My volcanic trek

It felt like National Geographic, but they always make it to the top. Let me start from the beginning ... of the story, not the mountain. So last weekend was a long one. I always have Fridays off and then Monday was a national holiday of some sort. My friend and fellow gringa teacher, Kendra, and I decided to make the most of it and head 10 hours southeast of Santiago to a small city called Pucón. It has a reputation for breathtaking natural beauty, adventure sports, and well-developed tourist infrastructure (i.e. unfortunately, A LOT of people know how cool it is). It didn´t disappoint on any count.

We took an overnight bus on Thursday night and rolled in Friday morning. Despite warnings that it would be freezing cold and rainy, the sky was blue with a few puffy clouds and the air was crisp but oh so fresh. The whole weekend, breathing was a pleasure! We found our hostel, dropped off our stuff, and bought return tickets for an overnight bus leaving Monday night. Here´s to nearly 4 full days in paradise!

One of the "must do" activities is climbing an active volcano called Villarica. When my friend pointed out a very tall, very steep, very snowy peak, I said, "Maybe that´s not the volcano we´re going to climb." No such luck. At 7 am the next morning (Saturday) we shivered as we waited for the tourist agency to open. We were excited, but nervous and very, very cold. They loaded us with gear -- boots, pants, jacket, gloves, hat, backpack, ice ax, helmut, and cramp-ons (metal spikes that clamp onto your boots). As we donned all the stuff, we gave each other nervous smiles. And what, exactly, is the ice ax for?

We and 9 other foreigners (no Chileans travel south this time of year) piled into a minivan and headed for the volcano. We unloaded, put on the last of our gear, and started climbing with very little instruction from our group of guides. It was tough from the beginning. Between the gear and the exertion, we had to stop at the first "landing" and remove layers of clothing. Never would I have imagined that I would feel hot that day!

We pushed on with only brief, occasional water breaks as the mountain got steeper and icier. After about 3 hours, we put on the cramp-ons. The wind was strong up and they showed us how to stop ourselves if we started to slide down the mountain. (FYI: hold the ice ax perpendicular to your body and roll onto your belly, pushing the ax into the snow; also, lift your feet because they´ll stop you, but you might break your legs in the process.) The climb was grueling and the view was pretty much limited to the boots of the person in front of you.

I started to feel really sick. I didn´t know if it was dehydration, the altitude, the exertion and lack of breaks, or doing it all without having eaten much of anything. I was feeling like hell and praying for a break when ... I collapsed. Literally passed out, planting my face in the snow. I woke up to the guides trying to sit me upright and asking me my name, if I had health problems, if I practice any sports, if I´d eaten breakfast. I slumped over onto one of them and mumbled Amanda, no, not really, and not really. They held me up while one fed me a banana. When it was clear I wasn´t going to die, the banana guy stayed with me while the others continued the climb with the group.

He told me I couldn´t finish even though the top was only 100 meters away. I cried out of disappointment and asked him why. He patiently explained that it would take another 1.5 hours to get to the top, another 2.5 to get down, and that I had just collapsed. Oh, right. I guess the same part of me that thought I could climb a mountain with no training on an empty stomach also thought I could jump back up and finish the trek after my body clearly told me NO MORE.

After a little more food and some water, we set off down the mountain. It turns out that when you stop moving, you get really freaking cold. Thankfully, the trek down was much easier -- especially because we slid down! At first, I thought he was crazy when he pointed to the incline and told me to sit down and push off. Push off, yourself! But then after the first slide, I was eager for ones even steeper. It´s such a rush to be hurtling down a mountain with nothing but a piece of nylon between your arse and the ice!

So, in the end, my volcanic trek was amazing and horrible and painful and unforgettable. It might never have qualified for National Geographic, but it was one of the craziest days of my life.