A chaotic, and sometimes slightly dangerous, journey through Vanuatu’s Millennium Cave.
Words & Images Kate Gazzard
A chaotic, and sometimes slightly dangerous, journey through Vanuatu’s Millennium Cave.
Words & Images Kate Gazzard
when our group’s host, a local woman who’d been to the cave four times before, grinned and said, "This is one of the easiest parts.”
when our group’s host, a local woman who’d been to the cave four times before, grinned and said, "This is one of the easiest parts.”
We’d only just started the hike to Vanuatu’s legendary Millennium Cave, and I was already second-guessing every life choice that had led me to this moment (and wondering why on earth I said yes to this activity when floating down the river at Mount Hope was also an option).
The lush and very dense Vanuatu jungle only added to the suffocating humidity.
The trail we were walking on was less of a proper path and more like a steep, muddy slip’n’slide of roots and rocks. The air was as thick as a hot soup of humidity, and at some points, it had me questioning whether I had spent 28 years of my life with undiagnosed asthma. And there weren’t enough “let’s have a short break,”’s in the world for my lactic-acid-filled legs to want to continue. But I pressed on, spurred by pride (C’mon Kate, you go to the gym!), peer pressure, and the promise of a crisp, cold coconut at the end.
Yep, I climbed down that.
Our first glimpse of the Millennium Cave river water.
Before we could go any further though, our local guide stopped us. It was time for him to introduce us to the spirits of this place. He did this by painting our faces with an orange clay paste, drawing symbols representing our surroundings’ land, water and air in the hopes of a safe passage through the cave.
And after an agonising hour of climbing, sweating, trying to breathe and praying for the sweet release of that cool river water, we arrived at the entrance to Millennium Cave.
The sign says it all, really.
Post face paint/happy to be blessed.
Inside, the cave was massive, dark, wet, and dripping with mystery (and definitely more bat poo than I care to remember).
The walls loomed around us, ancient and intimidating, while the ground was a treacherous mix of wet rocks and what I can only assume were the claustrophobic fears of previous visitors.
We waded through an underground stream and scrambled over boulders. I’d like to say it was only one time, but there were many points during our walk through the cave (in near pitch black darkness may I add) that my foot slipped, and I caught myself on a very hard rock. With the palms of my hands. Or my knees.
While I was grateful to emerge from the cave 30 minutes later, several parts of my body were a little worse for wear, and I just knew I’d resemble an overripe avocado in the morning when bruises would bloom over my skin.
But there was no time to dwell on that because next up was the canyoning bit. This involved using metal handles to jump and slide along moss-covered rocks. “Great,” I thought, “more opportunities for me to fall.” And fall I did.
Image caption.
Inside, the cave was massive, dark, wet, and dripping with mystery (and definitely more bat poo than I care to remember).
The walls loomed around us, ancient and intimidating, while the ground was a treacherous mix of wet rocks and what I can only assume were the claustrophobic fears of previous visitors.
Inside, the cave was massive, dark, wet, and dripping with mystery (and definitely more bat poo than I care to remember).
While I was grateful to emerge from the cave 30 minutes later, several parts of my body were a little worse for wear, and I just knew I’d resemble an overripe avocado in the morning when bruises would bloom over my skin. But there was no time to dwell on that because next up was the canyoning bit. This involved using metal handles to jump and slide along moss-covered rocks. “Great,” I thought, “more opportunities for me to fall.” And fall I did.
Image caption.
And there she is, the entrance to the cave.
Every step required balance and precision; something my old and tattered Reeboks simply didn’t want me to have. Yet, somehow, I made it through. Well, I know how; his name was John, and he’d been taking groups through the Millennium Cave for decades. He turned out to be my own kind of cave chauffeur, holding my hand and helping me through the tricky parts when cracking my head on a rock seemed extremely likely—and he did it all in bare feet. Incredible.
But with the canyon conquered, it was time for the grand finale: floating down the river.
Now, when I say "floating," I mean a mix of lazy drifting, rock jumping and waterfall overhead-ing. The river carried us past towering cliffs and lush jungle, all of which I would have appreciated more if I hadn’t been focused on dodging rocks and trying not to inhale half the river every time my head went under.
The jungle buzzed with sound, the sunlight filtered through the trees in golden patches
Despite my less-than-ideal technique and the slightly too-big-for-me life jacket, the experience was oddly peaceful. I let the current carry me, embraced the chaos, and even managed to enjoy myself a little (okay, a lot). The jungle buzzed with sound, the sunlight filtered through the trees in golden patches, and for the first time all day, I wasn't actively fearing for my fibulas.
I made it out the other side—hoorah!
Eventually, we reached the riverbank, where we dragged ourselves out like soggy laundry and began the final trek back to the village. While it was uphill, the trek was over before my thighs could figure out I was putting them to work again, and the villagers greeted us with warm smiles, clearly amused by our bedraggled state. Unfortunately, they didn’t hand me a coconut (as promised), but I did get to munch on some sugarcane, and I’ve never been so grateful for a little sweet hydration in my life.
Time to float (almost).
As I sat there—sugarcane in one hand and pamplemousse in the other—reflecting on the day’s absurdity, I realised that despite the near-death experiences, questionable jumps, and the bruises that were appearing at an alarming rate, I had loved every second of it.
Would I do it again? Absolutely. Right after I forget how hard it was.
get in the know Vanuatu boasts the world's only underwater post office. It's 3 metres below the surface and you can still send postcards (as long as they're waterproof).
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