My Crazy MS Life: Trekking the Grand Manaro Volcano, Ambae Island, Vanuatu

When my kids were still babies, I used to secretly use their stroller as a walking frame to help keep me upright and stop me from stumbling and falling over when I went on my daily walks. Numerous MS attacks had left me almost incapacitated - both my left leg and my right arm were weak and semi-paralysed. I would have never imagined at that stage in my life that I’d end up climbing the biggest and highest volcano in Vanuatu. In fact, the only future I could see for myself then was being confined to a wheelchair in a nursing home, figuring out how to feed myself with a broken body. Just goes to show how adopting a “master of disaster” mindset and a “never say die” attitude can radically alter your future outcomes.

The Call that Changed it All

So how did I end up on Ambae Island, better known as the fabled island of Bali Hai in the hit 1950s musical South Pacific and in James Michener’s book Tales of the South Pacific, risking my life to stare directly into the bubbling, seething vent of a live volcano? Good question …. 

It all started with an early morning message from my friend Kathy.

“I’m going to hike the volcano on Ambae Island. There are a few spots left on the plane but we leave in an hour. Want to come?” 

At the time I was living on Espiritu Santo, the largest island in Vanuatu. My daughter Elle was visiting me from Australia. Climbing Mt Manaro was on my bucket list of things to do in the island archipelago despite knowing it was a monster volcano that rose 4km from the ocean floor. Luckily only 1500m of it was above water level, however the weather on its summit was as unpredictable as its geological foundations. 

The good news was, I’d long since gone into remission for my MS and had been working hard to make my body stronger and more coordinated in an effort to reverse my lingering balance issues and take on bigger challenges. I was doing yoga and weight sessions daily and on the weekends I would jump on my mountain bike and head for the hills.

“Are you up for an adventure?” I asked her. She nodded, excitement etched on her face. “We’ve got three minutes, get packing”.

Ambanga Village and the Kill Zone

Two hours later we were bouncing along in a 4WD on rough dirt road on Ambae, heading for the tiny village of Ambanga. Our plan was camp there the night then summit the volcano the next day. We would then set up a tent inside the caldera for the second night, technically in the kill zone, in the hopes of experiencing a live volcano up close and personal.

The volcano was at Level 2 - active but not erupting - and we all hoped it would continue to stay that way for the next two days. But of course, like any live volcano, things could change quickly. And in 2017 they did, following a series of increasingly active minor eruptions. When lava began spewing out of the vent on the top of Mt Manaro into the surrounding crater lake, it super heated the water causing a series of violent explosions. Huge ash clouds were ejected into the atmosphere and it rained black ash for days. All 11,000 people on the island were evacuated, and only started drifting back six months later when it was deemed safe. The last minor eruptions had occurred around four months ago. 

A Chiefly Welcome

We were greeted at Ambanga village by children and teachers from the local school and by the chief himself. They sang and danced and presented us with small gifts, island kai kai (local food) and colourful woven pandanus mats before leading us to our basic homestay. As I lay there in the dark, I thought about my journey and how far I had come. 

In particular I thought about one incident that happened when I was 32 years old. It was only a few years after being diagnosed with MS. I was on a holiday to the Mornington Peninsula with my family and decided to walk down the beach with my kids in tow. As the day heated up however, my nerves began to short-circuit and I collapsed, unable to walk any further. My kids dragged me into the water to cool me off, knowing this would help relieve the severity of my MS symptoms. And then with their help I managed to stagger back to our campsite. My husband was livid. 

“What were you thinking”, he yelled at me. 

He couldn’t understand why I’d put myself and the kids through such a crazy ordeal. In turn, I was furious at him. 

I yelled back, “Don’t you understand I will never stop trying to live a normal life?” 

But deep inside, I hated what was happening to me and I felt powerless to stop my slow deterioration. 

This time though, things would be different. This time I was ready. I had no doubt it was going to be a hard and challenging climb but I was fit, strong and determined and had bucketloads of resilience and courage on my side. I wasn’t about to let my friends and daughter down.

The Ascent

The next morning we rose early. Our guides, Justin and Eric, and porters, Joanna and Johnny, led us through lush rainforest and along steep ridges. The path was precarious at times, a single misstep could spell disaster, but our guides were always ready to catch us and steady us, especially me (although thanks to MS I consider myself a professional faller—if falling was an Olympic sport, I’d take home the gold).

The trail had not been used in many months and our progress slowed as our guides used bush knives, machetes, to clear the path. Joanna, small yet incredibly tough, managed a hefty load of root crops tied in a sarong on her head, all while wearing simple sandals. The other porter was barefoot. As the saying goes in Vanuatu, they were “tuff tu mas” - tough too much - and their fortitude, strength, resilience and unwavering joy was inspiring to me.

