Encounter with Da Craterman - world famous in Samoa

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The day started badly. Our taxi was 30 minutes late, which is not that bad when you consider that we had island, but we absolutely wanted to surpass the lunch sun on our six-hour return trip to Mount Matavanu Crater. Nevertheless, we greeted our driver Fröhlich, who put us at the foot of the crater.

We started at a good pace, our solid hiking shoes served well. After an hour, however, we found that we were unfortunately complacent: With just a bottle of water that was already half drunk, we would have difficulty remaining.

No matter, we thought. Let's go on. After about 6 km we stopped to check our progress. There were still 2 km to go, which simply seemed at the time. In London I could run in about 12 minutes - we would surely reach the crater within half an hour.

Oh, how did we get wrong. The 30-degree heat was now in full force and struck us relentlessly. I had to stop and rest every few minutes, felt dizzy and stunned. Sometimes I actually felt weak - I had never been so hot in my life.

When we finally reached the climax an hour later, I was lying on the floor for a full five minutes before I pulled up. "It's great," I still said, "but I'm not sure if it was worth it." "It was worth it," said Peter and positioned his SLR camera.

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The crater of Matavanu has a circumference of half a mile and is 200 m deep. His most recent outbreaks occurred from 1905 to 1911, flowed over 40 square miles and destroyed a large number of villages on his way. In some areas, the depth of the lava flow was up to 400 feet! It is said that Matavanu will explode again someday in the middle of this century, certainly devastating if or if this is the case.

We spent half an hour on the edge of the crater and made sure not to get too close to the dizzying abyss. The view was impressive, but surprisingly not the climax of our hike - no, that would be Craterman, the size of survival, who is responsible for maintaining the way to the crater.

Da Craterman lives in a dilapidated hut halfway up the volcano. He drinks rainwater, which he kept in a large cylinder, and spends most of the time alone - and yet is one of the most sociable people we met on the go.

He told us that he had never left Savai’i, but felt no regret because the world had come to him. He waved his red book, in which he meticulously records the names and origin of all visitors to the crater. He proudly told us that he had visitors from 133 countries (including Madagascar, Congo and Iraq!).

When I told him that my family came from Bangladesh, he searched his book - twice - before he joy joy to the first Bangladesher to climb the crater. (I don't have a Bangladeshic passport, but we decided that my inheritance counts.)

Since Craterman realizes that Kia is his first visitor from Bangladesh

We said goodbye and continued our descent while we almost fainted. I will not lie: towards the end there are a few tears of exhaustion.

As chance wanted, three medical students had visited the crater in the morning and drove down the path. We stopped her, desperately after a break. They switched their car to make room for us and handed us large water containers, which we gratefully strangled. When I leaned back, I wondered when Craterman last felt the cool breeze of air conditioning or had enough water to waste it. It was probably months if not years. Funny - he seemed happier than me or my Londoner.

Mission statement: Atlas & Boots
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