Antigua, and Rain Delays Play in Honduras
Travelling on a budget rarely goes according to plan. Much like life itself, success depends largely on dealing with the unexpected, and going with the flow. This might explain how I came to be hitting a pinata with red panties on my head, having selected a playlist of rock songs under the armed supervision of a very small man with a very big gun. As opposed to, say, snorkeling with dolphins and descending in a submarine along the world’s second largest coral reef, as was my original intention for Honduras. As usual, I’m tripping ahead of myself, so lets pick up where I left off, near Antigua, Guatemala, hiking along the sharp coral-like granite of a solidified lava flow.
Pacaya is one of three active volcanoes in Guatemala, a dead-ringer for Mount Doom if there ever was one. The lava here has been known to shoot out the crater in kilometer-high bursts, which is why tourists are no longer allowed to hike the cone to the top of the crater. Instead, we carefully made our way along the blackened volcanic rock towards little holes in the earth where the blood of lava flows thick. It’s kind of like exploring the spotty face of a teenager, marveling at the pimples while staying well clear of the chorbs to avoid being covered in acne gunk. Or, in this case, avoid burning to death. The heat is incredible. I jammed my walking stick into a crack and within moments it had lit up like a match. The earth visibly moves, floating upon a river of pure heat. I got close enough to poke my stick into a pool of lava, expecting it to sink or burn, but lava has weight and the stick, blackened like grilled Cajun fish, joined the stream flowing downhill. Meanwhile my eyebrows were beginning to melt (I’ve really got to cut down on eating plastic). The last time I climbed a volcano was in Chile, the day Villarica threatened to erupt and helicopters were circling overhead in case we needed to be evacuated. The ground was shaking beneath the my crampons, and I barely managed three minutes at the rim before the guide insisted we get the hell down, or we’d be certain to blow the hell up. So the good news is that the old adage “climbed one active volcano, climbed them all” is as realistic as OJ Simpson’s hunt for justice.
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