Volcan Acatenango

I woke up in a state of panic, a flashback to our honeymoon 10 years ago after we had climbed Mount Kinabalu and promised ourselves we would never go through that again.  The pain, the exhaustion, the altitude sickness - for us the reward just wasn’t worth it.  Why, then, were we planning on climbing Volcan Acatenango?

Now there are a few differences between Mount Kinabalu and Volcan Acatenango.  The latter is 200m lower for a start.  Unfortunately at almost 4000m it’s still high enough to cause altitude sickness.  On Mount Kinabalu all we had to carry was water and snacks for the day, whereas for this climb we had to carry all our water and food for both days plus all our camping equipment.  This wasn’t the hightech lightweight designed for hiking camping equipment either, it was the cheap designed for car camping equipment.  Mount Kinabalu is almost a never ending staircase, hard on the knees but easy to keep your feet.  The majority of the climb up Acatenango is on volcanic scree and ash.

We were committed though, and not going to back out now.  Throughout the hour long bus ride to the start of the trek I flitted between believing I could do this, to being sure we had made a horrible mistake.  Once we were off the bus and had managed to attach the very bulky camping gear to our packs, it was time to start the ascent.  There was no gradual introduction, the path was steep and covered in knee deep ash and scree.  With each step our feet slipped down the volcano, our muscles tensed as we tried to stay upright and moving forward more than backwards.  

We were breathing hard, and our muscles were already complaining when Jason started falling behind.   His face contorted with pain, but he kept pushing himself not wanting to be the weak link in our little group.  He paused every few steps, bending over in an attempt to relieve the pain in his side.  I forced him to stop, rest for a minute and take some aspirin.  There was no glory in pushing through at this point if it meant we never reached the summit.  After a few minutes he was ready to go on, and we continued making our way up the slope.  When we finally caught up to the group we were greeted with high fives and lively conversation. There were only 6 people in our group, and they all seemed to be there to have a good time, rather than trying to set a speed record for the ascent.  It was helped that our guide was perpetually happy, frequently reminding everyone “Don’t worry, be happy.”  

After that first break, the aspirin kicked in and we found ourselves well paced with the rest of our group.  At times someone would struggle with the altitude, cramps, or just exhaustion.  But the mood was continually upbeat, just what you need when pushing your physical limits.  After 4 hours of hiking through an ever changing landscape of farmland, cloud forest and pine forest, we reached a large flat clearing where we collapsed in various states of exhaustion.  When it was time to move on our guide assured us it was flat the rest of the way.  We cheered, one more hour on flat ground sounded doable.  He lied.  It was no longer the continually uphill slog, it was worse.  Constant ups and downs.  We weren’t gaining elevation, but my legs assured me it was anything but flat.  Then there was the added mental anguish of knowing the next day we would have to do this again.  

Shortly after 4pm we arrived at our campsite, a small flat area cut into the side of the volcano, with the most magnificent view.  Fuego was just in front of us, so close it felt like you could reach out and touch it.  Volcan Agua was to our left, with Antigua between it and us.  The clouds had been mounting for the last hour so we quickly set up camp and got the fire going.  Throughout the evening the clouds came and went, at times obliterating Fuego, at other times encapsulating the two volcanoes so we had a clear view.  A lightening storm started, and we watched the storm move around us.  Amazing red lightening bolts lit up the sky, accompanied by the occasional eruptions from Fuego.      

As night fell our guide set up a speaker and there was singing, dancing and enough rum that we were just a little tipsy.  It was at that moment that Fuego erupted shooting lava and rocks high into the air, whilst we looked on astounded.  

Eventually our little party ended and we tried to get some sleep before our 3:30am wake up call.  We didn’t really succeed as it was bitterly cold without the fire and rum to keep us warm, and we were on alert knowing we didn’t have long to sleep anyway.  The morning ascent was brutal.  We were tired, sore and feeling the impact of the altitude.  With no view for distraction it became a simple matter of one step at a time, trying to find purchase on a slope that continually slid down beneath our feet.  The sky gradually lightened and we turned off our headlamps continuing in the grey pre-dawn light.  I reached the summit and turned to see the first rays of sunlight cross the horizon and forgot all the pain.  The sky turned hues of yellow, orange and red.  We warmed our cold hands in the steam vents of Acatenango as Pacaya erupted to our left, Fuego erupted in front of us, and yet another volcano erupted to our right sending a massive ash cloud up into the air.  This was why it’s known as the Ring of Fire.

