Juan, our erstwhile off-road bicycle trip guide is now our Pacaya volcano climb guide. Juan is like The Man in Jack London's To Build a Fire; "he was quick and alert in the things of life," but unlike The Man, Juan was quick and alert in the significances of these things. Juan told us that he never tired of visiting the Pacaya volcano. One, it was always changing. Out of that came the most compelling appeal of a Pacaya visit: "It was like watching a mountain being made,"says Juan. It was.
Our group started climbing the steep dusty path up, up, up. We stopped for several breaks to catch glimpses of a view and to admire some of the remarkable vegetation.
The forest soon gave way to open terrain and soon we noticed that the "dirt" underfoot has changed character, as well.
The loose lava underfoot had a brittle, crunchy texture. We were told that this lava filled in the former site of a verdant valley. And in fact, the cone that was hikeable only months earlier, now had collapsed into an impressively chaotic pile of scree.
This is what is left of the cone.
Above is the view behind us as we climbed. The immense valley below was home to Guatemala City.
We eventually had no choice to walk on fresher lava if we wanted to continue climbing. There was a crude walking path forged for and by tourists. Footing was dicey. The lava was mostly cool. But there were hot spots. They were obvious for the heat that emanated as well as their pale white ashy look. We did not feel we were in any danger, but we were literally walking on an active volcano. We all brushed aside the stray thought that we would not be allowed to do this in the U.S.
We also tried to ignore the occasional acrid scent of burning rubber wafting by. Yes, some of us returned from the trip with loosened shoe soles. I was one of them.
The lava was as sharp as glass shards in places. It crumbled easily in some spots and held as firm as cement in others.
The smoke behind Marty and Mike is from a hot spot.
And where there's smoke, there's...
Fire in the form of fresh, rolling lava; a clumsy molen mass stumbling, hesitating and surging. It was a slow motion gallop of something, an insignificant thing from a distance, but it was liquid rock, rock changing shape and position as simply as us walking up the mountain.
We were witnessing the birth, rebirth, of a mountain.
Marty had joked earlier that we could toast marshmallows, but he was joking. Juan knew otherwise though and surprised us with a bag of fluffy white Guatemalan marshmallows. And a stick.
Just the right spot,
just the right distance,
some hungry climbers,
just the right amount of time;
This is the recipe for a much-appreciated afternoon volcano-side snack!
We made the climb back down and I took these shots to show how steep the path was; like stair steps.
Adios Pacaya!
