Sunday, October 13, 2013

Nica Stories: The Masaya Volcano

Tales from a non-traditional honeymoon...

Breakfast nook-eye view of the Masaya Volcano

In the spirit of brevity and not diminishing my massive readership, I'll make an effort to journal many of the great stories from my recent trip to Nicaragua (with my wife!)...in separate, digestible posts. My hope is that you experience this amazing journey with Melody and I as if you were right there with us - sweating, walking, seeking shade and dodging horse-drawn rickshaws just as we did. These stories don't represent the sum of our journey; they celebrate some of our favorite, most dramatic and harrowing moments. They're the fun ones. You'll have to ask about the rest. 

The Masaya Volcano (Volcan Masaya)

"Now every time I see a cloud, I wonder lies the volcano that created it"
-- Greg--

What a view!

Thanks to Airbnb, Melody and I were able to rent a quiet (quite the luxury in Nicaragua) farmhouse two miles outside of Masaya, a crafty city not 30 minutes by car from Managua, Nicaragua's capital. The picture you see above was taken from the patio the morning we hiked that volcano; The same volcano that awoke the tiny part in our brains that translates the following phrase into a warm sensation: "Holy crap, that's gorgeous".

After a few cups of coffee and conversation while staring at our target, we geared up and hiked into town. Seventeen seconds in, we were sweating.

We had gallo pinto (red beans/rice, with loads of grease), fried cheese (of governmental quality) and tortillas for breakfast, then asked the owner which bus could transport us to the Volcano. While we were waiting, an elderly cab driver persuaded me to have him drive us there for 80 cords, or roughly 4 dollars. He thought we were German, which was unexpected and sort of nice. He also tried to convince us to allow him to drive us to the top, beginning negotiations at $20 (US), then dropping to $12 and finally $10. This was expected. He couldn't understand our desire to walk the 6km to the top. Or he wanted to ensure having a fare when he drove back into town. He definitely offered us the "Gringo Rate" for the ride there, which I paid indifferently.  But there's nothing sexy about summiting a volcano by cab.

Posing with Sandino at the park's entrance

Due to its history and visibility as a geographical landmark - you could say that it's the mother of all volcanos in the Land of Lakes and Volcanos - Volcan Masaya is a protected national park. This means there's a museum that serves as an educational center, gift shop and hangout for the park rangers. We arrived there less than one mile into the hike (still relatively flat terrain), ducking in just before a massive rainstorm began thumping the zinc roofing.

We paid the modest entry fee, signed the log book and took a lap around the museum to view the various volcano-related exhibits. (And for the record, most of the time when I say "we", what I really mean to say is "I", since as the only spanish-speaking member of our traveling outfit, I was solely responsible for all translating, purchasing, signing-in and organizing duties - basically anything that involved talking. "She" did help with bag transportation and Cortisone cream application, however. Both imperative).

Trippy mural inside the museum
Somewhat certain the rain was gone for good - or at least as certain as one can be in a tropical humid environment - we set out and up the paved road to the top. A park ranger on a motorcycle played leap-frog with us, likely because being the off-season we were one of only a few people visiting the volcano. Certainly the only Americans. So obviously we merited a "close eye".

He'd pass us, then wait for us to pass him, at which point he would, you guessed us, pass us again. Finally, to break our weird non-verbal relationship, I asked him how far it was to the top. He told me that it wasn't too far by bike. When I reminded him that we were hiking, he told me how many meters it was from the top. When I asked him if he knew how far it was in feet, he rightfully looked at me cross for not using the metric system. I said we'd figure it out and see him at the top.

Because of its activity, volcanic rock was piled high all around us. Just off of the road, piles of large black porous chunks of volcanic rock came out of the ground like small, extremely dense hills. According to the guide book we purchased, in 2011 a chunk destroyed an Italian tourist's car. This is also where I read that gazing into the center of the crater was like, "Staring into the Mouth of Hell!". I added the exclamation point, because it's impossible to speak those words without getting at least a little bit excited.

Volcanic rock from lava circa 1772

We walked peacefully, taking in the exotic surroundings while rehashing highlights from our wedding and reception; considering we were hiking a freaking volcano in Central America, it felt like they had taken place months ago, across the globe. With our crazy schedules, Melody and I have to make time to spend with each other, a habit that takes effort and commitment, but is richly worth it. There, sweating and chatting, it felt nice to know that we had two uninterrupted weeks to spend with each other. I didn't even take my phone - how's that for minimizing distractions?

We felt rain threatening, but as luck would have it, we came upon a small covered stone building, where we sat for a few minutes enjoying the scenery and a Clif bar. The billowing steam (not sure if the appropriate term is steam or smoke, so I'll use both interchangeably) kept lifting itself out of the massive crater, rising high after clearing the rim, joining the rest of the clouds in the sky; nature's assembly-line version of a deluxe Cloud-Maker.

