Up the active volcano (sick part I)

A sudden explosion shook the streets of Antigua, Guatemala. I spun around, heart racing. “What the hell was that?” I asked my friend.

“Fuego,” he said casually. “The Volcano of Fire. You can see the smoke if you look closer.”

Smoke. Explosions. A live volcano. My pulse jumped. I had never imagined Guatemala hiding something so alive, so dangerous, in plain sight.

“And it is just there? Is it dangerous?”

Never in my life had I imagined being so close to an active volcano. I had once been to Yellowstone Park in Idaho and had seen the geyser erupt every 20 or so minutes. I knew the park had a massive underground volcano, but never one like in the cartoons or the movies, where lava explodes from the top from time to time.

And yet, I was standing in front of one just a few kilometers away.

“Do people get close to it?” I asked.

“They hike it,” my friend Erwin said.

“They hike it? Like they go up there?”

“Yes, they do — with a guide. There’s one side where you can go up and get close to the top. The lava falls down the other side. You feel the explosion, the warmth, the smoke. It’s a unique experience.”

I was in awe hearing this. I had come to Guatemala to visit an old friend, imagining I wouldn’t find any adventure, yet there I was, already thinking about how to make that hike possible.

“How can we do it?” I asked.

“Do you really want to do it?” he asked back.

“Yes. Yes!” I said, almost jumping up and down. He smiled and said he would make it happen.

A month later, acclimated and prepared, we were picked up by one of his friends and his girlfriend. We were about to head into one of the most intense, tiring, excruciating experiences of my life.

I didn’t know yet how it would go. In my mind, we would just go up on a long hike, watch the volcano erupt, and go back down. Little did I know what was about to happen.

After stopping at a thrift shop to get warmer clothes, because the ones we had were not good enough, our group arrived in Acatenango village. The plan: arrive at 1 PM and start hiking. The reality: our tour guide ghosted us.

We had gotten there pretty late after the thrift shop stop, and the couple was a couple of hours late picking us up, seven hours late, to be exact. I sensed that this much lateness was not a good sign, and indeed, the tour guide had left and told us to come back the next day. 8 PM was too late to start the hike.

He was probably right, but the man with us would not take responsibility for being late, and I should have noticed that his pride in saying “we don’t need a guide” could be dangerous.

I should have spoken up when he said, “It’s a hike, we just need to go up.”

But “up” where? He didn’t know. “Follow the trail,” he said, not knowing there were four or five different trails. And when it’s as dark as it was, choosing the right one is even more complicated.

We started the hike, following one of the four paths in front of us. For about 30 minutes we went straight, with a few small ups. We were definitely going somewhere. Where exactly, I later found out, no one had an idea.

Forty-five minutes in, we found ourselves lost as soon as we hit a cornfield. Corn everywhere, and the trail was gone. We had hit lots and lots of corn, no path, and the man (unfortunately, I erased his name from my memory out of disappointment) did not want to go back. He said 45 minutes was too much to waste of a hike.

At that point I had been quiet the whole time, but decided to ask if maybe we could go back and start over during daylight. He didn’t even reply and just kept pushing, pushing through the cornfield.

Walking through massive stalks, branches snapping underfoot, it was all dark. We had a few flashlights, but could barely use them, because the decision was either to hold them or push the branches out of our path. It was dark, and even scary. We had no idea what we could cross at that point. But the man said, “We just need to keep going up until we find a trail.”

For how long? We had no idea. It could be minutes, it could be hours. After about 30 minutes of darkness in someone’s cornfield, we finally found a path.

We all went quiet as the man boasted about his intelligence in knowing we would find a way out. It had been more than two hours of hiking; we were in the middle of a volcano. At that point, there was no reason to argue or even be annoyed at him. Erwin and I looked at each other, no words were said, but a mutual understanding: we were both annoyed, tired, and we just needed to move on.

The next four to five hours were a mix of exhilaration and exhaustion. We kept hiking up and up. Sometimes a little uphill, most of the time very steep, but far from easy. Each of us carried a large backpack with extra clothes, blankets, canned food, and three liters of water. Our backpacks were extremely heavy.

We knew we were tired by the silence of the hike. For hours we didn’t say a word to each other. We could only hear each other’s breathing.

