Volcano Island

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My worn sandal soles struggle to grip the steep muddy path. We stop to observe some petroglyphs carved into a stone by the side of the trail. A sun, various geometric shapes and what sorta looks like an animal etched into the rock. Remains of a past civilization, people who long ago inhabited this land, fished its waters and cultivated its soil. The island still remains sparsely developed, but I fear the influence of tourism and will eventually strangle much of the natural life and beauty from this enticing destination. An enchanting island in the middle of Central America's largest lake, formed from two connecting volcanoes, how long can you resist modernization and development? When will your farms be replaced by housing developments and eco-tour parks? When will your shores be lined with fancy hotels, jet ski rentals and sun bathing tourists? Surely in my life time this change will occur.

Continuing on, the trail steepens. Tangled roots and rocks create natural steps, facilitating the assent to the summit. With each step gradually approaching the crater lake on top. At a look out point we stop for a rest, view and drink of water. I realized that I forgot my water bottle at the petroglyphs, but Andy is willing to share his. Clouds creep in and I can barely see past the shoreline. Up and Up, the mud gets wetter, softer, deeper and it's harder to keep my sandals clean. I hop from roots to rocks trying to keep mud from getting between my foot and sandal top, which creates a slippery surface that impedes my assent. When it happens I wash them off in a deep puddle or a pool along the trail and continue on. The mist surrounds us now and the sight and sound of the leaves rustling and swaying in the wind creates an enchanted atmosphere, likely to stumble upon the land of ferries and elves. A mystical forest lost in the clouds. The smaller leaves each flicker to their own unique vibration against the backdrop of the rolling mist. I sorta fell like I'm on drugs, a natural high fills my body. Near the side of the trail I spot an orange and purple crab. A strange inbabitant 2000 ft high on a volcano in the middle of of a fresh water lake. The climate gets wetter with thicker vegetation. Nappy layers of moss hang like wise, ancient Chinese beards from the branches and tree trunks. Droplets of water sparkle on and within these saturated nests. We reach the top of the crater but gain no view of the surrounding land. Still wandering through the clouds we begin to descend to the water below.

Upon arrival we pause and take in the enchanting ambiance. The sounds of green parrots and monkeys, the mist wisping over the lake surface and the dance of the reeds and grasses in the wind. We're the first ones up to the top today despite everybody's assurance that the hike could not be done in sandals. I wade into the cool lake letting some of the mud diffuse from my feet and legs into the water. Andy goes to find a secluded spot to do his business and after about 100ft fades from sight into the cover of the mist. We eat lunch, relax and stretch before the next group of tourists arrive. Their loud voices shatter the serenity but I walk a few hundred feet away and their sight and sounds have completely faded from my senses.

The descent proved to be harder than the assent and after a while I removed my sandals, finding it easier to manage the steep muddy trail bare footed. The feel of soft clay filled mud, squeezing between my toes was highly enjoyable.

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