At 7:30 in the morning, Sylvie and I crowded into the cab of the local transport, a pick-up truck, while Burger and Doug climbed aboard in back, armed with cushions to make the two-hour trip to Lenakel more comfortable. "Hey, looks like you're out of gas," I said to our young driver, pointing to the yellow light on the dashboard. "Naw," he shrugged, unperturbed. A few minutes later we came to a halt. Burger and Doug hiked back to the harbor for a jerry jug of fuel and an hour later we were on our way again.

While waiting, Sylvie and I had a chance to chat with Sandra, a middle-aged Peace Corps worker along for the ride, who's been living on the island for over two years. She seemed a bit burned out, her efforts to help locals learn small business practice thwarted by lacking motivation.

The trip to Lenakel was amazing! We drove across the vast ash plain of Mt. Yasur, negotiated deep muddy ruts, and even forded a river. The 4WD truck was up to the challenge, despite its bald tires. We passed tiny thatched roof villages and roadside stands shaded by huge banyan trees, where women tended their babies while selling all manner of local produce, including kava root used to make the muddy brew, which is not alcohol, but more of a relaxing social drug that men drink from a communal coconut shell.

Once in the bustling port town of Lenakel, we cleared in with Customs, Immigration and Quarantine officials at their three different locations, then had lunch and bought fruit and veggies at the outdoor market. Our driver bought himself some peanuts at the market, which he then proceeded to shell and eat while steering around potholes, with no hands on the wheel!

It was a long but fun day and almost dark by the time we returned to Port Resolution and dinghied back on board.