Pacaya!

Tuesday was the big day! For a long time I’ve been trying to climb Pacaya but something always stood in the way. Finally, I found a reputable tour group to take us there, and the day was bright and sunny- not a cloud in the sky. Pacaya is an active complex volcano near Antigua, which first erupted approximately 23,000 years ago, and has erupted at least 23 times since the Spanish conquest of Guatemala. After being dormant for a century, it erupted violently in 1965, and has been erupting continuously since then. Apparently sometimes it even showers Antigua with ash. But scientists monitor it, and usually its safe to climb.


We met our wonderful tour guide, Wilbur, and also in our group was a couple from England on a year-long sabbatical from the real world. After an hour and a half long car ride we reached the base of Pacaya. Pacaya is an interesting case in how innovation in development can work. Safety conditions here at any given time in Guatemala are precarious. One month a volcano or an area of town might be safe, the next month the most dangerous place in the country. Right now Agua, the volcano closest to Antigua, is not safe because of bandits. Tourist agencies and groups go with the flow and change their schedules and tour locations accordingly. In the late ‘90s until only a few years ago Pacaya was extremely dangerous, with tourist muggings, rapes, and assaults happening alarmingly frequently. Because of pressure from tourist businesses as well as tourists themselves who wanted a chance to see the lava without risking their lives, the government did something extremely rare for Guatemala- it actually took action. They made Pacaya a national park, which means that they can charge admittance fees (only $4 still I think) and have guides available for hire at the base of the volcano. Thus, all the locals who live in poverty underneath the volcano who previously had believed that tourists were coming in and taking advantage of their country and sites without giving anything back, and thus felt it appropriate to take it forcefully, now work for the park. Over 100 are deployed as security for the tourists on the volcano, standing amidst the jungle with walkie-talkies, always keeping an eye out as groups hike up. The rest work as guides or as the fee-collectors at the bottom of the volcano. Now the extra money made from groups going up goes towards upkeep of the village and of Lago Amitlan, a few miles away. A very interesting solution, and one that has worked wonders so far, with no reported assaults or robberies since the solution was invented.





As we got out of the car to begin our trek, a herd of young boys crowded around trying to sell us walking sticks. Nearby guides with horses for those too lazy to actually do the 2 hour hike up to the top stood ready (although as we hiked I became more and more convinced that to trust a pony on these treacherous and slippery rocks just feet away from a steep drop would be suicidal). In fact these men with the ponies followed us up the trail about a quarter of the way up, just in case. Every time we stopped to take a breath their eyes lit up, seeing the dollar signs already. A little 13 year old boy named Jorge tagged along with us as well, as he is the friend of Wilbur and helps him out when he has larger groups sometimes. His energy knew no bounds, and his chatter kept us entertained the whole grueling way to the top.



The worst part was the very last stretch before the cone, where the rocks and dirt turned to about a 2 foot deep black sand-like substance which was really hard to wade through up a steep cone—for every three steps we took forward we went back at least two. But the views were fantastic, and Wilbur was full of information about the volcano. A mangy and skinny looking dog named Tigra tagged along with us for a bit, and Wilbur said she was born on the volcano and has been there the past 4 years. Later she shared in our lunch.



When at last we reached the top, we got to roast marshmallows (“angelitos”) on a long stick over the lava. At some points the lava was runny and at some it simmered a bright orange-red under the big rocks of coal. It was extremely frightening to walk too close to the lava because we could feel the heat come through our sneakers, and the “rocks” we were walking on were really just coals that sometimes began to crumble under our feet. The heat on our faces felt like a sauna. It was truly a unique experience. After hanging out at the top for a while we “skied” down the black sand cone and set up camp for a nice Guatemalan lunch—rolls, squashed avocados, black beans from a baggie, and vegetables. After a very tiring morning, I don’t think I’ve ever tasted more delicious food. Because of how steep the volcano is, it took us only about 45 minutes to get back down, at times almost running down to keep from falling flat on our faces. Despite being known for my lack of coordination I only fell badly once and skinned my hand a little bit, not a complete disaster for me.