traditional outrigger canoe. Cycling along
East Coast Road, it often feels as though we
are the only people on the island, but every
now and then we’re passed by a truck, car or
ute, filled with beaming, waving Ni-Vanuatu
people (a demonym used to refer to all
Melanesian ethnicities originating in
Vanuatu), often sharing the space with
chickens, sacks of rice and piles of vegetables
and fruits organised in hand-woven palm
leave bags.
Arriving at the mouth of a river, Roy greets us
with a big smile, and we’re ushered down the
riverbank and into his outrigger. We hand
over $1000 Vatu — about $10 — each, and
that buys us a calming cruise through the
wild jungle on his family’s land. The canoe
glides silently across water that is so blue and
clear, the fish and rocks can be seen clearly
beneath us. The forest’s thick canopies that
span over us like bridges, are filled with the
twittering chatter, songs and calls of birds.
There’s no traffic, no other people, nothing
except an almost inaudible swish of water on
our canoe’s side.
We’re already thinking that its one of the
most untouched places we’ve had the
pleasure of gliding through, when we sweep
around a river bend to find ourselves at the
Riri Blue Hole. There’s no wondering about
its name, as it’s the bluest lagoon we’ve ever
laid our eyes on. There’s a wall of thick jungle
rising majestically around its perimeter, and
a wooden raft floats at its centre, above
which a rope swing enticingly hangs. Roy
comes to a gentle stop at the base of a simple
wooden hut-like structure on stilts, and we
ascend the stairs to stand above the blue
lagoon, where we can clearly see schools of
fish swimming through the rocky outcrops on
the bottom. We’re the only ones there.
We spend hours swimming, balancing on the
raft, swinging on the rope and dropping
ourselves gracelessly into the brilliant blue
hole. Every now and then a child’s delighted
laughter or a shout-out to a friend emerges
from the jungle. The locals have created a
rustic pontoon, some cement walkways, log
seating, a toilet and change-room, and sitting
areas for BBQs, but there’s no OH&S in most
places like this in Vanuatu, so it’s all slapped
together with whatever is available. The
haphazardness of the constructions gives it
another level of charm. When we reluctantly
leave, we’re silently rowed back through the
jungle, and after saying our goodbyes, we
head off down the road on our bikes, passing
some roadside stalls where we buy some
banana chips and fresh papaya. There are no
pesticides on Santo, so everything is organic
and bursting with taste. The pineapple and
papaya are the sweetest we’ve ever had, and
the mangoes are the definition of delicious.The following day we visit Dual Blue Hole
Eco Attraction, which is co-owned by a lovely
local named Susie, and our notion of a BlueRELAX & REJUVENATEStaying in this little pocket of Santo is like taking part
in an ongoing meditation class where there’s no need
for calming music or natural oils to permeate the air.