'It's due to erupt any time now.' These are not the words you want to hear when you're climbing a live volcano. Having spent the last hour huffing and puffing our way over ash and scree, we're about halfway up when my guide, Hector, decides to spill the beans. 'It last erupted in 2002,' he says, calmly, 'so it will probably go again some time soon.'
He isn't just winding me up; a neighbouring volcano, Telica, was seen spurting out a shower of hot ash only days ago. I get the feeling this may well be my last assignment. Even if the molten lava doesn't get me, once I reach the top of Cerro Negro - Nicaragua's youngest volcano - I'm expected to strap into a 'snowboard' and slide my way back to the bottom. Over a blackened bed of solidified lava. Down one of the steepest slopes I've ever encountered.
Cerro Negro is one of the latest and greatest must-sees in Nicaragua. Over a few beers the night before, the owner of the company that operates the 'ash-boarding' trips, Jan Strik, assured me that 'the view from the top is great, man'.
He's right. Even here, at the midway point, it seems like the whole of Nicaragua is stretching out before me - a vast, flat plain that appears fertile and fresh in comparison to the charred black detritus that surrounds the volcano. Seen from a distance, it looks as though some prehistoric giant has plonked a shovel-load of coal on the landscape and left it; nothing grows here except the odd, straggly shrub.
Cerro Negro is in the west of Nicaragua, close to the former capital city, Leon. Arriving there a few days earlier, I found a country that's still only a blip on the radar of mainstream tourism. While backpackers have been coming here in droves for several years, this is one of the few places where you still genuinely feel like a foreigner.
My journey began in Managua, the modern capital, where I shoehorned myself into a minivan for the two-hour ride to Leon. Without speaking a word of Spanish, I got to know my fellow passengers (several middle-aged women and a young couple who spent the entire journey holding hands) via a series of smiles, winks and waves.
As we bumped, bounced and squeaked our way towards Leon, I caught my first glimpse of this beautiful country. No matter how tired you are from the 24-hour journey to get here from the UK, the sights, sounds and smells you encounter feel like an invigorating massage for the senses.
We passed dusty children kicking footballs, piles of old tyres stacked outside makeshift repair shops, clapped-out cars and rows of brightly painted houses. All the while, the smell of wood smoke, diesel fumes and sun-scorched earth wafted in through the window.
Prior to coming here, my knowledge of Nicaragua's history was pretty basic. However, a quick walking tour of the city centre soon brought me up to speed. The story of this country's recent past is writ large on an emotive mural next to the central park: it details American intervention during the late 19th century, the rise of dictatorship under the Somoza family, the rise of the Sandinista National Liberation Front and various long-running civil wars.
Now, however, Nicaragua is emerging from its centuries of turmoil to establish a place on the 'to do' list of adventurous travellers everywhere. In contrast to the modern hustle and bustle of Managua, much of which was destroyed by a devastating earthquake in 1972, Leon is a sleepy city with a thriving art community.
As my guide Carlos (himself an artist) explained, everything here is orientated around the Parque Central, where you'll find the stunning Catedral de la Asuncion. Its ornately carved, white stonework made my eyes water as I stared up at the bright blue sky that formed its backdrop. Like everything in this city - the cars, the buildings and many of the people - the cathedral looks incredibly weathered. It took around 300 years to complete, the result being a hotchpotch of architectural styles including gothic, baroque and Spanish colonial.
Once the searing daytime heat has drained away, half of Leon descends on this central square to sit and watch the world go by while sipping fresh mandarin juice from clear plastic bags. After the rigours of the journey to get here, what better way to pass an hour or two than joining this peaceful ritual?
It didn't last long, though. I had a volcano to climb. Nicaragua is known as the land of lakes and craters - and with good reason. There are more than 20 of the latter alone, many of them still active, including Cerro Negro.
Approaching it along an impossibly bumpy dirt road, where the only other traffic I saw was a rickety old cart being drawn by a pair of disinterested bulls, it rose out of the horizon like an enormous slagheap.
