Follow Us
Subscribe to our
Newsletter
Toyota World Runners
Volcano Erupts and so do I.
There have been few moments in my life where the man or woman above writing my story sprinkles in so many surprises that just existing feels animated.
This was one of those moments.
Mexico has surprised us in so many ways thus far. Rooting from the idea that the country’s popularity comes from its beaches, we are enjoying pulling the secrets that are hiding in its back pocket. In this story of hard to believe happenstances, imagine a cartoon volcano spewing lava and you may as well throw Godzilla in the scene. And make sure to replace my stomach with a tornado that comes equipped with a cow spinning through the centre, that’s my favourite part.
Our adventure begins in Amecameca, a small town located at the base of our mountain pass objective. These small villages practically throw their eye balls out of socket and onto the chinook’s hood. We can tell they have never seen anything like our truck before, and we wave proudly from the cab. After stocking up on provisions, we begin our climb. The road begins twisting through farmland and then closes into familiar pine grove, and as we near our highest point the canopy folds over us and we surrender to the giants. Large pine and fir trees stand tall on the sides of the highway to remind you who was there first, and that they don't plan on leaving. Trees so big they keep the secrets of the sky above to themselves. I begin to roll my window down in excitement as the altitude gifts a frosty unfamiliar exhale. Our appreciation for this break from the heat is noticeable through giddy smiles and uncontrollable laughs.
With a couple pats on the Chinook's dash, we have made it to the highest altitude of the trip so far, and we are extremely proud of the truck. Ahead of us is the visitor centre, and towering behind it is the reason for our arrival. Popocatepetl volcano is a sight one can truly appreciate from all angles. Being the tallest volcano in Mexico, its presence humbles us immediately. We stand outside the truck and gaze silently at the perfectly sculpted monster protruding from earth. And to add to the already dramatic scene, this volcano is currently active.
Once properly acquainted with Popo, a gust of moisture fills our noses and we both instinctively know to retreat. Marble sized balls of hail crash onto the Chinook’s hood, and then the entire visitor centre parking lot is white. We’re just going to have to add this to the list of things we didn’t expect to experience in Mexico. We join the other traveller van in a corner of the parking lot and hunker down.
A spectacular form of nature. There is mostly silence looming through the camper, and I think I know why. Just the tickle of the extremely high altitude air has sent my skin on a journey, my senses are all a little heightened. I can hear the volcano speaking, but it’s soft and unlike anything I’ve heard before. I crave the wisdom each exhale brings and can’t seem to take my eyes away from the window. The foreign blanket covers us once more, and we’re forced to sit and reflect and most importantly, absorb. Smiling every time a puff of smoke leaves its mouth, this truly feels supernatural. Finally, a cold afternoon fit for a macaroni and cheese feast! For the rest of the afternoon we indulge in comfort food and stretch our legs through perfectly groomed pine groves, doing our best to not take our eyes off the prize in case we miss something.
When we have returned from our stroll, the volcano has disappeared into the embrace of a big grey marshmallow. The tour vans and motorcycles have left and it’s just us, the police that remain at the site, and the giants. We should have known what was coming after the silence, but still jumped at the first lightning crack. The thunder and lightning heavy metal show kept us company for the evening, and we fell asleep with the feeling of world domination.
Waking up at a high altitude makes for a foggy entrance to the day. But wait, is that more thunder? Did the storm go all through the night? I pull open the curtains and the sun pierces my squinty eyes. No thunder, it must have been the volcano. Has it been doing that the whole time? I can tell Matthew and I are both a little disoriented, so suggest we make an early move to a new, lower elevation. We noticed on our maps another camp in a field that still has a view of the volcano but sits at a more reasonable altitude. The Chinook bobs and bounces down the pot hole sprinkled dirt road and our ears pop. That's better. And as we pull in close to the GPS coordinate, we are gifted another angle of Popocatepetl, and can't wait for the show to continue.
Up the top goes again, and we grab our chairs while the uninterrupted volcano show runs overtime. Every so often we would hear what sounded like thunder and was followed up but a roar through our feet from the earth. Finding it hard to believe it was coming from the volcano, we nonchalantly went about our afternoon. It wasn't until nightfall that our nerves regarding the whole scenario took a front seat. The space between grumbles and roars was quickly becoming smaller, and then a notification rang its way through my phone. I read aloud beside the campfire to Matthew. "Popocatepetl is awake! Schools cancelled due to recent volcano activity. Possible evacuation for neighbouring towns, be prepared." We looked at each other as if the main character in our movie that we had fallen in love with just died. After a serious discussion about the fact we shouldn't leave at that moment due to the dangers of driving in the dark and the unlikelyhood of the volcano causing damage that moment, we decided to crawl into the camper and leave in the morning. We thought the thunder was loud last night, this was a rumble you felt deep in your soul. And when we opened the curtains just before bed, Popo confirmed his state.
