What began as roundup of Canada’s can’t-miss sights in The Globe and Mail has evolved into a entire industry for best-selling author Robin Esrock. For the latest book in his Bucket List series, he takes on the world, travelling to more than 100 countries on all seven continents to discover the best experiences on offer. Here is one particularly memorable moment from Colombia.
This one is straight out of Willy Wonka’s sweet imagination.
About an hour’s drive outside Cartagena lies a natural phenomenon known as Volcan de Lodo El Totumo, a volcano with thick, mineral-rich, chocolate-textured mud bubbling in its crater. Formed by various geological forces, mud volcanoes, free of hot lava but saturated with sedimentary sludge, are found around the world. Several volcanoes are featured in this book, and bucket listers should take great care not to fall into their craters. This particular volcano, on the other hand, wants us to jump right in.
Locals have long enjoyed the therapeutic benefits of dipping into El Totumo’s mud. Lately, the pool-size crater has been seeing a lot more foreign bodies, which make the journey from the cruise port of Cartagena. First, dispel the image of Mount Doom. This is no lava-crackling cone towering in the distance, shooting gases and molten rock into the sky. In fact, when you first encounter Volcan de Lodo El Totumo, it looks like an overgrown termite hill, or a 15-metre-high pile of elephant dung. More than one bucket lister will shake his or her head disappointed, wondering if this is just another tourist scam, a two-bit natural wax museum. Well, don’t judge a book by its cover, a volcano by its lava or a Colombian taxi driver by his choice of car (trust me on that last one). I climb a slippery path to the top, holding on to rickety wooden beams, quickly ascending high enough to gaze across lush tropical vegetation and a tranquil lagoon below. Several thatch huts at the base offer blessed shade from a scorching equatorial sun. Volcan de Lodo is operated by an association from a nearby village, the villagers rotating duties of collecting entrance fees, selling bottled water and offering massages (for tips) or lagoon rinses (for more tips).
The crater itself is the size of a small pool, if you can imagine a small pool full of dark, creamy mousse.
I arrive early, before the crowds, and a single villager beckons me in. The sun is already beating down hard, so I hang my shirt on the wood and eagerly immerse myself in the cool, thick slop. I loved Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (the original, not the remake), and I’ve always fantasized about swimming in a pool of milk chocolate. Not anymore. This mud is so thick it suspends my body as hair gel would, comfortably invading my pores with natural mineral goodness.
The mud is solid enough to support my head when I lie back; the crater, deep enough for me to stretch out in every direction and relax every muscle in my body.
Within seconds I feel like vanilla soft-serve dipped into melted chocolate, with goggles of bare skin around my eyes. The mousse masseuse effortlessly spins me over and roughly exfoliates my back by rubbing his hands up and down. Like most Colombians I have met, he is only too eager to share his culture’s genuine hospitality.
Refreshingly cool in the mid-morning sun, the mud envelops my body as if it were liquid black latex. Buses of tourists arrive and the small crater quickly fills up, a bowl of black-bean soup with floating white potatoes. A splash of mud gets in my eye, but fortunately another villager is on hand to wipe it away with tissue paper. Tugging on our arms and legs, the masseuse parks us around the crater, making sure everyone gets a spot. After 30 minutes, the mud has sucked up whatever toxins it could find, and I begin to feel light-headed.
Emerging from the silt porridge, I make my way down to the adjacent lagoon, where village women await with tin bowls for the messy cleanup. My rinse-lady is fearless.
She dunks me into the warm lagoon, scrubbing me with her hands.
Before I know it, she’s ripped off my shorts too. Female tourists yelp as they cling to their bikinis for dear life. Within seconds, I’m mud-free and, after awkwardly replacing my shorts beneath the water, emerge from the lagoon with rejuvenated skin glistening in the sunshine.
Local legend calls it the “Volcano of Youth,” where a 50-year-old might enter the crater and leave 20 years younger. Whatever the medical or mythical benefits of this volcano may be, it’s most certainly one for the Great Global Bucket List.
For more information visit globalbucketlist.com/mudvolcano.
More Fountains of Youth
The legend of 16th-century Spanish explorer Juan Ponce de Leon’s quest for a magical spring has long captured popular imagination. Drink or bathe in these waters and, voilà, your youth is restored! Unfortunately, de Leon’s search may be as mythical as the fountain itself, since there’s no actual evidence he ever went on one. Still, several springs are claimed, despite all scientific evidence, to be the real deal, including:
- Coamo, Puerto Rico: These mineral-rich hot springs have long been thought to be the original Fountain of Youth, thanks to indigenous legends.
- Isla del Sol, Bolivia: After climbing 206 steps to the village of Yumani, fill your water bottle from the sacred springs believed by some to grant everlasting youth. Note: I’ve done it twice over the years, but the grey hairs are still sprouting.
- Punta Gorda, Fla.: Feel the glow of youth from these artesian waters in Charlotte Harbor. The fountain pays tribute to Juan Ponce de Leon and also warns drinkers that the waters exceed the maximum contaminant level for radioactivity.
- Sanliurfa, Turkey: The father of monotheistic religions, Abraham is said to have lived to the age of 175. Might it have something to do with these sacred springs that quenched his youth?
Visitors to the Cave of the Patriarchs (a.k.a. the Sanctuary of Abraham) can take a swig from a handy water pipe.
Excerpt from The Great Global Bucket List by Robin Esrock © 2016. Published by Patrick Crean Editions. All rights reserved. ($24.99, available at indigo.ca).