A dash of danger: My tumbling volcanic thrill ride

by Sara Fondo (Denmark)

A leap into the unknown Nicaragua

I read a quote once that has been stuck in my mind ever since. “With freedom comes danger. With danger comes freedom.” I have no idea who said it but I sure as hell know that every time, I have felt the tingling sensation of freedom running down my spine it’s because danger is burning in my bloodstream simultaneously. I especially remember one occasion where I found myself sledding down a volcano with 68 kilometers that would come to teach me just how dangerous my urge for freedom could be. It was a steamy Saturday afternoon in the second biggest city of Nicaragua, León. We were 13 people sitting in the back of a bright orange flatbed truck that bumbled its way down the narrow cobble streets. “Here are your bags with everything you need,” said a man with latté skin and curly, mocha hair as he handed us a yellow dry bag. His name was Albie and he looked like he belonged on a beach. He told me that he used to be a surfer but now had replaced the waves with volcanic rocks. As I opened the bag to find a pair of transparent goggles and a big orange jumpsuit inside, I felt an entire kaleidoscope of butterflies swirling furiously inside my stomach. Was I really going to board down a volcano with this as my only security gear? The road took us past farmland where hibiscus tea, peanuts and sugarcanes are produced and after an hour I saw the black giant, Cerro Negro, towering up between the lush vegetation. It was time. We were all handed a board made of plywood with a piece of metal underneath. “They change it every day,” Albie told me to make sure you get maximum speed on the way down. Even though Cerro Negro stands at just 728 meters tall the climb turned out to be tougher than I expected. A moustache of sweat had made a prominent appearance on my upper lip, my grey Nikes were constantly sliding on the ash black rocks and the wind threatened to take me and my board over the edge several times. “You’ve got to hold it horizontally in front of you,” Albie taught me and with that advice I made it to the summit. Cerro Negro hasn’t erupted since 1999 but its activity was unmistakable. As I put my hand down on the ground, I could feel the heat seethe through my palm. “If you bury a potato at the bottom, it’ll be cooked by the time you get down,” Albie said, “I’ll bring sour cream and cheese the next time,” I replied with a grin. The first thing I thought of as I got dressed in my orange jumpsuit was Breaking Bad. I might have been more ready to cook meth than to actually sled down an active volcano but here I was dressed as someone who just made a prison break, goggles on my eyes and a black bandana over my mouth. I knew I had to do it. I positioned my board. “¡Arriba, Arriba!” Albie shouted and I let go of my feet and my fear. Volcano boarding was very much like having one drink too many. You’re having fun but you’re not sure what you’re doing. My board went completely awry and then I saw it. The bump. “Fuck, fuck, fuck” I exclaimed. I couldn’t steer clear of it. I was catapulted into the air. My board went one way and I the other. “Cover your face,” I remembered Albie’s security brief but as my body kept rolling, I struggled to get my arms around my head. When I finally came to a stop my goggles and bandana had vanished, my hands were bleeding and I had rocks in parts of my body that I never imagined possible. I shook a few out of my ears and even dug one out of my nose, then I smiled. Nothing had happened to me. That day the tingling sensation didn’t stop but as night fell upon León, I felt the stinging flow of danger slowly evaporating in my veins as I poured more and more mojito into my system.