated the eeriness was that there were no other forms of plant life besides the ferns and these white trees that were stripped of leaves, bark, vines, moss, and other layers of vegetation that had so copiously covered the other trees we had been staring at for the past six hours. In fact, this place was victim to volcanic activity in 2005, the last time that Manaro “fired up.” Since then, scientists have visited the site and confirmed that the volcano is dormant and will not have activity for some time. But, what I relay here is all word of mouth, so if you’re really curious about this particular volcano, you should do a little extra research (and let me know if I should steer clear of Ambae in the next year of my service).
We walked to the edge of the field and looked out over a fern covered drop off to see the edge of a lake and more clouds. I was confused. Wasn’t this supposed to be the top of a volcano? Where was the steam? The spurts of angry lava? Wouldn’t we at least see the opening of where the lava flows could come out? Our guide explained that, out of respect, the volcano rarely showed himself openly to newcomers. He said we should “tinktink gud” (can I translate this as ‘think happy thoughts’?) and relax, eat our lunch, and see if the clouds cleared. So six hours of hiking could potentially climax in looking at a cloud covered body of water.

We opened up our leaves and dug in to our lunch of taro and instant noodles. Truly, the conversation and tone of lunch was rather positive and, sure enough, about twelve bites into lunch the clouds cleared and we were treated to a fantastic site. The volcano’s cone is surrounded by a lake. Clouds and steam constantly gather around the opening and give it a magical ambiance. There is also an island, which our guide said was formed by the 2005 eruption. He said that there used to be a boat to take hikers closer to the volcano’s cone, but acid in the lake’s water started to eat away at the boat and it was moved to the volcano’s second lake (Another hike, another day. We didn’t make it to the second lake, but have heard that it is fresh water so you can drink and swim there). He was adamant that if we wanted pictures, we should stop eating and take them now, because this could be the only time that the volcano decided to show himself to us. We took a few shots and settled back into eating. Actually, the clouds came and went during our entire thirty minute lunch break and we were able to see the cone off and on about five different times.

As we packed to go, our guide made sure we left nothing behind. Even our lunch leftovers and their leaf wrappers could not be left at the sacred peak of Manaro. We would dispose of them back at the guest house. The six hours down were rather grueling. Again, not because of the slope of the hike so much as the tedious work to plan each step around the dense vegetation, pesky roots, and fallen limbs. We hiked the last hour in the dark, working hard to keep our attitudes positive and spirits high and taking lots of water and snack breaks. My muscles weren’t necessarily sore, but my feet were heavy and my mind was shot. It was the longest, most tedious hike I have ever completed and I was thankful that we did, in fact, get to see the volcano’s cone. The hike could have been much more miserable if it had not been for that fantastic site held in our memories from the top.

The next day, the six of us were content to be bums all day. We spent the day at another volunteer’s house just lazing around and snacking. Three of the girls wanted to get custom tattoos to commemorate the hike. They called up a guy who had done tattoos for Peace Corps Volunteers before and asked if he could come by that afternoon. He agreed and I was excited to get to see how this process actually worked.

The tattoo artist’s name was Bob. He showed up to the house with supplies that he had mostly gathered from nature: thorns from an orange tree, soot from the inside of a kerosene light, and a handful of deep purple leaves. As he chatted with us, he started rolling the leaves in his palms and squeezed their black juice out into a plastic lid. He had made 17 custom tattoos before and liked telling us stories about all of them. He called it “putting his mark” on someone and considered it a special bond.

The road to Minaro tattoo is two parallel lines that sort of look like an equals sign. He first drew the tattoo on the skin with the juice from the leaves and made sure it was where they wanted it before started in with the permanent process. Then, he used the thorn to poke the skin and continue working the leaf juice into the design. At the end, he finished by wiping the ashes into the scar and letting it dry that way. He told the girls to put coconut oil on the new tattoo to keep it from drying out.

Since I had just got a tattoo in New Zealand and hadn’t even thought about if and where I would ever get another one, I passed this time. Though it would have been a quite a bargain. For this last minute tattoo appointment, the three girls paid Bob with a t-Shirt, a beer, and 1000 vatu (about $10) total. The process seemed very clean (yes, he used a new thorn on each person) and he was clearly confident and experienced at his work. I have seen other custom tattoos that have a more gray-green coloring to them, but he was proud to announce that he was the only person he knew that used that specific leaf to get a black color.

Proud of their new memory of Ambae, the newly inked girls decided to remember “Let go of all your expectations” each time they looked at their tattoo. A great perspective to have for many occasions in life.

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Photos

The Group
The start of our hike up Manaro.

Bush Trail
The plants probably would have like to reclaim the trail as their own.

Green-ness
So many shades of green. Justin likes these caterpillar curly-q looking plants in the foreground.

Is this it?
It was possible that this was the only vista we would get of the volcano.

Lunch Time
Eating in the clouds.

The Cone
Our group with Manaro's cone in the background.

Custom Tattoos
One of the PVC's getting a "Road to Manaro" custom tattoo. Notice all of Bob's supplies in the background.

Proud of his work
Bob wanted to make sure we got a picture of him with the finished product.

Comments

[Tarimauri]

What an experienced
Congratulations to the team who has made it to the manaro lake. I mean all credits must be given to you for the choice you made to visit this mysterious manaro lake, which have been held close to the heart of most of Ambae inhabitants.