How a vulcano kept me up at night

by Simone Mostard (Netherlands)

A leap into the unknown Guatemala

The hostel where I stayed at in downtown Antigua was everything I could wish for while traveling in late spring of 2016. I had been exploring Mexico, Cuba and Guatemala for over two months, and Antigua was my last stop before heading to Nicaragua. Despite the fact that my journey was quite demanding (both physically and mentally I was not at my best), I enjoyed being on the road and discovering new cultures that were so different from anything I was used to. Many fellow travelers talked about a special but very tough hike to the top of Acatenango, with 3979 meters one of the highest volcanoes in Central America. Hours of steep climbing followed by sleeping in a tent, only to climb the last 200 meters the next morning to watch the sunrise on top. It all sounded wonderful and I’m not averse to some physical action, but I honestly thought they all had gone bonkers. Every day I saw people coming back from the hike, complaining about all the pain they had in all their body parts and how terribly heavy it had been. Every return was a confirmation for me: I will never do this. I hid myself behind the fact that I suffer from type 1 diabetes, that I have the stamina of an aged whale and that I also could be proud of myself without climbing a top. It didn't let go of me though. The groundbreaking experience, the stunning view, and, if you were lucky enough, an erupting volcano as the climax.. It all unconsciously kept gnawing at me. I tried to get rid of the thoughts by doing all kinds of nice things, but I was constantly triggered by it. After the enthusiastic return of Omri, an Israeli boy I met at the hostel who I would keep in touch with for a long time, I had to face my fears and surrendered: I was going to climb that damn vulcano. And so I went out to get ready. I bought warm clothes, squeezed in enough snacks and nervously packed my backpack. The next morning, together with seven other travelers, guide Mauro and my personal porter Brandon, I started the hike. While Brandon, packed with my backpack, literally ran up the volcano, I took it easy. Armed with two walking sticks I enjoyed the nature that changed as we climbed higher and higher. Where at the start we braved corn fields, a few hours later we climbed over tree roots in the jungle, followed by a heathland. Almost an hour later than the rest of the group me and two other seniors arrived at the basecamp. The view left me breathless. I had been hoping all day that we would be treated to an eruption of volcano Fuego, and just before sunset we were rewarded: BOOM! An enormous plume of smoke, followed by lava spraying in all directions. Immediately after the eruption the sky closed and we were literally in the clouds. Tired I crawled into the tent I shared with three other hikers. Thickly packed we left a few hours later for the last part of the hike. The group was a lot faster and soon I lost them out of sight: now it was just me and the volcano. My headlight went out, and on all fours I went up in pitch-dark. I thought back to the day before, when everything was still fun and I had wondered what people thought was so hard about this hike. Now it became completely clear to me: 'what the f*ck was I doing?’ I was about to cry, when suddenly the fog cleared. I saw lava dripping from Fuego and the sun slowly rose: stop whining, woman! The rest of the group was still nowhere to be seen, so I followed their footsteps. Almost two hours later and finally on top, all the fear fell off me and the joy was enormous. My wet hair froze slowly around my head as I ran over the top of the volcano screaming shouts of happiness. I had to confess: I wouldn't have missed this for the world. Never let fear be your counsellor. Everything is possible.