Guatemala, Part 4
2
Pacaya tops out at about 7500 feet and the bus took our group up to the entrance of the park at around 5000 feet. From there it was a 10 mile hike up and back. We began the climb around 2:30 PM. The trail was good, but steep. Our group was made up of mostly foreign students, 20 to 30 years old. At the time it wasn't clear to me that we were going to the very top of the caldera. After an hour, I was well winded. The guide turned around, looked at me, and with a smile said "muy fuerte". At first I thought he meant "old fart", but then I remembered it meant I was very strong. He didn't need to say "for an old fart", that part was obvious.
The younger crowd seems to be having a relatively easy time of if and avoided me as much as possible. I think they worried that when I fell over dead, the one nearest would have the responsibility of carrying or dragging my body. Dejected and in pain, but mostly keeping the pace, I fell to the rear of the group. Oh, I thought, if they were only a group of octogenarians. I would show them. But, they weren't. Gasping and struggling, I continued. The rear guard park security guy, using his machete, cut a walking stick for me. At first I lied saying I was fine and didn't need it. But he offered again and finally I admitted to myself that it was not really shameful to be 64 years old. The stick was a big help.
After another hour, we got to the base of the cinder cone. The cone extends about another 1000 feet above a small plateau. Everyone sat down to rest and take pictures. I thought OK, this is the end of the trip and that wasn't too bad. Not so. In ten minutes we were on our way up the cinder cone. Steeper yet and now much like climbing a sand dune. The deep ash had the consistency and color of coarse black sand. Two steps up, one back down. Onward, choke.
Nearing the top, steam was seeping out of the ash everywhere. The thermal convection of the volcano generated winds in the 40 to 50 knot range threatening to blow us off of the narrow trail. It was nearly impossible to keep my glasses on without holding them in place. Oh, oh, the rear guard passed me by. Even he ran out of patience with me. Finally arriving at the top, most definitely the old fart, I sat down within a few feet of the lip of the caldera. The steam was so thick, one couldn't see more than a foot or two into the caldera. The air temperature was in the low forties. The wind, steam and cold made for an eerie setting. It was beautiful, barren, violent and serene all at the same time. I felt a sense of accomplishment, but knew that I would pay for the effort in several undesired ways. Ten bucks was just the start.
By then, it was getting late in the day. Inside of half an hour, it would be dark and the ash cone would be no place to be. Our guide hustled us along. With the steep downward slope and loose ash, each step became a ten foot leap. After just a few steps, everyone got into a pleasurable stride. With each step, our shoes packed in more black sand. By the time we reached the
1 to 1 Classrooms
Volcano Fuego seen from the Spanish School
Serentity and studying Spanish go well together
