Sacred stones and sleeping giants—touring El Salvador's ancient landscapes

In around 600 CE, the world appeared to end. The sky over El Salvador blackened, the earth trembled and fire started to spew from one of several arrowhead-shaped summits. The Loma Caldera volcano released a torrent of molten lava, submerging the peaceful farming village of Joya de Cerén — which had, until then, flourished in a fertile valley — incinerating everything and everyone.

There’s a good reason it’s nicknamed ‘the Pompeii of the Americas’ — centuries later, a number of structures are still calcified by thick sheets of volcanic ash. Heading along a raised walkway, I follow in the footsteps of some of those bygone inhabitants as I explore the fossilised streets, communal granary and sacred shrine of El Salvador’s only UNESCO World Heritage Site.

At many of ancient Mesoamerica’s mighty metropolises — including Guatemala’s Tikal pyramids, and Mexico’s jungle-entombed temples of Palenque and vast plazas of Teotihuacan — little evidence remains of the everyday lives of ordinary people. Except, of course, for those cultures and practices passed down through the generations by their descendants. The historic village of Joya de Cerén is unique in this way — it’s the only place in the region where more humble homes survive intact, petrified in perpetuity beneath dense layers of pyroclastic debris.

Moving further, you can still see the domed roof of the temazcal, a type of ceremonial sweat lodge; the home of a shaman, where superstitious locals would once have left jade trinkets in tribute; and grain stores filled with decorated pots hand-carved by artisans using obsidian whittles. Despite every inch of the village being enveloped in ash, the wooden beams, adobe walls and neatly thatched roofs of these quaint homes can still be distinguished.

Cities of the gods

The next stop is 11 miles north to visit San Andrés Archaeological Park, my new location reflecting an ascent in both altitude and status in Maya society. My guide Néstor Mejía Dimas explains that the city was once home to the region’s political elite, who built an acropolis from 500,000 adobe bricks stacked high to impose a sense of supremacy over the 200 villages that once surrounded the site.

Moving between stout pyramids, there’s no other visitor in sight — today, I’m the only person who’s travelled to the Zapotitán Valley to see what was once the biggest and most important Maya city in El Salvador. “Although these pyramids and giant plazas are impressive in their own right, it’s more striking still that only 10% of this site is excavated,” says Néstor. “Most of it is still buried under ash — we don’t have the materials to unearth and preserve it.” San Andrés’ former inhabitants built using mud bricks — harder to preserve and trickier to excavate than the limestone used by Maya populations in Mexico and Guatemala.

Néstor guides me across the sprawling South Plaza, where we peer down an excavated opening plunging 23ft beneath the pyramid. Prominent politicians used to be entombed in this subterranean space, alongside offerings in obsidian and jade, but the city’s story runs even deeper. Archaeological digs have unearthed evidence that another civilisation ruled here before the Maya — although little is known about who they were, what they were called or how they lived. Only one member of this mysterious preclassical civilisation was ever found, his solid jade dentures still in place in his skull. “See the farmers cutting sugarcane over there?” says Néstor, pointing beyond the complex. “Their fields are littered with relics; they find entire artefacts, completely intact.”

There was never much opportunity for the layers of civilisation beneath Tazumal Archaeological Park — another Maya stronghold, 28 miles to the north — to be accidentally unearthed. The adobe homes that surround the site have been continuously inhabited for more than a millennium, being endlessly built and rebuilt in much the same place. Standing at the foot of a flight of stone steps at this centre of Maya ceremony, I stare up at the main pyramid’s sacrificial pedestal. Where my feet indent the grass, the blood of slain captives would once have pooled, an appeasement to vengeful gods in front of reverent crowds.

Moving on, we pass between sunken plazas and carved thrones that mimic crouching jaguars. Occupied for roughly 1,000 years, Tazumal reached its apex during the heyday of the Maya (250-900 CE), but each structure bears the mark of later Mesoamerican civilisations. The Olmecs and Pipil also occupied the site over the centuries — all were eventually driven away. Archaeologists aren’t sure why, but a possible culprit is the volatile volcanic arch that slices through Central America. The threat of befalling the same fate as Joya de Cerén may have deterred most settlers, but to me the low rumble of the volcanic highlands feels like an invitation.

Active ascents and lofty lagoons

Morning mist wreaths the Santa Ana trailhead as I set out early the next day, trying to outpace the sun. Soon, the path is flanked with hollowed-out ghost homes — abandoned buildings that remind me midday UV rays are nothing compared to the power of the active stratovolcano I’m about to climb. During Santa Ana’s most recent eruption, in 2005, the settlement was besieged by lava streams, choking clouds of sulphuric acid and flying rocks the size of cars. Twenty years on, hikers are only permitted to tackle the path in the company of a park-approved guide.

Soon, thick canopy cover marks the start of the ascending trail. Steadily making my way up the rugged path, the forest seems to shudder on either side. Looking closer, birds are shimmering in the shadowy underbrush: emerald hummingbirds rustling the leaves, red-breasted finches hopping from bough to bough and the long turquoise tails of El Salvador’s national bird, the turquoise-browed motmot, catching the dappled light. They flitter between the flowers that bloom in the lush cloud forests coating the lower levels of the trail. Further up the trail, altitude claws the air from my throat and the forest becomes sparser. The closer sulphur-tinged fumes that swell from the summit appear, the rockier the terrain becomes, eventually evening out to a grey trail of volcanic ash that slips a little underfoot as I take the last twisting turns towards the peak.

The Ilamatepec crater lake is obscured by clouds that linger around the rim, so it takes a moment for it to come clearly into view. From the lip of the hollow, sloping towards the lagoon, centuries of geology that layer the interior are visible — stratum stained black, maroon and pallid grey — as they descend towards a wide, vivid expanse of turquoise. My guide, Gabriel Ventura, helps me to orientate as we walk the perimeter of the volcanic maw. “That’s where we started,” he says, pointing out the verdant foothills left behind hours before. “And that blue on the horizon is Laguna Coatepeque.” From this lofty vantage point, the lava-shaped plateaus of the other caldera lake glimmer in the high sun. Dubbed the ‘hill of snakes’ in the native Nahuatl language, the geothermal lagoon is named for the undulating volcanic peaks that encircle it.

Eventually, we conclude our hike there, and I sit awhile on its banks to recuperate. Small ships sail across its bright blue surface, now starting to stain pastel pink in the evening sun. But the lakeside idyll isn’t entirely undisturbed. A plume of smoke is unfurling across the water — a parting signal, sent from the bowels of the earth.

Three more volcano hikes

1. Izalco
Known as ‘the Lighthouse of the Pacific’ because it so frequently erupts at night, this beacon of central El Salvador has long guided sailors navigating the tempests to the west. Today, its steep trail takes travellers to impressive views over sprawling black lava fields. A challenging but rewarding four-hour round-trip trail, summiting Izalco requires a steep climb with loose volcanic ash underfoot.

2. Conchagua
Every morning, campers and hikers gather on this southerly summit to witness nature’s glorious wake-up call — a blazing golden sunrise that illuminates the Pacific Ocean and off-shore volcanic islands belonging to El Salvador, Honduras and Nicaragua. Reach the top with a 4WD tour, or spend an hour and a half trekking up the paved and steadily sloping road.

3. Tecapa
Hikers can take in panoramic views of El Salvador’s eastern region as they ascend the Tecapa stratovolcano, in the heart of the Tecapa-Chinameca mountain range. An accessible climb to the crater (at an altitude of 5,226ft above sea level) reveals the enchanting Alegría Lagoon — often referred to as ‘the Emerald of the Americas’ for the vibrant green colour of its waters.