How not to hike a volcano: A practical guide

by Tatiani Konstantinidi (Greece)

A leap into the unknown Guatemala

This is a story about a volcano. But it is also about adventure, love, kindness, survival and important lessons to be learned. For my first solo travel and out of sheer stubbornness, I was determined to conquer the top of Guatemalan Volcan Tajumulco, at 4220 meters, all by myself. The highest point in Central America. I wanted to prove to myself that I was adventurous and brave and that even if I was alone, I was still capable of anything. The fact that I was a smoker with zero hiking experience, didn't seem to affect my decision much. After a series of unfortunate events which included getting stuck at the Mexican-Guatemalan border for hours and getting a lift from some sect members in an ambulance, I was led to a cheap hostel in Xela, Guatemala. Xela or else called Quetzaltenango, was the closest city to Volcan Tajumulco, where I would rest and prepare for my hike. There however, my good fortune sent me a wandering Salvadoran artist. Eduardo, the liar of my heart! He was impressed when I told him about my hiking plan. Four days after my arrival, we were in love and ready to embark together on the adventure. We rented a cheap tent and around noon off we went. Our two biggest mistakes had already been made, but we didn't know just yet. The path was very beautiful, and the scenery was changing from forest to a meadow and then again into forest. We were taking our time, enjoying the view and the nature. As we kept ascending, it started to rain and I was slow, but Eduardo was always waiting for me a few meters ahead, showing me impressive mushrooms and fancy dance moves. Unfortunately, this only meant an even slower ascend. By dusk we were soaked, freezing and we had missed the campground. In heavy rain and thick fog, at 4000 meters, we chose a nice windy opening by a steep cliff to set up our tent. That's right. We set up our tent by a steep cliff! Only to discover that our tent had no zippers and a broken pole. All night we sat there. Wet to the bone, with little air to breath and feet going numb from the cold. As a source of heat and comfort, we only had each other. The latter may sound romantic, but it was not. We were truly miserable, basically trying to keep each other alive. Eduardo was soothing me in my panic attacks. Thankfully, he convinced me that hiking back in the middle of the night with our non functioning flashlights was a bad idea. Many hours later, hope warmed up our souls, in the form of light coming from far away. I started calling for help. A wonderful American tourist with the kindest local guide heading for the top, helped us without a second thought. They made us take our wet socks off, fed us cookies for some much needed calories and patiently -very patiently- they lit our way to the top. I was tripping and had a really hard time breathing, but I kept going. Once there, we saw the sun rise over a sea of perfect, brightly coloured clouds. It was without a doubt the most beautiful thing I had ever experienced. I felt blessed. And lucky. That moment I felt something, that I knew was true. That indeed, there is nothing in the world that I could not do. Later on of course, I realised more. That I had to respect the mountain, the wild and my fragile human nature. That I had to quit smoking and always hike with good gear. But more importantly, I realised that if a charismatic, handsome man saves my life on a volcano, I shouldn't be sure that he is the right one for me. Lessons learned.