rincon antigueno

I don't have a special title for this post because it is what it is, and this place was it.

the search for guatemalan food

jamaica roll call and belly full of bevvies

type two fun

By far the hardest thing I've physically done is climbing this damn volcano [disclaimer: pictured volcano is not actually the one we climbed but you get the idea]. Antigua is surrounded by three volcanoes - two dormant and one active. We climbed Acatenango in order to watch and feel Fuego erupting throughout the night. I knew the altitude might be tricky, but I fooled myself into thinking I would be able to adapt. I grew up at 7,300ft, which is about where we started the hike. We'll ascend slowly, I thought to myself. I don't have to carry the weight I normally do - the cabins, sleeping pads, and sleeping bags awaited us at the top. I've hiked so many inclines, this will be no different.

Altitude though, was a new beast. It's not that I took altitude sickness lightly. I packed 6L (more than the recommended 4L) of water for myself, but aside from that, there wasn't much else I could anticipate. Eric luckily had altitude sickness pills, someone else had Advil, and everyone kept feeding me snacks to help carry me through. I was consistently the last in line, slooowwwwwwllllyyy bringing up the rear of our 30-some person group. In the back, slowing down even the porters who were carrying 2-3 backpacks each. Every time I emerged at a designated break spot, lungs tight, legs burning, vision blurring, I wanted to curl up and cry and be airlifted back to sea level.

traditional guate breakfast of eggs, beans, plantains and tortilla

It was worth it though.

Watching Fuego from up close (er, as up close as we can safely get) was incredible. I knew going into this trip that this would not be an experience I'd want to pass up on, and I had (maybe dramatically) made peace with the thought that this could be the last thing I do. If it wasn't the thin air that made every breath painful, it was the periodic rumbles of Fuego that threatened to kill me. At 11,600ft, my lungs struggled. Like it hurt to get too greedy with oxygen. My chest felt like it was shrinking. I didn't want to laugh, barely opting to speak, lest I waste too many precious breaths. No amount of water I drank seemed to help, as my entire body just felt persistently dehydrated. I legit went to bed wondering if I would even wake up in the morning. But we quickly learned sleeping through the night wasn't going to happen after hearing the first several eruptions as we cuddled up in our six-person cabin. Apparently Fuego becomes more active in the cold dark night - something about temperature changes and etc, science, you know. We'd hear her rumble like an approaching thunderstorm, and then she'd erupt, flicking specks of red into the air. Lava spilling down her sides like an ice luge - a red outline on the black silhouette. Like waiting for a good wave to catch, we took turns watching her through the window with our phones recording, waiting for a big one. 

You could only see her if you sat upright. Lying down, you could only see the stars (we got so lucky with the weather). Throughout the night, Fuego would growl and explode and someone would happen to catch a more massive puff of magma, make some ooh-ing sounds, and then the rest of us would pop up like prairie dogs to take a peak. Whoaaaaaaa. And then back down to sneak in another several minutes of sleep before repeating the sequence again. It was amusing even in the moment. I would've loved to see that time lapse of us.

In the morning, as we nibbled on a hefty breakfast of banana bread and Nutella, and English muffins and tuna with guac, I really took in just how close Fuego was. How within reach her skirt felt. We could see the lava scars where nothing was growing right below us, so close I felt like I could reach out and touch it.

Honestly, at the top of a volcano would not be the worst way to go *shrugs*.