Wandering Star

Momotombo and the Chronicles of Terror

3:45 am, Wednesday, my alarm goes off and I stumble out of bed. I couldn`t get to sleep the night before because of nervous tension surrounding this hike. Weary, I grab my pack and head over to the Quetzaltrekker´s house.

I meet everyone on the hike, eat a quick breakfast and pack up the food and cooking utensils we will be using on the overnight. My bag weighs in at perhaps 45 pounds… most of which comes from the 10 liters of water I am obliged to carry. Needless to say, the going was extremely difficult with such a weight strapped to my back.

We drove 1.5 hours to the ORMAT power plant, an Israeli-owned geothermal electricity plant producing an astonishing 77 Megawatts of power right out of the earth. The plant owns the land that contains the only realistic approach to the summit. After signing in with the guard we passed through the facility to the far gate and set out on foot.

Every point of the ascent got more and more difficult. First a winding power plant dirt road that yielded to forest trails, populated with all sorts of friendly and unfriendly critters. Then we began to cut into harder jungle and steeper climbs. Sweat poured out of me, and I was through 3 liters in the first two hours of the hike. The way thickened, I cannot imagine how rough this might be in the wet season with overgrown foliage… it was hard enough with the dried out remnants of last years growth. We hacked our way through with a machete at the front of the line and pressed on.

After one last rest we started the main attack to reach our campsite. This was absolutely devastating. The treeline passed, we climbed up a solid 30+ degree slope of loose volcanic pebbles. The going was extremelydifficult: the heavy pack on my back had the tendency to pull me away from the face of the volcano, so I struggled to lean into the climb. The sun was burning me alive. SPF 80 did nothing. SPF 80 DID NOTHING! Did you even know they made SPF 80!!?

A few times I stopped to catch my breath, my hot heart bursting in my chest, and looked out over the massive Lake of Managua. Exposed on that steep hillside I felt humbled. This part is what makes Momotombo the hardest Nicaraguan volcano to summit. Concepcion and San Cristobal are both higher, but this is the hardest… and even though I knew that going in, it still almost broke me. 

I eventually made it over the top and onto a nice flat plateau about 400 feet below the summit. The wind was howling from this point but the view was majestic, I could see all the way west to the Pacific, north practically to Honduras, and south to the sprawl of Managua. It was worth it after-all.

A group of 3 hardy trees formed our campsite, and I set to work preparing my tent. I had staked it out and was just finishing stretching the fly over the top when it happened. BOOM. The bass thump of an explosion echoed through the inside of the volcano. The pupils dilate, the heart surges in the chest… my eyes shoot up to the summit to look for any signs… Did that really just happen? Did that just happen to me on a volcano who hasn`t erupted in 104 years? Did I just hear and feel that?

We stay calm and joke about it, but the fear has stung me. This giant expanse of rock, this utterly massive and solid thing reminded me of the deadly hollow inside, that this is no mountain. We went about the process of making lunch, I just kept glancing up at the summit. We ate and a half hour later were lounging in what precious little shade we had when we heard two more blasts, more serious this time and one after another. We stayed upbeat, but it was obviously terrifying… every instinct told me to run and get away from this thing.

Luckily we had cell phone reception from this summit, so we called the Quetzaltrekker`s office and had them phone INETER, to see what their seismic readings showed. I waited, trying my damnedest to seem calm and composed. About 15 minutes later we got the call back… INETER says they were detected, and were consistent with relatively normal gas explosions from inside the volcano.

Still a little shaken, we had the answer we needed, I felt OK about it, its still such an impossible rarity to be there at that moment (but then again so is the natural Royal Flush!). We dug in at our campsite and went about our business.

The ascent to the summit from there was its own horror. Loose gravel-like cinder rocks mixed in with heavier boulders. This ascent was a hands-and-knees affair, struggling to gain ground on the daunting wind-swept ridge. Rocks repeatedly came rolling down, loosed by feet grinding through the loose soil. The summit, maybe 50 meters away, was not a reality. The way was just too dangerous, and no one was equipped with the necessary mountaineering equipment to make it possible; plus the fumarolic activity was very heavy near the top. The air was thick with Sulphurous compounds- the summit just couldn`t be attained.

