Outback Desolation

QUETZALTREKKERS runs hikes out of Leon to different volcanoes in the region. Profits go to organizations that aid at-risk children. It's definitely far from luxury travel, but if you're in to meet good people and put up with a little discomfort, you'll have a great time - for a good cause!

Six sleepy strangers congregate in the early morn, and our guides fuel us up with coffee to jump-start us into action. Bellies and backpacks full, we hop onto a chicken bus en route to San Jacinto. A short walk brings us to the volcanic mud pools. A cloud of sulfuric gas merrily burbles, scenting the air with rotten eggs. We paint muddy war stripes on our cheeks and set off down the rocky trail, along a gully reminiscent of an old riverbed. The trail gives way to flat fields of frijoles and corn, and we catch a break in the shade of a sprawling mango tree. The last part of our trek winds steeply through jungle. The heat of the sun is draining, and we pant our sweaty way through the humid air.

We finally reach a little clearing - home for the night. As we wolf down sandwiches, peals of thunder draw ominously close, and we're told we need to hurry to the summit. A short scramble over rocky hillocks brings us to the crater. As we tentatively pick our way to its edge, the group gives a collective gasp. It's a crazy view – a vertigo-inducing plummet dropping into the center of the earth. But our amazement is short-lived.

“We're going to get rained on”, remarks our guide, “But it was worth it, no?”

And then it hits. Hard. A torrential onslaught of stinging rain rolls in. Lightning forks brilliant around us, striking the ground too close for comfort. We scramble around and huddle in the paltry shelter of a nearby shed. Mercifully, the rain peters out fairly quickly.

Back at camp, our attempt at a fire has been drenched. Visions of toasted marshmallows fade as the rain returns. Since my tiny tent is water-filled, I hop into the boys' slightly larger and dryer tent. So there we are, four soaked people contorted in a leaky tent, with ten hours to go before we have a reason to get out again.

Time creeps on in fitful slumber, but 4.30 am finally arrives and we pour out of the tent to breathe the sweet air of liberation. We hike back up to the summit to watch dawn break. The gorgeous sunrise pours golden over the peaks and illuminates the crater, lifting my spirits. The torturous moments of the night fade away, and I realize I would live it all over again for this moment.