Following The Leader

In my last post, I said I would be going to some hot springs and then a soccer match over the weekend. I had a spur of the moment change of plans, though, and ended up going on an overnight backpacking trek (my first one ever!) to Santiaguito, the most active volcano in Central America. We passed it on the way to the beach a week ago, and I posted a couple pictures of it. The big mountain I wasn't sure about is Santa Maria. It blew for the first time in 1902 and took out several of the surrounding communities and the whole backside of the mountain, which is why it is so desolate. Twenty years later, it blew again, and formed Santiaguito. People think that Santa Maria won't ever blow again, but Santiaguito keeps going, and I've heard that it is actually getting more active. The eruptions themselves aren't that dangerous, though three volcanologists died in the late 80's while at the rim. The more dangerous effects are what are called lahars, which happen during the rainy season when whole chunks of the mountain peel away and devastate the surrounding area.

I went on the trek with two other students from my school through a group here called Quetzaltrekkers, a non-profit, all-volunteer organization that donates all its proceeds to a local school for street children, a home for runaways and orphans, and a clinic. There were also three Israeli couples who didn't know each other before coming to Guatemala, but had been hanging out together here. They had recently gotten out of the army (men have three years, women have two), and they said it's pretty common for people to travel when they get out. I wanted to ask them what they thought about the current events in Israel, but they didn't speak very much English and kept pretty much to themselves. When I finally got the nerve to ask one of them, it was pretty clear he didn't want to talk about it, and since we were all on vacation, I decided not to press it. It was fascinating to be with them nonetheless.

Here I am with the two other students from my school who went with me, Elly on the right, a fourth year medical student at Emory, and Lori on the left, a child life specialist who works at a hospital affiliated with Emory in Atlanta. It's fascinating all the connections that have been made between people thousands of miles from home.

We met at the Quetzaltrekkers office at 7:30 Saturday morning for a hearty breakfast and to load up our gear. They have a huge gear room where you can rent packs, sleeping bags, and even clothes, which is great for someone like me who didn't bring any of that gear with me. We took a microbus (basically a van with a few extra seats crammed in) all the way to the drop off site.

The trek began with an hour hike through a savannah-like terrain. It was late morning and the sun was pretty strong, but the walk was flat, so it wasn't too bad. Santiaguito goes off every forty minutes or so, shooting up a huge plume of smoke and sending huge lava rocks rolling down the sides. It was awesome to walk along and look up every once and a while and see a volcano go off.

Once we reached the end of the savannah, we entered the jungle at the base of the mountain. It felt so good to get out of the sun, and it was quite a bit cooler in the shade. We started going uphill, though, so it began to be a lot more work. I think I was carrying nearly half my body weight on my back, and it was pretty difficult.

This bridge is at the first lahar, a ravine left after the lava rushed through the terrain. I'm crossing it in this picture. This isn't the best vantage to see how high it is, but it was about fifty feet above the bed of the ravine, and was the most rickety bridge I've ever been on. Quetzaltrekkers donated the cement supports at the ends of the bridge. Before it was built, the locals would hike down the lahar and back up, and every year, some would die. We took the bridge one at a time and very slowly, but our guides said the locals just run across it. We saw a number of men carrying wood or their harvest coming down the mountain. It occurred to me that this is work for them, coming up and down the mountain, and in their leisure time, I would imagine they enjoy resting. We were doing the opposite, leading pretty sedentary lives, and paying to hike up this mountain in our free time. It's a luxury to choose to do this if we want, whereas for them it is their livelihood. They must think we're crazy.

The nice part about taking the bridge one at a time was that it offered a break once you got across to wait for the others. We each packed four of the 1.5 liter bottles I'm holding. One of them was for cooking once we got to camp. Our packs felt much lighter once we got rid of a bottle or two.


The jungle was so lush!

Once we got closer to the volcano, all the vegetation was covered in ash. We could feel it gritty in our mouths.

We hiked up a dried waterfall. I hope you can see how huge those leaves are!

Here's another lahar closer to the volcano. It's incredible how powerful the lava flow must have been to take out all that land. At this point, we were in the middle of a bamboo forest (that sounds like the setting for a fantasy or adventure story, which I guess in a way it was). I thought I had pictures of it, but I don't, which is too bad. Quetzaltrekkers are the only people who come up here, and they have to clear the path fresh every year. This picture is from their camp.

Here's the view of the voclano from our campsite. I don't have a picture of it going off this close, which I'm pretty bummed about. It was an incredible night to watch it! The moon was full and bright, and the sky was so clear, and the volcano put on a great show. Our guides said it was the best night they had ever seen. Once it got dark, we could see lava bubbling at the top, and the lava rocks glowed red as they rolled down the side. Even when it wasn't going off, we could hear it rumbling. It was amazing to be so close to such raw uncontrolled power.

Here we are resting in the jungle on the way down. It took maybe half as long to get down as it took to get up; we just flew down. The woman in the middle of the picture was our lead guide. I talked to her for about two hours on the way down. She lives in Eureka, California in a motor home on her boyfriend's land, working odd jobs and saving all her money to go backpacking. She was really great and pretty intense.

About twenty minutes from the end of the trek, we stopped for lunch at this river. It is warmed by the volcano, so it wasn't shocking to get into, but it was cool enough to be wonderfully refreshing after hiking through the hot, sunny savannah. There were local people swimming, bathing, and doing their laundry while we were there.
Here is the place where we got picked up at the end of our trek. This is Viejo Palmar, and was destroyed in the late 80's when a lahar rushed through the middle of it. This picture isn't great, but if you look closely, you can see the remnants of buildings on either side of the lahar. All the people moved to Nuevo Palmar, a couple miles further away.

We hitched a ride out of Viejo Palmar on the back of a pickup truck for about twenty minutes. We were crammed in, standing up holding on to the frame. They dropped us off at a little spot on the main highway, and we took a chicken bus the rest of the way. A chicken bus is essentially an old school bus whose apparent goal is to cram in as many people as possible. By the time we got in, there were three people in each seat, and we stood up in the aisle. For awhile, I was standing right over the driver, and some students were standing on the stairs leading to the door. It was quite an experience, but I think it was essential to do at least once while I'm in Guatemala, as it's one of the most common ways people get around here.

Today, I feel pretty good. I'm sore in my shoulders and on my hips where the pack rested. The most discomfort is in my feet, which are really blistered. I'll take the pain, though. The views and the experience were definitely worth it.