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Today I woke up at 6am and ambled the long narrow path to the pier to catch a boat to San Pedro, the town at the foot of the Volcano. “No boats until past 8am” exclaimed the local boatman. A Guatemalan lady sat at the pier restlessly rocking back and fourth. She emphatically informed the boatman of her mission to deliver her mountain of plucked flowers. The boatman ordered 'a private' boat to collect us. I realised the lady had a baby wrapped up in a gown at her rear, explaining the rocking back and fourth. The boat arrived. I helped the family load the packs of flowers onto the boat. The Guatemalans here possess an admirable resilience, especially the women. We disembarked at San Pedro pier, offloaded and reloaded on nearby tut-tuts. The lady rejected my attempts to pay my part. She hugged me and went on her way. I jumped in a tut-tut. The engine whined under the strain, a guide jumped in the moving tut-tut at the last second, not again I thought. The man in the office at the hike’s entrance recommended I leave my cards, wallet and valuables and advised me to return promptly after reaching the summit. I walked a few miles with the guide and decided I would give him some money and let him be on his way, he left without a whisper. I continued upwards for two hours, alone with nature. It was difficult at times, struggling in some places I stopped and admired the view. There happened to be a rope swing, which allowed me to channel my inner child, unbeknownst to me things would become less playful. The higher I climbed the colder it became. I put my clothes back on and scoffed some banana cake nearly choking it was so dry. I came across a tree, supposedly over 400 years old, it was covered in moss thanks to the daily cloud cover. The sun began creeping through the trees above me; I was almost at the peak! Upon making it to the summit I realised how powerful the sun was. I was out in the open, exposed. Admiring the views, I grabbed a couple of videos and sent some to loved ones. I felt as though I was peering out of an aeroplane window. I stayed at the top for 5 minutes then remembered what the guy in the office said about returning promptly. I turned back the way I came, the hot sun on my back. I heard the rustles of vegetation behind me. I turned and witnessed four bandits dressed head to toe in black drifting over boulders like they were born to do so. They covered me like a rash, one pointing a pistol, another a machete while the other two clawed at my possessions. In Spanish they barked, "don't resist.” I removed my watch, gave them my clothing, my necklace was ripped from my neck. The bandits, distracted by my bag and the unknown contents handed me the opportunity to sprint like I had never before. Expecting to feel something in my back as I ran down a steep set of stairs, I heard them shout, “Where is the mobile,” I replied back in Spanish "I don’t have it!" Mel Gibson's film ‘Apocalypto’ entered my mind; the lush surroundings blended with the blatant danger behind me fitted the script perfectly. Almost running into trees and falling on my arse doing so I ran for another mile. I spotted some shadowed figures through the shrubs, my heart jumped out my chest, a large group of hikers, guides and an armed police escort! The guides mentioned that Police only accompany hikes when economically worth it for them. This encounter handed me some valuable lessons: to hike in groups, preferably with an armed escort when exploring places of natural beaut. Unfortunately naive tourists are sitting ducks in these situations, and this time I was one of them. I do wonder what would have happened if I kept my guide? I’ll never know. Bandits are known to regularly take advantage of any Tom, Dick or Harry who venture up solo. I better add my name to that list!