W alking along the narrow trail in single file, the rest of the world seemed to dissolve away leaving a condensed remnant of yourself, the steady trudge of your boots the only ever-present sound. The mist dulled all senses, not just sight; its cloaking white gave tantalising glimpses of what lay beyond your vision. What were those blurred, indistinct shapes? They could be anything. All the time, you felt the unparalleled bleakness of it all. This place was not just isolated or barren in the common sense of the word. This landscape gave ‘desolate’ its proper meaning. You can be up a desolate mountain in the middle of nowhere and not see another animal and yet all around will be grass and flowers, something clinging to the rocks… But on this path, you were surrounded by an unbroken sea of black and red gravels that crunched under foot in an endless sonic wave, a sea of sound. That feeling of desolation was compounded by the cloaking fog. No other place I know compares. Solomon Pilbrow (Year 10) A t first, I wondered where the lava was. I was told that it was everywhere, all the rocks and mounds around me. It made me realise what hundreds of pounds of magma spewing out of seemingly nothing must have been like. The air smelled like mossy sulphur; but even so, it still felt crisp and clear. I was again amazed at the weight and feel of the lava, some having air pockets so that it weighed about half of what a rock that size should. Or it was red and heavy, clearly showing streamlines formed as it whizzed through the air. Nearly a square kilometre of new land was added, just by this eruption. This truly astonishes me. Joseph Abouchar (Year 10) I remember seeing crystals of blue copper and yellow sulphur, some even of quartz. I was just following the figures in front of me – or rather their footsteps: it was quite hard to look up under my hood with the wind constantly blowing rain into my eyes. I saw a shadow behind a huge boulder that looked like an eagle standing up proudly and staring at me calmly. When I first saw a plant, the stem and flowers were close to the ground, as if someone had stepped on it. I was told that this was to adapt to their environment. I felt proud for the plant; I felt the power of nature. So perfect. Hin Chi Lee (Year 10)
W hen we were in there, it felt very oppressive with the fog blanketing us, stone steep piles on three sides and a drop on the fourth. I felt the rough gravel beneath my feet, constantly shifting, tilting, sliding. It was quite uncomfortable. I saw the fog drape itself over everything, the ominous black rocks everywhere, the high mounds that surrounded us the whole time. It felt lonely, desolate, harsh, unforgiving, cold. Everything was black. All you could hear was the wind howling over us, screeching like a banshee. And yet, it wasn’t completely empty. There were splashes of green here and there, plants that had battled through this harsh wilderness and were finally beginning to reclaim the mountain. Slowly but surely, these were taking back their homeland. It gave me hope for the future – nature always finds a way. Maybe some day the whole mountain will be lush and green again. William Brilliant (Year 9) M y wrists, uncovered and unprotected in the small gap between coat and glove, were being nibbled at by the cold, my face spattered with droplets of pure mist. An omniscient cross loomed, unscathed and timeless, facing into the brutish wind as I stumbled across holed rocks towards it. Climbing up the walls of the crater, I sent showers of smoky black and earthen, clay-like rocks skittering downwards to the cross. Occasionally, I would stumble across a larger specimen, draped in a holey tapestry of lichen and moss. After passing one such work of art, an excited, shimmering glint caught my eye. What appeared to be a bead of sunlight was beaming up at my weathered face. Upon closer inspection, this fallen star was, in fact, a silvery coin, adorned with a glinting fish. Jack Probert (Year 9) I n the crater of the volcano, now covered with ash and volcanic debris, I felt slightly frightened because we were hiking on a dormant volcano. But I felt intrigued by the past as I imagined the lava flowing beside me, as it had done forty years ago. I felt and heard the rocks crunch under my wet boots. I felt the biting wind lash my face, and saw the steep slopes of the volcano beneath which lay houses, like a Pompeii of the north, similar to those in the museum we had seen earlier. The fog swallowed us and I could not see more beyond the cone around the crater. Alex Mellis (Year 9)
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