Antigua - a guest post by Jason ;)

Antigua was an unusual town that we really quite liked, it was quirky and unpredictable as well as providing us with some of the best food we had eaten in a while. The quirkiness comes from never quite knowing what you will encounter as you go round the town, on one occasion we encountered a school, with 40 or quite probably more students carrying a float on their shoulders, we think it was in honour of a saint, though possibly it was to commemorate an event.  Loud bangs were part of the unpredictableness I could have done without. Randomly through out the day (and night) a loud bang or several would startle us, it turned out that a firework the size of a poster tube were responsible, while it made no flash or explosion the sound certainly carried, as did the music that blared out of some shops or advertising bikes convincing us that most Guatemalans are either deaf or soon will be.

We did do some activities within the town, a museum dedicated to the printed word was somewhat smaller that we had expected, but then a museum which was located in a hotel, turned out to be one of the better experiences.  The museum was actually a collection of at least seven small specialty museums ranging from art, silverware to cooking and even toys all located within the ruins of a large convent which the hotel now encased.  The ruins of the building were interesting in of themselves and the number of small museums definitely made the entrance worthwhile.  Plus they had a true chocolatier working there and we splurged on a truffle each, whilst Ellen just stayed inside the chocolate shop savouring the smell of good quality chocolate (and the air conditioning).

Copan

From El Salvador we headed into Honduras to see Copan, our first Mayan ruins of the trip.    After walking around the charming modern town of Copan (modern in the sense of not thousands of years old) we made a trip across to Macaw Mountain, a rescue center for macaws, toucans, and other birdlife.  We enjoyed walking through some of the aviaries, one of which housed a pair of toucans that I am certain were trying to see how much they could startle us.  As soon as we turned our backs one would swoop down almost brushing our heads or shoulders, often carrying a piece of fruit to feed it’s mate.  Another couple had one of the toucans land on their backpack and try to take the red top off their water bottle!  The real highlight though was towards the end where a large open area was dotted with trees, and branches upon which macaws and other parrots were spending their time.  We each took it in turns to be laden down by multiple macaws, the loss of one of Jason’s shirt buttons was worth the experience!

The following day we went to the ruins themselves, where we once again got to meet a number of macaws.   The rescue center we visited the day before releases its rehabilitated birds in the archeological park, and so it has a number of resident macaws.  It was much nicer seeing the birds in the wild even as we had to dodge the falling mangos the Macaws would eat in the trees above us.  Wandering around site we tried to decide how some of the buildings where determined to serve the functions listed in the guide book and looking at the “un-excavated” ruins or to my mind “mounds of earth and stone held together with tree roots and grass” it challenges the imagination as to how the archeologists decide what a building looks like when they reassemble the stonework.  These doubts aside the site did have a number of structures, walls and altars that had quite a lot of detail still visible allowing us a glimpse of the intricate work that the Mayans incorporated into their important structures.  

El Salvador, not quite what you would expect.

El Salvador has challenged my expectations.  This is partly because we had not originally planned to come here, and therefore I had done little research.  But even if I had, I couldn’t have anticipated the beauty pageant in Suchitoto.  But I’ll get to that in a minute.

We arrived in El Salvador from Nicaragua, crossing Honduras in the process.  It was a long day, and certainly had the potential to negatively colour our first impression of El Salvador.  But it didn’t.  From the friendliest border official in the world, to the man who struck up a conversation with us whilst we waited for our bus in San Miguel, the people made it impossible to dislike El Salvador.  Our entire time here people have been genuinely friendly.  The downside to this, is that it’s made me realise how poor my Spanish is.  I have fairly good functional traveller spanish, but when people want to actually have real conversations with me I’m left shaking my head and saying “No entiendo.”.

