Mount Yasur is a 361-metre volcanic cone on the island of Tanna in Vanuatu, in the South Pacific, and it has been erupting every few minutes for at least 800 years, which makes it the most accessible live volcano on Earth: you drive to its foot, walk to the rim, and look straight down into the vents. The approach is a plain of bare grey ash, blasted clear of almost all life and steaming in patches, with the cone rising out of it. From the lip by daylight you stare down at two or three vents smoking far below, and between the explosions you catch the dull red churn of molten rock; then one of them goes, with a boom you feel in the chest, and lumps of glowing lava are thrown up out of the throat and fall back. The blasts come every few minutes, some small, some big enough to send rock over the rim, and the park grades the activity daily and closes the crater when it climbs too high.
The time to be there is dusk. You reach the rim while the sky still holds light, take in the grey cone and the ash flats and the sea beyond, and then watch the colour drain from everything until the crater's orange pulse is the only thing left, each explosion lighting the smoke from inside. Captain Cook saw the glow from the sea in 1774 and steered for it, the first European to land on Tanna. To the people of the island the mountain is not a sight but holy ground: followers of the John Frum movement, which grew here in the 1930s, believe a spirit-messiah lives in the crater with the souls of the dead, and their villages at its foot hold Friday-night ceremonies with the volcano's rumble as the background. Yasur is a volcano you can stand on the edge of after dark, and the island beneath it has been listening to it for centuries.