Gabe and the Volcano

Nicaragua is a fairly recent addition to the slender link between North and South America, geologically speaking, and remains seismically active. Minor earthquakes (and the occasional devastating tremblor like the 1971 New Year's Eve event that leveled Managua's centro) occur regularly, and volcanoes dot the landscape throughout the western terrain. Some are extinct, most are dormant, and several simmer smokily for years on end, long enough to become tourist attractions. Volcan Masaya is just such an active smolderer, and atop its crater a wall has been constructed behind which a visitor may stand and look over into the white smoky maw that, we are told, glows at night. Nearby, a rocky upwelling of lava is crowned by a makeshift crucifix, with strict prohibition against using the slender boardwalk to approach it. Visitors are welcome to hike up the crater wall in the other direction for a more elevated look at the surrounding evidence of long ago eruptions, with black rocky spillage coursing down the volcano walls.

Gabe and Stefan joined a guided group to make the climb, and his mother Erlinda and I took shelter from the sun in a tiny pavilion where two women had set up their fruit stand. Baskets of coconuts, pineapples, mangoes, and watermelons were stowed beneath the wooden counter upon which they stacked baggies of freshly cut fruit for sale. I asked for a coconut, and the woman deftly carved away its outer husk with a large machete, finishing with a single bold stroke to lop off the top and insert a straw.  Fresh coconut water is incredibly refreshing and delicious, especially in the hot Nicaraguan sun. After I drained the coconut, the lady chopped it in half and scooped out the equally toothsome immature meat. All for about twenty cordobas or $.80.

The volcano tourist complex includes a small museum that explains the geologic history of Central America and how Nicaragua first appeared as a chain of several islands that grew larger as they were lifted above sea level by the tectonic plates beneath the Pacific coastline. Volcanic eruptions filled in much of the present-day acreage, producing year-round bumper crops of sugar cane, tomatoes, pineapple, avocados, and... Oh, somebody stop me before I start drooling! I start imagining all the fresh fruits and vegetables and fish and shrimp that await me there, and it's all over.

The next day, a volcano to the north near the colonial city of Leon erupted, sending smoke and ash high over the cane fields into the rainless sky.