Staring up at it, shimmering in the heat, I couldn't help wondering what I'd let myself in for. The 'snowboard' strapped to my backpack was in fact a plank of wood with a sheet metal base; not only was it too small for me, it was also extremely heavy. As Hector and I scrabbled our way towards the top, a ferocious hot wind tried its best to tear me off the side of the hillside; at one point I found myself clinging to a ridge on all fours, desperately trying to avoid being blown into the hot mud below.
Somehow I made it to the top in one piece, only to find myself staring directly into the crater itself, smouldering away like some angry deity. In daylight it is impossible to see all the way to the bottom, such is its depth. Come here at night, though, and this vast cauldron of fiery earth glows an ominous red. The edges of the crater are stained yellow like bits of uneaten food left round a monster's chops - testament to previous outbursts.
With the pervasive, eggy smell of sulphur stinging my nostrils, I strap on my board, pad up and prepare to take the plunge. It looks a lot steeper from the top - but the only way out of here is down.
With the metal base sufficiently lubed up with floor polish to aid my passage across the ash, I take a deep breath, set off down the slope and ... stop dead.
The weight of the board, combined with my own 95kg, causes me to sink down into the blackened shingle. Having expected to be carving spectacular turns all the way to the bottom, with a huge rooster tail of black ash cascading out behind me, in reality I just flap my arms about and fall over. What's worse is that instead of the soft, fluffy 'ash' I'd envisaged, there are lots of sharp stones. It hurts.
Each time I wipe out, I'm left picking the bits out of my exposed limbs. There are stones in my shoes, stones in my pockets and stones in my pants. This is not the speedy adrenaline adventure I'd had in mind. I try a different approach. Instead of leaning back and hoping for the best, I put all my weight forward in an effort to move my centre of gravity further downhill. At last I shift some of the inertia and I'm off - very slowly, but I'm off. Turning is a whole different matter, though. Whereas on snow you simply tilt your feet and the board dips on to its front edge to make you turn, here it digs into the dirt, causing you to tumble over. And believe me, this is one place where you do not want to go head-over-heels.
After several abortive attempts to bank right and left, I opt for the simple approach and straight-line it to the bottom - using my backside as a brake. Finally, I make it down in one piece.
While it wasn't exactly the graceful sporting experience I'd imagined, it's not every day that you get to ride down a live volcano, with Central America spreading out in front of you. The only problem is that, though it's the middle of spring, it leaves you longing for winter, and a bit of nice, soft, snow.
Essentials
Black Tomato (020 7610 9038; www.blacktomato.co.uk) runs eight-day packages to Nicaragua from £1,899pp (based on two sharing a twin/double room in a selection of accommodation). The package offers rafting, kayaking, mountain biking, horseriding and volcano surfing. International return flights and all ground transfers/self-drive costs are included.
Or if you'd rather chase the winter ...
Riksgransen, Sweden
As mainstream European resorts shut up shop, Riksgransen becomes a mecca for keen skiers desperate for a final fix - the season extends into late June. It's just 124 miles from the North Pole and by May the days are so long that the lifts stay open until after midnight. There's bargain heliskiing too, with single lifts starting at around £60. Original Travel (020 7978 7333; www.originaltravel.co.uk) has four nights' B&B in the Hotel Riksgransen from £795pp, including flights and transfers.
Las Lenas, Argentina
Argentina's premier resort is renowned for its light, dry powder and huge potential for off-piste, with the season lasting from June until October. It's the biggest Andean resort, but still modest by Alpine standards with 13 lifts. Journey Latin America (020 8622 8491; www.journeylatinamerica.co.uk) can tailor-make a seven-night stay from £932, including half-board and lift pass, but excluding flights.
Portillo, Chile
This isn't so much a resort as a single hotel, a strange 1950s ocean liner of a building sitting at 9,400ft, 100 miles from Santiago. The good news is that the slopes should never be crowded. Crystal Ski (0870 160 6040; www.crystalski.co.uk) has weekly packages from £1,619 including full board, lift pass and flights from Heathrow.
Mount Hutt, New Zealand
It's not worth going to Australasia for the skiing, but if you're there anyway there's some great terrain and extensive heliskiing. Mount Hutt, an hour's drive from Christchurch, has just nine lifts, but is a favourite with keen skiers - and on clear days you can see the beach. For details see www.nzski.com.
