the ship will be alongside the pier at 0700!! NOT at 0800 as planned.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Day 108. My Last post aboard the Explorer. But not my last post ever :-)
Hey there
The entire ship was outside this evening at 7:50 when the sun finally set. On the three outside decks in the aft part of the ship, most of the community was there, clapping, singing and crying their eyes out.
I can't even begin to digest what is going through my (and my friends') minds right now. This entire voyage, from Nassau, to Spain, Morocco, Namibia, South Africa (!!), Mauritius, India, Thailand, Vietnam, Hong Kong, China, Japan, Hawaii, Guatemala, Panama, The Ocean, The world. Nobody can believe we did it.
Convocation was this morning, and was full of great speeches and songs. It was extremely moving and sad, but so warm (just like our community). I was honored as a student leader and a 4.0 gpa-earner... which was pretty cool too.
I'm going to go enjoy my last night with my friends. Nobody is sleeping, everybody is just laying out on the deck, awaiting the first USA lights that come over the horizon in a few hours.
Stay tuned after the voyage ends and I'll post a bunch more post-voyage thoughs in the days to follow.
To you all. Thanks. You have taken a part in my Voyage, and I thank you for that. PLEASE contact me. Email me and let me know your connection to a program I now know and love.
Thanks as always. Talk to you from land, from US soil in a few hours!!!
-Greg Lessans
Additional Arrival Info
I will be on the top deck with
a) A Maryland Flag
and
b) a white sign with blue writing that says "HI MA!!"
Look for me.
Greg
ARRIVAL INFORMATION
(Information regarding arrival port and times)
THE MV EXPLORER will be ARRIVING at PORT EVERGLADES, Fort Lauderdale, Florida... TERMINAL 21.
We will be alongside the pier at 0800 tomorrow morning. We will probably be within view about an hour before that at 0700.
The ship will be cleared approx. 1030-11. It should take us a few hours from there to get off the ship.
Any questions, email me.
Greg
Day 107. I love this Ship; and a very public thank-you
I love this ship, and my community with all of my heart.
Tonight, me and 4 students were in charge of the final Logistical Pre-port on Ft. Lauderdale, Florida. The entire hour was dedicated to making fun of each of the faculty and staff: Luke "the voice" Jones, Les McCabe, Reg Garrett and Gary Dukes.
I played the part of Dean Reg, and his crazy cooky-ness that is infused in each of his lectures. I 'poked fun' at his long lecture slides, his silly inflection, his grading style and his overall demeanor.
It was such a hit. Everybody kept coming up to me afterwards telling me how spot-on my Reg impression was and how funny it was. It was incredibly flattering. I also have to thank Dean Reg for being such a good sport about the whole thing. He was laughing his butt of with everybody else and was a great sport about being made fun of in front of 700 people.
I am going to miss this so much. We are all so happy right now. Nobody wants to think about what's about to happen.
We spent the whole day in Re-Entry and reflection exercises talking about the multitude of things that can happen upon return to home. I'd like to think I got a better idea of what's ahead from people who have done it before. To my loved ones and friends: have patience with me. I promise to be as tactful as possible and to not clam up... but there's a lot I've experienced and a lot of things I need to sort out once I'm in familiar circumstances again. I know life has gone on in the past 108 days and that my experiences do not define the whole world's... but they'll still be fresh to me come Wednesday. I thank you in advance for your support and understanding as I express them to you.
----
Now, a very public thank-you:
Neither my mom nor my dad were born into insanely wealthy families. They were born into average american families with a culture, though, that their kids would be the most important to them. Let's level with eachother... I'm insanely lucky to have traversed this voyage. Lucky doesn't even scratch the surface. I'm so fortunate that words again fail me.
This voyage, as you can imagine, would not have ever been even a dream without the support of my parents. Monetary support, moral support, support to go explore, support to be different, support to throw caution to the wind and just 'go'... I got it all, and It led me to an incredible few months, and a connection to a program that will not end when I disembark in a day. It led to experiences that will define who I am, and moments that will change the way I think, act, and live. Had my parents not made the decision a long time ago to invest in their two children, I never would have had this opportunity. And for that, I am eternally grateful.
My parents know this. I make sure and tell them this all the time, but I feel as though they deserve to, at the very least, be recognized publicly.
Now. To the others. To every other parent out there who funded their kid. To every one of my relatives who supported me with anything from a dollar to a glimmer in their eye that said "I support this." To every friend who convinced me I wasn't crazy. To every advisor that sat across from me and told me that I HAD to do this... thank you. From the bottom of my heart: Thank you.
You have changed my life forever- and for that, I will never be able to thank you enough.
