Playing with Fire

Central America Caribbean » Guatemala » Capital Region » Antigua
January 10th 2010

Published: January 10th 2010

The start of the two day hike up Central America’s highest volcano began from a hostel in Xela at 5 in the morning. I arrived at the hostel with my friend Aashika who I had met through my Spanish school earlier that week. We met the rest of the group, around 15 of us, collected our camping gear and sleepily boarded the truck which would take us to Xela’s bus station. The whole group was expected to carry everything we would need for the two day trek with each of us carrying around 15kg of camping gear, food and water. Despite the early start the bus station was teeming with people buying, selling and boarding the numerous so-called chicken buses, old American school buses painted in garish colours and adorned with effigies of Jesus and other religious iconography. Burning piles of rubbish littered the terminal giving the whole scene a rather apocalyptic feel. The two hour drive wound through the highlands of Guatemala, the bus carousing around hair pin bends at break- neck speeds. Aashika and I made the mistake of sitting at the front of the bus where we could witness the nightmarish journey unfold. Ignorance really is bliss when it comes to these bus journeys and I made a mental note not to sit at the front again. The bus would briefly stop to let other passengers on as well as hawkers selling cold drinks, fresh fruit and various local snacks. I was amazed at the agility of the bus conductor who had to run and jump to catch the departing bus, scramble up to the top of the bus to tie up the bags and swing back down into the bus to collect the bus fares all whilst the bus is hurtling down the winding mountain roads.

We arrived at a sleepy highland village at around 9 where we were to begin our ascent. Already at such an altitude, we could see the clouds gently drifting below us. Our guides gave us a quick brief about what to expect on the hike as well as warning us not to give money to the various muddy-faced children that had collected around us nor to take pictures of them without asking permission from their parents first. There have been cases of children who have been kidnapped by Westerners in the highlands and as a result there is a great dis-trust of the travelers who come through these villages. I even heard of a case of a woman being lynched to death by a village who suspected the woman of wanting to kidnap a child after taking a few photos of the local kids. At the end of the briefing we were also given an opportunity to introduce ourselves to the rest of the group. Everyone seemed really friendly and up for a laugh and I felt confident it was to be a good a trip. As we started our ascent I began to realise just how hard it was really going to be. Within seconds I had completely lost my breath, with every few meters another layer came off as the sun began to beat down on us with great ferocity. Unable to make much conversation due to the lack of oxygen we soon began to find our own pace and to concentrate on the task of getting up the volcano. Luckily the trek had been well orgainsed and regular stops were made to rehydrate and gorge on trail mix and tortilla chips. Lunch was a smorgasboard of bean salads, guacamole, bread, cheese, jam and peanut butter. One trekker had even gone to the great effort of hauling a pineapple up the mountain with her which we all found hilarious yet gratefully devoured. As I had anticipated the group was great fun and each break left us in fits of giggles. There was also a great sense of camaraderie and everyone supported everyone else. One super fit Canadian named Ron even went to the great lengths of running back down the volcano to help those at the back of the group with their bags. Throughout the trip you would see Ron bounding up and down the mountain as if at sea-level cheerfully waving as he went past. Ron insisted it was no trouble and that he had spent his whole life in the mountains. These breaks were also a great opportunity to soak in the spectacular views that were laid out before us. Lush green mountains rolled into the horizon, beautiful alpine flowers of crimson orange and fuchsia creating bursts of colour along the route. Being above the clouds is also quite an experience. At one point a whole blanket of cloud enveloped the ground below us giving the impression of being in heaven itself.

After over 6 hours of arduous hiking we finally made it to base camp. Exhausted but happy we all flopped to the ground grateful to have nearly made it to the top. It was without a doubt the hardest trek I have ever done however the sense of achievement was overwhelming. The sense of exhilaration and satisfaction is potent and I can understand why people risk their lives climbing the greatest most treacherous peaks of the world. The clouds had come in around us and we quickly erected our tents before nightfall arrived. I say we, I in fact just lay there unable to move planning to help out when I had more energy. Despite the poor visibility a small group of us attempted to climb further up for sunset. Half way up I realised I had made a mistake, my legs felt like jelly underneath me. I persevered and finally arrived at the top and eagerly awaited our well- deserved view. As the clouds became thicker and the sky darker we conceded that there would be no sunset. We carefully snaked our way down the side of the mountain and were greeted by a hearty dinner of pasta with vegetables. Most of the group went straight to sleep after dinner aware that the hardest part of the hike was yet to come. Despite my exhaustion sleeping was hard to come by and before I knew it after a few hours of tossing and turning over rocks and stones, desperately trying to get warm, it was time to arise for our final ascent in time for sunrise.
The final ascent was indeed the hardest part of the hike. Not only was it the steepest part but it was also cold dark and we were all exhausted. As the moon hit the rocks the ground sparkled beneath us and as we neared the top the excitement welled up. Having finally made it to the summit we all huddled together, wrapped in all of our layers and waited for the new day to begin. The view that unfolded before us was spectacular and was undoubtedly worth all the hard work that had come before. As the sun began to illuminate the sky the multiple peaks of the mountains and volcanoes around us were revealed. As the sky turned from red to orange to yellow to the palest most perfect sky blue a feeling of complete contentment took over me. To top it off one of the far off volcanoes began to smolder, the trails of smoke twisting up into the flawless morning sky. Our group made the descent back to base camp and we had a hearty breakfast soaking in the view before heading back down to the bottom of the volcano. We stopped off at a restaurant where we feasted on grilled fish and freshly squeezed juice and got on the bus that would take us back to Xela.

