WanderingWhy…

Because it is there? No, because Sean is a moron. Let me say that the Maderas Volcano looks and feels much better from the beach with a beer then trying to get to the top. I was completely sold on the idea of a hike into the rim of a volcano with a lake in the crater. Never mind the fact that it is an eight hour hike and I can’t remember when I even spent eight hours on my feet.

However, after two hours of hoofing the trail that goes straight up I was over the romantic idea and just working on the challenge. This hike was the hardest I have ever done. It is 10K round trip. Picture some slick muddy rocks on the steps of your Stairmaster and get on it for four hours without falling off. Then turn around and face the other way for more four hours and you’ll start to get an idea of what a hike like this entails.

I was hiking behind or towards then middle of our team for the first 2 hours or so. Then the person in front of me started to really wear down and would take 2 steps and rest for a few seconds, then take to more and so on. Granted, they were much older than I am and it was great that they were even doing something like this. But this pace they were setting was screwing me up completely.

I like to go hard until I’m into “the zone” where people voices sound far away although they are right next to me and my pace just kind of falls into place, very little stopping. I’m not saying I’m He-man, I just can’t stop to think about how hard this is, or how much more we have to go, or how much my legs hurt–I just like to go and think about all that later.

So at this rate I was starting to realize I may not make it to the top. I would be ready to sit down and wait for the group to summit and return. So when the group stopped I just kept stomping along at a slow pace figuring the faster members of the group would catch up.

After about an hour or so, I stopped and listened–nothing. I hung around for about 20 minutes and finally heard the panicked voice of my Spanish speaking guide: “Chaun!! Chaun!” I couldn’t see him but realized I had screwed up. “Yeah!” I yelled. “Un Momento!!”came the reply. “Okay” I answered.

The group caught up and told me I had given the guide quite a scare. He thought I had fallen off the side near the top. I felt bad and apologized the best I could in my horrible Spanish. He smiled and just seemed happy not to have lost some dumb gringo in his group. Truthfully, other than the physical difficulty of the hike itself, I don’t see why you need a guide. There was not a lot of thought that went into the design of the trail with switchbacks and different routes. They learned people wanted to go to the top of the volcano so they put in a path straight up to the top.

Going up is hard aerobically, but going down is always the hardest part I think. Downhill is pure murder on the knees. And over slick muddy rock where you think you are going to fall with every step for 5k is so tough it’s ridiculous. My guide was like a mountain goat–so sure footed with every step I was sure he was a ghost sent to lead me out of this situation.

It was tough, it was hard, it totally sucked–but it was fantastic when we were sitting around drinking the ice cold beers which seemed to heal everything instantly. I did it. I hiked Maderas.

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