---
Tomorrow, Convocation. We will all be recognized for our completion of the voyage academically, and the graduating seniors will be able to walk across the stage symbolically. It is the official close of the voyage. Final speeches will be delivered, and the room will be full of tears of happiness and sadness. I am terrified. I remember the first evening when we got on the ship and Les said... "We're going around the world!"
We did it. We *went* around the world. Together.
You should hear from me at least one more time before we disembark on Wednesday morning.
Love from the Carribbean!
Greg
Monday, May 4, 2009
Day 106. Academics Done, Panama Canal, Ambasaddor's Ball
Well, the "semester" is oficially over.
Yesterday, at 1215, I took my last final (Evolution), and checked out academically for the school year. In other news, with the completion of that final, I am now a SENIOR in college. Weird.
I slept outside last night on deck 7 aft, and was awoken by the sun as we were crusing into the famed Panama Canal.
The experience of crossing the Panama Canal was really something to remember. Both the Pacific (where we started) and the Atlantic (where we ended) are lower than the lake in the middle of the isthmus. So, as we entered on the Pacific side, we were raised by 2 locks (the Miraflores and the Pedro Miguel Locks) about 50 feet up to meet the level of the lake. We then floated for hours to the final Gatun Locks where were dropped through a series of locks to meet the level of the Atlantic Ocean. The entire process took approximately 10 hours! It cost nearly $130,000 for us to cross. Not exactly chump change.
In true SAS tradition, we took part in the Ambassador's Ball tonight. It's the opportunity for us all to get completely dressed up in black-tie dresses and suits, and celebrate our voyage. We had two sittings of 5-course dinners followed by dessert and dancing all night. Dancing and singing with everybody in the union, which was rocking beneath us in the waves was a memorable time. I can't believe that the ball is behind us.
Tomorrow, we'll spend the day reflecting and talking about re-entry while packing. We have tomorrow and one more day before we arrive in Fort Lauderdale on Wednesday. The blog entries may not be as current, since I have lots to do before I depart the ship. Rest assured, though, I'll be composing a few different "voyage-ending" thoughts in the days following Disembarkation.
Talk to you tomorrow... and proud to be in our last body of water.
Greg.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
LATEBREAKING: Ship DisEmbarkation order announced
Friends
I had the privelage of actually drawing the names of the "seas" to determine the order of disembarkation from the ship on Wednesday of this coming week.
My sea, the Carribbean Sea, will be disembarking 7TH of all the seas. There are 9 total seas. I should be clearing the ship probably close to noonish.
I'll post the whole list later.
We're in the panama canal- check the webcam!
Greg
WATCH US IN THE PANAMA CANAL TODAY
Tomorrow we will be entering the PANAMA CANAL!
If you'd like, thanks to the magic of the world-wide-web, you can watch us at different times cross the canal!
*ALL TIMES ARE IN CENTRAL TIME. 10 AM Central is 11 AM Eastern*
1) 0910-1000 Transiting the Miraflores Locks. View us on regular webcam at http://www.pancanal.com/eng/photo/camera-java.html?cam=Miraflores
or view us on the HIGH RESOLUTION webcam at http://www.pancanal.com/eng/photo/camera-java.html?cam=MirafloresHi
***FROM 0930-0935. I will be on the front of the ship with a giant Maryland State flag. If you see me, email me!***
2) 1300- The MICE (Mobile Interactive Computer Ensemble) will be performing a concert on the 7th deck forward (front of the ship). View LIVE streaming video at http://www.pancanal.com/eng/photo/camera-java.html?cam=miraflores. Live streaming audo at http://std1.ladio.net:8000/micecast.m3u or on radio broadcast WTJU 91.1 FM, Virginia.
3) 1445- 1705 Transiting the Gatun Locks. View us on webcam at http://www.pancanal.com/eng/photo/camera-java.html?cam=Gatun
***FROM 1530-1535, I will be on the front of the ship with a giant Maryland State flag. If you see me, email me!***
*As a reminder, we are the (beautiful) Blue, White and Gold ship. We should be traversing Miraflores at 0910, traversing Pedro Miguel locks at 1050, and traversing Gatun locks at 1445.
If anything changes, I'll post to the blog.
Greg
WATCH US TRAVERSE THE PANAMA CANAL!
Tomorrow we will be entering the PANAMA CANAL!
If you'd like, thanks to the magic of the world-wide-web, you can watch us at different times cross the canal!
