Pucón is a trendy town in Chile’s spectacular Lake District. Skiers, snowboarders, trekkers, kayakers and drifting backpackers roll into town with the firm assurance of adventures galore. It’s a party town too, but most of the revelers are celebrating the accomplishments of the day. Others are standing in the street, breathing deeply and looking up at the 2847 meter high Volcán Villarrica, contemplating an ascent.
It’s not every day I decide to climb a glacier-coated active volcano. But some things in life that are just too evident to avoid, to intriguing to ignore, and to tempting to pass up. I’d been backpacking solo around South America for a few months when I wound up in Pucón. I’d done some trekking in Argentina and a few hikes in Chile, but I certainly wasn’t a walking advert for trekking gear and my climbing experience was limited to the trees of my childhood. I’ve always liked a challenge, however, so I signed up for the climb.
A good tour agency provides all the appropriate gear: spiked climbing boots, helmet, ice axe, overalls and the like. All I needed to bring along was a strong sun block, shades, snacks and something to drink. I also took my camera after some deliberation; I didn’t want to break it, but it was certainly worth the risk.
Our group assembled at the agency in the early hours of the morning and everyone suited up. For a total novice, putting on this gear is a strange experience. I smiled and joked with the rest of the group, hoping that they, too, were thinking the same as me: “What have I got myself into?”
The Ascent
We arrived at the base of the volcano. It looked big from the town but it had grown during our approach. Monumental, vast, gleaming; what had we got ourselves into, indeed? A ski lift ride started the ascent but didn’t take us far. We walked up the lower slopes, an easy introduction and a good place to get used to the heavy, clumpy climbing boots. Things soon got steeper and, in order to keep walking rather than actually climbing, the tour guides began a single file zigzag up the ice, each of us using the ice axe as a climbing stick.
The ascent wasn’t posing the physical test that a few people had warned me of before. Some members of the group were struggling a little, but only a young couple failed to make it to the top; the oldest member of the group was probably in her late 50s and she showed no signs of fatigue at all.
The climb did become monotonous at times. I watched my footing in the ice and snow, trudging onwards and upwards, left foot, right foot, left… But when I stopped for a breather and removed my shades l was presented with a dazzling view across endless swathes of Chile and into Argentina. The landscape folded out below, dotted with crystalline lakes with a backdrop of more stunning ice-encrusted volcanoes.
On Top of Villarrica
After a few hours we reached the lower plateaus of the craggy summit. A cold wind was ripping across the peak. Volcán Llaima had erupted a couple of days before and was now belching out ash in the distance, a constant reminder that we were standing on a living natural force. Fumes began to sting my nose as we approached the crater’s rim. The gaping mouth of the volcano spilled out before us as we rose over the cusp, the sides of the blackened bowl sloping sharply downwards. Our eyes were drawn to the depths below, a wrinkled pit of rumbling, spitting lava.
It was impressive, to say the least. The heat was making me sweat in my climbing gear so I shed a few layers. But the heat was far more bearable than the toxic fumes that were wafting at the whim of the strong breeze. We moved quickly when the winds shifted in our direction – it’s hard to describe the bitterness, the dry burning of these odious gases in my nose and throat. But it’s easy to accept them; this volcano demands respect, its power is humbling, and I felt too small to worry about the fumes. Looking down into the crater, I asked one of the guides how effective the eruption early-warning system was. “Oh,” he shouted over the wind, “it’s just a rough guide, it’s quite ineffective.” He smiled, and we moved on.
The Descent
We had an hour or so to watch the spewing cauldron, explore the rim and admire the panoramic view. Then the guides gathered up the group for the descent. If going up was slow and steady, going down was about as different as could be. Steep slopes and well worn channels of ice mean one thing: prepare yourself for the slide of your life. We had no skis, snowboards or even sledges — our own backsides were to be our method of transportation. The guides gave us one rule: Do not drop your ice axe on the way down. Beyond that brief advisory it was just me, the scenery and a sheet of ice to end the day.
I sat at the top of the ice channel, well-worn by previous sliders, and pushed myself off. The ice numbed my backside instantly but the rapid increase in velocity soon removed any thoughts of discomfort from my mind. I was bombing down the side of the volcano, a sense of freedom flooding my senses as I tried to keep in the shallow channel to avoid popping out and flying to one side.
The group scattered as each person found their preferred rate of descent. I can’t remember how long it took to get back down. Ten minutes, half an hour, who knows? Time flies when you’re having fun. Eventually we reached the shallower slopes at the foot of the volcano, forcing us to abandon sliding and start walking. I defrosted my iced-up rear as I headed towards the ski lifts and back to the car park.
Everyone was red-faced and buoyant after the descent, happy to hang around by the minibus while the stragglers rolled in. After a last look back at the mighty Volcán Villarrica, we got into the vehicle, shut the doors and headed back to the tour agency office to change, warm up and to drink a much deserved and very satisfying beer. It was a great feeling to have made it up the volcano. It wasn’t so hard and the guides took care of us every step of the way.
If you are in Chile, don’t pass up this opportunity. Going up Villarrica is much more than a “been there, done that” experience. It’s an accomplishment, one hell of a ride and a true South American highlight.