Haunts of the jungle

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This was published 12 years ago

Haunts of the jungle

Epi Island's waterfalls teem with life.

Epi Island's waterfalls teem with life.Credit: Kerry van der Jagt

From guesthouse to waterfall to beach, Epi Island is an ethereal experience, writes Kerry van der Jagt.

ACCORDING to legend, when the lysepsep roams the jungle looking for prey, it glides on hairy feet, lightly, lightly, "like a feather falling in the forest", whispers Carol, my guide. "I think one is following us right now." Carol's voice tells me she is spooked; her grip on her machete indicates just how much. Hand in hand, we continue on our way to the waterfall.

Similar to the leprechauns in Ireland, the mythical tree people were the first inhabitants of Epi Island. Some say they are a race of elusive pygmies; some say they are unlucky, others lucky. One lysepsep version has breasts so long they use them to strangle people (unlucky). Another version places stacks of flowers outside your door (lucky).

I'm hoping for a third version, one that is scared of middle-aged, ridiculously pale foreign women.

A 40-minute flight from Vanuatu's Port Vila, across the aquamarine edge of Efate's coral shores, over the natural wonder of Cook Reef and past the active submarine volcano of Kuwae has landed me in the middle of the jungle on Epi Island, considered to be the most wild and mysterious of Vanuatu's 83 islands.

Throughout Vanuatu, magic is believed to work best near active volcanoes: consequently Epi, which formed when a massive volcanic explosion split the larger island of Kuwae into two smaller ones, is a moody place. Today, Kuwae is an offshore underwater volcano and bubbles can be seen rising from it.

I'm met at Valesdir airstrip by Alix and Rob Crapper for the five-minute drive to their home and boutique lodge - Epi Island Guesthouse. The Crappers washed ashore here from Australia in 1997, carving a Swiss Family Robinson-style house out of the jungle for themselves and three children. As I climb into the back of the truck, I can barely make room for my legs among the gaggle of machete-wielding hitchhikers - average age seven - who have climbed in with me.

Since there are only a handful of vehicles on the island for a population of 3000, pint-size hitchhikers are as common as smiles. "Everyone carries a machete," Alix says, in response to my bulging eyeballs. "The tracks are pretty wild around here."

The property comes into view just as the overgrown track runs out. Perched on the edge of a blue lagoon, with a white sandy beach out front and a stream beside it, the guesthouse is the only significant development on the island.

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My queen room, which opens to a wide, shady verandah and looks out to the tropical garden, has an en suite and is decorated in casual island style with artefacts from Alix and Rob's travels; bold fabric from Guatemala, carvings from Indonesia, shells and driftwood from the island. The two-storey pole house has a well-stocked library, large dining room, guest lounge and bar and a covered deck with daybeds overlooking the lagoon.

In line with the owners' passion for self-sufficiency, the guesthouse's energy source, 24 hours a day, is hydroelectric power driven by the waterfall behind the property. In recognition of their efforts at sustainable tourism, Epi Island Guesthouse won the Green Award at the Vanuatu Tourism Awards in 2008 and 2009.

The only other accommodation on the island is a two-hour drive away at Paradise Sunset Bungalows, a backpacker hostel on the northern end of the island. Alternatively, visitors can arrange to stay in a village if they gain permission from the local chief.

Alix and Rob only employ locals and see it as a way of benefiting nearby villages. Since welcoming their first guests in 2000, they've helped the school, airport and women's group, helped villages adopt solar power and encouraged their staff to act as tour guides for guests. It is on my second morning that Carol, who is married to the nephew of the local chief, offers to show me the waterfall on her custom land.

After our brief brush with the omnipresent lysepsep, we keep walking, clinging to each other like schoolgirls whenever a twig snaps.

Carol explains that most Epi Islanders believe in tree dwellers and black magic and that she will never walk alone or go anywhere without her machete. "Not even to my own vegetable garden," she says. Carol is Seventh-day Adventist but like most of the islanders, she blends Christianity with traditional beliefs.

