Volcano Bonding: Villarica

In 2009, I climbed Villarica, one of Chile's most active volcanoes; this was an experience that, at points, I felt like Frodo Baggins hoping to be rescued by Gwaihir, the Great Eagle, from Mount Doom. With its eruption this past March, I remembered my 3000m hike up this monster where sulfuric smoke whips around the central vent and if inhaled causes lungs to completely choke & close leaving one gasping for air; the resulting discombobulation leaves one stutter struck. Unfortunately, wobbling too far in one direction means the giant hole at the top of the mountain leading to an active lava lake down at the bottom will swallow one up and if venturing too far the other direction, there's a sheer edge that would result in a free fall. Cowabunga!

What did I do when faced with this predicament? I sat down right where I was.

Climbing the icy top of Villarica caused my body to quiver in fear (thanks involuntary responses. I want you to FIGHT like an abominable snow mountain climbing creature not FLIGHT right now!) My spine was winding up like a Roly-Poly retreating into its exoskeleton, my legs quaked as each step I questioned whether the crampons would actually clamp, all while the wind rushed around causing me to lose control over my ice axe and lifted me off my feet; my parka turning into a parachute puffed out as air flew up into it. Crikey.

Our Chilean guide yanked me back down and urged our climbing group upward. We were near the top, unbound by rope, and we zig-zagged up the final 200m. We would have to go down the volcano another way...he shouted in garbled Spanish. I was petrified; there was no mind-bending power that could get me past the words “impending” & “doom.” I had not covered my face that day (What did I know about climbing up real, live mountains?! I climbed mud piles in my neighborhood as a kid; even that resulted in a fractured wrist after getting some MAD AIR on a plastic snow sled.) and my lips and nose were burning with the later frost bite that would leave me with Angelina-Jolie-like-lips. No thank-you; frostbite butthead! Eventually, after recovering from the ordeal at the top of the mountain and regaining some faith in my legs, we started back down. The good news was that we would mostly SLIDE down! I was floating, flying, and sledding like my mud pile days down a VOLCANO!

Afterwards, I forgot the fear of Vesuvius' long lost South American cousin that had been instilled in me & I adventured off to find a Pisco Sour and Ceviche.