Léon – Day 3: Cerro Negro & Telica
LEÓN
Day 3: Cerro Negro & Telica
January 04, 2023
PART I
Our post-Utila blues could finally start waning off as one of Nicaragua’s most famous activities was waiting for us. Having never been on a volcano, this was reason enough for Amelia to be over the moon. For me, it was the activity itself that pumped me up – volcano boarding!
We woke up at the break of dawn only to be told that the van would be a bit late cause they had a puncture. After what felt like an eternity, they finally picked us up – a truck onto which we and some twenty other adventurers were loaded on its open-air back. Not the most comfortable, sure, but at least we got free ventilation. That pro quickly turned into a massive con as the paved road gave way to a dirt road – the dust entering every orifice and pore we had exposed to the elements. Add to that the very bumpy ride, and those forty minutes seemed like yet another eternity.
But as always, it’s about the destination, not the journey. The second the volcano came into view, we soon forgot our woes and felt sheer exhilaration. Standing 728 metres high, Cerro Negro is the youngest volcano in all of Central America – a cinder cone that formed in 1850. What’s particular about it is that ash is emitted from its top, while lava flows from its base. The stark contrast between the black gravel covering the volcano and the vivid green surroundings makes for an incredible vista. Our guide, Elvin, told us that the volcano has five craters, with the oldest being some 102 years old. The last major eruption was in 1999, but he added that in November 2022 there had been smaller gas and ash emissions occurring every two to three hours.
Climbing the Ash Giant: Cerro Negro
Finally at the base of the volcano, each of us was given a board we’d be using to slide down the impressive structure. And just like that, we set off on the hike to the top.
I guess this was when I noticed that Utila really had done a number on me. Back there, I’d been giving into my hedonistic side way more than I should have. I was smoking a packet of cigarettes a day at the very least – and that’s only when I wasn’t drunk or high. Now that I found myself going uphill, I rued every single cigarette I’d ever smoked – a pattern I’d come to repeat over and over along the years. That said, I couldn’t help but notice that Amelia, a non-smoker and a mountain girl through and through, was heaving and panting herself. Perhaps we can’t blame all the world’s evils on cigarettes after all, huh?
It took us around half an hour to scale the volcano, a feat which isn’t exactly something to brag about. The top lends a spectacular view of the surrounding green hills and the other volcanoes in the distance – San Cristóbal being the furthest, and Telica, the one we’d be climbing later that day, just in front of it. It seemed imposing, like we shouldn’t have signed up for both climbs on the same day. As always, it’s all or nothing with me – and I don’t mean this in the sexy, daredevilish kinda way. I mean it in the “Why the hell do I always throw myself in the deep end?!” kinda way.
Sliding Into Chaos
To keep my mind off the sense of impending doom was yet another disconcerting thought – the fact that I’d have to slide down the steep volcano on a flimsy piece of wood. But, as always, my logic was simple – if other people can do it, so can I.
When Elvin showed us a video of a guy who rode a mountain bike down the volcano ending up in hospital with a whole lotta broken bones, I felt reassured that what I’d be doing would be nowhere near as dangerous. Whilst he’d done the whole thing in less than thirty seconds, the average time, according to Elvin, was about three minutes. Cool, cool – very doable.
With that, we geared up in full-body, bright yellow suits, goggles and bandanas, and then lined up. When Elvin asked for a volunteer to go first, I raised my hand. I’m usually not one to go first, but this time it just made sense. If I did it straight away, I wouldn’t have time to grow more anxious, and I wouldn’t have anyone else ruining my photos and videos. Smart, right? He explained the procedure – sit on the centre of the board with its nose facing down, lie back and position your feet flat to gain speed, sit up and dorsiflex your ankles to brake, and, most importantly, never, ever, put your feet on the board. That’s how you crash, he said. And so, trying to keep everything in mind, I sat down – slightly more to the right than I should have – and before I could adjust, I was already on my way down.
It was scary, not gonna lie. I’m rarely scared, but I didn’t wanna roll all the way down. As I picked up speed, it got harder to control the board’s direction. I slowed down as instructed, and it wasn’t that bad after all.
I was leaning more to one side, but, not wanting to stop, I just went with it and did my best to steer. It worked. At one point I even thought it seemed kinda boring and tried to go faster. That overconfidence ended quickly as I lost my balance, leaned too far to the right, and the board slipped out from under me, sending me flying a couple of metres. Luckily it was right at the end of the trail, and I didn’t even get a scratch. Plus, being first meant no one saw how I landed. I, on the other hand, had front-row seats to watch others tumble down halfway. I’m being overly facetious, I know.
