Tajumulco Volcano
As you know, Saturday, March 8th was International Women’s Day. It is also the day I hiked Tajumulco Volcano, the highest volcano in Central America (4220 meter peak). It is ALSO the day I swore never to attempt hiking any volcano (much less the highest one in this part of the Americas) at an altitude where I found myself wheezing in between the few words I could communicate with the other trekkers (read: American and European students who over packed loaves of bread and jars of peanut butter like we would be away for weeks and not 36 hours). We left at the crack of dawn on Saturday and small-talked our way the entire 2 hour ride’s worth of windy roads to Tuichan. There, we unloaded our big backpacks and the van driver asked about three times if we were sure we wanted to hike the volcano because it is okay if we didn’t and he was heading back to Xela and we could still back out and go with him. What is the word I am thinking of now…premonition is it?
The hike is about five hours, which at this altitude, translates to 25 hours in heart speak. They said that the risk of sickness was great, again, because of the altitude, the hike itself, and then camping at what felt like 10 below ZERO at the top of the mountain that night. Guatemalans believe that if you go into the journey with fear, that if you hike with panic about getting sick, that you WILL get sick…that the volcano will punish you for your doubt. But if you go in with faith, then you will be fine. I chose to go with the latter (and still packed some Aleve and 3 litros of agua pura anyhow).
The arresting views from the top of the mountain reminded me of Africa, the smell of thick pine forests reminded me of hiking the Big Basin Redwoods in the Bay Area, and the occasional six year old lugging a massive bundle of firewood on his back while guiding an anorexic goat downhill –also carrying firewood—reminded me of, oh, how obnoxious I probably looked as a ‘bochillera’ (a backpacker) climbing the volcano “for fun” and to spend the night up there “just because.” We set up tents, roasted marshmallows, the whole nine. Then we froze through the night. Well, I did. I have never been happier for 4:30 AM to arrive…for this is when the camp guides (ex-guerilleros who also gave a talk while we all sat on logs, and described what it was like hiding out on that very mountain during the civil war) woke us up to hike the final stretch of the mountain at dawn on Sunday. They passed around a jar of miel (honey) and that was our equivalent of espresso because with flashlights in hand, we hiked to the tippety-top of Tajumulco and watched the sun rise and rise and rise.
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