Volcano

I finally climbed a volcano. Cerro Negro is more of a hill than a mountain. In fact, it means "Black Hill" in Spanish. It is only a few centuries old, having pushed up out of farmland over the course of a few exciting weeks. It last erupted in 1999 and supposedly erupts every eight years. Eight years on, there was nobody to keep us from entering the crater. The ground was hot underfoot. I am shielding the back of my head from sulphur fumes. In examining at this picture I am struck by this thing where my abs used to be. Is that a -- a -- belly? Someone needs more exercise! Someone needs to cut back on rice and beans!











Another group of hikers. The divide between green and black down below.












Wilbert, a friend of mine and my guide for the day. He is fluent in English, largely self-taught, and justifiably proud of this.


In other volcano news, one of the volcanoes on Ometepe Island, in Lake Nicaragua, erupted on Saturday. We're unaffected by this in Leon, and, as with the Hurricane, the locals are unimpressed. "Not a real eruption," they say. "It's just -- you know -- activity."