*ALL TIMES ARE IN CENTRAL TIME. 10 AM Central is 11 AM Eastern*
1) 0910-1000 Transiting the Miraflores Locks. View us on regular webcam at http://www.pancanal.com/eng/photo/camera-java.html?cam=Miraflores
or view us on the HIGH RESOLUTION webcam at http://www.pancanal.com/eng/photo/camera-java.html?cam=MirafloresHi
***FROM 0930-0935. I will be on the front of the ship with a giant Maryland State flag. If you see me, email me!***
2) 1300- The MICE (Mobile Interactive Computer Ensemble) will be performing a concert on the 7th deck forward (front of the ship). View LIVE streaming video at http://www.pancanal.com/eng/photo/camera-java.html?cam=miraflores. Live streaming audo at http://std1.ladio.net:8000/micecast.m3u or on radio broadcast WTJU 91.1 FM, Virginia.
3) 1445- 1705 Transiting the Gatun Locks. View us on webcam at http://www.pancanal.com/eng/photo/camera-java.html?cam=Gatun
***FROM 1530-1535, I will be on the front of the ship with a giant Maryland State flag. If you see me, email me!***
*As a reminder, we are the (beautiful) Blue, White and Gold ship. We should be traversing Miraflores at 0910, traversing Pedro Miguel locks at 1050, and traversing Gatun locks at 1445.
If anything changes, I'll post to the blog.
Greg
Saturday, May 2, 2009
WATCH US TRAVERSE THE PANAMA CANAL!
Tomorrow we will be entering the PANAMA CANAL!
If you'd like, thanks to the magic of the world-wide-web, you can watch us at different times cross the canal!
*ALL TIMES ARE IN CENTRAL TIME. 10 AM Central is 11 AM Eastern*
1) 0910-1000 Transiting the Miraflores Locks. View us on regular webcam at http://www.pancanal.com/eng/photo/camera-java.html?cam=Miraflores
or view us on the HIGH RESOLUTION webcam at http://www.pancanal.com/eng/photo/camera-java.html?cam=MirafloresHi
***FROM 0930-0935. I will be on the front of the ship with a giant Maryland State flag. If you see me, email me!***
2) 1300- The MICE (Mobile Interactive Computer Ensemble) will be performing a concert on the 7th deck forward (front of the ship). View LIVE streaming video at http://www.pancanal.com/eng/photo/camera-java.html?cam=miraflores. Live streaming audo at http://std1.ladio.net:8000/micecast.m3u or on radio broadcast WTJU 91.1 FM, Virginia.
3) 1445- 1705 Transiting the Gatun Locks. View us on webcam at http://www.pancanal.com/eng/photo/camera-java.html?cam=Gatun
***FROM 1530-1535, I will be on the front of the ship with a giant Maryland State flag. If you see me, email me!***
*As a reminder, we are the (beautiful) Blue, White and Gold ship. We should be traversing Miraflores at 0910, traversing Pedro Miguel locks at 1050, and traversing Gatun locks at 1445.
If anything changes, I'll post to the blog.
Greg
Re: Days 100-103. GUATEMALA
WOW! How many times have I said that on your journey. I do think that your hike in Guatemala is the icing on the cake - what an experience!!!
You'll never run out of adjectives ....... enjoy your last few days on board. Looking forward to seeing you next week.
Hugs xoxoxo MM
On May 2, 2009, at 4:31 PM, Gregory Lessans at Semester at sea wrote:
GUATEMALA
How does one express his self when their only way of doing so simply won't do?
That's the question on everybody's mind after leaving the Central American country of Guatemala.
This Voyage is one of perspectives. Each country is not looked at through a new sparkling lens, but from an old dusty one, ripe with impressions of 13 other ports-of-call. Such is the situation of the 800 of us who found ourselves in Guatemala on Tuesday morning. At 97 degrees West longitude, we have traveled nearly 345 degrees around the globe- a mere 15 degrees from where we began in Nassau January 19th.
So, back to the original question: what does one do when they've used up all of their words? I've used the same adjectives, amazing, incredible, fantastic, beautiful, for so many things. From Table Mountain in South Africa to the Taj Mahal to my latest adventure in Guatemala, the experiences are so starkly different, so independently affective on myself as a person; and yet, I have to choose between a few overused adjectives.
But we will try nonetheless.
In Guatemala, I climbed the Volcan Acatenango… The Acatenango Volcano. Acatenango stands at an imposing 13,044 feet above sea level. It is the third highest peak in Guatemala, and also the third highest volcano in all of Central America. It is an inactive volcano, and has been dormant for about 10,000 years. However, it stands right near two other volcanoes- Fuego directly next to it and Agua a few miles away. Fuego erupts mildly every 30 minutes or so, and Agua blows once every decade or so. Fuego's half-hour blast is enough to shake the ground and scare the crap out of ill-prepared tourists (see: me), but you really don't want to be around when Agua blows her top. She did so about 2 years ago and covered central Guatemala in smoke and ash for a few long weeks.