Pondering life from inside our rock shelter

Because she can't read spanish, I told Melody this was a "Hugging Post"

As we climbed higher (and keep in mind "climbing" still meant "walking up a steep, paved road" at this point) we saw the lush green rainforest replaced with brown, almost cactus-like plant life. Black volcanic rock dominated the upper peak, leaving very little room for greenery to thrive. It was beautiful in its own gruff manner, displaying a vast array of black and brown rock, roots and shrubs on the jagged and sterilized landscape. We both wondered aloud how many centuries worth of eruptions must have happened to get to this point.

There was a parking lot at the top of the Masaya Volcano containing only a few cars. We saw a few other tourists - non-hikers - in one corner, so we went to the opposite one. We also saw up close the large cross that had been our asthmith (it's a GPS term - look it up) throughout the four mile hike up, though unfortunately we couldn't climb the stairs that lead to it's base. Something about it exploding last year - I'm not 100% sure as I didn't fully listen to the park ranger's explanation (admittedly our trip suffered slightly due to my inability to pay attention to everything at all times).

Lot entrance, with cross in the background. The stairs up to that side were roped off.
Before we knew it a waist-high rock barrier was the only thing between Melody and I and a very dramatic ritualistic sacrifice. The view was amazing! When we could see through the smoke, that is. We could see around most of the crater (the crater being the top of the volcano) when the haze wasn't strong, but we could not see directly down to the center of the volcano. I don't know what I expected, but this was entirely different. OK, that's not true, I know exactly what I expected: something like the Eye of Sauron, with glowing red volcano and a creepy starfruit-looking eye staring at me. What would you expect after reading the phrase: "Mouth of Hell".

On the edge of the "Mouth of Hell"

Posing at the rock wall that separate us from the cloud making machine

Holy cow, this looks like a painting. Not sure if my photoshop skills are helping/hurting this image. 

I know what you're wondering and yes, I purchased Melody a coconut on the condition that she sing the coconut song from The Lion King..."I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts..."

What we witnessed, however, was much more beautiful. Steam rose up all around us as if we were on an airplane flying through the clouds. The white steam was so white, so rich and pure that it didn't look real at all. I go back to my previous point; it felt like we were in the middle of the cloud making process. Like there were little cloud babies being produced in the depths of this volcano, and we were fortunate enough to witness them grow up and mature into strong and respectable adult clouds right before our eyes. Very "circle of life".

A rocky trail to the left of the crater called to us, offering a unique vantage point: a view down into an active volcano. It was just as amazing as you could imagine. The trail led us to a point where we could see not just the active Masaya Volcano, but also the inactive, and somewhat lush, Nindiri Volcano. The steam took on a different look and feel from this altitude, as it puffed up and out between the green trails and black volcano.

Surprised to have such a wonderful view

Taking it all in, from atop the crater

Walking into the unknown

Laguna de Apoyo - our future swimming hole - in the background

No, this isn't a fire. It's the Earth making clouds!

Perched up as high up as the trail would take us

It's dizzying just how beautiful the view is. You can see the entire town of Masaya, a clear lagoon (La Laguna de Apoyo) and both volcanos, not to mention the full canvas of clouds that you just saw being created. It was astonishing!

Panoramic view of both craters, with steam rising from the Masaya Volcano

After taking pictures for half and hour or so, we packed up and began our descent. Having already put in seven miles up to that point, and not yet twenty four hours from a day spent in airports and on planes, with only two real Nica meals in our bellies, our bodies began to rebel. It wasn't an all-out mutiny, but enough to where walking backwards down the paved road felt comforting. Our calves appreciated this tactical shift.

We completed the hike by passing through the gates once again, hitting the eight mile mark as we did so. A high-five cemented this momentous occasion, after which we un-glamorously waited for a bus to take us back into town, and ultimately, our quite farmhouse (which we cabbed to, saving our legs two additional miles).

Still a beautiful smile, even after 8 miles
Main entrance, just off the highway
The evening ended with an amazing jalapeƱo chicken meal, complete with rice, beans, and tostones (fried plantains) and a stop in the market, where a bottle (OK, bottles) of Flor de Cana, our favorite Nica rum, was purchased. After showers and stretching, we sat outside for hours recounting the day while sipping rum and smoking cigars. Yes, even Melody tried one.

This unforgettable meal did its part to replenish the copious amount of calories I shed on the volcano
And even though the fan in our room - well, all power, to be specific - crapped out in the middle of the night, we both slept like royalty, not even waking to pee, probably due to dehydration. Hiking and rum drinking on very little water will do that to you.

But now we can say that we've hiked up an active volcano and witnessed first hand a different slice of the world.

Wait...not awesome enough.

We've stared into the "Mouth of Hell" and lived to tell about it!

Yeah, I like that better.


More stories to come, but in the meantime, feel free to scan the rest of the pictures from our time in Masaya and Granada.

www.awesomenicapicturesfromgregandmelodyhoneymoonawesomeness











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