So a guy goes up a volcano...

After signing off from the blog yesterday I headed back to the hostel to prepare to summit Volcano Pacayo. The question one is faced in climbing such a thing is, what the hell do I pack? I decided lots of water was in order.

Just before our ride arrived it started to rain, and rain, and rain. It did not stop until we got home. Not any Victoria drizzle either. This is the type of rain that drives into you, and soaks you through. At first I was okay with it, thinking that the group was hiking the equivalent of Mount Finlayson, and we are in the tropics so the cold will be overwhelmed by the heat and the climb. Getting into the shuttle bus I was nervous, there was a number of people that looked as though walk was a 4 letter word they tried to avoid. My fears were soon realized as we began our ascent. The rain continued and we took frequent breaks to allow (as I dubbed them) weezy, shakey and porkchop to catch up with the rest of the group which was chomping at the bit to keep moving (if only to stay warm)

For the entire climb the top (or cone as we volcano veterans call them) was shrouded in the clouds and hard to estimate the distance remaining because of this. As we got beyond the tree level the landscape became other worldly, suddenly there was a giant flow of cooled lava with and the grass and mud that had been underfoot was replaced with volcanic rock, and ash. Material that had come from 10kms under the surface in the preceding days and weeks. The climb got far more intense and complicated at this part (and weezy, shakey and porkchop brought the group to a near crawl as we all had to stay close together.) We stepped over vents where steam and sulphured warmed us in our places and as we climbed higher a meter under the dried lava we were standing on I could see and hear the magma flowing by underneath. The final 100 metres of the climb brought us to within 50 meters of where there was fresh magma erupting from the volcano. I know I promised photos, but the rain mixed with the heat of the magma mixed to create a fog that ruined any of the photos I took, for this I apologize.

We turned to begin our descent down. The return put the difference between Guatemala and Canada in sharp contrast for me. The sun had set while we were watching the eruptions, the guide led the group off and would occasionally blow a whistle to indicate which way he wanted us to follow and we had been recommended to bring torches. However, we were more or less on our own to pick our way through the dried flow which was prodigiously dangerous as it dries with very sharp edges and rocks that can easily break and give way underfoot... Ohh yeah, and there were pits of magma that if one fell on... well lets just say it would not be pretty. And finally our guide did not even carry a bag, meaning no first aid kit.

Heather was soaked through and having a rough go of the descent, so we held back a little and tried to get her warmed up with some dry things. I also wanted to be on the tail because I did not remember our guide ever doing a head count and I was a little worried that weezy could be lost.

Eventually we all found our way to the van waiting at the bottom of the hill and everyone was in the van... Weezy, Porkchop and Shakey fell asleep before we even made it back to Antigua.