On our way to Acetanango, the tallest of the three volcanoes in the area, we stopped at an observation area by a gas station. While we were standing there and looking at the peak we were going to scale in the next 36 hours, Fuego erupted. I jumped back as she belched flames and black smoke and asked "esta normal??" (is this normal!?). Luis, our guide, told me it was. "Es nuestro volcan muy cerca de el eruption?" I asked (how close is our volcano to the one that's currently erupting). "Muy." He said with a smile: Very.
We stopped at a gas station to change into a new mode of transportation, Una Camioneta (a chicken bus). It is a old-school school bus that is tricked out in paint and lights and rims. They are common all over Guatemala, and this one, dubbed "Esmerelda" by the name on the windshield, was to take us to the beginning of our climb.
Within an hour or so driving, we had reached the bottom of the Volcano. At 6,900 feet, all we could see was up, and the summit was nowhere to be found in our gazes. What follows is a summary of our climb. With my backpack full of supplies, and my walking stick, I carried my green pocket-log that has been with me most of the voyage. What appears in quotations is exactly as I wrote it during the climb:
29 APRIL 1030: "Here on Volcano. Stacey's pen works" (I had borrowed a pen from my friend to write for the journey) "Just sprayed bugspray in someone's eyes. Oops."
1033: "Started the hike. Altitude: 6900 feet."
We began the hike up a dirt road that could be driven by a heavy-duty truck. For the first 30 minutes, it was a meandering road that was mostly easy. We all talked while we walked, the difficulty of the road though got worse and worse.
1042: "Got a stick." I picked up an amazing walking stick and widdled it down while I hiked. It became the centerpiece of the group, and "the staff" was featured in many pictures
1101: "First rest stop. We're okay. Doing optimistically well, hoping it stays like this."
1145: "Lunch. Altitude 7200 feet."
We ate up. As we finished lunch, the group that had climbed the volcano the day before came running down the trail to the lunch area. We all hugged and exchanged words. They told us of what lied ahead with cautious tones. I could hear in their voices that what lie ahead was nothing I could yet imagine. They told us that they left us a present on the summit "if we made it there." We left lunch and IMMEDIATELY it was a new game. It was hills the likes of which I had not seen before. I struggled to get enough friction between my feet and the ground. I fell back many times.
1244: "Hell. Made stop. Altitude: 8450 feet."
1315: "Sitting on steep hill trying to get breath. Discussing endurance with group. Altitude: 9045 feet."
1500: "Finally made it to camp. Altitude: 10,500 feet."
Coming over the last hill to the camp was so great. To know we were done, at least for the day was such a feeling. Camp was such an experience. At over 10,000 feet, we were right at cloud-level, and were reminded of it all the time. It would be clear and sunny, and we'd be sweating profusely. Then, within 60 seconds, a cloud system would roll in and the temperature would drop from near 65 farenheit to around 35. You could soon see your breath in front of your face and were huddling around the 3 campfires we built to stay warm. Then the clouds would move out and you'd be shedding your layers again trying to keep your body temp low. It was a dizzying dance of throwing clothes on and off to accommodate the carousel of weather conditions. So far, though, it was a dry carousel: no rain. That would soon change.
After chips and salsa snack (provided by our guides), we settled in to our tents and were relieved to see 100% WATERPROOF GUARENTEE written on their sides. All of a sudden, thunder in the distance. Dark clouds were on the horizon… the type that make your stomach turn a bit. We had minutes to prepare, soon our camp was in the center of a violent thunderstorm. Drizzle turned to downpour, which turned to plummeting temperatures. What began as chilly became freezing, and the precipitaiton turned to nickel-sized hail that pelted us and our tents. We did what we could in our "dry" tents and then realized the true horror. There were leaks. Everywhere. We went into immediate damage-control mode. Keeping at least one set of dry clothes was of the utmost priority. Lacking a dry set would be not only inconvenient, but potentially dangerous. Nobody knew how long the weather would stay poor, and at this altitude hypothermia and altitude sickness were always possibilities.
We did what we could, laughed as much as we could, and suffered through it all. We ate dinner… grilled hamburgers over a campfire and found ourselves going to sleep at the unreasonably early time of 2000 (8pm). Wakeup was slated for 0400 the next morning.
Me and 5 friends packed into a 3-person tent, thinking that we needed the extra body warmth but soon discovered the problem wasn't temps, but wetness. Trying to sleep, I soon found my feet wet in a puddle at the bottom of my sleeping bag, and decided a new plan was needed. We found a dryer tent and 3 of us migrated there. At that altitude, nobody slept in the thin air more than a pair of hours or so. At one point, I awoke with the driest mouth I've ever had (our guide told us this was normal at the height), and I got out of the tent to get some water. Then I saw it.