A steady one-hour climb through the humid jungle brings us to a river crossing where Carol points out deep marks in the rocks; places where previous generations have sharpened their axes. Under a thick canopy of leaves, we pass ladies gathering cassava, children collecting firewood and finally a chief from another village carrying sandalwood to exchange with a friend. He invites us to pass through his land with nothing more than a smile and a wave of his machete. No lei greeting, no fake war paint - this is tourism at its grass-skirt best.

With legs and lungs pumping, we finally reach the waterfall, where we strip off and plunge into its watery depths. The freshwater flowing from the mountains is deep and cold and teeming with life; fish swim in the shallows, prawns nibble at our toes, birds banter in the trees above. Hand in hand we clamber onto a slippery, rocky ledge where Carol leads me behind the thunderous falls and into a light-dappled cavern.

We are soon joined by a group of children, all brown arms and legs and flashing white teeth. Perhaps these are the Rascals in Paradise James A. Michener wrote about when he was stationed on the nearby Santo Island. Unfortunately, Epi Island hasn't always been a peaceful paradise. In the late 1800s, Epi Islander numbers dropped dramatically due to "blackbirding" - the practice of obtaining workers through blackmail and kidnapping to work on Australian sugar cane plantations. Epi was one of the hardest-hit islands.

Back at the lodge, all dark thoughts are banished over a meal of pawpaw and beef salad with fresh lime and chilli, seafood mornay and bananas in coconut cream. With her organic garden of herbs, fruit and vegetables, fish and lobster from the sea and a knack for conjuring up cakes and slices out of thin air, Alix weaves magic of her own. "My meals start when I plant the seed in the ground," Alix says. "And then we eat according to whatever is in season."

During the next few days, I slip into island time; writing in the morning, playing soccer with local children at midday and swimming or kayaking across the lagoon in the afternoons. According to local lore, the waters are safe - thanks to an ancient spell, sharks have never been seen in the waters surrounding Epi Island.

My favourite time is sunset, when I take a beer down to the beach hut before joining Rob and Chief Lewi in their nakamal for some kava drinking and storytelling. Talk often turns to magic. "Lysepseps use leaf magic to cast their spells," Rob says. "I once had a pile of hibiscus petals, tied and stacked together, appear at my back gate."

I'm not sure if it's the kava but there's a bristling at the base of my neck as I navigate my way back to my room that night.

Rising early on my final day, I organise a ride in the back of a taxi truck for the two-hour trip to Lamen Bay. I really should have organised some food. Fortunately, the other women in the back happily share their "road trip" food with me: fried bananas rolled in coconut, lap-lap pudding and fresh pineapple.

After bouncing our way through villages, coconut plantations and dense jungle, we finally arrive at the stunning bay with its combination of black volcanic sands to the south and white coral sands to the north.

On the beach, I see a long bamboo pole in the sand; sprouting a bouquet of leaves. "That's a taboo pole," my driver says. "The paramount chief has just died. Out of respect for his spirit, we must not fish or take anything from the sea for 30 days, not even shells."

I stretch out on the sand and watch as the translucent waters of the lagoon set the village aglow with a magical aura. For days I've listened to stories about ancestral beings and spirits but it is the warmth of the human spirit that will stay with me long after I return home.

The writer travelled courtesy of the Vanuatu Tourism Office and Air Vanuatu.

Trip notes

Getting there

Air Vanuatu flies from Sydney to Port Vila, priced from $535 return, including taxes. Connecting flights to Epi Island require an overnight stay in Port Vila. Epi has two airports, Valesdir and Lamen Bay. 1300 780 737, airvanuatu.com.

Staying there

Epi Island Guesthouse can take up to 14 guests, with seven bedrooms and four bathrooms. Prices are 13,000 vatu ($133) a person, a day including accommodation, all meals, tea, coffee and snacks, return transfers from Valesdir airport and 12.5 per cent VAT. epiislandguesthouse.com; or email epimoments@vanuatu .com.vu

More information

vanuatu.travel.

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