It's been few days since I saw the San Miguel Volcano and was strugglng making a decision to climb it. Too many people had warned me about security issues and to top it off, I will need a police escort to go up. If I can go up, the volcano was apparently due for an eruption soon.
Instead, I headed straight to Jose, a warmshowers host I had gotten in touch with few days ago. He is a Quebecois man, who rode his bicycle down here and settled down. One of his goals was to build a big house. His kid, however liked his trucks.
Over my broken Spanish, his bad English and few french words that I did not understand, he took out his phone and called the police.
"Yes, they can take you up the volcano."
"Wow, that would be amazing," I really didn't know what I was getting into.
"Its a Sunday so there are no buses..... but I have a motorcycle."
Before I knew it, I was wondering if I should wear my bike helmet and stand out or go without one not to attract attention. I didn't have a license and I didn't know how to drive.
Clutch, front brake, this is how you shift up and how you shift down, blinker, kickstart. For some odd reason starting it without stalling was tough for me. A dozen tries later I figured it out. Kind of...
Before I leave I realize the rear brake is the clutch on the bars and that thing near the pedal is the rear brake. Jose tells me its not working. The papers for the motorcycle are with the mechanic too, so he gives me his phone number on a piece of paper if i get pulled over.
Why?
Because I am driving a motorcycle for the first time, without a license and to... a police station.
So I start off, looks okay. I slowly pass an old american schoolbus used to haul people and sacks of potatoes, yuca and corn. Supplies, fish... people hoping in to sell food and goods, the Chicken Buses! Proud of my passing, I later let him pass me.
By 8am, I have already taken few wrong turns involving an embarrasing attempts at doing U turns on small dirt streets. Sometimes it felt everyone was looking at me, the gringo on a motorcycle. Then, I finally make it to the police station.
Just kidding! It was a go for the volcano hike! I waited for a bit as I think I made small talk with one of the officers. He asked where I am from and when I told him Bulgaria, he imidiately smiled and asked:
"What happened with Berbatov?" (A player who plays soccer in europe)
We are going up, I am in the back of a pickup driving this steep, rocky coffee plantation road. My new friends: Four policemen and three military, all but the chief of police outfitted with automatic rifles, spare ammo, bullet proof vest and a smile. They were going up the volcano too!
It was a steep hike, so steep infact that I got really worried about losing my grip and sliding down. What about going down? Surely these policement wouldn't be leading me into trouble. As we get near the top we find everything coated in few centimiters of ash. The volcano is still kind of active.
The top was, a beautiful, sulphur smelling ridge of windy goodness.
Views for miles...
And BOOM..... BOOM.... BOOM...somebody firing few rounds right behind you.
As the ringing sound is still in my ears, I am already holding the gun and firing a round into the crater. It sounded like a loud click, wooshing sound and a jolt to your arms. It was earlier decided that I will be on the front side of the battle against deliquency and bandits in the country.
"Next time, we bring a rope and you can see the crater," said the chief, who spoke little english. Yes, maybe next time. With my best effort I set up the camera for a timed shot and we line up. My friends!
Downhill was great and running down the deep sandy volcano chutes felt safe and easy. This following photo was by the chief, after crossing some international boundry of connecting a Salvadorian phone to Canadian tablet. Both made in china of course.
This was it, after few miserable attempts to kickstart the bike I waved goodbye to my new friends. Leading out of the small dirt parking lot out of the police station was a double gate. One side left open for me and the other side firmly latched closed. Well... until I twisted the throttle and was sent flying into it.
By the time I realized what had happened, I was looking back at the policemen staring at me behind a cloud of dust. The second gate which I drove through swinged back. Yancis yells out in Englsh:
"Be careful, don't hurt yourself."
Woops. I take one.... two.... three attempts at starting the bike and I am finally off.
On the way back, I take a detour to the Pacific Ocean, dip my feet in the water and eat some Pupusas.
I look at the black button near the blinker that has been bugging me the whole day, think for a moment and I press it.
BEEP.
Beep.... beep.... beeeeeeeep.
Maybe I am looking at all this on the upside. When I crashed through the gate and went across the road there could have been a car passing. Maybe I could have gotten hurt or gotten somebody else hurt. Maybe I would have been pulled over by the police...
I decided to think more about safety in the future but if I have to do it over again, I will.