By 3 AM, we finally reached base camp. Our friend guided us to rest for about two hours before the sunrise climb. We still had a little while to get to the top, but we would do that right before sunrise.

As we were setting up our tent, I saw some hikers passing by and hopping toward another path.

Many kept passing through until I heard one speaking English. I stopped him and asked where they were going.

“Hiking to the Volcano of Fire,” he said.

“The actual volcano?” I asked.

“Yes, the actual one,” he said, smiling. “How come? Isn’t it dangerous?”

“Well no, if you hike from this side like we are doing, it’s safe because the lava only falls on one side. This hike takes you really close to the explosion,” he told me, and kept walking to catch his group.

I was shocked to hear that. How come Erwin hadn’t told me? Or how stupid I was not to research beforehand. I had the chance to actually climb the active volcano, and I was just a few hours away from being close to the explosion!

I stopped setting up the tent, turned to Erwin, and asked if he would go to the other volcano with me. I guess he saw the excitement in my eyes and the thrill in my voice, because he said yes right away.

As we told the couple, they were not very fond of the idea, confused about what they would do. The girlfriend said she could no longer walk and needed rest. The man said we had no time to rest then; we needed to keep going on that left path.

But he said we needed to be back after sunrise. They would go up and meet us at that same spot for the hike down.

We agreed, not really knowing what we were getting ourselves into. Honestly, I really did not know what I was getting into. If I had known, I probably would have just stayed at camp.

Erwin and I left the couple, stripped down to essentials, and continued the hike. He had never done it, but he knew we would have to go halfway down the current volcano we were on, to go up the Volcano of Fire.

We did not have much time until sunrise to get up there, so we needed to walk fast. Halfway through, around 4 AM, the sky cleared. There was silence. Darkness everywhere. Then, an explosion right in front of us. Lava shot into the sky, black smoke billowed, rocks tumbled down the volcano’s side.

I couldn’t reach for my phone. I didn’t want to. My jaw dropped, eyes wide. The moment demanded memory, not pixels, Walter Mitty style, alive in pure awe. We were watching clearly an active volcano erupt right in front of us, without any interference from trees, fog, or people.

We could feel the warmth of the lava. It was breathtaking.

That gave us the drive to continue, walking even faster, until we reached a gate, between one volcano and another. A man was sitting there and asked us for payment.

“Payment?” we asked.

“Yes,” he said. It was about $30 each to continue the hike. I turned to Erwin and asked if he had any money. His face was nervous as he shook his head side to side, saying no. I had no money in my pocket either. I never in a thousand years imagined having to pay to cross volcanoes, meters high, at 4 AM.

The man said we needed to pay or go back. Erwin did not know what to do. We thought about waiting for someone to pass by to pay, but we hadn’t seen anyone coming behind us. The man said we were probably the last ones because sunrise was about to come. We could not waste any more time sitting and waiting.

My mind was racing. I tried asking the man if we could pay later, or give him something else I had, but he said no to everything. Only money.

My body filled with adrenaline. I told Erwin to sit and wait. I was going back to camp.

He said I was crazy. It was almost an hour’s hike up. At that point, halfway up the top of an active volcano, I would not waste the opportunity. I didn’t know if I would ever do that again, and considering how difficult it had been to even get to Guatemala, I probably never would.

My body filled with adrenaline. I told him to wait. I dropped my bag, held my phone, and ran. I ran up the volcano, and ran. I didn’t even turn the flashlight on. Ran in the dark, and ran.

My mind was foggy, my legs ached, but I was in denial. I could hear noises; I felt scared and alone in the dark. But I kept running.

I made it back to camp. Woke up the man, asked for cash.

“What are you doing back here? You should be up the other volcano already.”

“I know, I know. Can you please give me cash?”

He handed me some money. I checked if it was enough, turned around, and ran back. Ran and ran. My eyes were already used to the dark; I was numb to the pain, the fear, and the darkness. In 45 minutes, I made it back to Erwin.

I was so tired, but did not want to show it. We paid for the entrance and started hiking up the volcano. The sky was already clearing; the point wasn’t to watch the sunrise anymore, but to get close to the top to feel the explosions, to feel the earth shake, the warmth closer, the smoke on our faces.

