mobile geo social

Written by Ron, our man in Guatemala

Four weeks ago, I flew into Panama City with no real ideas about what i was about to experience. Tomorrow, not by choice, I leave the group to return to my own part of the world. This is an attempt to detail from my point of view some of the defining moments of the Los Conquistadores trip:

• The first night, swimming in the very warm pacific waters, while a spectacular lightning display played over Panama City two hours away. Even though it was the same ocean that I swim in at home, it was clear to me that I was in another world.
• The Pope! Who would have thought that on a Costa Rican backroad we would almost force the PopeMobile off the road?
• Music. A couple of recurring musical themes were established very early in the trip: El Condor Pasa courtesy of Marianne, Y.M.C.A. and Abba courtesy of Elisabeth and JoJo, and the Dutch National Anthem (Helmet Song) courtesy of Catrien soon became entrenched in the trip mythology. Particularly defining moments came later in the trip when assorted restaurants were cleared because of renditions of any or all of the above.
• Diving. Resting on the bed of the ocean watching the others descend towards you through the turquoise clear waters, then seeing the looks of achievement and absolute pleasure on the faces of Orla and Caroline as they hauled themselves back into the boat half an hour later.
• Sunsets. In particular at West End, Roatan, and the Sunset Cafe, Lakje Atitlan. Group members gathered together at the end of the day for a quick drink and a few moments of reflection. But even more spectacular sitting in a sea kayak off-shore from the Bay Islands watching the sun dip into the Caribbean.
• Volcanos. Ten of us huddled together behind the volcanic rock 2,500m above sea level on the lip of the crater of the the active volcano Pacaya, gale force winds so strong we couldn’t stand up and visibility of 2 metres – we really knew we were alive.
• Jungles. First thing in the morning, walking through tropical rainforests. The sounds, the heat, the sights, the insects, the colours, the smells.
• Bushcamping. On top of a hill overlooking San Juan del Sur. Perfect bay, perfect views for 360 degrees, my tent pitched on the edge of a cliff with penthouse vista, campfire and good company. Great!
• Roofseats. Not only good fun and a great way to travel, but a fantastic way to hear the sounds, smell the smells, and interact with local people. It’s hard to forget the smiles, waves, and whistles of the very friendly local people as we pass. Searching for a bushcamp off the beaten track one afternoon, it occurred to me that I was probably one of the only Australians ever to have passed that way before. The others were on the truck with me.
• The people / the parties. Never before have I travelled with a group of people who mixed so well, looked out for each other, and partied so eagerly. Whether on the truck, in a restaurant, on top of a hill, by a campfire, each minute was memorable.

So there you have it, some defining moments from my point of view. There were 14 other passengers on this trip, all of whom will have their own special memories and I’m sure that they will be only too happy to tell you what a fantastic time it has been – just ask them

Written by Orla Nad Ron with bits by Bob

Moist, windy, dark, cloudy, cold, insane, but mostly windy. We were huddled together, lying flat on our backs. To offer the wind any angle of elevation would be to risk being blown over the edge. We were on the top of an active volcano, it was nearly dark, and it was very windy. I could just about make out what Jim said – “Where’s the helpful guide?” or something like that …

Following the previous night’s group meal and one or two beers, the ten volcano climbers were subdued as we boarded the small bus bound for Volcan Pacaya. We were told to being water, food, warm clothes and a torch. We set off at lunchtime, packed tight for two hours of a bumpy ride to the musical accompanyment of plinkity-plonk zylophone music.

There was spectacular scenery as we left the city and headed up through the hills to Base Camp, a small village called San Francisco. As we started the climb, the group gradually became quieter as we concentrated on the climbing. After about an hour’s climb we left all signs of folliage and wildlife and started climbing the gravel side of the volcano.

At this stage the wind started to pick up and around and above us white clouds raced across the sky. The final stage of the ascent had us crawling up loose scree and rocks with the wind screaming in our ears while being sand-blasted by gravel-filled gusts. A free facial scrub on the side of a volcano was an unexpected hidden extra.

As we neared the crater the clouds seemed all around us and the landscape was lunar, or Lord of the Rings style. Hot from climbing uphill, cold from the freezing wind, wet from the cloud moisture, we whooped, cheered, and danced at the crater edge. The force of the wind soon put a stop to that and after a group photo, the ten were huddled on the ground behind a clump of rock.

This was the wierdest sensation as we quickly realised that the ground was hot – hot bots and everything else freezing cold. We was the red glow of the lava at the crater. The only one with common sense on the crater’s edge at that time was the local guide who scarpered down the hill, leaving us to the mercy of the volcano gods.

When we realised than an overnight stop was not an option, we commenced the stagger of the lemmings down the volcano side (we hoped). The descent was a surreal experience as we skieds, skidded and slid down the precipitous slope. Marianne and Lea took a more novel approach and had to be treated for gravel rash of the bot later.

While the visibility before was 2 metres, it disappeared altogether at the advent of nightfall. Still no sign of the local guide as we fished out our torches and continued the descent. Conversation dropped to an absolute minimum consisting of “Are you okay?”, “Who are you?”, “Ouch my boots are full of gravel”, “I need a pee but it’s too windy!”, “Where’s the volcano guide?”

After an indeterminable period, we finally reached the base, some of us nearly sleep-walking the final stage. Climbing onto the bus our final words before unconsciousness set in were “Turn off the music.”

In spite of the narrative, giving the impression that the climb was horrendous, it was in fact the opposite. Intense, exhillarating, and we’d all do it again tomorrow (well maybe not tomorrow …)