It’s four o’clock on Tuesday morning and as I lie awake aboard GANNET2, our home on wheels is rocking to strong winds and the sound of rain pitter pattering on the tin walls and roof, the indicator that Tropical Storm Pilar is closing in on us.
Layne is breathing heavily and Rusty on his bed on the floor is outright snoring. The night watch at the National Hurricane Center in Miami has put out their latest update. It appears strong dry winds pushing through the Tehuantepec Gap in Mexico are stalling Pilar offshore which is all to the good.
The newspaper reports rivers are already at capacity two people have drowned and 42 families have been evacuated to shelters in the port city of Acajutla and more evacuations are planned. El Salvador is saturated and lots more rain is on the way today. We are lucky to be parked up a volcano out of it all. It is windy and rainy but our home is well insulated comfortable and parked on hard ground. We are the lucky ones.
As we waited for the weather situation to develop our European friends suggested a hike up the volcano on Sunday. That was a new one for me. With nothing much to prepare this time for the arrival of a tropical storm going for a walk up a mountain had never entered my head as an option in the Florida Keys but there I was this past Sunday at 8,000 feet two days before storm landfall. Lisa and Sandro from Austria on the left, Silvia and Mattias from Bavaria on the right. Me, the last arrived gasping for air in the middle at 2400 meters.
The business of hiking up the volcano is quite organized. Everyone including dozens of day trippers gathered at the campground at 8:30 in the morning and paid three bucks apiece to our guides. Then we clumped off in a long snake through the fields to the entrance to the park where anyone under age 60 paid six bucks. For me and a spry Colombian tourist seen here chatting with young Lisa and Sandro, entry was free.
And then off we went. I find altitude very hard to cope with and starting out at six thousand feet is already high for me. Every step of the climb which took me about three and a half hours was a struggle to breathe.
It was Sunday so it was a busy day on Ilamatepec with hundreds of people scrambling up the rudimentary trail. 
The lower reaches were dirt under the concrete bed of the thick foliage but even here the trail underfoot was a mass of roots and steep tall steps requiring an old fat man to watch where he put his feet.
The views at lower levels were spectacular to start with as we were already above the clouds. And more importantly as I was to discover later we were still below the mists and fog that would obscure the views higher up.
I wondered at the purpose of this yellow arrow on the sole and obvious trail but this marked the beginning of the more vertical scramble as the trail entered the loose scree of tumbled boulders above the tree line. Yellow splotches marked the “trail” among the rocks from here to the top.
I was falling behind which was fine by me but I was determined not to trip and fall on the rocks that could easily twist an ankle or break a jaw if I were to go splat.
The campground was visible far below in between puffs of clouds that blew down the valley.
Two young police officers in perfect order blew past me at one point about half an hour beneath the summit. And yes that is the trail under their booted feet.
Finally I could see people milling about and that appeared to be the summit. I was hotter than hades and my breath was rasping more than ever. Plod, plod, plod leaning heavily on my cane, my survival tool that is also my souvenir of my motorcycle accident five years ago.
The final stretch into the fog.
I had heard about these guys. They fill coolers with ice creams and offer them for a hefty mark up at the top of the hill. $1:50 did not seem too much at all to me.
I handed my camera (a Panasonic Lumix G95 with a 28-140 full frame equivalent zoom if you are interested) to a new friend as I bought a coconut ice and asked the police officers to join me.
The reason they have cops climb the mountain is to support the guides who are required to clear the summit by 1pm. I was there at around noon and I got back to camp by 1:30. The problem has been that people dawdling on the mountain have got hurt requiring evacuation after dark and the deadline is designed to prevent future such problems.
Oh and then the souvenir Instagram photos. We lined up.
The Santa Anna mountain is actually an active volcano with an unusual sulphur lake in the crater. This is what we came to see:
The cops make sure you don’t step past the posts. It is a vertical fall to your death if slip.
I refueled with a delicious vanilla ice from the second vendor for my scramble down the hill.
As I went down slurping noisily those still scrambling up eyed my treat. I could hear voices muttering “paletta” as they went past me up to their reward. Those ice cream salesmen do a land sale business and they deserve to. I can’t imagine failing a heavy ice chest up here and then sitting in the cold all morning.
They are catching their breath on the trail down there:
Who brought bricks up here and what they built I don’t know.
The descent was easier in that I wasn’t gasping for breath anymore but stumbling over rocks was hard in my knees and Silvia had the same complaint.
My toes scrunched in my shoes and the trail never did open up. At no point was there a simple amble as you always had to look where you were putting your feet.
By now I was alone and I took the time to enjoy the silence and to admire the views and the flowers on the route. There was no one hustling along and all I could hear was the wind in the trees. This was the loveliest part of the walk and I wished Rusty were there with me.
The occasional high speed walker passed me plodding along. Quite a few foreigners came out of the silence jabbering as they went. “Buenas dias” we said solemnly in the local vernacular as I stepped aside for them.
Lovely solitude and so hard to find in Latin America where enjoying being alone is viewed as eccentric at best.
On the morning of October 1st 2005 the villagers living in the community of San Blas on the slopes of Ilamatepec volcano woke up to see smoke and ash issuing from the mountain. The fifty families were evacuated in time but the village got swamped in lava. And now there are just a few ruins to mark the spot.
They also marked our arrival back in civilization which I greeted with mixed feelings as I had enjoyed the peace and quiet of my section of the trail. My knees were screaming but Mattias was hungry and led us to lunch at the campground restaurant where each couple shared a mixed grill and those of us with a sweet tooth shared a brownie and ice cream as we contemplated our achievement.
When we got back to the van (the restaurant is dog friendly so Rusty was with us) we found a law enforcement prayer circle right outside our van. Praise Jesus (very loudly) right when I wanted a nap. I told you solitude is hard to cone by in a culture that has no notion of personal space. I was extra glad GANNET2 is so well insulated as I dropped into a deep and dreamless nap.