Very few moments on our Pan American journey so far have we been forced to leave a location abruptly. Our eyes blink open and we pull the curtains once more to reveal a layer of mud on the window. When the heck did we go through a mud puddle? The volcano still rumbles in the distance as Matthew insists I come outside. The rain we heard so faintly in the middle of the night turned out to be falling ash, and the Chinook is absolutely covered. Let's jot that down as yet another first for the trip. Ash rain. Another notification pops up on my phone alerting the risks of poor air quality and air ports have been shut down temporarily. The severity of our situation is loud, so we pack in a hurry to make our way down the rest of the mountain.
What are the chances something actually happens to us? Volcanos don't actually erupt do they? This is all a reality I've only ever read in cartoon sections of newspapers or insanely unrealistic old movies. The pull this supernatural mountain has on us is hard to explain. Even with all of the warnings and the evidence left on our truck, we want to stay. Despite the pull, we start the truck, and continue down the dirt road. Where it meets pavement a cluster of police cars and other vehicles block the way, but move when they see us coming. No one says anything to us, but we can tell by the looks on their faces that they're just as surprised to see us as we are them. Our area had been blocked off with us up there not knowing. Our pocket of nature kept us safe from not only the public, but the volcano's wrath. Rolling into the town below left a bitter taste in our mouths as we got our first glimpse of what would have been headlining the news in Mexico the past couple days. A layer of ash blankets the town like snow and lingers in places it shouldn't. We stop to get gas, and can barely see 4 feet in front of us, we have to keep driving. And so we do, all the way to Tehuacan where the cloud of ash is far in our rear view and a car wash is the focus.
Car washes in Mexico, where you never know who you'll meet. Sitting on the old bench seat in the "waiting room" a Mexican man asks me if I have ever tried Mezcal (An alcohol beverage made by roasting agave. Similar to tequila except not made in a factory) We had been warned about the Mezcal in the neighbouring state of Oaxaca, and how glorious it is, so I continued the conversation. I let him know I had not tried it but we were curious. We were then translated that he makes his own, and we were welcome to come over and try some. Seems sketchy huh? We said yes, and followed him to his teal green garage door. Matthew joined him inside where he said there were a few jerry cans full of liquid the man started rummaging through. The next thing we know we're sipping agave gasoline on the side of the road, and can't hold in big belly laughter. We think we like it, so purchase a litre and ask him to pour it into our Growler we brought from home. When in Mexico, right?
Our camp tonight, after an exciting day is a kids waterpark. Now this may sound a little suspect, but most overlanders will tell you that waterparks are a cheap place to camp, shower and enjoy some privacy in the evening. We're more than happy to roll in late afternoon, drink some of our delicious jerry can liquor and reflect on the craziness the volcano brought to our world. Now, that would have been a pretty sweet way to end the story, but this day wasn't over yet.
A month ago I experienced some food poisoning. The episode was pretty traumatic, and I was happy when the extreme symptoms went away after a couple days. However, the minor symptoms lingered, and I've been battling a laundry machine stomach for a couple weeks now hoping for the light at the end of the tunnel. Now I'm not sure if it was the Mezcal, the supernatural effect of the volcano, or the universe simply wanting to gift a story of a day, but one bad stomach ache to shoot me out of bed was enough to ask Matthew to get us to the hospital as soon as possible. Thankfully, I have a super hero of a man that would climb mountains and fight anything in his way to make sure I was okay. The chinook drove faster than I thought possible, and when we pulled up to the hospital gates, the brakes even squealed. I held my stomach while he escorted me in, and I could tell this was going to be an event. No one speaks English, so explaining my symptoms was a rollercoaster, and to make matters even more confusing, the doctor pulls out a typewriter to record my data. Where am I? and what year is it? After the Doctor and nurses all play the translate game with us, I am directed to a bed and put on an IV of antibiotics. I can't help but notice the nurses staring at me like I'm a martian.
Ten hours later, and a lot of liquid tapped into my veins, I wake up to a group of nurses standing over me like I'm a reptile in a tank. This is clearly a teaching hospital, and I am the patient labeled: Montezumas Revenge. I laugh when one of the nurses tells me I'm the first English speaking patient she's ever had. I'm relieved to be feeling better though, and can't believe we walk out without any costs and free prescriptions. I look at Matthew, and I can tell he agrees as I say: That was the craziest 24 hours of my life.
