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The man currently hammering away had been working in the mines for 15 years. At his last physical, it was determined that his lung capacity was diminished by 40%, so retirement was just 10% away. He said he'd let his kids decide for themselves if they wanted to work in the mines. The sad thing is, they probably will.

Why You Don't See Fat Miners

We gave the men some sodas, then continued along through passageways that got smaller and narrower, and along some terrain that would have made a Navy Seal squirm. We slid our way down an almost vertical shaft to another level (and another mine), tens of feet below. We descended ladders that were decades old, with the wood seemingly ready to give way at our mere breathing. We crawled on our bellies army-style through a space filled with giant rocks, and with no more than a foot of clearance. There's nothing quite like staring at an asbestos seam an inch in front of your face to make you appreciate what these miners go through.

Having gone through two mines, we were targeting a third one, formerly government run, so with much wider and taller passages. However, as soon as I took the lead with Juan, we ran into an unforeseen cave-in that blocked our path. We still worked our way out to another exit, though not after a few more harrowing ladder climbs, and one or two more frighteningly erect El Tio figures.

Big Finale

The sunlight burned our eyes when we reached the mine exit, about two and a half hours after we began. We were greeted at the entrance to this mine by a few very drunken miners, one of whom swayed like a punching clown while touting each woman in the group as the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid eyes on. (Each of them, even the shy Japanese girl, took it quite calmly.) Meanwhile, Juan assembled our purchased dynamite for a little demonstration. (You didn't think we'd pass up the opportunity to buy dynamite, did you — especially after our rude awakenings during the night?) He removed the chemicals from their paper casing and wadded them up into a ball, into which he inserted the fuse, then immersed the entire glob into the bag of ammonium nitrate. He lit the fuse, pausing for a grand photo-op (pretty brave, if you ask me, waiting for Erin to take a photo with her camera while holding a lit stick of dynamite), then ran to place it about 50 yards away. Three minutes later, as we all had our cameras ready for the explosion and exactly as I tried to say, with fingers in my ears, "How long has it——" , a brilliant flash of light rose ahead of us, and was followed by a thunderous BOOM. The blast was so sudden, Erin jumped when she should have clicked, thus causing us to miss the moment on film...but it was still worth every penny for the entertainment value — especially when you consider that the cost, split with the English couple, was only 80 of them.

We waited a little bit while Juan went to fetch our driver (who was busy waiting at the exit we originally were going to come out), then drove back into town to wash ourselves seven or eight times before changing back into our clothes, which we suspect will have small holes burned into them by morning. We bid farewell to Juan and our mine experience, and wished him well, particularly given his misfortune of having to conduct the afternoon tour through the mines as well, while his colleagues got to lead a trip to the thermal baths. We tipped him extra, just for that.

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