Some people in the group expressed a sense of disappointment. Not I. I am overjoyed with the progress of our group and consider myself to have climbed Momotombo no doubt. For lack of a hundred feet out of 4,000 I do not feel as if I have failed. Better by far to live to write this post than to fall to an agonizing death on the rocks below.

The sunset from base camp was fantastic. Our dinner was delicious, pasta with an oil and dried tomato sauce, accompanied by a fresh salad: cucumber, onion, tomatoes, and sweet peppers with a lime squeezed on top. We also roasted hotdogs and marshmallows over a campfire. It was a relaxing end to the day, and I retired early to my tent.

My tent performed extremely well in its first Nicaraguan deployment, and it was a trial by fire indeed. The wind howled at some points during the night, but the structure remained true… I made a damn good purchase, thank you Eureeka!

The last chapter of the Terror this volcano showed me happened at 12:19am when I woke up to a flickering light outside. I thought it was someone`s headlamp… but it didn`t have that signature. The flickering happened again… once more my heart leaped up in my chest. You have got to be fucking kidding me, I said out-loud, and zipped up the fly to look out. There it was, out in the far horizon, a huge electrical storm lighting up the night sky. Twice in one day I choked back the panic rising in me. I dressed in 30 seconds and jumped out of the tent. I watched this thunderstorm in disbelief. How could this be happening! I`ve felt rain twice on this whole trip, both in Ocotal in my first week. How could a thunderstorm be bearing down on us in what is easily the most dangerous and exposed spot in miles!? Okay Momotombo, just erupt already, get me before the lightning does!

I stood there in silence watching the storm. I asked if anyone was awake but received no response. There was a lot of heat lightning but I could also clearly see ground strikes. As I woke up more fully and got my bearings, I could tell the storm was farther out than I had first thought. It was out beyond Chinandega, maybe as far as Honduras. I stood there, vigilant, for two hours watching every strike, monitoring it against reference points on the ground. I was ready at any minute to wake everyone up and run down the cinder slope of that slumbering beast.

Two hours passed and I felt like the storm was stalled out wherever it was. The strikes became lest frequent, my heart rate slowed down… the normal thoughts returned to my brain, like ¨hey buddy, you are exhausted, better by far to sleep now and incase the lightning does NOT come to end you.¨ I crawled back into the tent and pulled my sleeping bag up around my shoulders as it was cold during the night, in that stiff wind. I fell asleep upright still staring at the northern horizon.

I dreamed the lightning was bearing down on me, I dreamed it was over León and moving in rapidly. I dreamed it was right there and awoke in a sweat. It was 3:15 am, I shuddered to look out the window of the tent. Nothing. In the furthest distance I perceived a few isolated flickers, but nothing worth losing any more sleep over. Saved.

I woke at 5:15 to climb back up to the sub-summit ridge and watch the sunrise over el Lago de Managua. After a nice and relaxed breakfast we blazed down the north face, spacewalking through loose cinder rock and then heavier, larger lava fragments that had rolled down from the weak crater wall.
We pounded downward through blazing hot forests, seeing several iguanas as well as a half-dozen Guardabarranca (or motmot) the national bird of Nicaragua.

A much deserved sleep awaited on the microbus back to León. Exhausted! The shower I took was incredible, getting all that caked in dust and dirt out with cold water… wow! I blew my nose and tendrils of snot came out, caked pitch black from volcanic ash. Thought you`d all like to think about that… atleast I didn`t post photos!

My dear friend John arrives in Managua tomorrow. I will be there to meet him in the airport. The pace and nature of my journey is going to change a little bit with his arrival. I will do my best to continue posting with good frequency. I want to thank everyone who has sent me encouraging words for the work I`m putting in on this- I`m greatly enjoying the process. I wish I could get paid to be a travel writer. Who knows. More to follow… next stop, the heart of it all, Managua.