What's a Central American trip without volcanoes? The Central American Volcanic Arc (CAVA) stretches from the Guatemala-Mexico border to the western Panama, and in turn constitutes a link in the Pacific Ring of Fire. In fact, the closure of the Central American Seaway between the two Americas and the birth of the Central American isthmus had to do partly with increased volcanic activity. Volcan Santa Ana is El Salvador's highest volcano, and, we read, a very achievable four hours' return hike. So, on our second day, we set out to do just that.
Morning arrived on our second day like a swindler - I had forgotten that the time on our iPad was still Singapore's, and hence we awoke a full two hours earlier than intended. At five in the morning, the hostel was desolate like any hostel never was before - even the small, squarish pool in the corner was boarded up. For breakfast we had the previous night's pizza left-overs (we were too lazy to step out for dinner). It was just as well that we bumped into Daniel, a Swede fellow traveller, outside the kitchen. Like us, Daniel planned to climb Volcan Santa Ana that day, and alerted us of the hostel owner's recommendation that we take the 7.30 am bus to the trailhead instead of the 8.30 am service as we intended.
Below: Volcan Santa Ana, our first successful volcano ascent together - achievement unlocked.
Bus 248 to Cerro Verde, where the hike to the top of the volcano begins, leaves from the La Vencedora terminal not far from the hostel. La Vencedora isn't like most bus stations we've been to. First of all, it looks like a badly stocked provision store. We didn't know how we would board the bus, because there was no signs of a berth. Only the rows of plastic seating hinted at something like a transport hub. When the time came for the bus to depart, the iron door in a corner was opened, and we found the buses we were looking for. Second, an armed guard patrols the ground. He holds a rifle, not a pistol.
The bus ride was an experience in its own right. Not since Senegal have I encountered anything similar. If those long bus rides in Senegal made me fall in love with reggae then this one did the same for reggaeton. It also seems that in El Salvador, buses aren't just a means of getting from point A to point B, they provide a thriving marketplace as well - as the stream of vendors which board at major stops prove. These come on and sell anything from fresh produce to socks to padlocks. If you aren't hung up on getting your stores from Cold Storage or Waitrose you can pretty much by anything and everything by way of these vendors.
At the entrance to the Volcanic Complex, we paid our admission fees under the watchful eyes of three soldiers. We had slightly over an hour to wait as the hike cannot be done unguided, and the daily tours begin at 11 am. Each group then sets off with the appointed guide and a police escort (consisting of two policemen: one who walks ahead to the crater, and another who brings up the rear).
Below (from top to bottom): Maria versus Ana (the hulking green giant in the background), who will prevail?; chilling at the makeshift cafe, literally, as the clouds rolled in.
The route up was fairly straightforward, though it hardly qualifies as easy. First we had to descend the 566 steps from Cerro Verde and then from the bottom it was about an hour and 15 minutes or so up to the crater of Volcan Santa Ana. There were three viewpoints (los miradores) along the way: the first a rickety flight of wooden steps leading up to a similarly shaky platform which overlooks the nearby Lago Coatepeque, the second a slightly sturdier one from where Volcan Izalco is visible and the last which looks down to the crater lake atop Volcan Santa Ana.
Below (from top to bottom): Lago Coatepeque from the first mirador, moments before it was engulfed by cloud; Volcan Izalco, behind Cerro Verde where we started our hike, the youngest volcano in El Salvador. It was born in 1770 in a corn field on the southern flank of Volcan Santa Ana. Continuous eruptions over the following 200 years (ceasing in 1966, just before a hotel meant for eruption-chasing tourists on Cerro Verde was completed), spawning a 650-metre high volcanic cone. These highly visible eruptions earned it the moniker El Faro del Pacifico (Lighthouse of the Pacific) from passing sailors.
Somewhere between the first and second miradores we lost the main group, not because it got steeper but because it became more sustained. For the rest of the way, our guide Kevin led the main group some hundreds of metres ahead, while we huffed and puffed behind with Leas (this was how we heard his name pronounced as he introduced himself), our accompanying policeman. The scenery aside, Leas's patience was the other highlight of the hike. He showed good humour throughout his three hundredth and sixty first amble up and down Santa Ana, the ease with which he accomplished it betraying his forty years.
In my halting Spanish, we spoke about football (all about Barcelona and Real Madrid here in Central America; followed by the local rivalry between FAS and Metapan), gas prices (ours in Singapore still capable of drawing gasps internationally, and not because it's cheaper), the local wildlife (about there being jaguars sometimes in nearby Lago Coatepeque), both our families and work. There was little for me to share where the last-named topic was concerned, obviously. Leas has fifteen years in the force, four in the city of San Salvador, eleven here. I have three.
We drew some cheers when we finally made the top. The others had been there a while already. Despite the clouds getting in the way of what promised to be a spectacular panorama, we retained clear views of both the crater lake (reminiscent of Kawah Ijen in eastern Java, though smaller) and the flanks of the volcano - lifeless scree descending into gradual verdure. There is something to be said about standing atop a volcano, its titanic forces of fire and rock asleep beneath our feet. We know so much, and yet so little, about these giants, for guess as we might, we can never foretell their moment of awakening. Leas was on neighboring Cerro Verde on 1 October 2005 when Volcan Santa Ana hurled skywards a column of ash and rock, the last time it did. It was amazing, he says. (2 unfortunate souls perished, though.)
Below (from top to bottom): Jaffa Cakes give you wings; almost like looking out of an aeroplane.
Below (from top to bottom): Maguey in bloom on the arid upper slopes of the volcano. The fibre from its leaves are used to make rope and clothing and the liquid from its stem yields a spirit known as pulque (those from some relatives of the maguey yield tequila when distilled); a tired traveller contemplates the lusher lower slopes.
Going down proved nearly as tiring as going up was for Mary's tired legs. A thick fog had developed by the time we got to the trailhead, where the rest of our party was gathered in various horizontal positions of repose. The cheers were a little more feeble now, but it hardly mattered - we had climbed our first volcano together!
Achievement unlocked.
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