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We boarded the mini bus taking us to Pacaya volcano. Todd and I in t shirt and shorts, the rest of the group carrying mini rucksacks with rain gear and warm clothes The journey took us away from the main highway onto a trail which didn’t qualify for a repair budget. The ride took a little longer than the allotted hour and we arrived at a small dilapidated hut which was base camp. We entered the shelter only to discover the hut was also dilapidated inside. Aged benches lined its shell adding a chill to the empty space. The clear warm morning was being interrupted by dark clouds blowing from the north accompanied by a thin cool breeze. The guide repeated a short speech about safety precautions. Two guides would be involved in the climb, one leading and the other shepherding any stragglers. The outset of the trek took us through thick vegetation then, as we climbed, the vegetation became sparse and the ground a dark grey sandy texture. The distance between each group widened and the stragglers were soon far behind the lead. Todd and I kept close to the lead guide. Sixty minutes into the climb the guide halted and we waited for the stragglers to reach us. We continued our ascent and after another fifteen minutes the following guide called for us to stop. Once all had gathered we were offered the choice of returning or continuing to the peak. Most voted to continue but seven members of the group decided to return. The rear guard led the seven back down and the remaining aspirants and would be volcano conquerors continued, following the leader in our quest to the summit. The weather became increasingly inclement with winds rising, bringing the first of the rain. We continued our ascent, the surface of the volcano warmed and steam ascended from a concentration of fumaroles. The guide took a packet of marshmallows from his backpack with the intention to barbecue, looked at the sky and apologized before replacing them. The rain matured into an incessant and merciless foe. We continued until the summit was less than one hundred meters away. The force of the rain was driven upon us by the wind, a million needles stabbing at our bare arms, legs and drenched t-shirts and shorts. Todd and I took the little cover afforded us by a large boulder. We laughed at our discomfort, but true tears of pain rolled down our laughing cheeks. The other climbers had donned their rain covers and hardly noticed the distress of Todd and myself. The guide instructed patience and he climbed to the peak, confirmed the lather flow scorched a path on the opposite side of the crater and the wind carried the molten rocks away. He demonstrated the art of escape in case of an unexpected change in wind direction, running and falling on the ash softened volcano but never allowing his falls to slow him down. Climbing to the brim we met a burning world of wonder. Molten lather cascaded over the far end of the cauldron as the burning hell of a hungry inferno flicked tongues of flame in search of martyrs. The intense heat expelled by Pacaya afforded us some respite to the cold driving rain. Pacayas crater spat and hissed at the rain, inhaling it then propelling it back into the sky as screeching steam. The guide joined us at the summit and insisted we had to leave. Standing there in awe and silence had taken nearly forty minutes! The group gathered next to large grey boulders around two hundred meters from the summit. The descent back to base camp was relatively rapid aided by the steady decline of Pacaya. On arrival hot cooked coffee was served out of large battered copper coffee pots. An American lady, one of whom hadn’t completed the climb, conjured up a small bottle of brandy and proceeded to top up our drinks. The warming nectar with hot coffee combined to lessen the tremors Todd and I were enduring.