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Published: January 17th 2011
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Our next stop was Volcano boarding on Cerro Negro – the youngest active volcano on the planet with its 40 degree steep incline, We mounted the boards on our backs like Buzz Light-year’s wings, or the wings of an angle, depending on whichever makes you feel stronger, and powered up the volcano trying to angle our boards so they wouldn’t get overwhelmed by the gusty winds and topple us over. We arrived just before Sunset and descended in the dark. My common sense, which apparently had been enough to get me into Boston University, wasn’t enough to remind me that watching a beautiful sunset on top of a volcano would mean volcano-boarding in the dark. I waited in line at the top of the volcano scared out of my mind, trying to remember all the rational reasons I was here in the first place but distracted by how hard it was to even stand between the wind and the sand falling down the volcano with each step. Once only dust remained of the people ahead of me in line I was instructed to “just go” and sat down on by board and put on my goggles. All of a sudden I
was blind and the carefully mapped route down the volcano that I had planned in my head was erased and replaced with the scratched lens of the goggles. The only way was down and I scooted myself down the volcano, blind. After a few minutes of trying to fill my head with the mantra reminding myself to breathe, I stopped, relieved I was at the bottom. I took my goggles off and squinted to see and then I stopped breathing. I was hardly halfway down the mountain, but was about to start tumble-salting down the rest if I leaned over too far. Closing my eyes for effect more than to lose my sight, I continued down the volcano, leaving my unique trail behind.
Mom got stuck alone on the desolated summit, surrounded only by stars and the black night – holding a mini walking stick which in a past life had been used to mark the starting point for the volcano borders and prayed for everyone’s safe descent – fearing being forgotten and forsaken and missing all the action. Finally the guide came back for her and she watched with great trepidation as Sasha and Shaun descended into the
abyss, Shaun leaving a trail of dust like in a Road Runner cartoon as he tried to break speed records. Mom descended one precarious foot at a time like walking on a stair-master sinking into the sand and walking down clutching desperately to the guide and the two-foot high walking stick – hugely grinning. In retrospect once safely on terra firma, the consensus was that it wasn’t as scary as we feared. In 1999 Cerro Negro erupted and belched up a cloud of burning gases and ash 7km high, we were glad it was not suffering indigestion while we were on it.
As we packed to leave we heard a howl as it seemed Shaun had discovered a scorpion in his bag.
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