Acatenango – Day 1: The Power of Fuego
ACATENANGO
Day 1: The Power of Fuego
October 17, 2022
PART I
Pretty soon, the life I had envisioned in the Shire would become just a dream and the road to Mordor a reality. My next path would take me to Mount Doom – or, rather, to the volcano of Acatenango. From fiction to reality, just like that.
This adventure would introduce me to the first volcano I’d visit amongst the many that make up the Ring of Fire (not Johnny Cash’s single, mind you) – the Pacific Ring of Fire: an omega-shaped belt around the rim of the Pacific Ocean with high volcanic and seismic activity. Most of the volcanoes found here are known as stratovolcanoes or composite volcanoes, with layers of hardened lava and volcanic debris, known as tephra, forming a steep, conical mound after thousands or even millions of years of explosive and effusive eruptions. In contrast, shield volcanoes – the other main type – are flatter, owing to the fact that the lava flowing from them is highly fluid, allowing it to spread even further. Other types do exist – like cinder cones (small and with a single vent) and lava domes (small with steep sides which ooze lava).
The volcano of Acatenango is the third-highest volcano in Guatemala after those of Tajumulco and Tacaná in the department of San Marcos, standing at 3,976 metres above sea level. It is a stratovolcano with two peaks and is joined with the volcano of Fuego to form the complex of La Horqueta, which is part of five volcanic vents perpendicular to the Central American Volcanic Arc. Whilst Acatenango has only erupted twice in recorded history, with the latest major eruption being in 1972, Fuego erupts almost constantly, with plumes of ash and lava spouting from its three craters roughly every fifteen to twenty minutes! And I’d be climbing that…
Gathering the Group
Bright and early, a minivan found itself right in front of my hotel, where I was waiting expectantly with enough adrenaline to power 67 horses. Lots of algebraic equations went behind the calculation of that sum, trust me.
In the van were Ishmael from Mexico, Theresa from Canada and Apolline from Guatemala, who’s lived in France ever since she was adopted as a baby. This, we came to know after much prying and prodding by José, the driver. Then we picked up a group of five British girls, who mostly stuck to themselves throughout the entire trek. And then, someone who’d become my trekking buddy – Diane, this super cool chick from Washington DC. She’s a functional psychologist, shares my same humour and inability to shut up – though not my cynicism, always seeing the bright side of things. During the one-hour trip to La Soledad, the starting point of the trek, it already felt like we’d been friends for a long, long time!
The van dropped us off at Elvin’s – the owner of the family-owned business with whom we’d be doing the trek. His family welcomed us with both a warm greeting and a plate of pepián – a thick, rich chicken stew. Not what you’d normally go for at breakfast, but hey, we had a long day ahead of us. Starting at 2,451 metres, we’d be climbing almost up to the summit on day one, with the rest of the way being the following day’s chore. Elvin added that the trail was just around 3.7 kilometres long, meaning the incline would be quite tough.
At that, I nearly peed myself. I knew how this would go. Uphills kill me. There’s no way around it. It isn’t so much from lack of exercise as it is from my smoking. But I never friggin’ learn, do I? Already resigned to a day of feeling like death, I rented a stick to aid my voyage, having forgotten my trusty trekking poles at the hotel. Rommel, our guide up the volcano, insisted we didn’t need them – but that they’d be of great help. Like we say back home, Malta never refused anything, and I wouldn’t either.
Whilst at Elvin’s, we were joined by a French family travelling across the Americas in an RV. Together with their two kids, Arthur and Eloise, Caroline and Ambroise decided to tour the world while their kids were still young enough to enjoy spending time with them but old enough to remember it all. They reached an agreement with their school principal, allowing them to homeschool their kids on the road so they wouldn’t fall behind once they returned from their thirteen-month holiday. So awesome!
A Slow Start
After breakfast, it was finally time to embark on this new journey – one that promised lava plumes and glowing streams by the end of the day. But at that point in time, it wasn’t the magic and wonder of lava that was in front of us – rather, an incline that’s as straight as Ron Swanson.
Already feeling defeated, I turned to Diane and joked that it couldn’t possibly be like that all the way. Spoiler alert: it kinda was. It’s during times like these that my mantra comes into play. SWSD – stop whining, start doing. And so, with my stick and a cheery demeanour to match Diane’s, we started the trek, chatting all the while. She told me she’d been healing from a hip ligament rupture – a big cause of distress for her, given that it took an entire team of doctors and a couple of years to figure out what was wrong. This ‘journey’, as she called it, helps her empathise with patients being seen for functional disorders – medical conditions which cause suffering but whose cause often can’t be found, like fibromyalgia. In her case, there was a physical cause, only it wasn’t easily detected. Imagine having something that can never be detected! Now, she helps people going through much of the same thing. She assured me she wouldn’t let her hip hold her back – not even the big toe she fractured a month before. Cue Aretha Franklin belting out “Respect”.
