Thinking the evening climb of an active volcano sounded like a doddle could possibly be the biggest misjudgement I’ve ever made. Guatemala’s Volcano Pacaya is an ominous but twice daily visited natural wonder in a town called Antigua, that would physically stretch even the most experienced of traveller.
Having been told to wear durable shoes, take a walking stick, torch and plenty of water, I duly did nothing with the advice. After scouring markets and finally managing to find a pair of supermarket-quality trainers for $2 I thought the most tiresome part of my job was done.
Before getting to the foot of the volcano we were told there would be a bit of an uphill walk. I laughed in the face of two European girls who chose to take a horse ride for this initial meander but once I’d stopped guffawing at the weak-willed and took a sweeping glance around me I realised that almost everyone was in full-on hiking gear and that I was the one who looked out of place in my purple bandeau dress-over-jeans combo. The walk started perfectly but 10 minutes in, me and my friend were trailing behind the other 30 or so day-trippers, our cheeks a lovely ketchup colour and the sweat rolling off like avalanches in a sauna. All facades of fitness went out the window and we agreed to take two horses that had been trailing along with us in the hope that we’d eventually buckle and pay to get a lift.
Clouds of ash blanketed the base of the volcano but once we rose above the mist it was crystal clear. Continuing the climb upwards and now on the volcano’s precipice, the ground was unstable, crumbling beneath our feet as we grappled to get our footing on the arduous journey up. We could see the tip (the Holy Grail) that was secretly laughing at our plans. As the night drew on and the skies got darker, the volcano’s incline got steeper. This resulted in the people ahead falling backwards, as the wobbly rock slipped under their feet and they fell crashing to the floor, some slicing their skin open on the surprisingly ultra sharp edges of the rocks. Climbers helped each other out but nobody I think, understood how gruelling this activity was really going to be.
Suddenly it was black and I remembered I had no torch. By this time I was more than halfway up, couldn’t see where I was going and could hear the crunch of people’s ankles as they misplaced their grip and I listened as one by one, people started to drop off and crawl back.
Annoyed that I wouldn’t see the lava in the crater, I accepted defeat and started the descent down. When I turned around I was horrified to see a substantial amount of lava spewing down the side and contemplated the notion of a massive eruption with us mere mortals stupidly looking up in amazement snapping away on the DSLR.
Seeing lava that physically close to you is in actuality very frightening, in the knowledge that Mother Nature has a tendency to do things spontaneously and without warning. Exhausted and scared, I somehow got back to the meeting point to take the hour long walk back down to the tour bus, creeping slowly through pitch black forestry praying that the 1990s trend of robbing people on these downward slopes had dissipated like they promised.
Amazing experience but safety was not of paramount importance on this trip and we were not once informed of the demanding physical fitness needed.
Five months later, in May 2010, the volcano fully (and unexpectedly) erupted.