The rain had stopped and the cloud had lifted. Though it was dark out, I could see two things. First, an expanse of city lights far below us that I had never seen. I had never been this high (altitude-wise… dad…) in my life, and way below us was the lights of Antigua and Guatemala city. They were tiny specks of blue, yellow, green and red dots lying miles beneath us.
The other thing I saw was not as colorful, but much more incredible. Up. Above me, 3,000 feet above was the shadow of something. A ledge. A top. The summit. For the first time, there it was, three-quarters of a mile above us. I ran back to the tent excited at my discovery and anxious for the challenge that lay above our heads.
30 APRIL 0430: "We woke up a few minutes ago and prepped. We're eating some dry cereal now. Starting hike in 30 minutes"
0605: "Left wide trail for tiny jungle switch-back. Impossible. Struggling to breathe."
That's a pretty accurate description. We could barely put another foot ahead of the other. We had changed to a single-file line, which made stopping impossible. So you just followed the person ahead of you. We proceeded in the jungle, led by a machete-clad guide who cut down any plants that were in our way. The ground beneath us disappeared. It turned to black volcanic ash-sand. With every step forward, you sank and moved 2 steps backward. It was truly impossible. With every movement I found myself metaphor-izing the challenge I found myself in. With every breath of diluted oxygen, I found myself imagining classes, arguments, problems, difficulties and obstacles in my life and with every new step I found myself conquering each of those obstacles one by one mentally. The volcano beneath my feet became a symbol, and I was determined to beat it.
At 0700 AM, we reached the last plateau, and for the first time, saw the last bit of the trail to the summit. There it was. I had been warned by the first group and by the guides that the last 500 feet were the hardest. It was nearly a vertical climb of pure sand and rocks. I dug my staff straight down and pulled myself up, took a breath, then repeated the process. Every 2 minutes or so, I would reach for my water, take a swig and then motivate myself to keep going. I was making progress, but slowly. Nobody talked. The wind was whipping us and we were bundled in our 4 or 5 layers, hats and gloves. It was pure adrenaline and endurance. Everything, it seemed was working against us, but we refused to give in.
At 0741 AM on April 30th, I saw it. My memory flashed back to the day before, meeting the first group down at the lunch spot. "We left a present for you at the top," my friend Elise had told me.
And there it was. Spelled in rocks directly across from where I was. " SAS 09."
I had made it. We had made it.
I wiped the small tears that were in my eyes and realized my smile couldn't have been wider. I grabbed for my water and took a swig when- BOOM! The ground shook. As if on cue, Fuego volcano, now only 600 feet below us and about half a mile away blew its top in its bi-hourly eruption. Fire flew out followed by smoke. It couldn't have been more perfect timing. We all cheered and hugged. The feeling of accomplishment was greater than I ever could have imagined.
I looked around. I was on top of the world. Nothing, besides the two smaller volcanoes, as far as the eye could see was even near our height. I could see lake Aticlan to the east and the Pacific Ocean to the west. The summit was a circular ridge and a crater in the middle where the volcano's hole once was 10,000 years ago; the black sand a subtle reminder of what lies beneath our feet.
We spent about 20 minutes before starting our descent. We talked, laughed and just smiled. The sun had risen on our last day in port for Semester At Sea Spring 2009, and the 30 or so of us could not imagine a better ending for a journey around the world. As one person said, "what better a way to end a journey around the world then by being on top of it."
We descended back to camp from the peak, literally skiing down the sand on the face of the summit. There, we had pancakes and took a 30 minute rest before finishing the descent.
After visiting Antigua for a much-needed lunch, we headed back to Puerto Quetzal. We were hot. We were sweaty. We were tired, and our muscles ached… but our minds had never been better. We beat the Volcano. We beat ourselves.
--
At post-port reflections, Professor Jodi Tompson shared with us some of his thoughts. "It seems many of you willingly threw yourselves in adverse conditions, as if to test yourself," he said. His message was that many times in life, we need to struggle, to know we can do it. Acatenango will forever represent that struggle- and what can happen when the will to succeed overpowers the wish to quit. I will hold that close to me as long as I can.
--
As we pulled out of port that night, there were more faces than normal on Deck 7. We knew why. It was our last port, and everybody wanted to feel it, to see the land slipping away. The people of Guatemala, represented to me by our many guides and helpers were so welcoming. There exist many problems with crime in the country… and its debilitating poverty makes it easy to see why. I hope to return to the country one day and see bigger, better changes- a more stable government and a better life for its wonderful people.
So. Back to the beginning: Words, and their limitations.
As you may have realized, no adjective can sum up my experience. These 4 pages barely scratch the surface. But I think, more than anything, it's the experience and the way it changes me as a person that will best express it. Where words fail, I hope my actions will succeed. To communicate the message of SAS, the message of Acatenango.
As always, Thanks for reading,
Greg
Days 100-103. GUATEMALA
GUATEMALA
How does one express his self when their only way of doing so simply won’t do?
