Pacaya, Part Three: The Summit

Well, here we are at the top of the world, or at least Guatemala. One cannot really prepare his or her self for the inimitable expansiveness of the vista, the true and inescapable oneness with natural elements that one instantly feels. There is the special way that creeping masses of fog mix with scattered dapples of fading sunlight. There is the recklessly urban horizon of distant Guatemala City, its profusion of buildings and streams of traffic lit up like fireflies sprawled across the amphitheater of night. There are the nearby cones of sister volcanoes, competing with Pacaya in height and girth. There is the biting wind that chomps at any exposed skin. There are fellow tourists, elated by their arrival at the top, rendered as speechless as mutes by 360 degrees of visual intensity. And, of course, there is the cone of Pacaya itself, which resembles a massive black sombrero resting on the head of some unstable earthbound deity. After ascending a steep grassy knoll, with the crater of Pacaya looming ahead like an intimidating sentry, we wound around to a continuously forming lava field! Jagged chunks of petrified lava formed a tenuous floor above countless openings to bright fiery liquid. Our guide stuck a plant into one of the lava holes and it was quickly a conflagration of stem and leaves. Hopefully, the pictures of all this will do the scene some sort of justice. Deep inside my womb home, I could feel my mother titillating with excitement and joy, and imagined my dad furiously snapping photos!