Scree-way to Heaven

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I have backpacked along the east coast of the US but have never seen sights as beautifully as I have this weekend. We climbed the Volacanos of Yepacapa , Acatenago, and Fuego. We begin the day in the foothills of Yepacapa in rural farmlands. We quickly ascend through a dense volcanic rainforest. It is a strange place to be, at this altitude there are no indigenous animals save a few scare birds. The forest grew untamed in the absence of animals. The lush coffee black earth lay fluffy across the jungle floor untrampled by paw nor hoof; unturned in the absence of burrowing. It even lacked that almost sweet smell of liter decay. A lush jungle that is completely silent. The forest echoed the deafening stoicism as it yearned in anticipation of life, inhabitation. Trees stood as new skyscrapers unsettled in its vacancy, limbs unnested, bark unscared, fresh pristine. Unconsciously we rushed through this unnatural place. We then entered the cloud forest. Tall shoots of bamboo grew many meters high. The air was light and perpetually wet as we creeped through eerie fog. It seemed as if we had walked for hours in the white blindness until we emerged into the high alpine forest. Here the soil gave way to rock and scree.

Out of the high alpine we lost the tree line crested Yepacapa at about 3800 meters we took a quick rest and then decended into the saddle between Yepacapa and Acatenango which was aptly named “purgatory”. This was the PNR for the trip. We now attempted the summit of Acatenango a grueling 200 meters pure volcanic scree with a 40 degree incline. We find ourselves crawling at 3900 meters hands and knees buried in powdery scree. Our guide jokingly calls it the “Scree-way to Heaven” a cleverness that could not be fully appreciated until after we had inched through this hell to reach the summit. Each foot step sunk in the dusty incline like quick sand under the weight of our 45 lb pack and walking became nearly unbearable. The altitude robs the lung of oxygen and muscles burn in the dry, dusty air.

We finally crest the mouth of Acatenago and set up camp in the mouth of the inactive volcano. We all toast the accomplishment of ascending 1,498 meters in 8 hours with wine as we film the setting sun in the clouds below and eagerly await the periodic eruptions of the neighboring Volcan Fuego. The sun set and the eruptions are made even more magnificent when set in the night sky. The mouth of the volcano spews molten rock several meters into the air which illuminate the night sky as red fireworks. It is unbelievable that in the morning that we will stand on that very volcano. Our guide descends back down the mountain to collect fire wood and returns to make a bon fire and prepare dinner. We enjoy vegetable curry and Mountain House spaghetti with wine. At such a great elevation our dinner is erupted by a slight flurries and we must stoak our fire with much more fire. We then toast tortillas with bean paste and call it an end to a very exhausting day of backpacking. The temperature drops throughout the night we all intimately huddle in our sleeping bags warmed by strangers . How inappropriate to call these people strangers. We have shared more beauty today then some of my most intimate relationships. We have shed more sweat and tears than a man is comfortable to mention and now sleep in each other’s embrace by necessity, but also as an emotion agreement for what we have done. The eruptions of Fuego continue into the night and the rumbling of the earth vibrates our tents and add a vivid tangibility our dreams as we sleep.

We wake at 5:45 to catch the sun rise above the clouds. A view even more spectacular in the morning haze, as we can see as far as Mexico and El Salvador. The clouds creep below and spread over the country like a cotton blanket pulled over the faces of the sleepy mountain folks who are not ready to wake to the morning sun. We break camp and descend Acatenango and leave our packs in the saddle between Acatenango and Fuego to climb the “safety zone” on Fuego for lunch. This country has no grasp of the ideals of ‘safety’. I am a rather fit man and several times I questioned my ability and safelty.

We snake though grasslands to reach the scree of Fuego. We find our self at an unreal proximity to the mouth of volcano. As we eat our lunch, we are rained upon by volcanic ash from the consistent eruption. It is surreal to think that the very ash that rained on our head was recently buried deep in the earth crust, churning and boiling. The vibration is much more intense sickness my stomach as it vibrates from your toes to your teeth. I descend Fuego and get lost in the grasses. I am constantly reminded the absence of animals for there are not game trails nor lurking serpents. We return to our packs at the saddle and descend back to the farmland. Picture can tell what my words cannot I wish more could have seen what I could capture.

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