La Malinche Volcano

The day that we left Teotihuacan we headed east for La Malinche volcano. It is difficult to find any significant area of the interior of Mexico that is not mountainous, but the area south and east of Mexico City is different, in that the peaks are almost all volcanoes. There are several huge volcanoes in this area of Mexico, some are extinct, some dormant, and some active; La Malinche is dormant but has clearly been inactive for a long time. It is smaller than some of its surrounding cousins, and is the easiest of the big ones to climb, not needing any specialist equipment or a guide. There is a quaint vacation centre at the end of the road that leads a fair way up the side of La Malinche, and so the climb to the summit and the descent back down again can be done in a day. The centre is run as a low cost recreational facility by the Mexican Social Security Institute and is the closest thing we’d seen in Mexico to the state park campsites all over America. There are a number of well-equipped cabins to rent, some nicely screened camp sites, a small restaurant and shop, and a level parking area. The centre is happy for RVs to park in the parking area for a small fee and we were delighted to pay a small fee for parking, rather than the usual inflated cost that we pay at trailer parks for electrical, water, and sewage hook-ups which we don’t need.

The extent of the facilities on the volcano should not mislead potential visitors into thinking that the climb to the summit is like a walk in the woods though; even at the vacation centre, 3,400m above sea level, I was feeling out of breath after a short walk and I should have known that the climb would be hard work. The vacation centre is a great place to relax above the smog trapped in the surrounding valleys, and if I lived in Mexico City or Puebla I’d be a frequent visitor here; the site has some nice walking trails around it, and we had a pleasant day relaxing before our climb the following morning.

We started the climb early, aiming to eat lunch at the summit and be back before the heat of the afternoon. Our guide book suggested that the ascent and descent could be completed in five hours, and I’d guess that if I’d been on my own and feeling uncharacteristically determined I might have been able to do it in this time. With a dog who insists on wearing his thick winter coat everywhere, this timeframe was impossible. The path starts relatively easily, you can either follow the (closed) road that continues upwards from the campsite, or take the steeper walking path that goes straight up the slope. Once the path to ‘la cima’ leaves the road, it immediately starts to get steeper and steeper, and before long were climbing an absurdly steep trail, wondering what the hell we had let ourselves in for.

A vertical climb of over a kilometre is no easy feat even at sea level, but starting at 3,400m makes it considerably harder work. On the steepest section of the trail we were getting less than 10 minutes of climbing before we’d have to stop so that Naomi and me could get our breath back and Boris could reign his panting in to a less concerning rate.

The trail runs through dense pine forest until the tree line at about 4,000m and the combination of not being able to see the summit, the extreme gradient, and the very dusty trail, had us discussing turning back at various points. As the trees started to thin, and we could get glimpses of the summit, we got our enthusiasm back. Unfortunately this coincided with the point at which Boris began to get altitude sickness. Above 4,000m he began retching, which at first I put down to him eating too much grass (it’s particularly tasty on the fertile slopes of a volcano), and perhaps the dust; if I’m honest I’d not considered the idea that a dog could get altitude sickness. Within a couple of hundred meters of the summit, Boris began vomiting and we had to turn around.

In some ways I was disappointed to have to turn around so close to the summit, but at the same time I was hugely relieved. I don’t know whether I am less able to cope at altitude than others, but at 4,300m every step was hard work and the last 200m would have been a massive effort. We quickly descended a few hundred meters, after which Boris was completely fine, by the time we were near the campsite again he was leaping around like we’d only just left the truck.

As we started to descend, the clear skies were replaced by heavy cloud, and before long we could hear thunder in the distance. When we were within spitting distance of Jim, the rain arrived and shortly after shutting ourselves in the truck, there was a biblical downpour. Descending the volcano’s slope in a thunderstorm would certainly have been no fun, but when we looked up at the peak the following morning we could see that the whole peak was covered in snow. I can be thankful to Boris that I did not spend the afternoon at 4,500m in a pair of shorts, nor descending a near vertical slope in a torrent of muddy water.

Mexico is blessed with an unbelievable amount of natural beauty, but it has not been exploited with walking trails and visitor centres like the state and national parks of its northern neighbour. This made us extremely grateful to have the opportunity to get off the road and walk in beautiful solitude for a day; if the paths had not all been so steep, I think we’d have stayed a few more days, but the day after our attempted ascent I felt like I’d been punched in the thighs repeatedly and so I was in no fit state to be scrambling around. We left in the morning and headed for the nearby city of Puebla.