Mount Yasur

Driving up the flank of the volcano to a small armada of parked pickups.

The moonscape.

As we drove past, hisses were heard and hot steam and gas shot out of the embankment at our vehicle.  The driver quickened the pace lest the paint get damaged from the noxious gas.

The path to the crater rim.

Yes, you can send a postcard from the volcano.

The route to the top.  I quickly abandoned the tourist route and walked along side where the guides walked.  It was much easier going.

An assembled host of tourists had come to watch the eruption.

An ash cloud rising up from the caldera.

Douglas Versus the Volcano.

An ash plume soars skyward.

An ash plume escapes the volcano.

Another plume of ash rises to blanket the land beyond with fine volcanic love.

The people in helmets were highly prepared and never left their perch.  Some of us were slightly more adventurous and decided to go into the crater for a closer look.

Magma shooting up from the caldera.

Mount Yasur showing its stuff during daylight hours.

Before most blasts of ash or fountains of lava, the volcano would start roaring like a jet engine.

We walked a ways along the crater rim to where we could look directly into the caldera.  The guides and guards didn’t seem to mind.  But they didn’t follow us either.

Dusk approaches the island of Tanna and Mount Yasur.

More rumblings in the night.


It was rather difficult to capture the true awe-inspiring beauty and raw power of Mount Yasur with my puny camera.  The magma was flying well over 1000 feet up from the crater rim.  Chunks of the lava hit the opposite side of the crater and often were propelled down the flank of the mountain.  We were glad that the wind was to our backs to keep molten rock the size of school buses from hitting us.

I could have stood at the volcano’s edge watching the eruption all night but eventually and with great reluctance we headed back to the truck and rode on to the bungalows for dinner and a night of sleeping to the gentle sounds of the wind and the waves.  If I ever go back to Tanna, I want to stay for at least a week to really enjoy the island and have more opportunities to witness the volcano’s might and destructive capacity.  Hopefully I get the chance to make it back.

Izalco

Evan striking a pose as we ride up to Izalco in the back of a beat up pickup truck.  From San Salvador to the base of Izalco we had ridden on a normal bus but at the base we found that we had already missed the only bus to the mountain.  Walking up the hill, we quickly were able to hitch a lift with some workers headed up to pick up a load of coffee or other such product.

At a rest stop overlook of the lake.

We had to walk about two kilometers up another part of the road.  Evan struck a pose by an overlook of the lake as we tried to thumb another ride.

Luck was once again in our favor and soon we had a ride with another group headed up the mountain.

Santa Anna.  We would have climbed this mountain but it was still closed after having erupted a few years ago.  It killed a couple of tourists in the process.  No bueno.

Izalco, Lighthouse of the Pacific.

We trekked down the slopes of Santa Anna and across the lava field below Izalco.

Stopping for a rest break partway up the volcano.

This mountain was quite steep.

Aaron amongst the fumaroles.

The ground was steaming all around us.

I stuck my finger in a fumarole to keep the steam in the mountain.

Looking into the caldera of Izalco.

Santa Anna in the distance.

Volcano power!

Aaron in the mist.

It was a long way down to the lush farming areas below.

The three intrepid adventurers at the top of the volcano.

The metaphorical cork holding the lava in.

Starting our descent of Izalco.

The descent was mighty steep.

Evan running the scree.

Riding the Scree.

Climbing over the lava flow back to the flanks of Santa Anna.

Out descent path.

Climbing up through the jungle.

Riding on a bus back down to the main highway.