That’s the question on everybody’s mind after leaving the Central American country of Guatemala.
This Voyage is one of perspectives. Each country is not looked at through a new sparkling lens, but from an old dusty one, ripe with impressions of 13 other ports-of-call. Such is the situation of the 800 of us who found ourselves in Guatemala on Tuesday morning. At 97 degrees West longitude, we have traveled nearly 345 degrees around the globe- a mere 15 degrees from where we began in Nassau January 19th.
So, back to the original question: what does one do when they’ve used up all of their words? I’ve used the same adjectives, amazing, incredible, fantastic, beautiful, for so many things. From Table Mountain in South Africa to the Taj Mahal to my latest adventure in Guatemala, the experiences are so starkly different, so independently affective on myself as a person; and yet, I have to choose between a few overused adjectives.
But we will try nonetheless.
In Guatemala, I climbed the Volcan Acatenango… The Acatenango Volcano. Acatenango stands at an imposing 13,044 feet above sea level. It is the third highest peak in Guatemala, and also the third highest volcano in all of Central America. It is an inactive volcano, and has been dormant for about 10,000 years. However, it stands right near two other volcanoes- Fuego directly next to it and Agua a few miles away. Fuego erupts mildly every 30 minutes or so, and Agua blows once every decade or so. Fuego’s half-hour blast is enough to shake the ground and scare the crap out of ill-prepared tourists (see: me), but you really don’t want to be around when Agua blows her top. She did so about 2 years ago and covered central Guatemala in smoke and ash for a few long weeks.
On our way to Acetanango, the tallest of the three volcanoes in the area, we stopped at an observation area by a gas station. While we were standing there and looking at the peak we were going to scale in the next 36 hours, Fuego erupted. I jumped back as she belched flames and black smoke and asked “esta normal??” (is this normal!?). Luis, our guide, told me it was. “Es nuestro volcan muy cerca de el eruption?” I asked (how close is our volcano to the one that’s currently erupting). “Muy.” He said with a smile: Very.
We stopped at a gas station to change into a new mode of transportation, Una Camioneta (a chicken bus). It is a old-school school bus that is tricked out in paint and lights and rims. They are common all over Guatemala, and this one, dubbed “Esmerelda” by the name on the windshield, was to take us to the beginning of our climb.
Within an hour or so driving, we had reached the bottom of the Volcano. At 6,900 feet, all we could see was up, and the summit was nowhere to be found in our gazes. What follows is a summary of our climb. With my backpack full of supplies, and my walking stick, I carried my green pocket-log that has been with me most of the voyage. What appears in quotations is exactly as I wrote it during the climb:
29 APRIL 1030: “Here on Volcano. Stacey’s pen works” (I had borrowed a pen from my friend to write for the journey) “Just sprayed bugspray in someone’s eyes. Oops.”
1033: “Started the hike. Altitude: 6900 feet.”
We began the hike up a dirt road that could be driven by a heavy-duty truck. For the first 30 minutes, it was a meandering road that was mostly easy. We all talked while we walked, the difficulty of the road though got worse and worse.
1042: “Got a stick.” I picked up an amazing walking stick and widdled it down while I hiked. It became the centerpiece of the group, and “the staff” was featured in many pictures
1101: “First rest stop. We’re okay. Doing optimistically well, hoping it stays like this.”
1145: “Lunch. Altitude 7200 feet.”
We ate up. As we finished lunch, the group that had climbed the volcano the day before came running down the trail to the lunch area. We all hugged and exchanged words. They told us of what lied ahead with cautious tones. I could hear in their voices that what lie ahead was nothing I could yet imagine. They told us that they left us a present on the summit “if we made it there.” We left lunch and IMMEDIATELY it was a new game. It was hills the likes of which I had not seen before. I struggled to get enough friction between my feet and the ground. I fell back many times.
1244: “Hell. Made stop. Altitude: 8450 feet.”
1315: “Sitting on steep hill trying to get breath. Discussing endurance with group. Altitude: 9045 feet.”
1500: “Finally made it to camp. Altitude: 10,500 feet.”
Coming over the last hill to the camp was so great. To know we were done, at least for the day was such a feeling. Camp was such an experience. At over 10,000 feet, we were right at cloud-level, and were reminded of it all the time. It would be clear and sunny, and we’d be sweating profusely. Then, within 60 seconds, a cloud system would roll in and the temperature would drop from near 65 farenheit to around 35. You could soon see your breath in front of your face and were huddling around the 3 campfires we built to stay warm. Then the clouds would move out and you’d be shedding your layers again trying to keep your body temp low. It was a dizzying dance of throwing clothes on and off to accommodate the carousel of weather conditions. So far, though, it was a dry carousel: no rain. That would soon change.
