To date this has been my greatest adventure. Our tour bus was a rickety old jallopy of a machine. The kid started it, and before it was even in gear the damn thing stalled, which had me convinced we´d never make it to the volcano. There were no shocks to speak of, and it was dragging pieces as we made our ascent to La Pacaya National Park. The roads were intolerable in this death machine. It crunched, creaked, and jostled its passengers from their seats many a time, but Lisa true to form slept throught the entire ride. The organ grinding drive did nothing to stall her need for beauty rest.
We began our two hour climb with all the arrogance of youth. Our group was compiled of Lisa, myself, Traci, and an Italian couple in their late 50's named Alejandro and Christina. Five minutes into this deal, Lisa and I were ready to call it quits. Lisa kept exclaiming,¨"It's strait up! I didn´t think we´d have to climb strait up the whole time!" If I hadn´t of been gasping for breath and trying to decipher if I was having a heart attack or not, I would have calmly asked what the fuck she thought climbing was if it WASN´T strait up.
Our Italian friends were minutes ahead of Lisa and I, and Traci and our guide Auturo were minutes behind us. My hamstrings were screaming, "Stop, for the love of God make this Stop!!!" But I kept trucking on baby-step after baby-step, and we really weren´t doing so bad because we kept catching up to the group that left about ten or fifteen minutes ahead of ours. And they were all young and abled bodies as well. Still it was rather defeating to have our Italian friends stop and wait for Lisa and I at the resting points, only to leave before we did, and the cycle went on and on like that for two hours. Also another constant aggrivation were the constant horse taxis tempting us with a smooth ride to the top. They polluted the path with pile after pile of horse shit, and mocked our flushed faces with naying flashes of horse lips and teeth. But Lisa and I did not give in, and neither did Traci.
Lisa and I reached the first summit of Lava flow elated and exuberant. We were almost there. Did I mention that this was an active volcano, whose last eruption was seven days ago? Ooops....anyways....Blackened lava spread out for miles before us. The magma was still flowing beneath the crusty surface in firey red orange streams, and the outer shell was hot enough to engulf a log in less than 15 seconds flat. The hills and mountains were the most vibrant shade of green I´ve ever seen. Cattle and horses were grazing in sporatic clumps, and life to the emerald and onyx landscape. My million dollar shot, and the photograph that gave me a much needed second wind was that of two horses making whoopie in a valley not that far below us. Yes, folks that´s right I risked my neck to get a picture of one horse humping another horse for all it was worth. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA...as you all know, this made my day. After the guffaws and giggles subsided, I started to feel uneasy and a little freaked out. Lisa and I were alone. There was no one but the two us around. Our Italian friends and the other group we had caught up with were no where in sight. Through the billowing mirage of steam I could see people so far away they were almost ants. But somehow they had manuvered around or over the Lava.
Lisa and I were almost ready to take our chances with a fuck all attitude across the coals. About this time another group of gringos came up behind us. Their guide and some men in the hills were hollering "Halt, don´t do it," as some of the manly men were going to head on over with Lisa and I. Traci and Auturo showed up right at this particular moment, so we followed our guide for the first time. He lead us down a path that was only fit for hobbits, I was hunched over for at least five minutes. We came through the clearing to see we had about a 100 meter climb up a steep slope of volcanic ash. I flat footed my way up the ashy inferno three steps, and then stop to gain footing. Lisa took two steps only to slide three steps back. She was yelling at anyone who cared to respond, "somebody throw me rope!"
Finally we had arrived at the base of our volcano. We were at eye level with the clouds and as close to the portal of Hell as we humans are allowed. Again Lisa and I were moved beyond the need to fill the silence with insignifigant, trifle words. The awe struck eyes, and wide grins were back in business. Victory was ours and the view was spectacular from no matter where we stood. Surrounded by the greenest of green mountain peaks, I couldn´t get enough. We were so close to the sun as the clouds roamed across the sky we could almost reach out and touch them.
A guy made it up with his friends, looked around, and said, "Welcome to Mordor." I never wanted to leave, I wanted to wait and see if the golden eagles that carried Sam and Frodo away were going to make a camio appearance.
But our Italian friends were in a hurry, so Auturo, Lisa and I made our way down. This was by far the best part of the climb. One had to glide down the slope with only our balance and the soles of our shoes. We swoosed without skis, surfed without boards. Lisa and I skidded down on black clouds of ash. Lisa had just made it to the bottom and was emptying her shoes of stones when Auturo slid by me with a comb borrowed by the Fonz. When he slicked back his hair with a lime green comb riding the same black cloud of dustand ash, I swear I heard a "Haaaay," coming from somewhere.
Tune in next time for my tales of waterfalls and caves just outside of Coban, Guatemala.
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