Tobogganing Down an Active Volcano

By Tania LaCaria

“This is a big mistake,” I utter to a fellow tourist standing at the base of Cerro Negro, one of Nicaragua’s youngest active volcanoes. Clearly of different opinion, she hollers, “WOOHOO!” while pumping her fists in the air, leaving me behind in a puff of sand that bites at my bare calves. I stare up at the majestic Cerro Negro, and suddenly, I am overcome with anxiety.

When I signed up to toboggan down the side of a volcano, I didn’t fully consider the repercussions of having to hike up a 730m high volcano along a 45 degree incline in the blistering Nicaraguan heat.

Needless to say, I am concerned.

I find myself yearning for the soft, fluffy snow padding that is undeniably more forgiving than the shimmering black ash that can cut one’s skin with the precision of diamond razorblades; and yet, I am about to hurl myself off the peak onto an endless slope of hot, black sand.

The tour guide said this would be easy, but that was a lie. He forgot to mention that the wooden sled I had to carry was a heavy and awkward burden that transformed into a lethal wooden sail with each gust of wind.

I try to catch my breath at one of the rest stops 30 minutes into the hike and take in the stunning view. I am terribly out of shape and convinced that I will expire on Cerro Negro, but the view of the volcanic range and surrounding craters are breath-taking. It gives me strength to continue.  “I can do this,” I whisper to myself, although I really don’t believe it.

40 minutes later, I am standing on the peak looking down the incline that I nearly died climbing. I wonder how I will bring myself to sled down to safety.  I am not an adventurous gal, nor am I a thrill-seeker. I signed up for this because I didn’t want to miss out on a “once-in-a-lifetime” experience, and so, I snap my mad-scientist-style goggles onto my face and assume the sledding position. I push off and hope for the best.

I start to pick up speed at an uncomfortable rate and try to use the heels of my feet as brakes; careful not to get my toes stuck in the ash because this could snap my ankles. I can barely make out my successors at the bottom - they look like tiny green flecks against the black ground. A fellow tourist whips past me like an expert sand-sledder, kicking up sharp granules of sand that scratch my cheeks, reminding me that I am the slowest sand-sledder in the history of Cerro Negro tours, but I don’t care.

My sled bounces as I escape the incline. Although I completed the challenge ten times slower than the others, it was exhilarating just the same. We laugh at the tan lines left behind from our goggles, the rest of our faces blackened with shiny, abrasive ash.

I did not enjoy the entire experience, but I am proud of myself for overcoming my fear. And while I was the slowest (and most clumsy) hiker and the most “cautious” sledder, I still made it to the end, and in my mind, that’s all that matters. The best part is that I never have to do it again.