I had wanted to see a volcano ever since I'd seen the film, Volcano.
It was not a very good film. Many hailed it "a cheesy disaster epic". But when I watched the computer-generated lava flowing through the streets of Los Angeles, I saw life properly for the first time.
It wasn't because Tommy Lee Jones made little 10-year-old me weak at the knees, but because the volcano did. I was spellbound by the earth and its crust's oddities.
From in front of our television, I could look into Mother Earth, instead of simply at her. It was then that I realised our planet was alive.
Seeing the earth spitting ash and spewing runaway lava, I started to fathom what people meant when they spoke of things being unpredictable and impermanent. Life was not forever. In that near-death-experience kind of way, it gave me a new lease of life. At age 10.Twenty years later, I found myself in a helicopter flying over Piton de la Fournaise, the "Peak of the Furnace", a shield volcano on Reunion Island.
I say "found myself" because it was unexpected and because that's what observing a volcano does - it makes you face life, the world and yourself. And you feel not too unlike an active volcano yourself - alive, hot, bubbling and a little dangerous.
Which brings me to the next point. To make sure that I acquired the best seat for the flight, I had to be a little ruthless. In a helicopter, this prime locale is always next to the pilot, but when there's space for an extra someone up front, you want to make sure you get the side window too.Perhaps the only child in me was coming out, but I wanted that seat. I had waited decades for this moment and no tourist was going to get in my way.
Being smaller than some of the other flyers, I passed seat-selection-phase one and made it into the front row. My only competition was a small French girl, who had a very puny point-and-shoot.
So, to annex that window spot, I wagged my DSLR in the air, while tapping my pumps on the tarmac and uttering random Afrikaans words that I knew the French passengers and pilot would not know. Confuse them, I thought. Look important. Arrogance and poor communication will get you everywhere. Into the side-window seat I slid.Now, my volcano may not have been active that day, but Piton de la Fournaise is one of the most active volcanoes in the world. It is said to erupt once a year.
I did not get to flee rampant ash or pyroclastic rocks ripped loose from inside the volcano's throat. I did not get to have Tommy Lee Jones save me from the jaws of ravenous molten rock, but I did get to glimpse the scars of these phenomena.
From our chopper, we saw it all - that great rupture in the earth's crust, the crater and its layers of igneous rock, and the solidified lava landscape surrounding it. My fingers switched feverishly between the photo and video setting on my Canon as the pilot flew us around again and again, until the bag below my right eye trembled and the swimming pool inside my head hurled itself from side to side.
We were dangling over the edge of the coolest thing on Earth and I wanted to breathe in every detail.
Alas, so did the French girl. I sat back, to give her a better view, and I let my eyes do the capturing - because my childhood dream had been achieved. And I had not been boiled alive or sacrificed and tossed into any volcano. I too would live to tell my tales.
*Note: The sudden change in the writer's graciousness had nothing to do with any bout of nausea or the like.
• Do you have a funny or quirky story about your travels? Send 600 words to travelmag@sundaytimes.co.za and include a recent photograph of yourself for publication with the column...