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One of the main attractions in Antigua is hiking the volcanoes nearby. I signed up for the morning hike since there are often afternoon showers; actually since I arrived in Antigua, the rain has been nonstop. Our van left at six in the morning, winding its way up the mountain. Despite the fog covered windshield, our driver got us up to the park safely. Hiking up to Volcano Pacaya was only 3 km, a fairly easy hike in the park. Kids at the park entrance offered horse rides up the mountain, but none of the people in my group, nicknamed Puma to distinguish ourselves from other groups there, took the offer. After only about a short distance from the start, we came upon gates which would have prevented the horses from getting through. On the way up, we could see a lake in the distance and also a volcanic-steam power generation plant opened by an Isreali company. Just from the trail itself, I couldn’t tell that it was a volcano. When we got to the top, I saw blackened rocks that had no plant growth on it whatsoever. As recently as one year and ten months ago, the volcano erupted, sending ashes over to Guatemala City 45 km away. However, the actual molten lava only sprayed within a few miles from the top. The scenery from the top was astounding for it contrasted the rich green mountaintop and the still-angry, black, hardened lava, barely covering the hot molten lava beneath. The hot steam from the lava beneath breathed through various holes in the ground.
As we descended onto the black rocks, I could hear crackling sounds of the rocks crunching and breaking. Winds warmed by the lava heat replaced cold gusts of the mountaintop. Even though I stood on hard rocks, I felt the rock could give away at anytime. It wasn’t until later when I found out from the guide that the park really has no idea when the volcano would erupt; it could be days, hours or minutes. We were simply hoping that during our visit, the volcano is peaceful. Two of the girls in the group wore sandals; I think they were crazy. Even though most of the rocks were solid, in some places, a thin patch of rock covered over molten lava only a few feet below. If the rock broke, it would be terrible news for whoever stepped on it. I thought maybe I should walk behind the guide or someone heavier than me. If the rock can support their weight, then surely it could support mine. I tried not to put my hand on anything as the rocks could be scorching hot. Even through my hiking boots, my feet were starting to feel very warm from rocks below. As other people in my group were taking off layers to cool off, I was putting extras socks on my hands for protection. Despite the increasing heat, the two Denmark girls with sandals soldiered on. Even though they had been talking a lot on the way up; they weren’t talking very much any more though.
The point where we began to descend to see the lava is actually not the mouth of the volcano, but rather, we were on the side of the mountain. As we descended further, I could see some molten lava flowing in the distance. Further still, I came only within a few meters away from moving lava. Holy Cow! By then, I could definitely feel the heat on my face. The cold wind that blew on top of the mountain was now hot dry heat which in a way is similar to bonfires – ones that you want to get close to but know you really shouldn’t. One of the guides from the other groups prodded the lava with his walking stick, setting it on fire. Other tourists, probably American, brought marsh mellows to cook. Natural instinct tells me I shouldn’t be this close to a volcano, but seeing and feeling moving lava and molten rocks make the trip worth the risk – I hope. I wondered how many times this volcano has erupted over the years and swallowed the people innocently standing there. As more morbid thoughts crept into my head, our group began our trek back out. As I looked back at our line of little ants marching out of the volcano, I felt really small, but satisfied.