Our first few days were spent at El Cuco, or at least nearby at a place called La Tortuga Verde.  Here we enjoyed sun, sand, surf and absolutely delicious food.  It was one of those places that would be easy not to leave, but there was more to see so off we went.  There is one bus that leaves from the hotel at 8am, and there were 7 of us who caught it.  Six of us caught the next bus to San Salvador, but we jumped off early to change for the bus to Suchitoto.  Despite needing three buses it was a fairly easy bus day, and we made it to our next stop in the early afternoon.   Suchitoto is a small mountain town, that you can walk from one end to the other in 15 minutes.  The cobbled streets are lined by charming colourful homes.  Men tip their hats and say “Buenos”, as they ride by on their horse.

On Saturday, as we had wandered around during the day we noticed some unusual sights.  A car surrounded by youths and decorated with flowers.  A section of street cordoned off with lights and speakers being set up underneath a marquee.  As the sun started to set we heard movement and music.  The town square was bustling with people, who seemed to be waiting for something.  Then we turned the corner to see the parade.  Girls sat on top of highly decorated cars, practicing the royal wave or throwing sweets to their adoring fans.  The cars were sometimes empty, at other times filled by friends or family.  A teenage boy stuck his head out the car window and called to me, proffering a paper rose.  The parade made its gradual way around the town, eventually ending near the marquee.  At around 7:00 the ground beneath our feet started to rumble, and we felt the music course through our bodies.  There were neon lights, and spotlights in green, orange and red. The music was an unusual combination of techno, electronica and folk.  We watched children playing in the square as we waited for our pupusas, which were being churned out at a phenomenal rate with about half the town apparently having them for dinner.

Our last stop in El Salvador was San Ignacio.  A small mountain town, from which we climbed to the highest point in El Salvador, which just happens to be on the border with Honduras.  For fun we walked in and out of Honduras a few times, the next day it would take multiple border officials, passport checks, and the obligatory walk through no mans land, to do the same thing!  The actual peak is on private property and it costs $3 to enter.  When we arrived at the gate, the guard told us it was $3 per person, we nodded and Jason got out his wallet.  He then proceeded to attempt to have a conversation, whilst I resorted to “No entiendo” almost every other sentence.  The exchange ended with him telling us we didn’t have to pay after all, and to enjoy the walk.  Perplexed, but grateful, we continued the uphill slog to the summit.   At the summit we encountered yet another friendly local who tried his best to have a conversation with us, but “no entiendo.”  Having recovered our breath we made our way down the mountain, past locals having picnics and children rolling down soft green hills.  We reached the road around 3:30pm and waited for a bus.  And waited.  And waited.  Around 4:30 with the temperature dropping I decided to stand by the side of the road looking cold, and hopeful all at once.  The next car, well ute, that past called out to ask if we wanted a ride and we jumped in the back.  We even had a comfortable seat (100kg bag of rice) and backrest (a rolled up tarp).  We sat in the back, grateful for the lift, and enjoyed the stunning views.  

I’m so glad we came to El Salvador, which we almost didn’t, as it’s turned out to be one of our favourite countries in Central America.  The country itself is beautiful, but they all have had that.  The difference is in the people.  The friendliness, the fact they have time and energy to spend on enjoyment (beauty pageant, music concerts, award ceremonies), a pride in their country and eagerness for tourists to enjoy it.  We have felt completely safe everywhere we’ve been, with no concerns about carrying valuables, or walking the streets at night.  It’s such an easy country to explore with numbered bus routes, and timetables you can find online.  I’m not sure why El Salvador is not higher on the tourist radar, maybe it will be soon.   

From Somoto, Nicaragua to El Cuco, El Salvador via Honduras.

The day started early.  We’d set the alarm for 5:30am, but were awake long before that.  May is the start of the wet season, and as if on queue, the heaven’s opened the night of May 1st.  Thunder and lightening that set car alarms going.  Rain so heavy it formed a waterfall between us and the garden, and a river flowed along the box drains filling them a foot deep in water.  

“I’m not going out in that!”  

It was the sort of rain that leaves you drenched to the bone within 10m of leaving the house, and we don’t have rain covers on our bags.  The fabric is sufficient for light rain, but would be no match for this.  Our decision made we curled back into bed, with the sole aim of the day to buy garbage bags to protect our belongings from future downpours.  