My next stop took me back to Antigua. I set off with Richelle, an Irish girl I had befriended on the trek. Not satisfied with climbing one volcano we signed up to climb Pacaya, an active volcano a couple of hours drive from Antigua. This next trek was not quite as hard as our previous one but 100 times more dangerous. Motivated by tales from travelers who had cooked sausages and toasted marshmallows on the molten hot lava at the top of Pacaya I thought nothing of signing up to this next adventure. However as we neared the summit the realisation of just how dangerous this undertaking was hit me. It was terrifying. Our guide cheerfully hopped from one section crumbling rock to the next, thinking nothing of the lava only inches away from his feet. Frozen in terror my guide grabbed my hand and practically forced me to walk closer to a river of glowing red hot magma only a few meters away from us. The heat from the lava was awesome. People’s trainers began to melt as we inched closer and closer to this fiery river. It was certainly a unique experience but I have to say not one I would repeat if given the chance. On the way down the guide casually told us about people that had fallen into the lava and about how he had saved a child whose trousers had caught on fire!

After a couple of days of pottering around the streets of Antigua I decided I wanted to head back to the sea and Montericco a town on the Pacific coast of Guatemala seemed the ideal location for a seaside getaway. Just before setting off to catch my bus to the town I started talking to two Australian guys that were in my dormitory. They were also heading down to Monterrico and offered me a lift in their van that they had hired to tour Central America. The three of us piled into their van complete with no less than 7 surfboards and headed to the sea. In conversation I learnt that they had driven through a town two days ago where a police station had been set alight and the prisoners inside lynched. They had been driving through the town when they noticed that a large crowd had formed and that a building was on fire. One of them got out of the car to investigate. Suddenly the crowd began running down the road in their direction. As soon as they heard gun shots he ran back into the car and got out of town as fast as they could. Lynchings of this nature are not uncommon in Guatemala. There is such a distrust of the police and a lack of faith in the justice system that when a crime is committed “justice” is taken into the hands of the people. This is not healthy for a society however when justice is not seemed to be done it is hard to blame people for resorting to these actions.

We arrived in Monterrico just as the sun was setting and were devoured by mosquitoes. The mosquitoes down there were viscous. Speaking to the other travelers we learnt that these mosquitoes could bite through jeans! Doused in deet we went for dinner with another Australian couple who they had met a few days before. We ate a delicious dinner next to a rather aggressive looking pelican that had been adopted by the restaurant owners then had a few drinks before turning in for the night.

By 8 am the next day the sun was blazing. I hadn’t experienced such intense heat in a while and by twelve and by 12 I had retreated to the welcomed coolness of the shade. Looking for surf and finding none the Australians decided to head back that day. Determined to spend a few days by the sea I decided to stay on. I got speaking with a German guy who had been working in our hostel for a year and he told me that a few of his friends were coming down the next day for a bbq. The next day his friends came to pick me up and we headed down the coast to a part of the beach which was not quite as rough as the coast on Monterrico. To date I hadn’t entered the water as tales of rip tides and near drowning s had scared me off. With two boogie boards, a Frisbee and some cold beers the day was a success. I caught my first ever wave on the boogie board and the experience was exhilarating. Like a child who never gets bored of repetition I spent the whole day running into the sea, catching the waves and running in again. The power of waves is awesome and now I really understand what people mean when they say they have a healthy respect from the sea. I got twisted, turned, pulled and pushed by those waves. By the end of the day I felt like I had been in a boxing ring. Satisfied with my weekend by the sea but tired of the mosquitoes and the heat I decided to get a lift back to Antigua.

Back in Antigua I met the Australian guys again as well as a couple of people I had climbed Tajamulco with. They all randomly knew one another too so the next few nights were spent experiencing Antigua’s nightlife. We had all heard about a festival called “the burning of the devil” which was to take place whilst we were all in Antigua. The festival is a Guatemalan tradition which entails the burning of an effigy of the devil in a bid to purge the town if evil spirits. A group of us headed down to the center where we had heard the action would take place. Unfortunately we had missed the burning but as there were lots of people milling around and a bit of music playing we decided to hang around. Suddenly out of nowhere a man came hurtling through the crowd with a large metal frame attached to his body. Strapped to this frame were dozens of fireworks which were exploding into a rainbow of colours and richoteting into the crowd. The whole crowd started to run away but the man was not to be deterred and insisted on running into anyone he saw. It was both a terrifying and hilarious experience. What made me laugh the most was the fact that 3 fireman were idly standing by as if there was nothing wrong with a man running into a crowd with fireworks strapped his back. Shaken up but in good spirits we headed back to the hostel for some rum and another round of a drinking game we had become quite attached to. That night it felt like the whole hostel joined in and I got talking to a group of people who were heading to Lake Atitlan the next day. Lake Atitlan is the largest lake in Guatemala and has been described as the most beautiful lake in the world. Having heard great things about this part of Guatemala I didn’t hesitate in agreeing to join them.

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