When John came back, he asked if I would want to go see the volcano the next day. “Really?” I thought. After struggling all day with feeling sorry for myself I almost felt like I didn’t deserve to go, or that it would somehow be irresponsible to leave Tikvah for a few hours. But how could I pass this up?
The next day I handed off a sleeping baby to my friend, giving her instructions about food and diapers while applying sunscreen on myself in preparation for hours in direct tropical sunlight. I felt a bit like a little kid going to a movie that mom and dad had screened first - but at least I was going! It would only be a few hours. Tikvah would be fine, I had to tell myself. We said goodbye and John began negotiating terms with the locals who would canoe us over to the base of the volcano.
Now, riding on open water in a canoe that is barely wide enough for my thighs is not high on my list of fun things to do. But it definitely added to the dramatic effect of the approaching anomaly. In a tropical wonderland teeming with banana trees and coconuts and exotic flowers, a deceptively unimpressive fixture arises, barren and gray against the tall, green mountains behind it. The canoe landed and soon we were crunching our way up the gravely hillside. An overwhelming feeling of nearing Mount Doom assaulted me as we walked. After checking my wedding ring to make sure it wasn’t suddenly sporting a fiery Elvish script, I followed close behind John, picking my way through the gray peaks and valleys.
Once we passed the lava-crusted base, the ascent to the crater was fairly monotonous. I looked back at the view around us every so often, as that was much more interesting than the bleak gray mass in front of me. This particular volcano is the shortest of several peaks on one side of a bay. Other volcanoes were visible, though most had been covered with greenery because of their relative inactivity. One large peak, we were told, had risen out of the sea in three days time, like Atlantis emerging from the depths. When we’d flown in, the volcanic nature of the area had been evident, as our birds-eye view revealed fingers of land stretched out at odd angles from the main part of the peninsula.
John and I circled around to another side of the volcano and then began the descent to the valley below. Up to this point my tennis shoes had been great for the trip, but running down the loose slope gave opportunity for ample sand and rock to collect in them. It was funny looking up after we reached the bottom and realizing that what took about 15 or 20 minutes to climb took less than 5 minutes to run and slide down.
We crossed an empty river valley, a few more short, barren peaks, and passed a brick building still buried to the roof with ash that fell on it more than 15 years before. We were able to catch a ride on a passing pickup truck which took us to the market to find public transport back to the center we were staying at. As we crossed the ash covered landscape and more half-buried buildings and roads, I marveled to think that the small mountain I had just mastered was responsible for this wasteland. Even 15 years after the initial eruption, Tarvurvur was still showing man how feeble his best efforts are against the world he inhabits.
