Sliding Down a Volcano – Mount Ngauruhoe, Tongoriro Crossing
Mount Ngauruhoe - A Volcano in Tongoriro National Park
As I slid down the white rock grasping for anything to hold on to, I thought, if I don’t slow down I might actually die. It seems like something you would read in a fiction book or see in a movie. Being from Florida, where the highest point you reach above sea level is in the safety of an elevator or a board room, I never thought I would die by falling off a mountain. Of course I had pictured other morbid death scenes before; car accident, being swept out to sea, hurricane victim, murder, even the remote chance of being hit by a flaming meteorite seemed more likely than some kind of mountain climbing accident.
The day hadn’t started out very great, so getting road burns (or mountain-side burns) on my arms and hands just made it all that much better. Paul was grumpy that morning; he missed cable TV, unlimited high speed internet, warm weather, a front door, all the usual stuff. It wasn’t a big deal, but it put me in a bad mood which just escalated as we trudged up the Tongoriro Crossing. It was a beautiful day for a hike, a little warm with the sun shining in the cloudless sky, but this sunshine would be welcome when we reached the high altitudes. I had mentioned that we should turn back several times. I thought it may be best if we hiked the famous Tongoriro Crossing on a day when we were both in better spirits, but once you start something it is hard to go back.
I’m not sure how long it took us to get to the base of Mount Ngauruhoe, the highlight of our hike, maybe 2-3 hours. Even though some of the long stairways on the hike had forced us to stop and rest, when we saw the sign pointing to the summit hike we were refreshed and ready for the arduous climb.
The Steep Ascent up Mount Ngauruhoe
I had read that for every two steps you moved up the volcano, you slid down one step, but I still wasn’t expecting it to be that difficult. I don’t know how many times we almost gave up. At one point I bent over, using my hands for support, and became a four legged spider scurrying up the larger rocks.
HINT: Bring gloves on this hike as they’ll help protect your hands from the rough landscape you’ll be forced to embrace.
Fortunately when we were about three quarters of the way up a nice Swedish couple pointed to a nearby rocky ridge and said it was much easier to go up that way. We were going up the same path people were sliding down, which I realized isn’t the best idea. Once we moved to the solid ground near the boulders the ascent was much easier and before we knew it we were peering into the pit of a volcano.
Steam at Edges of Volcano
Steam from Mount Ngauruhoe
When you reach the Ngauruhoe Summit there is steam rising from between boulders and two large holes, which you can walk around. One is clearly a volcano, the other I’m not sure if it is also volcanic or just a result of the nearby volcanic activity and many earthquakes. I definitely recommend walking around the hole to the left, because the views to the east include beautiful blue crater lakes. If you walk around the western hole you can see the snow capped mountain in Egmont Park.
Blue Crater Lakes viewed from Mount Ngauruhoe
Crater Lake Tongoriro Crossing
We were fortunate to arrive at a magical moment when there weren’t any other climbers at the top. We had the whole volcano to ourselves and were able to enjoy the beautiful views and peacefulness that only seems possible at amazing heights or in the middle of the ocean. We had lunch; peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and protein bars. We didn’t see another person until we climbed to the second hole and made it almost full circle.
We could see the path at the base of the mountain. It was much farther west than where our ascent had led us. The foreign hiker who had just joined us was exhausted and anxious to get back to camp. He didn’t even bother walking around the craters, he just pointed to the path and said he thought it would be best to go down on this side of the mountain because it was closer to where we needed to be.
Paul started the descent first. I was about 15 feet behind him. Our would-be travel companion, and now guide, was safely at the top resting. The path was full of kiwi sized rocks that slid the moment your feet touched them. Paul and I both fell backwards and decided we might as well stay on our butts and just slide down. All was going well for the first 25 minutes, but then Paul hit a large patch of smooth, white rock. There was no way to go back up, so he charged on. As soon as he hit the rock he slid uncontrollably. I, unfortunately, couldn’t see any of this and thought he was just being dramatic. He didn’t seem concerned for himself. He just told me to slow down and be careful.
I didn’t understand the severity of our predicament, until I was heading feet first down the side of a volcano with a growing pile of rocks spinning all around me. I spread my arms, dug my heels into the rock and grasped for anything I could with my hands. I felt my gloves ripping and my palms began to sting, for a split second I moved my hands away from the wall of rock only to grasp it again in terror. I couldn’t stop! I couldn’t slow down. I was sending waves of various sized rocks down before me where my husband’s exposed head bobbed back and forth like a worm caught on a sidewalk waiting for a bird to just squish it between it’s beak.
Thankfully, I saw a boulder in my path. I angled my feet to the right and hoped I could somehow catch myself on the only thing that blocked me from the terrifying tumble 7,500 feet down a volcano. I managed to hit the dead center of the rock and just as I was breathing a sigh of relief, it started to move. I screamed for Paul to get out of the way. He had seen the rock when he skidded past it moments ago, so he knew what was coming. I dug my hands, back, and arms into the rock, no longer caring about the sting from rubbing against the abrasive mountainside. The large, white rock (no longer a boulder in my mind) inched forward until only my toes pushed against it, then it stopped.
I couldn’t believe I was laying there, arms spread out, palms bleeding and toes pointed downward. If you took a picture, you would think I was imitating Mel Gibson in the fatal scene of Passion of the Christ.
Now that I was no longer in danger of rolling down the mountain I hollered for Paul to try to move to the right. I would stay where I was until he was safe from any rocks or boulders that went bouncing toward his head every time I moved. I begged for him to hurry, as I feared my grip on the slippery rocks would hold. I knew I had to make my own move away from this white, sheer rock and toward the dirt and stone filled scree slope.
I kept telling myself that it wasn’t too bad and that many people must have taken this same route. I almost believed the situation wasn’t life-threatening until I looked to the right and saw a silver ring protruding from the rock. I’ve never been mountain climbing, but this looked like it might be a tool a climber used to anchor himself to a rock, threading a rope in the ring and tying himself safely around the middle so he doesn’t plunge to his death. At the same moment, Paul calls out “I think we are in trouble”, followed by a horrible sound of sliding and crashing. When it stops, I cry, a silent sob that is begging to be calmed by his voice. He must know what I’m thinking because he quickly announces he’s alive and unharmed. He’s managed to hide under a cliff and tells me to make my moves. He’ll wait there, protected from the perilous rocks I’m sure to unearth as I move across the mountainside.
I make it past the slippery white rock and unto a rocky path that can be safely descended by sliding on your bum. I look over and see our devious little friend has witnessed our peril and decided to take the well worn path, which puts you far from the end target, but at least gets you there safely. The little snot, who was too tired to even walk around the volcano, is running down the mountain. I guess he fears we’ll thank him for being such a lovely guide by pummeling him with rocks.
It takes Paul much longer to make it to the safety of the rock filled path and even still we can’t be near each other because each move causes a dangerous landslide of black lava rocks. By time we make it to the bottom of Mount Ngauruhoe our hands, arms, butts and legs are covered in scratches and embedded with volcano dust. I’m lucky – Paul had told me to put on my jacket and gloves before we started down. He was concerned I might fall and scratch myself. If only he had known how bad the trip down would be, maybe he would have worn his own jacket, but he didn’t even have gloves.
We couldn’t even hug each other, the cuts and soon-to-show bruises made every move painful. We professed our love and swore never to let each other out of our site again. We vowed never to climb a mountain or even go hiking. We felt like we had somehow escaped a disaster and we didn’t want to push our luck ever again.