Vagabond Tales: Dodging Toxic Gases And Peering Into The Center Of The Earth

by Kyle Ellison on

“You see that smoke?” asked Andreas. “Tell me if you see the smoke.”

Gazing towards the thin patch of smoke emanating from the icy summit, our group of volcano-climbers nodded in silent agreement.

“That smoke is very important,” he continued, his rapid-fire speech laced with a strangely casual lilt.

“Why?” inquired a British climber, his attention focused on cleaning his fingernails with the tip of his shiny new ice axe.

“Why?” scoffed Andreas. “I tell you why. Because that smoke will kill you. Right now the wind is ok, so we climb.”

“But what if the wind switches towards our direction?” chimed in a spunky, yet suddenly concerned Australian girl.

“Then you go to the ground, dig a hole in the snow with your axe, place your nose and mouth in the hole, and then you breathe into the snow. When the smoke passes, we climb.”

With that Andreas popped his water bottle into his backpack and continued forging his way up the mountainside, our intrepid and no-nonsense guide for climbing active Volcán Villarica on the outskirts of Pucón, Chile.

%Gallery-161699%At 9,341 feet, not only is the volcano covered with snow for the majority of the year, but it’s also one of only five volcanoes in the world to house an active lava lake at the summit. Plus, you can ski or snowboard down Villarica during many parts of the year, and the ability to say that you’ve snowboarded from the summit of an active volcano is an adventure simply too good to resist. Noxious fumes of death be damned, this is an outing unquestionably worth taking.

The trail up Villarica, however, isn’t exactly for the faint of heart. Carving our way up the mountain with the spiky tips of our rented crampons, the azure and shimmering lakes, which comprise the Lake District, gradually begin to fade in size beneath us.

“Over there,” points out Andreas, using the tip of his ski pole to gesture towards the horizon, “is the volcano Lanín. Beyond that, Argentina.”

A stiff wind whips up some loose snow and swirls in my face as I peer down the spine of the Andes. Considering this is the side of an active volcano, the overall hike thus far has been remarkably and unexpectedly cold. There’s something about a lava lake that’s covered in ice that just seems to defy some laws of nature.

Moving further up the flank of the mountain the weight of my pack gets heavier at about the same rate that the air gets thinner. Luckily, I’m no longer carrying a snowboard on my back as my wife opted to ride back down from about 3/4 of the way up the mountain due to a pestering pain in her hip. Sure, she was going to miss out on peering into the crater, but I’m venturing a guess that she’s warmer and breathing easier than most of us up on the mountain are.

With only a hundred vertical feet to climb to the summit, the cheeky Brit is leaning heavily on his ice axe while the spunky Australian removes her gloves to blow on her fingers. Just above them, Andreas slowly chews on a granola bar and jokingly tells the Brit to man-up. This is the sixth day in a row that Andreas has climbed the mountain, the weathered red of his eyes revealing a tiredness his fit body easily conceals.

Behind all of them a plume of smoke rises steadily to the sky, the slightest rumble of the Earth evident beneath our frozen feet. Though the mountain hasn’t experienced a major eruption since 1971, the threat of it waking up is a very real possibility. Should that moment be in the next thirty minutes, no amount of digging holes in the snow would do anything to save us.

“You ready?” Andreas impatiently inquires of the Brit. “We go the top.”

And just like that, with another ten minutes of pushing through the relentless wind, our haggard troupe of volcano climbers stands atop the mighty Villarica.

Something, however, is noticeably absent – the lava lake. Where on Earth is the lava lake?

Anticipating our question Andreas jumps into action.

“The lake level is very low right now. You cannot see. Do not go inside the crater. You go in there you die.”

With no more explanation Andreas excuses himself to take a high-altitude bathroom break, leaving the rest of us to gaze into the steaming abyss and wonder if the hole really goes down into the center of the Earth.

Furthermore, although you might not expect it, attempting to NOT walk into a venting abyss is not an easy thing to do. Like Frodo Baggins holding his ring, the open gap in the mountain speaks to you in demonic whispers and entices you into its depths.

“Come closer, now closer, just one more step … “

Despite everything in your senses telling you to not walk a step further, the open caldera gives the illusion that just a few feet further will give you a view into the center of the Earth. You don’t know why, but you can’t, stop, inching, closer.

“Yes, yes, bring me the precious … “

My foot loses traction on a patch of ice and sends a scree slope of pebbles shuttling down into the steaming abyss. In the profound silence at the top of the mountain it’s possible to hear the rocks as they bounce their way into the darkness. Softer, softer, until the sound finally fades away.

I grip my ice axe and watch shapes dance in the rising smoke. Then, as quickly as it vanished, reality once again returns to the moment. What am I doing here? Why are you standing on the edge of an active volcano? Why are you trying to climb inside? Why aren’t you down at your hostel eating a parilla of freshly grilled steak and sipping on bottles of Chilean red wine?

