A Volcano A Day (Guatemala - Part 1)

If an apple a day keeps the doctor away, then a volcano a day must keep the gloom of existential ruminations at bay.

To loosen up the joints, start out with a day trip to Pacaya Volcano.

Cons: It's sporadically "active" and unpredictable on when it'll throw a tantrum - so you get to look not touch.

Pros: A sugar rush from roasting marshmallows on the lava field - not a bad way to acclimate to elevation.

We start out from the village, equipped with 4.5 liters of water each, clothes for temperatures from 10F to 80F, a pasta container for dinner, and a community food item, which varies in weight from a bottle of wine to a hot sauce jar. I went with the middle option and opted for a half dozen bagels, which turned into flat-ish pancakes depsite my best efforts.

No warmup today - the trail to camp starts with a brutal uphill. It's high season, so there's a million other foreigners in different trekking groups. I'm increasingly noticing how I'm older than most of them; save for the half dozen retirees who still have the knees for adventure.

We pay a 50q pittance to the farmer for crossing his farmland. Now the trail turns switchbacks in a cloud forest. Any notion of civilization is hidden under the clouds below us. A few hours of huffing and puffing, sugary snacks, and caffeinated beverages, we reach camp. It's a quaint set of 5 cabins on the side of a mountain with open views. 5 sleeping bags to a cabin, 2 outhouses, and a set of picnic tables under a cover.

We are competing against daylight, so after a 45 minute break it's time to visit the volcano of the day.

Fuego volcano is proudly active - spitting out ash, lava and sulfuric smells. Every 10-15 minutes we hear the volcano shoot off like a firework as we make our way through the 6km down and up to the viewpoint. It's getting cloudy. And sunsetty.

We reach the viewpoint and I am granted exactly one minute to snap pictures. Then the clouds bulldoze in and freezing rain bombards us. Frantically I put on a second pair of pants - the ones I meticulously planned for sleep and emergencies. It's my only other pair of pants because... well do you really need more than two pants for an overnight?

But it's too late. Within moments I'm soaked head to toe.

So now I'm basically wearing a wetsuit, but as long as I'm moving I'm warm. My waterproof boots, bless their soul, are waterproof for when water is coming up from the ground. They forgot to account for water coming down from above.

I try to stuff my frozen sausage fingers into gloves, which now feel a size too small. In my eternal brilliance, I cut out a hole for my index finger to access my cellphone - which currently isn't helpful for warmth or for unlocking my phone.

The clouds are swirling around and wind is picking up. We are on a ridgeline - a steep way down on either side. I dig my hiking poles into the sand to not get swept off.

The fog is thickens and soon we can barely see past our own feet. For the next two hours it's a single file line following the backpack in front of you, being pelted by freezing rain, and trying not to trip. I'm wearing every piece of clothing I brought, so I spent the entire time brainstorming how to turn my wetsuit back into wearable clothes. The summit tomorrow morning is going to be chilly.

Once back at camp, everyone makes a beeline straight to the fire.

The people who opted not to do the extra hike were roasting marshmallows. The icicles were roasting pants, gloves, hats, jackets, socks, and soles.

When a body part felt like it was burning, it was finally getting dry. This is when I learned that skin has higher heat tolerance than all of our "quick dry" clothing. The zipper is singed on my rain jacket. My hat - singed. My shoes - new battle scars.

Wake up call at 3:30am - or at least that's when it was supposed to be. There was a miscommunication and one of the guides pounds on the door at 3:45 and says we are leaving in 10 minutes.

Between cold toes and the volcano shooting off a boom every 15 minutes, it feels like I fell asleep just an hour ago. I double up on layers, grab a protein bar and backpack, mutter some words not fit for public writing, and join the line.

This early the ground is frozen so the typical volcanic rubble (2 steps forward, 1.5 steps back) is actually easy to trek up. It's pitch dark except for headlights and gusts of wind sends a chill through your bones.

I'm reminded of that long dark climb up Kilimanjaro (link), except it's a lot easier this time.

If Fuego is the one with the meltdowns - lights, flames, and booms, then Acetango is the nosy neighbor peeking over the fence, snacking on popcorn, and watching the drama unfold.