Four hours later, after the last few meters formed only by rocks, we reached the summit.

I did not tell Erwin, but my whole body hurt. My knees were in pain, sharp, pointed pain, like someone was pinching them with a very sharp knife.

There was fog everywhere at the top. Many people were sitting or lying down, crowded in groups to protect themselves from the cold. It was freezing. The morning fog was so thick we could not even see others a few meters away. We knew there were many people up there because of shadows, but it was too hard to count.

We could hear the eruptions, we could feel them through the ground, but it was impossible to see them clearly.

We heard a guide telling their group they were going to wait another hour for the sky to clear, but if by 9 AM the sky was still foggy, it would not improve.

At 9 AM, the sky was the same. No one saw the explosions up close, no one saw lava, or even felt the warmth. The morning had deceived us.

All that effort, I wouldn’t call wasted, but it was not successful.

Frustration covered our minds. We were deeply tired and yet still needed to hike down. When we got to the point where both volcanoes connected, we asked a guide where they were going.

“Down,” he said. “Now the hike down is easier because it’s shorter than the other volcano. Why?” he asked.

We told him we needed to meet our friends at base camp on the other volcano.

He jumped at the news.

“You guys are crazy! After all this hiking, you are going back up, just to go down the longer hike? This is insane.”

And insane we were, all because we missed our guide and had to do everything ourselves, making unknown decisions that were damaging not just our bodies, but our minds.

We started the hike back up, and two hours later we reached camp. The couple wasn’t back yet, so Erwin and I decided to lie down for a few minutes. It did not take me a minute, I fell asleep in seconds.

Apparently, we slept for three hours, because the couple woke us around 1 PM, telling us we needed to start packing to go down or we would get back too late. I then realized I had not eaten anything for almost 20 hours.

The adrenaline of everything that had happened had made me forget to fuel my body. I opened the two cans of tuna I had brought and ate them plain, along with some crackers and a few granola bars.

We packed everything up and started the hike down. For the first two hours, we were together, but everyone went at their own pace, so we split up. We decided not to worry about staying together and would only meet at the bottom of the mountain.

I wasn’t sure if that was the best idea, but all I could think about was getting to the bottom of the volcano. One hour, two hours, my knees were killing me. Every step felt like someone was stabbing a knife into my knees. A sharp pain that made me start crying.

I could not stop. There was nowhere to go or anything to do but keep walking. Four hours went by. I was alone; I had not seen anyone for hours. I hadn’t even cared to listen to music. I was in my head, battling the pain, step by step.

My muscles were screaming. As much as I could feel my knees, I could not feel my feet anymore. Once I hit a flat trail, I walked like a zombie for almost 30 minutes. I wanted to collapse, to let my body fall, just literally drop to the ground. As soon as I saw a pile of dirt, I didn’t even think, I just allowed it to happen.

I crashed into the dirt. Unconscious? Maybe. Defeated? Definitely. I lay there; I still don’t know for how long. The sky was gray. I still had not seen the sun all day, and it seemed like the moon was about to show up.

I opened my eyes for a second, and a shadow approached. My mind hallucinated. I did not know what I was seeing. Maybe a prince on a white horse had come to my rescue. Someone on top of an animal had approached. Maybe indeed it was a prince. Or the son of a farmer, potentially coming to my rescue.

It took a few seconds for my brain to wake up. The reality: an older man on a donkey.

“Hola, ¿qué tal?” he said.

I told him I was too tired to walk anymore. My knees had given out. My body almost collapsed. He handed me his hand, helping me get up and pulling me onto the donkey.

We didn’t speak much. He walked next to the animal with me on top. I did not know for how long, but soon I saw the end of the trail. We arrived at the village where our car was parked.

Only the friend was there. Erwin and the girlfriend had not arrived yet. I thanked the man. After a hug, I saw him placing his hands in front of his body, as a sign asking for some payment. I was so tired, I literally smiled at him and turned around. Thinking about money at that point was impossible.

Twenty three hours of hiking. Every muscle, every nerve, every ounce of spirit had been drained. I had never done anything like that. I would not ever do it again, not the way it had been done. My body had reached its extreme; I finally understood what real pain and real fatigue meant.

Little did I know what was about to happen in the next few hours.