Meanwhile, I assured her I smoked way too much to be able to run up the trail either. But slowly, I found myself walking ahead of her. I felt like I was betraying her – like I was leaving a man behind – but if there’s something I’ve learnt from all my treks, it’s that I have to go at my pace. If I go too slow or too fast, I get tired easily. I’d simply have to do it at my own pace – a very comfortable medium. And even that medium felt like it was almost too much. It was a steep wall of craggy black soil surrounded by vegetation, zig-zagging the whole way up.
Forty minutes in and I already felt like dying – calves cramping, heart thumping and my throat as dry as the Sahara. I was keeping a good pace at the front of the group, but I knew it wouldn’t last long. Had it been downhill, it would’ve been a whole other story. But this? This was me fighting my natural enemy – once again.
We’d take short breaks regularly, with the rest of the group catching up to us – a much-needed period of respite. It was always “ten minutes” to the next rest stop, according to Rommel – something we began to take with a pinch of salt after his third or fourth lie. Perhaps most disheartening of all was seeing Arthur and Eloise zipping up and down the volcano, jumping and playing until the rest caught up. “Show-offs!” I’d yell at them with a smile, painfully aware that that kind of youth and energy had long left me. But slowly, the black wall started turning green as more trees and vegetation popped out, and then – in front of our eyes – was… a restaurant? Not what I’d expected, but a welcome break. A few seconds before, I’d been damning my smoking habit – and there I was, happily sipping a coffee, smoking a cigarette and enjoying the fantastic view of the countryside beneath us, as if I hadn’t been dying minutes before.
Then on we went, climbing through a tapestry of corn, pea and flower fields grown by local farmers. The heat by then was sweltering, my clothes drenched in sweat. They told us there wouldn’t be showers at the campsite and that it’d be too cold to even want to shower. I couldn’t imagine going to bed with such a stench – but for now, my only option was to sweat even harder. And harder still until we got to the first checkpoint – or, as they call it… the friggin entrance. Yep, that’s right.
The Calm Before the... Eruption?
By the time we got to the friggin’ entrance, most of us were already regretting our choice to climb the damn stupid volcano. “I could be at home right now! I could be at work bossing junior doctors around, telling them to get me a cup of coffee! This is all our fault! This is self-inflicted!” I’d think over and over.
Diane, bereft of her usual positivity, seemed more in tune with my current line of thinking, and pretty soon started complaining with me. While complaining didn’t actually help our current predicament, blowing off some steam made us feel better. In fact, there are quite a few studies that support complaining (in moderation) and reject experiential avoidance – so there you have it.
After signing the logbook at the friggin’ entrance and enjoying a couple of beers, we dejectedly restarted the trek. Here, the trail led into a tropical cloud forest which, according to Rommel, is an ecosystem rich in biodiversity. Perhaps drawn away by our negative aura, we didn’t see a single animal throughout – not even an ant. Normally I’d be looking out for anything moving, but I was too busy dying at that point. I kept thinking that this was exactly how I felt five years before on the Ciudad Perdida trek – all those steep inclines. I’d describe that trek as the best and worst thing I’ve ever done. So far, this was just the latter.
At this point, I had fallen behind the front-groupers and was walking comfortably along in the middle. After a couple more resting spots, we got to a sparse high-alpine forest with excellent views of the land below us – the cities of Antigua and Guatemala City in the distance, with more volcanoes towering over a carpet of green. These breathtaking views would ironically give us an opportunity to catch our breaths as we’d stop to appreciate them and take a couple of photos here and there.
From there, we could hear the rumbling and the roaring of thunder – the last thing we’d be wanting on such an intense climb (at least for me). This, Rommel told us, was definitely not thunder. It was the Fuego volcano in all its might, erupting away as it has for hundreds of years on end. The rumbling, he added, was the sound of the rocks being expelled from the craters as they tumbled down the volcano. Insane! Of course, none of this was visible as of yet – for that, we had to climb onwards.
But, as it turned out, the final leg of the day’s journey (for those not doing the second part anyway) was upon us. Thereon, we started to notice the land becoming a bit more arid, with wind-swept volcanic terrain dominating the scene. Admittedly, this part was easier than the rest, with mild uphills and some forgiving downhills along the way. It was at this point that I started to catch up with the ones who had gone on ahead, but, unsure of the correct path, I’d find myself having to wait for Rommel time and time again.
PART II
Volcán de Fuego
Aaaah – finally, the campsite! I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw the tents. I believed them even less when I saw the fumes blasting out of the volcano facing us, accompanied by the louder rumbling sound we had been hearing on the way – much like the sound of thunder or fireworks lagging behind the real deal. Incredulous at the sight, we all stood there with our jaws to the floor. We were there. We had finally made it!