Taking one last look into the magnetic abyss, and another to peer south towards the horizon and Patagonia, I tighten the earflaps of my alpaca wool beanie and step back from the brink of the ledge.

There are more adventures waiting at the bottom of the mountain anyway, and while the view from this perch is nearly impossible to beat, the summit of this volcano is admittedly short on wine.

Want more travel stories? Read the rest of the “Vagabond Tales” over here.

Sky Rock: Morgantown, West Virginia

by Elizabeth Seward on

Sky Rock. It sounds like what it is: a Native American name given to a large, protruding rock that is stacked high into the sky. I had heard about Sky Rock in passing when I went to visit my family in West Virginia. I had passed the road that led up to the rock several times and yet never lifted my turn signal to make that left. But my last trip to West Virginia was different. My father had just been hospitalized again and the outlook seemed bleaker than ever before. My husband and two dogs joined me in my van and we drove 30 hours from Austin, Texas, to Morgantown, West Virginia. My father has been struggling with his health for years now, but my trips home prior to this one broached the subject more gently. I would ask to cook dinner for the family, but never really insist. By the same token, I would ask my father to join me for walks or hikes, but always leave the request open-ended and optional. This trip was different.

%Gallery-161128%I first saw my father and mother in the hospital room, with the hospital’s lead cardiologist hovering over my father’s bed, explaining his prognosis with as much sensitivity as he could. I was exhausted from the drive and hardly able to combat the dizziness that accompanies this specific sort of stress. When the doctor left the room, I spoke firmly and with authority to my own parents.

“I’m in charge while I’m here. I’ll be cooking every meal. No questions asked. I didn’t drive 30 hours for questions.”

Once he was discharged from the hospital, I went to the grocery store and stocked up on the kind of food we simply never had around growing up: fresh produce. I prepared every meal with pleasure, relishing in the lack of resistance I faced in doing so. On my second day there, just one day after my father had been released from the hospital, I decided to finally visit Sky Rock for sunset.

“You guys should come,” I announced, unsure on whether or not my father was actually in any condition to walk along anything other than a straight and smooth path.

My parents surprised me when they agreed. We led our two dogs and their two pugs, into the car and went on our way. We parked the car at the bottom of the Sky Rock hill, known also as Dorsey’s Knob. A beautiful wall outfitted with mosaic art was the first thing we saw to our left. To our right rolled a steep drop leading to a pond surrounded by lush Appalachian greenery. We began the journey up the hill. My mother was nervous at first and instructed us to continue up the hill without them; she said my father’s heart couldn’t take the stress. He, however, was feeling restless after having spent a week in the hospital and he insisted on following us up the hill. As a friend recently pointed out to me, I might have inherited my streak of perseverance from him.

Once at the top of the graffiti-clad boulder, we lounged alongside our joyful dogs and consumed the expansive beauty of the colorful West Virginia sky at sunset. The West Virginia sky smears pastel-like colors across its canvas on every clear night. This is one of the things I love about West Virginia – the fact that the glowing sky at sunset is inspiration enough for a man like my father to climb the path to Sky Rock just one day after his release from the hospital.

How To Sleep In Your Car In (Relative) Comfort

by Laurel Miller on

Since it’s peak camping and road tripping season and I’m in the midst of moving from Seattle to Boulder, using my car as a motel room, I decided it’s time for an update on car crashing (of the slumbering variety).

Last year, Gadling contributor and musician Elizabeth Seward provided useful tips she’s picked up during her years on the road touring. Like Elizabeth, I feel eminently qualified to discourse on this topic, but for different reasons.

In my mid-20s, I lived in my car for a summer. Not by choice – unless you take into account the fact that I chose to follow my recent ex-boyfriend, at his suggestion, to San Diego, despite my lack of a job, friends or housing. These situations seldom have a positive outcome, which is how I ended up living in my aging Volvo sedan and peeing into a Big Gulp cup at 3 a.m. – more on that in a minute.

I was in good company, however. The cul-de-sac where I parked was located just off a prime surf break, so each night the street would host a line-up of battered VW buses and surf-rack-bedecked, decrepit cars, as homeless surfers pulled in to roost.

The point of this anecdote is that I have a long, if somewhat cramped, history of sleeping in my car. It helps that I’m 5’2″, but I’ve known many men who have also resided in their automobiles (my brother once lived in his pickup for an entire semester of college). I’ve also logged a lot of zzz’s in cars because I travel a lot. I frequently road trip on assignment, but I’ve also made numerous drives to and from the West Coast to the Rockies over the years, for long-term moves and seasonal work.