Into the Moonscape

After a sweaty six-hour journey, we emerged from the rainforest into a stark volcanic moonscape. The lush greenery gave way to barren terrain sculpted by years of ashfall and lava flow. The signs of the 2018 eruption was evident in the scorched landscape, all that remained were the skeletons of thousands of trees.

As we continued across the crater ridge, the challenges of the volcanic terrain became more apparent. The guides warned us to not walk close to any edges as it could crumble and fall away. Luckily for us, the weather was perfect. The sky was a clear blue, only interrupted by the thick sulphuric steam emanating from the volcanic cone.

The Magnificent Crater Lakes

Approaching the summit of the outer crater rim, the first thing we encountered was a trio of brightly coloured crater lakes. They each had their own unique characteristics. Lake Vui, nestled in the northern part of the caldera, was a mesmerising turquoise blue and lay in stark contrast to its barren, volcanic surroundings. In contrast, the two other crater lakes, Lakua and Ngoru were muddy brown and an outer worldly yellow

Setting Up Camp

We set up a tent camp on the shores of Lake Vui, well away from the water line, which was subject to regular changes in water level. Apparently it was some sort of strange tidal phenomenon that scientists couldn't fully explain, perhaps due to underground volcanic activity. Cooling off in its waters was a surreal experience. 

Following dinner, Elle and I went and laid outside. With no light pollution to sully the view, the sky was awash in stars. The rumbling of the volcano, like distant thunder, created a fitting musical backdrop to the awe-inspiring spectacle of the Universe in all its glory. I was filled with immense gratitude for being able to experience such a beautiful moment in my life. But I was also aware that according to custom stories, this was a place where the spirits of the dead ascended to rest. It served to underline the fact that we, the living, were not meant to loiter in the area for too long. 

The Dragon’s Eye

The next morning, we woke up to a shocking sight. The volcano had become far more active overnight. The plume erupting from the inner cinder cone had nearly doubled in size. It seemed Manaro had decided to have a minor temper tantrum. Were the custom spirits upset with us for trespassing on their domain? Or was this merely a geological hiccup? After Justin assessed the situation, he decided it was safe for us to continue on. And so we began our slow trek up to the top of the inner crater. 

Now I know what many of you are thinking right now. Why would I put myself and my daughter in such a dangerous position? And the short answer to that is, my daughter is ex-army and 21 years old, so she makes her own mind up. As for me, all my life I’ve been a risk taker, I’ve pushed boundaries and tried to exceed the limits of what I thought was possible both mentally and physically. When I was diagnosed with MS I swore I’d either find a way to conquer it and live fully, or die trying - and that’s exactly what I‘ve done in the ensuing years. Death has knocked upon my door several times but by sticking to my philosophy of never letting a good disaster go to waste I’ve not just managed to survive but thrive. 

When we finally arrived at the top of the inner crater, less than 800m away from the cinder cone, the sight, smell, and feel of a live volcano was beyond exhilarating and served to take my attention away from my blistered and bloody feet. Giant clouds of toxic sulfuric gas and steam billowed into the sky, while the ground beneath us rumbled like geological thunder. The jagged, brutal walls of the caldera surrounding us were completely devoid of life, creating a surreal otherworldly panorama. We could’ve been on Mars or Venus, it definitely did not feel like Earth. Despite my amazement and awe, part of my mind was acutely aware of the danger we were all in—a minor eruption or a sudden change in wind direction here, and we’d all be dead within minutes.

The Lessons Learnt

So other than being able to experience the adventure of a lifetime what were the lessons learnt? In my humble opinion, I’ve always said a worthy goal is one that is hard to achieve, because life begins at the edge of our comfort zones. We grow more from facing challenges than by constantly choosing what is easy. By opting to climb Manaro volcano I knew I was pushing myself to my limits and forcing myself to face adversity but I also knew this would make me a bigger person, a better person, a person living a life full of gratitude and joy. At no time did I fear death or dying while on the hike, because I’d faced it so many other times in my life, either due to medical emergencies or near disasters. I was, and still am, a great believer in fate and karma, so if I figured if I was destined to die on the top of that volcano then so be it, at least I would die on an adventure and not in a nursing home..  

I remember at one point, looking down at my painful blistered soles and toes, thinking to myself, stop concentrating on your FEET and start concentrating on your FEAT! You are doing something incredible, amazing, something that would have seemed almost impossible to you 15 years ago when you could barely walk. And that is truly the essence of living a full life. No fears, no remorse, no regrets, no victimhood. 

The END