After chips and salsa snack (provided by our guides), we settled in to our tents and were relieved to see 100% WATERPROOF GUARENTEE written on their sides. All of a sudden, thunder in the distance. Dark clouds were on the horizon… the type that make your stomach turn a bit. We had minutes to prepare, soon our camp was in the center of a violent thunderstorm. Drizzle turned to downpour, which turned to plummeting temperatures. What began as chilly became freezing, and the precipitaiton turned to nickel-sized hail that pelted us and our tents. We did what we could in our “dry” tents and then realized the true horror. There were leaks. Everywhere. We went into immediate damage-control mode. Keeping at least one set of dry clothes was of the utmost priority. Lacking a dry set would be not only inconvenient, but potentially dangerous. Nobody knew how long the weather would stay poor, and at this altitude hypothermia and altitude sickness were always possibilities.
We did what we could, laughed as much as we could, and suffered through it all. We ate dinner… grilled hamburgers over a campfire and found ourselves going to sleep at the unreasonably early time of 2000 (8pm). Wakeup was slated for 0400 the next morning.
Me and 5 friends packed into a 3-person tent, thinking that we needed the extra body warmth but soon discovered the problem wasn’t temps, but wetness. Trying to sleep, I soon found my feet wet in a puddle at the bottom of my sleeping bag, and decided a new plan was needed. We found a dryer tent and 3 of us migrated there. At that altitude, nobody slept in the thin air more than a pair of hours or so. At one point, I awoke with the driest mouth I’ve ever had (our guide told us this was normal at the height), and I got out of the tent to get some water. Then I saw it.
The rain had stopped and the cloud had lifted. Though it was dark out, I could see two things. First, an expanse of city lights far below us that I had never seen. I had never been this high (altitude-wise… dad…) in my life, and way below us was the lights of Antigua and Guatemala city. They were tiny specks of blue, yellow, green and red dots lying miles beneath us.
The other thing I saw was not as colorful, but much more incredible. Up. Above me, 3,000 feet above was the shadow of something. A ledge. A top. The summit. For the first time, there it was, three-quarters of a mile above us. I ran back to the tent excited at my discovery and anxious for the challenge that lay above our heads.
30 APRIL 0430: “We woke up a few minutes ago and prepped. We’re eating some dry cereal now. Starting hike in 30 minutes”
0605: “Left wide trail for tiny jungle switch-back. Impossible. Struggling to breathe.”
That’s a pretty accurate description. We could barely put another foot ahead of the other. We had changed to a single-file line, which made stopping impossible. So you just followed the person ahead of you. We proceeded in the jungle, led by a machete-clad guide who cut down any plants that were in our way. The ground beneath us disappeared. It turned to black volcanic ash-sand. With every step forward, you sank and moved 2 steps backward. It was truly impossible. With every movement I found myself metaphor-izing the challenge I found myself in. With every breath of diluted oxygen, I found myself imagining classes, arguments, problems, difficulties and obstacles in my life and with every new step I found myself conquering each of those obstacles one by one mentally. The volcano beneath my feet became a symbol, and I was determined to beat it.
At 0700 AM, we reached the last plateau, and for the first time, saw the last bit of the trail to the summit. There it was. I had been warned by the first group and by the guides that the last 500 feet were the hardest. It was nearly a vertical climb of pure sand and rocks. I dug my staff straight down and pulled myself up, took a breath, then repeated the process. Every 2 minutes or so, I would reach for my water, take a swig and then motivate myself to keep going. I was making progress, but slowly. Nobody talked. The wind was whipping us and we were bundled in our 4 or 5 layers, hats and gloves. It was pure adrenaline and endurance. Everything, it seemed was working against us, but we refused to give in.
At 0741 AM on April 30th, I saw it. My memory flashed back to the day before, meeting the first group down at the lunch spot. “We left a present for you at the top,” my friend Elise had told me.
And there it was. Spelled in rocks directly across from where I was. “ SAS 09.”
I had made it. We had made it.
I wiped the small tears that were in my eyes and realized my smile couldn’t have been wider. I grabbed for my water and took a swig when- BOOM! The ground shook. As if on cue, Fuego volcano, now only 600 feet below us and about half a mile away blew its top in its bi-hourly eruption. Fire flew out followed by smoke. It couldn’t have been more perfect timing. We all cheered and hugged. The feeling of accomplishment was greater than I ever could have imagined.
I looked around. I was on top of the world. Nothing, besides the two smaller volcanoes, as far as the eye could see was even near our height. I could see lake Aticlan to the east and the Pacific Ocean to the west. The summit was a circular ridge and a crater in the middle where the volcano’s hole once was 10,000 years ago; the black sand a subtle reminder of what lies beneath our feet.
