An Unearthly Experience

Most people visit Guatemala to learn about the culture, walk through the ancient earthquake ruins, and see volcanoes.  Curious about volcanoes, Stan and I have expectantly searched them out in Hawaii, Columbia, Costa Rica, and El Salvador.  Every volcano we visited was disappointing because they were inactive or had dense cloud cover preventing even a peek into a crater.  Most volcanoes we visited have been tremendous lifeless, bare, dark mountains.  At Volcano National Park in Hilo, Hawaii, the scent of sulfur was in the air as we walked near puffs of steam seeping through vents in the earth.  The sight only hinted at the enormous, miraculous heat and power under our feet.  That phenomenon was awesome and moving, but desensitized by sensational stories and media, the absence of red molten lava made the event a bit mundane. 

That changed last night.  

We’ve done some exciting things in our travels, but this one was almost unearthly!   Our wishes of witnessing a live volcano were finally fulfilled.  We saw the Fuego Volcano spew red sparks and blasts of fire, with streams of glowing red lava followed by great plumes of smoke and deep rumbles like thunder.  Watching and hearing this was monumental, magnificent, and thrilling yet reverent.  Camping on the side of Acatenango Volcano with Agua Volcano to the left and the mysterious Fuego exploding directly in front of us was unreal, almost like being on another planet.  We watched the clouds and mist move in and out of the valley below and across the volcano tops. The mystical panorama was eerie and chilling.   

We were reminded that Earth is so much more than us, our cares and daily lives, and the things we are so wrapped up in and among.  Encompassing so much more, Earth is a powerful, majestic, pure creation. Millions and millions of years old, it persists with the familiar seasons, but also with its unfathomable, less familiar wonders that cause us to pause . . . like the Northern Lights, Old Faithful, the Milky Way and so much more.  Our night on the volcano reminded us that this is a magnificent, one-of-a-kind, powerful creation for which no man can claim credit.  It is an immensely complicated miracle.  We must take care of it. 

Now I didn’t say getting to witness the miraculous sight was easy. 

Many volcano watchers hike up Acatenango.  It takes about 5 hours to hike up the mountain to the camp, carrying a backpack loaded with cold-weather clothing, 3 liters of water, snacks, and whatever else a person deems necessary.  Then once at camp, there are optional 4- and 3-hour hikes from camp the very young and virile take to get closer to the eruptions or to see a perfect sunset or a glory-filled sunrise. 

While most people hike it; some go up horseback.  We opted for the tour guide that drove us in a 4 x 4 vehicle up the mountain to base camp where we began a one-hour hike on a narrow uphill trail to our camp.  No wonder we were put in a 4 x 4.  The road was a rutted path along the mountainside.  We pitied the hikers we passed along the way.  Since we were the last of our tour group to be picked up in the city, we had to sit back in the bed of the truck.  Younger people offered to switch places with us, but . . . heck no!  Stubbornly, we said we could do this; we will be fine.  That drive bumped our heads and jostled our liver, kidneys, and bellies.  It was rough. 

The base camp is at 2500 meters (about 8,000 feet above sea level).  There, we unloaded the truck, strapped on our backpacks, and started the next 1,000-meter trek up the volcano.  Like lots of others, Stan and I felt the impacts of the high altitude as we marched along.  We may be old, but we dare not be the last ones up the hill.   

When we arrived at camp, we were shown our shelters where 4 to 8 people would sleep together on pads and in sleeping bags.    When we booked the trip, sleeping commune-style just did not sound appealing, so we negotiated with the tour company to have a private tent.  After inspecting the facilities, we realized the multi-person shelters offered no more protection from the elements than did our tent.  We were reassured.  No snoring or farting cabin partners for us! 

The excited group settled in to watch, but the sky and the open spaces in front of us were cloudy.  We were told that most clouds lie at about 8,000 feet. Our camp was at 12,000 feet; they told us clouds should be below us.  Not tonight; we saw little but swirling gray mist. 

We all stowed our stuff in our designated sleeping shelter while the guides built a fire.  Now and then we exclaimed and took photos when a giant puff of smoke billowed from Fuego and showed itself through the fog.  The temperature was falling fast; everyone began to put on extra layers, coats, hats, and gloves. We were given a cup of smooth, fragrant hot chocolate–the traditional Central American kind made with a big chunk of Guatemalan chocolate whirled in piping hot water– and the guests began to meet each other.  One couple was from Australia who were traveling together for a year, a young man was from Germany traveling for six weeks, there were two very young and personable Chinese guys from Toronto, and then there was a group of about five 35-ish Israeli couples.  What a crew!  We liked everyone as we shared stories, and travel plans, and waited for the sky to clear.  After sunset, the guides served us big plates of steaming cheesy pasta.  And yet, there was no fiery show. 

I thought the Israeli group might be traveling together as they chatted in Hebrew and English, ate only foods they brought themselves, and sang songs together.  Some of the guys, like Stan, were born pyromaniacs.  They all took turns tending the fire.  The group laughed heartily at Stan’s repertoire of dad jokes and funny one-liners.  He had fun; they did too.  When I asked if they were traveling together, they replied, “No, we just met today!” 

The clouds lingered as did the dense fog.  No stars were visible and there were no spectacular volcano performances. 

As the air became colder and still not promising, a few of us went to bed to read and listen to books or music.  The Israeli group stayed up and enjoyed themselves.  I think they were self-appointed lookouts for clearing skies and volcano eruptions.  They partied all night, singing, laughing and talking. 

We closed our eyes, but no sleep would come.  We were tense listening for eruptions, listening to the party, and listening for whoops that might pierce the air when an eruption finally happened. 

Excited shrieks and whoops came at about 2 am.  Stan and I tore open the flap to our tent, put on our shoes, and grabbed our phones for photos!  The spectacular eruptions were red and sparkling.  To top off the scene, the sky was clear and full of gigantic-looking stars hovering near us.   

Those Israeli kids did their job!  Thank you, friends!  We shared hugs; we shared photos.  We pray peace comes to their region soon and hope our paths cross again in our mutual travels

Would we do this trip again?  Yes, but not tomorrow.  We are more than fulfilled and more than exhausted.