But gradually the rain started to ease.  It was possible to talk, without yelling.  I could hear the whir of the fan over the sound of falling rain.  We talked it back and forth, then at 6:25am decided to just go for it.  We weren’t entirely sure of the bus times, at the station it said 7:15am. whereas the hotel owner had told us it left on the hour.  We decided to aim for 7am, just to be safe.  We quickly found as many plastic bags as possible and covered our electronics, and anything else we deemed of value (eg. passports).  

We were out the door by 6:35 and on our way to the bus terminal.  We arrived with plenty of time to spare, except that the 7 or 7:15am bus was already pulling out of the terminal as we arrived at 6:50am.  It turned out our hour delay in leaving was a good thing, as another couple on the bus had braved the thunderstorm and got there at 5:30am expecting the bus to leave at 6am.

I was expecting the day to be a travel horror story.  12 hours on 7 buses, with two border crossings thrown in for good measure - how could that not end up the day from hell?!  Yet, strangely, it was a good day.  We made it through our first border crossing and after nearly an hour wait were on a minibus heading into Honduras.  It stopped when we spotted two buses heading to Choluteca, one a chicken bus, the other a minibus.  Touts swarmed the van and multiple hands reached for our luggage.  This bus, this bus, muy rapido, directo.  Generally my experience has been smaller buses are quicker and as I wanted to make it to El Cuco before dark it seemed the better choice.  This was reinforced as we left the chicken bus in our dust.  That’s when I started smiling, enjoying the chaos, the unknown, the randomness of pubic transportation.  

I’ll admit the bus from Choluteca to Amatillo wasn’t quite so fun, but that was mostly due to the metal bar causing us to have very painful rear ends.  We helped ourselves to chicken tacos, and debated mangos and roskillas that tempted us on their way pass.  

Our second border crossing of the day was much easier than the first.  On leaving Honduras the line had got a little long and a few of us were waved inside the building where we enjoyed the aircon and a very efficient official had the five of us on our way before the normal line had processed one person.  It was the border official on our entry to El Salvador who made my day though.  He was the happiest border official I’ve ever met.  He was so excited to discover our destination, telling us how much we would love it.  He even suggested a hotel, as he is bringing his family here on Thursday, and he seemed quite taken by the idea we could meet up.

The next two buses were closer to coaches, a degree of comfort we aren’t used to.  We were even entertained by two guys playing guitars who we assumed were buskers, until they finished singing and got off the bus without asking for money.  The only downside was that we had run out of water half way through Honduras and when we tried to buy some from a bus seller in El Salvador she didn’t have enough change.  We only had $1, and the water was 15 cents.  In hindsight we should have offered to buy everything she had, as no other water sellers appeared in the next 4 hours.  

We were evicted from the bus in the middle of a busy street beside a taxi convention.  We were told to wait there for our next bus.  By this point it was just after 3:30pm, and the last bus to El Cuco is 4pm.  We crossed our fingers and watched bus after bus go by, none of them heading to El Cuco.  We struck up a conversation with a local who was meeting his brother and son off a bus.  He also assured us we were in the right place, and did his best to convince us why his home town is worth a visit.  

Eventually the last bus came, and wound it’s slow, ponderous way towards the beach.  If it hadn’t been for the sun setting behind misty covered mountains, it might have been frustrating and upsetting.  Lastly came the taxi from El Cuco to our hotel, which thankfully had a room, free water, free mangos and a beautiful seemingly endless beach.

It took 12 hours, 1 thunderstorm, 2 border crossings, 3 countries, 3 chicken buses, 2 coaches, 2 minibuses, 1 taxi and $21, but we finally made it from Somoto, Nicaragua to El Cuco, El Salvador.

I had to write about the buses eventually

The bus journeys so far in Central America, have been uneventful.  They have ranged from air conditioned shuttle buses whizzing from one city to another, to packed chicken buses stopping anywhere and everywhere as they wind their way across the country whilst inside we battle away heat stroke.  We have had assigned seats, found our own, and stood.  The aisles have become two way traffic lanes as vendors sell food, goods, and drink.  We have listened as beggars told their story before moving through the bus collecting donations, and pharmaceutical reps spouted the benefit of this or that medication.  

