Klems Hill Lookout is the next stop and here the full panorama of Mele Bay is laid out before us, arrestingly beautiful in a languid, balmy tropical way. Hideaway Island, an idyllic coral atoll, is enticingly close to shore, but out of reach today, and appears to float on the shimmering sea. As we continue, lush green vegetation crowds in on us, engulfing the road. Occasionally the jungle opens to reveal rustic clusters of thatched roof huts that denote a small community living off the land in the time­honoured fashion but often a lone grazing horse, a fossicking chicken or a bewildered domesticated piglet is the only sign that people live there. The dense tropical jungle overhangs the narrow dirt road, blocking out the sun and the moist dark vegetation seems to be impenetrable. The mirror­like waters of Havannah Harbour are an unexpected delight. We meet Albert Solomon on the beach and with great pride he points out his village on the distant island of Lelepa. He says how he enjoyed growing up the traditional way, hunting and fishing with absolutely no worries or cares. Life is much the same now, better maybe, with the added bonus of money from his Lelepa Island boat tours. I note his unusually swish clothes and snazzy eyeshades in this land of ultra­casual attire. We meet Ernest Kalakoa, who also grew up on the tranquil shores of Havannah Harbour. His sharp American accent surprises me, at first, until I realise this 80­year­old Ni­Vanuatuan is an Americaphile and a passionate collector of Second World War military artefacts, including 346 Coca Cola bottles exhumed from old US naval base dumps. His pride and joy is an original white bottle dated December 1915, which he assures me was designed to represent feminine curves like "the soft and wavy frame of a dame". More tales of the South Pacific emerge as I chat with amiable Ernest in a ramshackle corrugated iron shed with the grandiose title of WWII Museum. Ernest has story for every one of the dinner plates, mess trays, gun sights, jerry cans, gas masks and aircraft components in his 33­year collection. The disinterred memorabilia is for sale under a hand­painted sign reading "Rust in Peace". Our journey moves swiftly to the surreal modern world of reality television as we meet another proud son of Lelepa Island, Gideon George. Gideon‘s Landing is the newly coined title for a polyglot cluster of thatched­roof shelters and bungalows erected for the support crews of the US, French and Australian Survivor Vanuatu programmes filmed in the last few years. Gideon has established an eco­lodge and campsite here and is patiently waiting for an influx of visitors.

Beyond the white sand beach of Undine Bay, on the northern shores of Efate Island, we stop at an entrancing lagoon where I snorkel in azure water and view darting shoals of tropical fish. Nemo and his clown fish friends are here along with Moorish idols and damsels, flashing and flickering in the intense sunlight. I‘m surrounded by soft corals, sea fans, sponges and hundreds of curious rainbow­coloured fish that seem to enjoy our little game of hide and seek among the coral gardens. The water is crystal­clear and caressingly warm on this brightest of tropical days. Seabirds wheel and dive overhead and the ocean and sky appear to merge in gradations of brilliant blue. Back on shore I laze in the shade of palm fronds, listening to the rhythm of the waves. Next stop is Eton Village where Dora Willy, smiling broadly, greets me. Life is good here and Dora‘s family land produces bumper harvests of banana, pineapple, pawpaw, grapefruit, taro and yams. For most of the residents of Eton Village, and many other villages throughout Vanuatu‘‘s 83 islands, there is no need for paid employment. Whole communities are almost self­sufficient, fishing and farming as they have done for centuries.

The thatched cottages and attached opensided living areas are pin neat and colourfully decked out with a profusion of tropical plants and flowers. There are no ringing telephones or flickering television sets demanding attention. The children are playing a simple ball game with great enthusiasm. Their warm, smiling faces are glowing with good health, their eyes shining brightly. Some Ni­Van families walk in single file along the road verge, while others completely fill the open trays of Toyota utes, sitting precariously on the tailboard with uncanny ease as if gravity, velocity and other basic principles of physics have no relevance here. They all offer ready smiles and welcoming waves as we pass. My day has been full, busy almost, a rare thing in Vanuatu, and I‘m left with memories of towering tropical forests, vast coconut plantations, incredible coral reefs, crystal clear waters and, above all, the warm smiles and genuine welcomes of the people I met along the way.