Mexico's Paricutin volcano is one of the Seven Natural Wonders of the World, but it's really just one iconic example of thousands of volcanoes which have shaken and shaped this landscape and culture throughout human history. For the next 11 days we'll explore central Mexico’s Ring of Fire, one of the most volcanically active places on earth. For the Aztec Empire and modern farmers, molten lava, ash, cinder and steam produce a paradox of destructive force and fertile soil—and the constant knowledge that everything you have today, could vanish tomorrow. It's remarkable to think that an assignment covering such ancient, primal phenomena will be powered by technology like OneDrive, OneNote, Surface Pro 3 and the Microsoft Band. And even stranger to know that a Lumia smartphone is all I'm taking to capture the planet's most explosive force.
Mexico's Paricutin volcano is one of the Seven Natural Wonders of the World, but it's really just one iconic example of thousands of volcanoes which have shaken and shaped this landscape and culture throughout human history. For the next 11 days we'll explore central Mexico’s Ring of Fire, one of the most volcanically active places on earth. For the Aztec Empire and modern farmers, molten lava, ash, cinder and steam produce a paradox of destructive force and fertile soil—and the constant knowledge that everything you have today, could vanish tomorrow. It's remarkable to think that an assignment covering such ancient, primal phenomena will be powered by technology like OneDrive, OneNote, Surface Pro 3 and the Microsoft Band. And even stranger to know that a Lumia smartphone is all I'm taking to capture the planet's most explosive force.
We went up Nevado de Toluca volcano today just to acclimate to the altitude. But sometimes good photos happen when you don't expect them. The Lake of the Moon is one of two lakes in the volcano's nearly mile-wide summit crater. Ceremonial remains have been recovered that show Aztecs made sacrifices here. They apparently set copal tree resin on fire and let it float out onto the lake—must have been beautiful. I'm finding the Lumia 640 XL great to work with. I really like the larger size and the way images look on the big screen. I wasn't sure how it would feel in my hand, but the curved design makes it easy to hold, and it still fits right in my pocket.
Today we made our way from Mexico City up to the mountain hut on Iztaccihuatl volcano. Two mountain guides have come with John (my videographer) and me. We dropped Jesus (our local expert and longtime friend) in the nearest town of Amecameca, and drove up to the hut. The views of Popocatépetl volcano were amazing. Just as the sun was setting, a huge dark plume erupted from Popocatépetl; turning lighter as it spread into the evening sky. Several seconds after we first saw the ash spew, the roar of the explosion reached us. It was incredible. Primal. After all our planning, I'm so glad to finally be up here shooting. The detail and quality I'm getting from my Lumia 640 XL is unreal—these devices just keep getting better and better.
Rained out! We wanted to go to high camp today but the weather was just too bad—a combination of rain and 40° Fahrenheit temperatures. Now we're back at the hut, nearly 3 p.m., waiting it out. Unless conditions significantly change, we'll sleep here tonight and try again in the morning. Meanwhile, I'm up in a remote mountain hut at over 13,000 feet, jotting notes on my Surface Pro 3 tablet, linked to the internet on a wireless connection through my Lumia 640 XL smartphone. The fact that any of this is possible...wow.
We got it! I was so worried, but the weather finally broke at dawn and we got the image I was after. As it turned out, the last three days of bad weather worked in our favor. Not only did it give John and me three extra days to acclimate, but the fog and snow coated the rocks above 16,000 feet with rime ice and made the whole place look like Patagonia. Neither of our guides had ever seen anything like it. However it did make for treacherous climbing. More snow would have been better. Instead, we were kicking through layers of hard frozen snow and black ice that weren't thick enough to let us use crampons. In these conditions on this mountain if you slip and fall you die. We'd decided to leave all but one ice axe back in high camp to save weight. Climbing through steep ice-filled couloirs, I missed my axe. But between the tips of my trekking poles and my heavy mountaineering boots, things turned out okay. And wow—when the sun came out it was so dramatic, climbing above a sea of clouds. Not long after I made my photos, the fog rolled up the valley, the weather closed in again, and down we went to high camp with the storm up above us. Hard climbing days like this really make me appreciate shooting with a Lumia smartphone instead of lugging heavy camera equipment.
The powerful, unpredictable force of volcanoes has always shaped culture here, bringing both destruction and fertility to Mexico's central valley. So it's not surprising that volcanoes are reflected in the architecture of grand cities built by pre-Columbian people. No place can this be seen more clearly than at the elaborately designed pre-Aztec city of Teotihuacan. Two major pyramids here mimic volcanoes. Massive temples, monuments, and at least 25,000 residents made it one of the largest cities of its time. This morning we took a hot air balloon ride over the entire two thousand-year-old archeological site. It's a great way to see the scale and layout of the ancient city, and balloons are the perfect vehicles to shoot from. Stable, no vibrations, majestic, and quiet. A wonderful morning.