We spent about 20 minutes before starting our descent. We talked, laughed and just smiled. The sun had risen on our last day in port for Semester At Sea Spring 2009, and the 30 or so of us could not imagine a better ending for a journey around the world. As one person said, “what better a way to end a journey around the world then by being on top of it.”
We descended back to camp from the peak, literally skiing down the sand on the face of the summit. There, we had pancakes and took a 30 minute rest before finishing the descent.
After visiting Antigua for a much-needed lunch, we headed back to Puerto Quetzal. We were hot. We were sweaty. We were tired, and our muscles ached… but our minds had never been better. We beat the Volcano. We beat ourselves.
--
At post-port reflections, Professor Jodi Tompson shared with us some of his thoughts. “It seems many of you willingly threw yourselves in adverse conditions, as if to test yourself,” he said. His message was that many times in life, we need to struggle, to know we can do it. Acatenango will forever represent that struggle- and what can happen when the will to succeed overpowers the wish to quit. I will hold that close to me as long as I can.
--
As we pulled out of port that night, there were more faces than normal on Deck 7. We knew why. It was our last port, and everybody wanted to feel it, to see the land slipping away. The people of Guatemala, represented to me by our many guides and helpers were so welcoming. There exist many problems with crime in the country… and its debilitating poverty makes it easy to see why. I hope to return to the country one day and see bigger, better changes- a more stable government and a better life for its wonderful people.
So. Back to the beginning: Words, and their limitations.
As you may have realized, no adjective can sum up my experience. These 4 pages barely scratch the surface. But I think, more than anything, it’s the experience and the way it changes me as a person that will best express it. Where words fail, I hope my actions will succeed. To communicate the message of SAS, the message of Acatenango.
As always, Thanks for reading,
Greg
Time Change update
(from last night's post)
We pushed one hour forward last night. We are now EST -1, or Central Daylight Time.
We arrive at the Panama Canal in 24 hours!
Greg
Day 104. The Beginning of the End- the last leg starts
Hey all
I can't write as long as I'd like, because I have to get in bed in prep for an Evolution final exam tomorrow morning.
I can feel muscles in my body that I never knew existed, as I slowly recover from the amazing hike. After my exam tomorrow, I will sit down and compose my thoughts on the time in Guatemala- including, of course, the hike- and post it to the blog.
Tonight, at Post-Port Reflections in the Union, I again got up and shared what I was thinking. I told the community much of what I'm thinking for the end of the voyage as well: That I am exceedingly dissapointed with the English language, with words. I have run out of adjectives, I told the ship. For instance, after getting off of this Volcano, I have no idea what to say. If I describe dinner, or a sunset as "amazing" then I don't know what to describe hiking the volcano. If I call it "amazing," it's like I'm doing an injustice to the experience, the volcano, even the dinner! I have to accept that no matter what I say or how I express myself through pictures or words, I will never convey the whole experience- in that way, I am prisoner to my own thoughts and experiences. (Certainly, of course, I'm the most fortunate prisoner that ever lived :-), but a prisoner nonetheless).
I have resolved myself, though, to continue to try to share these experiences. The Volcano climb was... *something*. It was the most incredible feeling I've ever had- cresting the summit, knowing I had conquered my fears and my pains. I'll never convince another of how influential the experience truly was. I can't wait to write about it, and more about what I said at post-port reflections tomorrow and hopefully you'll have a better idea!
At post-port reflections, also, I realized how much of a community member I have truly become. 3 other people who shared mentioned me in their thoughts, and it was truly flattering (and a bit embarrassing!) Kara talked about our last shabbat; Ben talked about our experience as tent-mates on the mountain; and Rachel talked about my speech.
The Last Shabbat.
Tonight, we had our last Shabbat as a shipboard community. It was a very emotional night. Mikey G, the professor of computer science who has been with the Jewish students all voyage long (along with his wife Mindy and son Eli) talked a lot about our community. The thing is, he said, that "in the real world," when you go to a shabbat service, you are entering a jewish community. It may be for a night, or for a weekend, a shabbat, a month, or for 30 years... but the Jewish community exists in part before you get there and after you leave. On the ship, however, we started with nothing. We entered the ship as separate people and became a prideful jewish community that went through lots together. From Passover in Japan and at sea, to havdallah at sunset on the deck, to singing, to sharing, to dealing with hard issues like death... this has been my family aboard, and I will miss them immensely.
It was a tearful night, full of smiles and sharing of our first shabbats back 16 weeks ago. I can't believe how far we have come, and I truly, truly, have never been more proud. I'll miss you all.
We also celebrated Bradee's birthday downstairs at Special Ocassion Dining.
Alright. I really have to go to bed. Love you all.
Greg
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