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My daughter popped up from underwater, spat out her snorkel and gasped "Mummy! It's magical!" It was her first day snorkelling in the ocean. In preparation for our trip to Vanuatu, she’d been practising breathing through the snorkel in our bathtub, then graduated to the local pool. That morning, I strapped floaties to her back and held her hand as she put her new skills to the test. Just steps from the beach, we explored together around a rock which was home to a handful of pretty tropical fish and a bright blue sea cucumber. After lunch, we took a boat to a secret snorkelling spot so she could glimpse her first coral. I wasn't expecting to find healthy coral here. I knew that Cyclone Pam had destroyed coral gardens and crippled infrastructure around Vanuatu in 2015 and I’d learnt about the mass bleaching events that had devastated even the Great Barrier Reef in recent years. But not only was this coral healthy, it was a thriving forest of multicoloured polyps, forming the perfect habitat for a cascade of fish. The coral was less than a metre below the surface, so we had to be careful not to damage it with our fins. Yet the surrounding water was deep. My daughter was nervous but fascinated by the colours. As she clung to me, she couldn’t help but duck below the surface again and again. Each time she was rewarded with a new discovery: flashes of tiny blue fish darting right in front of our masks, swaying anemone hiding curious clown fish. Her favourite were the charismatic parrot fish. “They look like they are wearing make-up!” she giggled. My daughter was right - it was magical. I didn't think places like this still existed in the world. I found myself reflecting on this sentiment a few days later, soaring on a rope swing that had been hung from an enormous banyan tree deep in the forest on Tanna Island. From our treehouse just a few kilometres from Mount Yasur, we could hear the volcano "burp" every few minutes. It sounded exactly like the low rumble of thunder. At night from our balcony, we could see the red glow of lava, synchronized with the rumbling. Standing on the rim of the volcano, we glimpsed spectacular flashes of lava and ducked overwhelming gusts of blue sulfur. Yet it was the continued existence of such dense, healthy forest and communities living in harmony in nature that really amazed me. Again, I hadn't realized that such places still existed. I had been feeling incredibly pessimistic about climate change. We’d just escaped from the smoke-covered east coast of Australia during the devastating bushfires that killed more than a billion animals. Was it too late to stop climate change? Was there any point in even trying? And there was no ignoring the poignant guilt about enjoying a holiday with my family when so many others had lost their homes, their farms and their livelihoods to the bushfires. Yet this trip was exactly what I'd needed to reignite my passion and affirm that there is still so much magic on this earth worth saving. Places like Vanuatu, so vulnerable to the impacts of climate change, are still home to pockets of ecosystems that are thriving and have every chance to do so if we take urgent action on climate change. The window may be closing, but the forest before me was proof that it is not too late. My daughter interrupted my musings: “Mummy, when I grow up and have a baby, I wanna bring her here. I want to show her the magic.” My daughter is only four. Her memories of this family adventure may fade over the years. Yet, I am determined to ensure that these rainbow reefs and lush tropical forests are still here when she grows up so that she can make magical memories with her own children.