Navel Gazing

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Lago de Atitlan is considered a very sacred and spiritual place by the Maya people, so I am told. In fact, they consider it "the navel of the world." This of course makes it one of four or five "navels of the world" I have visited or heard tell of, and I have no doubt that there are as many more as there are ancient indigenous cultures, making the world a many-naveled thing, and conjuring images of countless umbilici waving like tentacles into the reaches of space.
Nonetheless, there is no denying the spectacular setting the lake provides, nor, for lack of a better term, the positive energy that seems to envelop the place. Stretching perhaps 10-15 kilometers from east to west, and seven or so from north to south at its widest point, the lake surface sits at about 1500 meters above sea level. Surrounding the lake is a steep mountain ridge stretching up another thousand or so meters, puntuated at three points by volcanos towering over the lake with peaks about 3500 meters above sea level. Around much of the lake the shore rises straight up in steep cliffs, with the occasional gentler section of shoreline being occupied by Mayan towns and villages.
This morning we had the good fortune to meet a volcanologist, who was good enough to explain to us the origins of this world's navel. 70 000 or 80 000 years ago, it seems, the whole area was a highland plateau about 2500 metres above sea level, supported by a large dome of magma (for simplicity's sake, a very hot and highly pressurized solution of molten rock and various gases) about three or four kilometers below the surface. Gradually, the gases come out of solution and collect at the top of the magma dome. Being extremely hot and therefore under extreme pressure, these gases tend to push their way up through any fissures in the rock above, and indeed create new fissures, until eventually they find a way to the surface (or more likely, a number of different ways). At this point, something rather spectacular happens. It is especially spectacular if you happen to be a very, very long way away from it, as if you are particularly nearby you are particularly dead.
The gases, you see, start to vent, rather like steam coming out of a kettle, if your kettle was boiling at 4000 degrees celsius, the steam was poisonous sulfur gas superheated to 800 or 1000 degrees celsius and roaring out at explosive speeds that send it (and whatever debris that happens to get in its way) into the stratosphere. The heavier chunks of solid stuff, of course, are going to end up falling back down in the general vicinity. The less dense material is pulverized and floats out in a massive cloud that blocks out the sun for miles around and creates spectacular sunsets all over the world for hundreds of years.
So you end up with this sort of plateau from hell, right, with any number of old faithfuls spewing out poisonous gases at vaporizing temperatures and supersonic speeds, and rocks falling from the sky at meteorite speeds. And, additionally, the possibility that another vent might open up directly underneath you at any moment.
But as if all this wasn't enough, over a fairly short period of time (month or two, according to our volcanologist), the gas in the magma dome is depleting itself, leaving a space, and the plateau over that space is collapsing. In a matter of months, the ground settles, falling over 1000 meters, to create the hole which will eventually get rained in and fill up to make our lake.
So that's the navel of the world. All I can say is that I'm glad it was 70 000 years ago.

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