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Published: August 28th 2012
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The last few days have been a blur of activity. The second day at Bigfoot, volcano boarding was in order. Five of us from, the U.S., England and Israel took the crazy oath to battle El Cerro Negro. There was an hour climb up the steep volcano before the one minute descent down.
I was pretty tired from my first night's festivities, but woke up around 7am. Feeling guilty from the alcohol consumption, I inquired about the location of a gym and found one. I walked over, worked out in a dungeon-like room with curious locals, and returned to the hostel for a quick breakfast and our volcano boarding adventure.
I still hadn't showered since leaving the US. It didn't make much sense to prior to boarding, so I decided to wait. We loaded up onto what can only be described as a flatbed truck with canopy on top. We loaded up a cooler full of drinks and sat on benches. The atmosphere was full of excitement and anticipation. Lucy, the young girl from England hurt herself horsing around on the back of the truck, suffering a fairly deep gash en route to the volcano. The irony wasn't lost on
us. If the ride there was any indication of the jaunt down the volcano, we were in deep trouble. We essentially went off roading to get to the base of El Cerro Negro. Lucy was feeling nauseous from the wound, and her ride. I promised to treat her injury once we stopped.
The arrival at the park entrance was a welcome sight. After cleaning and bandaging Lucy's gash, our guide Carlos and I drank a beer and loaded back onto them truck. We drove a few minutes to the base of the volcano and peered at its steep incline. The ascent was going to be tough as the sun beat down on us like a heavy bass drum. Each individual was responsible for carrying their own orange prison jumpsuit and board, along with whatever else we wanted to bring. Being the intelligent idiot that I am, I carried along my small backpack with tripod, digital SLR case, and other useless equipment that I didn't need. Off we went. The climb wasn't treacherous, but definitely difficult. Since the group is as fast as the slowest person, we moved at a snail's pace.
After what seemed like an eternity, we arrived at
the top. On the way up, Carlos showed us some fumerals (steam vents) and spouted interesting facts about El Cerro Negro, the youngest black cone volcano and the world's most active, erupting 23 times. The 24th was long overdue. We put on our jumpsuits carried our board to the start line, and wondered what the hell we we're doing up there. I decided to go first. Carlos explained the technique, but I don't think I really paid attention.
I sat on the board, looking down the steep 600 meter slope. The last 200 were not visible to from the top due to its steep angle of 41 degrees. I could not for the life of me stay straight on the board. I fell off four times, unable to pick up any real speed. The record was 86 km/hr. my final run was 19! I was extremely disappointed in my performance and decided right then and there to come back tomorrow and do it again. To top it off, Lucy had the best run of the day at 55. I attributed her success to my skills in first aid.
We all had a good time though. Our faces and bodies were
covered with soot, our shoes and mouths with gravel. The ride back was less intense and we were all tired from the climb and fall down. After arriving back at the hostel, we had our two mojitos apiece and spent the rest of the day in a mixture of party and relaxation. I met a slew of new hostelers from Great Britain and Australia., mostly dudes though. It was ok though, as they all seemed pretty chill, especially Ben and Beas, two 22 yr old Englanders. It always amazes me how well traveled and mature other Europeans are for their age, though it didn't show at the time because we were all stuck I party mode.
That evening, the hostel put on a BBQ. Most of the residents joined in for the festivities. I became very friendly with all the staff and spent the bulk of the BBQ shooting the shit with them. I had joked earlier that they should hire me on as the staff medic and Master Coordinator of Fun. They seemed to turn to me to get the party started both evenings. I had no issues obliging. The thought had crossed my mind. We spent the rest
of the night laughing, drinking, eating. Later in the evening, they asked me to gather the troops for a night out at Oxygen, a local dance club. I corralled a solid group of 10 to 12, loaded up in the truck, and headed out. The rest of the night was a blur. Between our clothes being soaked through with sweat from dancing, and the shots others were buying, our night was filled with laughs and eventually sore legs. I wound up cabbing it back to the hostel after midnight. I couldn't hang any longer.
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