Essays » Pacaya
It's a little disconcerting to realise that the source of the noise you have just mistaken for a jet flying overhead is, in fact the ground at your feet. Hot gas was percolating through the scoria not far away and the ground trembled slightly - or was that me trembling? One thing was certain, and that was my respect for this feisty little Guatemalan volcano had blossomed to something approaching awe.
Guatemala's western highlands is a landscape of volcanoes, and not dormant basalt cones like those dotted around metropolitan Auckland. Antigua, Guatemala's old capital is dominated by the cone of Mt Agua - named for its importance as a source of water. Then there's nearby Acatanengo and Fuego which rumbles and belches smoke continuously. Further north, the view from the town of Panajachel across Lago Atitlan is of three volcanoes that constantly wring the moisture from the clouds, quenching the coffee plantations on the lower slopes.
An excursion from Antigua to the top of Mt Pacaya, one of Agua's smaller neighbours would have to be one of the better bargains on offer in Guatemala. For $7US, you get return shuttle transport, a jovial spanish-speaking guide and an armed police escort - just in case.
Pacaya is a bit like Ngauruhoe - a bit smaller, but a lot more . From the road end, an hour's walk through cloud forest with hummingbirds, parrots, elusive monkeys and trees festooned with lichens and bromeliads leads to the base of the volcano's scoria cone. There can be no doubt that loose scoria is a lot more fun to descend than climb, but a worn path mitigates the effort despite the tropical sun. We pass fumaroles, rimed with sulphur, much to the delight of some European companions - nothing to impress a bunch of Kiwis yet though.
Then, after an hour or so, a jet engine at our feet, we peer tentatively over the crater rim at the source of it all. A small, dark cinder cone rises from the crater floor 20 metres below and spits glowing lava into the air from just below the crater rim. Now this is a volcano! The constant rumble is dominated by a heavy sloshing sound that can only be the sound of the lava within the cone and hidden from our view. The lava that is thrown from the cone slops out and solidifies, adding imperceptibly to its bulk. Occasionally a slide of new material tinkles like an avalanche of crystalware to the base of the growing cone..
Across the crater is a hole in the ground the size of a double garage door. This, as far as I can tell, is the entrance to Hell itself. From within comes a red glow and a shimmering haze from the escaping gases. From fifty metres away, you can feel the heat on your face. Bizzarely, it reminds me of a Gary Larsen cartoon and I am seized by an overwhelming urge to throw something into that awful chasm. Of course it is too far away, and besides, where's that fence post when you need it? I guess it's a guy thing.
The thin crust of a roof over the incandescent cavern brings into question the quality of the terra-not-so-firma beneath our own feet, and I can't ignore the dire consequences of a collapse, for there are fumes aplenty seeping out of the ground all about us. Just how safe is this? The cracks in the ground underscored the instability of the place, and it was clear that one day the rim would collapse into the crater, preferably not just yet though. I am sure there is a whole raft of government agencies that would co-operate to keep people away from such a spectacle in New Zealand. But this is Guatemala, so we get to take the risk.
Our descent is an exhilarating series of giant strides through the light, deep scoria, taking us to the bottom of the cone in about 4 minutes. Back in the forest we pass groups of police, idly chatting, their pistol-handled shotguns the ultimate macho fashion accessory. Some wear bandoliers slung across their chests, but in a country where Coca Cola trucks can have shotgun - toting minders, this is no cause for alarm. A couple of officers accompany our group to the road end and we pass others climbing up the path. We even get a fresh escort on the bus to the park boundary - just in case.