Nyiragongo

The whole thing started when I came back from leave, and I was a little confused, it was 5 degrees at home, and 25 here, because it's always 25 degrees here, and the rainy season didn't end as it was expected, and I was on the road for ever, and then Monday evening the boys told me, in a very matter-of fact tone, between two episodes of Game of Thrones, that we are climbing the volcano the weekend. I think they waited, on purpose, until I wasn't in a mental state to argue with them. I only asked them why they didn't tell me before, so I could pack my walking poles right next to the Túró Rudis.

So I spent the week running after sweaters, gloves, walking poles and sleeping bags to borrow, food for two days, and time and again I was a little worried if this was a good idea at all. For this „we climb the volcano” story goes as follows: you drive about 20 minutes to get to the entrance of the Virunga National Park, there you get a briefing (always say on the trail, these three armed men are the rangers, they will lead the way, up there you will find huts, we will make three stops, etc), you have your slapping sleeping bag, extra set of dry clothes, spare water and food in a separate backpack, because it will be carried by porters (yes, I know, it sounds awfully colonial. I felt quite bad about it, but after about 5 minutes I understood that it will be an achievement to drag myself up there, let alone the extra 15 kilos), and off you go, 8 kms distance and 1500 ms difference in altitude, Those knowing me from high school or hiking times may remember my loving relationship with altitude as a whole, the others should consider that I grew up in Hungary, and have only lived in Belgium, Luxembourg, and the middle (flat) part of France.

But what would life be without challenges? And, more importantly, what would I tell to my grandchildren, if not that I have climbed the largest active volcano in Africa?

Because the Nyiragongo is active, it flooded about a quarter of Goma in 2002, the remaining volcanic stones are used in newly built houses. This part of the national park was closed in 2012 because the rebels were a little too close, and they only re-opened a couple of weeks ago, we were the 9^th team to go up. So the climb was only a side effect to it, the main goal was to see a real crater, with a real lava lake. And so we did! I thought the crater would be smaller and the lava closer, but I was wrong, the crater is huuuuge, and the lava lake is quite far down. And it's rather surreal, it looks like it does in geography books and Nationa Geographic documentaries, dark gray gooey doey liquidy stuff, with bright red lines in it, and suplhury smoke. Later, when it would get dark and the sky got clearer, we could also see that bubbles emerge from the gray lake, and when the burst, they are burning red. A smaller Mordor.

Mordor also because those who didn't have supporting tools, completed the last 30 minutes in the style of Gollum. On four, that is. And also, because the climbing takes so much energy and requires so much concentration, that the only goal you can remember is to get there. And destroy the Ring.

And also, because when the mission is completed, and after the night spent in a tent inside the leaking hut, four people under two sleeping bags, in damp clothes, eating damp sandwiches and vegan chocolate cookies, the fellow fighters show up again, and it's 6 am, and there are no clouds yet, and you can see all the way to Goma, to the lake, and in theory beyond that to Burundi, the sun is shining and the air, lacking oxygen, is so cold that you need gloves, then you feel a bit that Middle Earth has just been saved. And there will be a song to sing to the grandchildren.