Wednesday, February 9, 2011
There is something about mountains that impels us to climb them. Perhaps it is little more than an evolutionary urge to seek a higher vantage point, or maybe it is the thrilling beckon of the unknown.
Southeast of Mexico City, the summits of two volcanoes emerge above the serrated edges of the foothills. The northernmost peak, Iztaccihuatl, forms a long ragged ridge that bears more than a faint resemblance to a reclining woman. Farther south, the dramatically steep and snow-covered cone of Popocatepetl still smokes, as it has since a 1994 eruption.
This weekend, after years of wondering, I will be traveling to the slopes of Iztaccihuatl in the hopes of reaching the 17,000 foot summit.