For the most part, I enjoy sleeping in my car for the spirit of adventure it conjures. Sure, I own a tent, but when I’ve logged 10 hours behind the wheel and the weather is vile, I’d rather just bust out my sleeping bag, tuck a thick blanket over the console between the front seats (if the back seat and rear of my Honda CRV are loaded) and pass out.

For a more restful car-sleep, here are my non-negotiables (Elizabeth covered the need for adequate padding and a sleeping bag in her post):

LED headlamp and extra batteries
Not only is this helpful for middle-of-the-night bathroom trips if you’re in a campground, but it will also save your sanity if you like to read and/or are an insomniac (I fall into both categories). It also prevents draining your car battery by using the overhead light, and won’t attract attention should you be parked somewhere public but not necessarily legal for overnights.

Reading material
See above.

Sleep aid
I’m not advocating pill popping, but it can definitely be helpful to take something if a good night’s rest is crucial. If an iPod does it for you, use that. Drinking alcohol just means having to get up to pee more often, and a dehydrated, puffy-faced morning after.

A large cup
How do I put this delicately? Sometimes, you’re just not parked in a place where it’s feasible, as a woman, to pop a squat. I learned this while “living” in San Diego. All of the homes in the cul-de-sac had motion sensor lights and a lack of shrubbery, making bladder relief extraordinarily complicated. After complaining about my issues peeing in a spotlight, a fellow car-dweller told me, “Dude, you totally need to get a Big Gulp cup.” Dude, it totally solved the problem. Just remember to dump it down a storm drain, and not on someone’s landscaping. You’re not an animal.

A shower plan of action
Depending upon your situation, you can often shower for free at the beach (skip the soap and shampoo or ask a ranger or lifeguard if biodegradable products are okay to use), or pay at a rec center, gym or campground. I confess I’ve snuck into campgrounds before and poached a shower but I try to avoid such nefarious behavior (mainly because I’m afraid of getting caught). Tip: Baby wipes and skin-cleansing towelettes are your best friends on the road. And be sure to keep a clean bath towel in your car at all times for these situations.

Extra supply of drinking water

Do your research
If you’re somewhere urban, be sure to scope out signage so you don’t end up ticketed or towed. It’s a fairly well known fact that most Walmarts allow overnight RV parking; there’s even a locator app for it. It ain’t the Ritz, but it works in a pinch.

Lock your doors, but crack your windows
Don’t compromise your safety, but you do need fresh air.

Be sure your cellphone is charged and within reach
This is useless if you’re in an area without service (if you have an inkling that’s going to be the case, call, text, or email a family member or friend with your approximate location for the night before you get out of range). A phone can prove invaluable if you run into trouble.

[Photo credits: napper, Flickr user miss pupik; car, Flickr user russelljsmith; cup, Flickr user Bruce W Martin II]

Climbing Mount St. Helens Just One Activity At National Park

by Chris Owen on

If climbing Mount St. Helens sounds like a good idea, you’ll have to wait. Permits are sold out for the summer. Still, Mount St. Helens National Volcanic Monument offers a variety of recreational activities including many trails, cycling, fishing, camping and more.

“Every $22 permit to climb Mount St. Helens is sold out through mid-September. Reservations for peak summer hiking days began hitting the 100-people-per-day limit in early spring,” reports The Daily News in Longview, Washington.

Everyone must have a climbing permit to be on their own above the 4,800-foot elevation on Mount St. Helens. Those may be sold out but Guided Climbs ($150) are still available in August through the Mount St. Helens Institute.

Mountain bikers will like the Ape Canyon ride, which begins on the south side of Mount St. Helens. One of the Northwest’s premier mountain biking treks, the Ape Canyon ride boasts varied landscapes on the shoulder of an active volcano.Hikers like the varied and diverse trail offerings in the area. The 10-mile round-trip Badger Peak Trail has an elevation gain of 1,600 feet that earns a dramatic view of the volcano and blast zone. Hamilton Butte Trail is a short 1.5 mile round-trip hike with a 900 feet elevation gain and a high point of 5,772 feet.

One of America’s greatest treasures, visitors come from around the world to visit the volcano that last erupted in 1980.



Flickr photo by SoulSoap

Video: Beautiful Bhutan Footage

by Elizabeth Seward on

“Bhutan – A Journey Through The Land of Thunder Dragon” from info@drukasia.com on Vimeo.

It’s not every day that I find myself liking promotional videos, but this video seems to be an exception. Sponsored by Bhutan‘s board of tourism, this video pairs dramatic music and beautiful Bhutan footage. The end result is a gorgeous video featuring hiking, rafting and wildlife that makes me want to look into flights to Bhutan immediately. If you’ve been to Bhutan, tell us about your experience in the comments. Be sure to point us in the direction of any fantastic photos or videos while you’re at it.