Mud, mud, glorious mud.

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Colombia.
A country rich in biodiversity.
The highlands of the Andes in the east down to the pacific coast. The lowlands of the Caribbean in the north, the jungles of the south and west.
Over 51,200 different plant and tree species, 359 different species of mammals, 700 unique bird species,1,100 different species of reptiles and 318 different species of fish.
A human species population of around 44 million, 8 million of which live in Bogota.

However, Not once do I ever recall reading that there's a volcano in Colombia.

As I sat on a hot, sticky bus with my fellow volcanologists expectations were high.
Patch and his parter Ellen from Toronto. Erin, a gangly woman also from Canada and Anita a quite beautiful agricultural engineering student from Valencia, currently studying in Bogota.

All of us intrigued as to what monumental mountain of fire and lava we were about to experience.

To wallow in the warm molten mud that spews from it's mouth To exfoliate and replenish our skin.

'Mud, mud, glorious mud. Nothing quite like it for soothing the blood. So follow me follow, down to the hollow, and there we will wallow in glor-i-ous mud' (Flanders and Swann).

Having been to a few volcanos I'm always in awe at the power of Mother Nature. Timanfaya in Lanzarote and Villarrica in Chile spring to mind.
Mother Nature's way of reminding us precisely who's in charge.
There are in fact over 137 volcanoes in Chile, but I've never heard of one in Colombia.

Nevertheless,as I said, expectations and confidence were high.

"Volcano!" Exclaimed Ellen. "looks more like a fucking ant hill!"

As we pulled off a dirt road into a deserted dusty car park, a pile of mud, in the shape of a volcano some ten metres high came into view.

It instantly reminded me of the Devils Tower in Wyoming, USA. The place where Spielberg bought his movie Close Encounters of the Third Kind to a spectacular conclusion. Where Simon Pegg and Nick Frost paid homage to that film with 'Paul'.

The difference being the Devils Tower is a massive natural phenomenon is picturesque countryside. The mud volcano is a man made tourist trap in a grubby side street.

Built on the side of a lake it was entered at the top by climbing ramshackle ladders. Men at the top trying to repair the volcano and prevent it from collapsing. It was all very Heath Robinson.

Our guide from Eco-friendly-tours or such like spoke to us.

"You've 20 minutes in the mud. Then you must leave" she said. She went onto explain the other services on offer.
If you have a mud massage that's 3000 pesos. Jose here can take you picture, 3000 pesos. If you have a woman wash the mud from you in the lake it's 3000 pesos.

"Does everyone understand"

"Clear as mud" I replied.

It was to be a day of puns, I could feel it.

We ascended then descended the ladders of the anthill into the soup of warm liquid mud below. As we did so, 10 minibuses arrived each packed with mud enthusiasts.

Patch was hesitant in getting in.

"Don't be such a stuck in the mud" said Ellen. She winked at me. 'Touché'.

Stepping past the guys repairing their creation a male masseur guided me in, and to relax.

It's such a strange experience floating and standing in mud not being able to touch the bottom with your feet. Simply lying there in a brown soup, where I suspect thousands of other tourists have bathed before.

Then it struck me. This dark brown, liquid mud has been here for a long time and thousands of locals and tourists alike have shared it's earthy pleasure. Some no doubt have pissed in it. It certainly had the consistency of diahorrea.

Nevertheless it was all great fun but really cheesy. After a few photos with my fellow 'mudologists' it was time to leave.

Two hundred mud crazy fun seekers were queuing to enter.

Down to the lake when a woman washed me. Aged about 70 the years had not been kind. Few teeth and plump features. All thoughts of a happy ending vanished from my mind.

"Take off your shorts" she said in Spanish.
A brief look of horror flashed across my face.
"I don't want extras" I hastily replied.
She smiled at me with her almost toothless grin. "to wash your shorts señor"

Feeling liberated as she did I swam naked in the lake.

Replacing my shorts my fellow mud freaks and I spent 10 minutes picking mud from out hair and ears.

Proof indeed that if you throw enough muck around some of it will stick.

As I left the lake one of the vendors selling coffee and crisps also offered the bathers a spray of cologne (for 3000 pesos, naturally).

Hugo Boss, Lacoste, Calvin Klein. She had them all.

I chose the rose scented one.

"But señor" she said "this is for señoritas".

I knew but I couldn't resist.

For the first time ever in my life I really had, quite literally, dropped in the shit and come out smelling of roses!!

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Photos

Mud Volcano.
Not exactly Mount Vesuvius. Mud Anthill a great initial description. Seen here with the ladders to the top.

The Devil's Tower, Wyoming
Richard Dreyfuss climbed this without the aid of a ladder.