With a cup of steaming hot chocolate topped with marshmallows, we all sat in front of the spectacular view facing us – one that none of us had ever witnessed before. El Fuego, directly opposite us, stood there, its summit steaming and releasing plumes of smoke and ash. It felt unreal to be standing so close to an active volcano as it erupted away. Clouds would repeatedly cover the Antigua valley beneath us, hiding the volcano whose sight we didn’t want to miss. We’d wait eagerly for the clouds to move away, revealing a view that by now was familiar but nonetheless awe-inspiring and magical – as if we were seeing it for the first time. With each eruption, we’d point hurriedly so that everyone could witness this wonder of nature, unfailingly gasping every single time.
In between wolfing down our home-cooked lunch and staring in amazement at the eruptions, we busied ourselves trying to figure out the conversion between Celsius and Fahrenheit, damning the imperial system in the process. It’s (°C x 9/5) + 32, in case you were wondering. It’s funny how we could discuss something so trivial whilst such scenes were unfolding right in front of our very eyes.
The more I looked at the view, the less I could believe I was actually standing there. Who the hell would’ve ever thought I’d be standing right in front of an erupting volcano? These are the things you see on TV or the internet! Such an experience was never even on my radar – never thinking I’d be able to witness such a thing in real life. This would be something for volcanologists or experienced mountaineers or daredevils, I’d tell myself. But somehow, against all odds, against all logic, I found myself there. I felt so grateful, so privileged, so, so lucky.
The Mighty Fuego
At around 4 PM, Rommel gathered the adrenaline junkies who had not yet had enough of climbing. We’d be trekking further on to a viewpoint that’s around a hundred metres away from the summit of Fuego – lending itself the best views of the erupting mountain. Some of the group chose to stay behind, watching the volcano going strong from the campsite. Needless to say, my FOMO and I couldn’t sit it out. I had survived around six hours of constant uphill – another three wouldn’t kill me, right?
Sunset would be in around an hour and a half – just the time required to get to the viewpoint. We rushed our way there, crossing over bridges on the mountainside, shuffling over narrow ledges and climbing from one rock to another, the air saturated with clouds reflecting the golden hues of the sun as it set. Oddly enough, this felt like the easiest part for me. I think it’s the fact that in my head, I already knew I had done it. Just like that, I felt like I could wave away my exhaustion and just look forward to the spectacle awaiting me at the top.
Pretty soon, we were up there, along with the setting sun and the volcano spewing out its magma. For once, it wasn’t the sunset I was looking forward to – it was the moment after. In the blanket of complete darkness, we’d be able to see the red lava as it spouted directly out of the crater right in front of us. Sometimes, Rommel said, debris actually reaches the viewpoint – but that’s rare, and no one’s ever gotten injured, he asserted. At that point, it was so cold I would’ve actually welcomed a hot splash of lava on my face. Temperatures at the summit of the volcano easily reach -5 degrees Celsius, he told us. And if you’re not prepared for that – like yours truly – you can easily freeze your butt off.
We could hear the explosions and the thunderous roars of the volcano louder than ever, but the promised view was not there to be beheld. Turns out the clouds were covering the whole damn thing. “Do you think we’ll be able to catch a glimpse of it?” we’d ask Rommel over and over. Every time, he’d reply with the same standardised answer – that nature’s unpredictable and that it might clear up in ten minutes or it might take ten hours. We’d just have to be patient, and that we could go back to the campsite whenever we wanted. Of course, we had gotten that far – we weren’t gonna go back before seeing at least one damn eruption.
All lost in conversation and thoughts of the warm cup of hot chocolate waiting for us back at the campsite, I caught something red in my peripheral vision. Never in my life did I exhibit another such quick reflex as when I turned haphazardly to face the volcano – which, for the first time in the thirty minutes that we stood there, showed us its might and power in its full glory. There, right in front of us, was a giant plume of glowing, red lava as it flew right into the sky above the volcano’s summit. A thousand radiant blobs of hot, molten lava. A stream of red and black as it coursed down the sides of the volcano. Purely and utterly surreal – or, as the Guatemalans put it, “¡de ahuevísimo!”… What a life, huh?
A whole day of climbing for just a few seconds of this. Worth. Every. Second. This one eruption made all the exhaustion and negativity vanish in a second – as if we had just teleported ourselves there a few minutes earlier. It was just one eruption, the clouds hiding the rest of them throughout our stay there – but I can genuinely say that was enough to appease me.
Once back at the camp, we met up with the rest of the group who’d chosen to stay behind. They showed us the most incredible photos they had managed to take from the comfort of the campsite – way better than any we had taken. Apparently, the clouds weren’t covering their view. I can’t say I didn’t harbour any ill feelings for them, but all in all, I was still happy I did the extra trek. I got to see one eruption up close and then enjoyed the rest of them from the campsite – plus, I totalled the number of steps to a round four hundred flights. Crazy! Normally, it takes me thirty flights of stairs to get me winded on the stepmaster at the gym!
With a hot cuppa cocoa and the most disgusting plate of pasta I’ve ever eaten, I could finally rest up. They were right about it being too cold to shower – but I just couldn’t bear the thought of going to sleep unwashed. I gave myself a good old rub with a few wet wipes, changed my clothes and then headed to bed.