It’s an unbelievable sight. Boys and men leap from a hillside tower built from freshly harvested timber with supple lianas tied to their ankles. The vine breaks the diver's initial momentum before a collatable diving platform brings them to a halt as they hit the ground. Young boys use platforms closest to the ground, approximately 10 metres high, while older men leap from progressively higher platforms. The highest of these is up 30 metres above ground.
The ceremonial jump begins with locals singing and dancing to inspire and embolden each diver. They gather in traditional costumes at the top of the hill and proceed to sing, whistle and dance with considerable gusto as the ceremony progresses. A local guide explained that each diver chooses their own motivational song. The diver also ties and tests his own vine before each jump. They then ritually gesture to the sky in prayer, before launching themselves into the air.
The energy on the hillside is almost palpable as each dive begins. The speed at which they fall initially caught everyone by surprise, and the accompanying sounds are unnerving to say the least. This includes a rather solid thud as the diver hits the freshly tilled earth, and the startling crack of timber as the diving platform collapses. You can see the broken platforms dangling in the image above.
We learned that the ritual begins days in advance. The men seclude themselves from the women and refrain from sex. Furthermore, women are not allowed to go near the tower or touch. If they do so, they desecrate it, and the tower must be rebuilt. The construction of the tower typically takes between two and five weeks, so it’s not a task anyone wants to repeat unnecessarily.
The core of the tower is made from a lopped tree, while its outer framework is built from pole scaffolding tied together with vines, stabilising it. The final structure is both dramatic, chaotic and somehow robustly reassuring. Before the men dive, they often bring closure to unsettled business and disputes in case they die. The night before the jump, the divers sleep beneath the tower to ward off evil spirits.
These days, Pentecost locals perform dives as much for tourist entertainment as they do for an age-old ritual. Today, two planeloads, including Garry and me, flew in from Port Vila to watch a weekly diving display. The day began early. Garry and I were collected from Eratap Resort shortly before 6:00am. Our flight then departed around 8:30pm.
It took us about an hour and ten minutes to fly 225 kilometres north to Pentecost Island. Along the way, we flew over Cooks Reef (see the end of this post) and skirted the conical summit of Lopevi, an active volcanic island (shown above). Sadly, the summit was shrouded by clouds and steam, so we never saw the crater. However, for most of our flight, the weather was surprisingly sunny. For days now, the forecast had predicted persistent showers and heavy clouds, so this morning’s fine weather was very welcome.
Take off and landing were a little hair-raising as surface winds buffeted our rather well-worn twin-engine Britten-Norman BN-2 Islander. Coming into land at Pentecost was another highlight. Lonocore Airport has clearly seen better days. It was a simple affair. The airfield consisted of a modest concrete block hut and a sealed runway with a well-worn surface coated by a fine pebble sheen.
We were driven to the land diving site, seated in the open tray of a local Ute. The ceremony itself took about 1:45 hours to complete. We then returned to the airport, drove down the runway and onto the nearby beach for a simple picnic lunch. We then returned to Port Vila, landing shortly after 1:30pm.
It’s hard to believe this extraordinary feat of courage has been happening on Pentecost for centuries. Christian missionaries successfully convinced the locals to stop diving regularly in the mid-19th Century. For more than a century, ad hoc diving ceremonies occurred from time to time. However, after Vanuatu gained independence in 1980, the ritual was revived by Christian locals as a proud expression of cultural identity.
Perhaps the most infamous ad hoc diving event occurred when Queen Elizabeth II visited and observed the spectacle in 1974. Our local guide explained that the locals were persuaded to dive out of season, at a time of year when the vines aren’t sufficiently elastic. During the Queen’s ceremony, one diver had both lianas broken, broke his back upon hitting the ground, and later died in a hospital.
We learned that the ritual begins days in advance. The men seclude themselves from the women and refrain from sex. Furthermore, women are not allowed to go near the tower or touch. If they do so, they desecrate it, and the tower must be rebuilt. The construction of the tower typically takes between two and five weeks, so it’s not a task anyone wants to repeat unnecessarily.
These days, Pentecost locals perform dives as much for tourist entertainment as they do for an age-old ritual. Today, two planeloads, including Garry and me, flew in from Port Vila to watch a weekly diving display. The day began early. Garry and I were collected from Eratap Resort shortly before 6:00am. Our flight then departed around 8:30pm.
Take off and landing were a little hair-raising as surface winds buffeted our rather well-worn twin-engine Britten-Norman BN-2 Islander. Coming into land at Pentecost was another highlight. Lonocore Airport has clearly seen better days. It was a simple affair. The airfield consisted of a modest concrete block hut and a sealed runway with a well-worn surface coated by a fine pebble sheen.
Perhaps the most infamous ad hoc diving event occurred when Queen Elizabeth II visited and observed the spectacle in 1974. Our local guide explained that the locals were persuaded to dive out of season, at a time of year when the vines aren’t sufficiently elastic. During the Queen’s ceremony, one diver had both lianas broken, broke his back upon hitting the ground, and later died in a hospital.
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