But the trip from Matagalpa to Somoto was a completely different beast.  There didn’t seem that many people waiting for the bus to Esteli, that was until the bus arrived and all of a sudden people converged on the doors from everywhere, running and pushing people out of the way.  Once the dust had settled everyone had a seat, and the chaotic boarding made even less sense.  It was nothing, however, when compared to the trip from Esteli to Somoto.  We were prepared this time, and ready to be part of the push.  We could feel the energy increasing in the crowd as the bus driver got into to the bus marked Esteli.  The crowd swelled out into the rain, ready to make a run for it.  Beside me a lady with a baby was told to move so she would be out of danger, as her friend promised to get her a seat.  I was stationed near the front and Jason headed for the back of the bus.  Before the bus had even come to a stop 20 men had jumped on the back, swinging from the door as they wrenched it open.  I was in the midst of the pushing at the front, people appeared from nowhere squeezing between me and the person in front even where it seemed there was no room.  Jason and I were pushed onto the bus, moved forward by the pressure of bodies, until we met in the middle, neither of us having found a seat.  People continued to board the bus, and the ayudante (helper) instructed us where to stand, making sure every square cm space was used.  Sweat dripped down our bodies which were pressed against at least 4 people at all times.  For a time I stood on one leg, unable to locate enough floor space to put my other foot down.  Jason found his feet frequently used by those looking for floor space, and his cries of pain were ignored as a lady ground her heel into his foot. 

We were so grateful when we finally arrived in Somoto, and located a hotel room.  It was clean, spacious and we even had our own bathroom.  We accepted without a second thought.  Then a few minutes later we found we had no running water in the bathroom... Note to self, check the taps before agreeing to a room!

Churches of Leon and the hills of Matagalpa

To provide a contrast to my backpacker diet theory, I should talk about the food.  Leon was where we had the best local meal so far.  A dish of mashed plantains, some form of meat in a delicious marinade and salad, we opted to have it with chillies.  It was absolutely delicious!  I have been searching for this again, but been unable to locate it.  My other discovery was bags of chocolate milk.  It’s not normally a drink I would favour, but there is very little calcium in our diet and my body is craving milk.  There is the option to buy it in a bottle, or for a quarter of the price you can buy a bag, bite off the corner and drink it down.  Cheap and delicious!

There were other discoveries in Leon, our favourite being the roof of the cathedral.  We had thought it was just a chance to go up in the bell tower, but we were given free reign to wander over the roof.  This particular cathedral was originally supposed to be built in Lima, Peru, where it’s grandeur may have been more fitting.  The roof was two levels of brilliant white domes, littered with stained glass windows.  We had views over the entire city, but it was strangely more entrancing just being amid all that white, beauty within the simplicity. What was not so simple was the museum of myths and legends.  It is housed within an old prison and there are descriptions of the atrocities that were committed, photos, and the walls are painted with pictures of prisoners.  Prisoners being tortured, prisoners sleeping, prisoners trying to escape.  Then there are giant puppets that represent the myths and legends of Nicaragua.  A surreal contrast with the very real and ugly history of the location.  Many of the myths involved witches and curses, and one room had speakers providing the spooky soundtrack to the whole experience.

From Leon we headed to Matagalpa.  This had not been on our planned route, as the Lonely Planet, didn’t sell it very well.  However a very lovely couple we met in Granada had done a much better sale pitch, so off we went.  The city itself was not overly thrilling ,although it did have a beautiful white cathedral at its centre (a common theme we’re noticing).  The real draw was the hiking.  We only had half a day when we arrived, so headed to the nearest reserve hiking to the cross that overlooks the city.  

The best hike though was at Arenal Reserva.  It is a slightly confusing start, as rather than being a national park, it appears that the reserve is managed by a hotel.  We headed up through reception and past the most gorgeous chapel whose roof was covered in jungle foliage.  Once into the cloud forest we planned a route through the crisscrossing trails.  I finally managed to get a photo of an agouti, an animal we have seen many times but never been quick enough to catch on camera.  We walked to the sound of countless birds, and howler monkeys.  But it was not the wildlife that made this place special, it was the forest itself.  It was green and lush, and we were continually stopping just to absorb the beauty of it.  Even better we had it to ourselves.  At least we did until the last 10 minutes of walking close to the hotel, where guests were arriving in droves to attend a wedding.  I couldn’t imagine a more spectacular place to get married.