After the adrenaline rush, a glass of rum punch was waiting for us – a welcome drink after withstanding the heat of the sun and the volcano for hours. Everyone was disgusting, black dust covering every centimetre of exposed skin, sweat turning it all into a filthy mix. But we didn’t care. We were too high on life. The ride back was much more fun, with loud music and rum making it feel more like a party.
PART II
A Ride From Hell
Back in León, Amelia and I had only a few hours to eat and rest before the next adventure – an overnight trek up Telica, an active stratovolcano that stands 1,036 metres high. Joining us were five others, with Aviv, a volunteer from Israel, as our guide.
In hindsight, I can confirm what most people say about the Telica trek – the ride there is the absolute worst. It was like the dreadful ride to Izta-Popo in Puebla, but on steroids. Whilst Amelia was sitting comfortably in the front, Aviv and I were in the back, with no cushioning whatsoever to protect our spines and butts from every bump – and there were plenty of those. The entire hour-and-a-half ride in fact. Every time we saw the rubble on the dirt road getting bigger, we’d brace for impact, with Amelia and the others up front looking back to see if we were still there. Pure hell.
To be fair, we did get a couple of breaks while farmers moved their cows off the road to let us pass. That I appreciated. When we finally got there, it felt like the climb would be a nightmare. I was already sore all over from the ride – I couldn’t even feel my butt! It took me a few minutes to shake it off, suck it up, and start the trek.
Into the Fire: Telica Volcano
Along the black and red gravel path were some shrubs, and the view got better and better as we climbed. My exhaustion and breathlessness eased as I kept stopping for photos.
Much like Cerro Negro, this one took about forty minutes to climb, and waiting for us at the top was a spectacular view of the crater spewing sulphurous fumes. By leaning dangerously forward over the edge, we could even see a small lava pool, though it was mostly obscured by smoke. After a few minutes appreciating the privilege of being on yet another volcano – my fifth so far – we hiked to the west side to enjoy the sunset.
As I stared out at the sunset, I found myself feeling immensely grateful once again. Leaving Utila had been the right choice. By staying there, I would’ve missed out on this – on everything else the world has to offer. I would’ve given everything to go back to that Paradise one day, but at that point in time, I was ready to move on. We were ready to move on. And up there, on top of Telica, it was obvious that we had made the right choice.
Moonlight, Tortillas, and a Bonfire
After our wistful sunset session, we headed east. The others began their descent, while Elvin, Amelia, and I dropped a few metres down to our campsite.
By then, it was pitch black, save for the light of the almost full moon. We set up our tents and, starving, awaited dinner. Having been promised an “excellent dinner” by the company after our second ride had another puncture, we were gutted when Aviv brought out tortillas and salad – the same exact thing we’d had for lunch. I’m not one to complain about food. I eat anything and everything as long as it’s edible (and even then, I could potentially make some allowances). But do not, and I repeat, do NOT, promise me an excellent dinner only to bring me a snack.
I gotta admit, I did feel like a Karen when I told Aviv I was expecting something better, or at least something different. Needless to say, I still wolfed everything down – each mouthful delivering an equal mix of sustenance and disappointment.
While I knew it wasn’t his fault, he still felt guilty, and to redeem himself (and the company), he made us a bonfire. We spent a few hours chatting. He told us he’d just finished his studies and his military service back in Israel and was travelling around Central America. Volunteering in León gave him free accommodation in exchange for leading tours – something I felt stupid for not considering myself. He confessed it was his first trek to Telica, but, having done many other volcano tours, the staff trusted him as a guide.
Thinking Amelia and I were a couple, he excused himself to give us some space. Little did he know that by then we were more like siblings than anything else. We sat watching the fire, feeding it large pieces of wood, not wanting it to die out – all the while staring at the flames and embers. Yet another thing we had in common – pyromania. I swear I could watch fire for hours without a single yawn.
A Sunrise Worth the Burn
But when all’s said and done, we did yawn. A lot. And so we headed to our tent and called it a night. The next morning, at 5AM, we packed everything and set off again.
We returned to the crater to see the sunrise – something I didn’t agree with since part of the volcano blocked half the view. Instead, I suggested we climb the other side of the hill, and thankfully, the vista there was infinitely more satisfying. From here, we could see the entire crater – something we couldn’t fully appreciate from the rim – and, on the other side, a magnificent view of more volcanoes with the sun rising behind them, painting the mountainside in orange and red.
We stayed a few minutes, went back down to the campsite and then had breakfast. Then, as always, we proceeded to undo all our hard work and hiked back down the ash giant.