We rolled into Angahuan yesterday after a long seven hour drive from Mexico City. When I first saw the volcano from the road I was concerned it wouldn't seem as impressive as the other natural wonders I've been shooting all over the world. I'd spent hours staring at satellite photos of this place on my Surface Pro 3 tablet, but now in real life, I was worried. Then, as we walked down to the lava-encrusted church, my fears began to evaporate. It was more amazing than any photos I'd seen. The scale of it all is so huge—the immense lava field, tall cinder cone, and towering church. The other thing that images don't convey is that you only see the very top of the church. The bulk of it is buried in lava. I can already tell I need to come back another morning and bring someone to stand in the archway to help show the scale.
The way this wonder was born is astounding. For several days in 1943 local people thought they heard thunder, but saw no clouds or rain. Then overnight, a huge crack split the earth of a farmer's cornfield. As the farmer stood staring, a rumbling sound moved across the field and the ground began to shake. Running for his life, he saw the ground rise before his eyes, spewing ash and smoke. Within a week the mound was five stories tall, and when the eruption ended in 1951 the cinder cone stood more than 1,100 feet high and its lava flow had consumed the town. Only the top of the church remains visible, the lone vestige of the village buried below. The extraordinary event gave scientists the first chance to study a volcano from birth to extinction.
The way this wonder was born is astounding. For several days in 1943 local people thought they heard thunder, but saw no clouds or rain. Then overnight, a huge crack split the earth of a farmer's cornfield. As the farmer stood staring, a rumbling sound moved across the field and the ground began to shake. Running for his life, he saw the ground rise before his eyes, spewing ash and smoke. Within a week the mound was five stories tall, and when the eruption ended in 1951 the cinder cone stood more than 1,100 feet high and its lava flow had consumed the town. Only the top of the church remains visible, the lone vestige of the village buried below. The extraordinary event gave scientists the first chance to study a volcano from birth to extinction.
Getting to the top of Paricutin was no small task. We rode in the bed of a pickup truck over miles of bumpy dirt road through beautiful pine forests. Then we made a winding hike up through thin, cool air; over steep, loose, difficult ground; skirting the lava flow. The biggest surprise was to find the volcano still steaming. Fumaroles cover the top of the cone and constantly vent steam. As I lay down to shoot a picture of our guide, I burned myself on hot rocks. The sunlight streaming through the rising steam made for dramatic photos. I used the "run" application on my Microsoft Band wrist sensor to track going up and coming down the volcano. Pretty interesting results: More than 40 minutes to go up...and two and a half minutes to come down! Descending is a blast. We ran down the 45° ash slope as fast as we could, feet sinking into the soft volcanic scree, and giant rooster tails of dust flying behind us. A wonderful way to end the day.
All across Mexico you can hear the constant report of rockets. These oversized fireworks explode with a bang that echoes forever, in fact we thought it was dynamite the first time we heard it. People use the rockets to celebrate all sorts of significant—and insignificant—events. Fiestas, funerals, even church services. One of our guides, Salvador, brought an armload down to the church for our final evening. He assured us that people fire rockets every time there's a church service in the ruins. That's right—there are still services here in the church. Every year at Easter, a pilgrimage around the edge of the lava flow ends with mass at the ruins. The Christ hanging over the altar wasn't buried by lava 70 years ago and to the local people it's a miracle. When Salvador set off the rockets, it was great to see it with the "living image" feature on my Lumia. The camera captures a still photograph and also a bit of action leading up to it. Very cool.
This image is a perfect example of why I really like the chance to photograph a place more than once. On our first morning here when I shot this same scene I knew something was missing. The church and light were perfect but the picture had no sense of scale. This place is massive and the forces that destroyed it were huge, but my first photos didn't get that across. So this morning we asked Salvador to come with us before dawn. As the sky started getting light I asked him to stand in the archway of the church. It looks like a doorway, but in fact it's a window near the roof that would once have held stained glass. The actual doorway lies buried some 30 feet below. The rising sun rakes across the massive lava plain, lights up the cinder cone, and then hits the very top of the church. I began making photographs as the sun first touched the top of the spire and kept shooting until the landscape was fully illuminated. It didn't take long. The sun moves so fast in the morning we were done shooting by 8 a.m. The magnitude, silence, and early light were so dramatic, I really felt the history of the place. A special way to end our time at Paricutin.
Traveling through a landscape where active, devastating geological power lies just underfoot, I understand one reason people here are so warm and helpful. Living in the shadow of volcanoes, you never forget how much you may need your neighbors—any time, any day, without warning. And once again, shooting 5,500 pictures on this assignment showed me how consistently reliable Lumia smartphones are. Through snow, rain, sleet, and heat, the rich detail and image quality stayed staggering. Being able to pull my Surface Pro 3 out of my backpack and update this journal on the go using OneNote was a huge help. And so was knowing that if I slipped on ice and my gear went over the side of a mountain, all my images, notes, and plans were backed up on OneDrive. An expedition like this depends on being at the right place at the right time to catch the best light, all while covering big distances. So having technology that let me get everything done while I stayed on the move was a huge plus.
National Geographic photographer Stephen Alvarez uses his Lumia to capture a landscape and culture shaped by explosive geological forces on a journey to Mexico's iconic Paricutin volcano.