Lake Lalolalo is 88.5 metres deep inside its crater, and life reaches down only about the first ten of them. Below that the water holds no oxygen; below fifty metres it turns nearly as salty as the sea. The crater cuts so deep that it reaches beneath the lens of fresh rainwater floating inside the island, and seawater has crept in underneath: fresh at the surface, marine at the bottom, dead in between. Nothing stirs it. Fifty metres of sheer red wall shelter the water so completely from the trade winds that it never turns over. The circle, 400 metres across, was blasted open a few thousand years ago when rising magma met the island's groundwater and flashed it to steam. Uvea's rock is so porous that no stream runs anywhere on it; Lalolalo has no inlet and no outlet, and fills from below.
A short track off Route 1, between Mala'etoli and Ahoa, ends without warning at the rim, where the forest floor stops. There is no way down and no swimming — you look at this lake, you do not enter it. White-tailed tropicbirds ride the updraught inside the crater, so you watch them from above, tail streamers bright against black water, and flying foxes cross low over the surface. The only fish native here is the Pacific shortfinned eel, which researchers think reaches the lake through a flooded passage from the sea. Wallisians hold the water and its forest under vao tapu, an old protective law, and the name of the lake fits the place: lalo is the Wallisian word for "below", and it is said twice. The United States ran a large wartime base here, and when it left, ammunition went into the crater; divers still find rounds of assorted calibres on the bottom. Few travellers reach the island, and the rim stays quiet enough to hear the wind in the trees.