Hiking Acatenango, Guatemala
The closer we got to Antigua the more we heard the name “Acatenango”. Based on the stories we heard about the mountain it became synonymous with “the volcano hike”. Like a game of telephone, the rumors around the hike swirled and changed depending on who we talked to. Some called it the toughest hike of their lives, others didn’t think it was so bad. One messenger had been so freezing cold at base camp that she refused to get out of her tent for the final summit push. After discussing with fellow travelers we knew that summiting Acatenango and watching Volcan de Fuego explode were must do items while we were in Guatemala. Wasting no time, we signed up to start the hike the day after we arrived in Antigua from Honduras.
Early in the morning on our first day we were scooped up from our hostel in Antigua and whisked off to a small village in the highlands near Acatenango. The old van progressed steadily uphill, bringing us closer and closer to our starting point. We unloaded at the village checkpoint and our party set about grabbing any outstanding gear that we were lacking. Local kids hovered around us inquiring, “Stick? Stick?” I caved and purchased a hiking stick for five Quetzales, the equivalent of about 75 cents. It would prove to be a wise decision later as we were sliding through mounds of volcanic ash down the mountainside.
“Did you hear about the woman who died here lastnight?” One of our recent acquaintances asked us as we gathered and organized our gear we would need for the trek up. Apparently the night before an older woman had tragically died due to complications from altitude sickness at basecamp. It was not exactly what we wanted to hear as we prepared to make the same journey that she just had. However, it was a good reminder that the trek we were about to set out on was not only fun and games; there were serious things that needed to be taken into consideration before heading up to our max elevation of 13,045 feet.
With everyone ready we loaded up into the van once more and proceeded to our starting point. Small Guatemalan children peered at us from a balcony above the road, waving at us and shouting “Hi!” as loud as they could. Despite the difficulty of the hike the trailhead was quite busy; Acatenango is one of, if not the, most popular hike in the area, and for good reason. Visitors from around the globe travel to Guatemala for a chance to see the most active volcano in the country.
Our first steps were up a steep road carved into the hillside; for the next five hours and eight miles our steps took us in no other direction but up. At the onset of the hike we could clearly hear several muffled BOOMS reverberating through the air.
“Is that the volcano?” I asked our guide, half knowing the answer.
“Yes, that is Fuego.” he responded. During the entire hike to basecamp the volcano asserted its presence through its constant eruptions.
The trail, comprised of volcanic soil, was difficult as well as crowded. Passersby on their way down from the top gave us equal tidings of “Have fun” as well as “Good luck”. The latter made the trail slightly more ominous. For a time barbed wire lined the trail, protecting the villagers mountainside cornfields from unwanted visitors. Never before or after have I seen such doggedness and determination in a field of crops; Guatemalans plant their livelihoods on vertical mountainsides that any other person would struggle just to walk on, yet they somehow manage to sow line after line of healthy looking corn and soy into the unfriendly terrain.
As we made our way up the trail mist began to cover the landscape. Our group made its way higher and higher, the temperature dropping as we went. By the time we reached our basecamp at 11,500 feet the entire area was covered in mist. We were each introduced to the tent that we would call home for the night. Almost instantly it started raining, which caused all of us to flee to the dry shelter of our tents. After some time our guides called us for dinner, a simple fare of beans, rice, and tostadas. Fog continued to cover the mountain and rain sporadically fell. Most members of the party took this time to squeeze in a quick nap, sapped from the strenuous hike as well as the elevation gain. The volcano continued to loudly erupt from the other side of the thick deluge.
I awoke around 9:00 p.m. and poked my head out of the tent. The rest of our party were still fast asleep; I was the only one awake. The mist had finally cleared from the valley and was skirting off of Volcan de Fuego. I looked down into the valley to see a vast landscape - the towns of Alotenango and Antigua were visible far below. To the south the volcano glowed orange through the clouds; to the east Volcan de Agua, a dormant volcano that towers over Antigua, rose up like a sentinel in the landscape. After a few short moments it became clear that Fuego was throwing off the mist that covered the peak and the eruptions would soon be visible from our vantage point. I quickly woke Sarah and the rest of our party excitedly. There was a storm raging to the southeast of the mountains, giving the scene a dramatic backdrop, the atmosphere like something out of ancient Greek mythology. In an instant Fuego shuddered off the mist and spewed an enormous eruption of lava into the sky. The multitude of basecamps on Acatenango followed suit, erupting with cheers and yelling. Excitement filled the air as people shouted and pumped their fists and this incredible phenomenon. For the next hour or so the volcano continued to erupt clearly as lightning flashed all around us. It was truly a magical experience.
“Chicos, vamos!”
The wake up call from our guides the next morning came far to early. I blearily glanced at my phone - 3:45 am. The wind howled outside of our tent. As I struggled into my hiking clothes I questioned my sanity - but staying behind was not an option. We had come this far, and one final goal remained as a part of our trek - summiting Acatenango. By 4:00 am everyone was ready and we set off up the mountain. The semi firm surfaces we had encountered on the previous day’s hike were nonexistent; volcanic gravel led the way up. A step off the foot wide trail could lead to a slide down the mountainside with no stopping point in sight.
Pushing to the summit went well enough at first. However, about an hour into the hike, the wind picked up exponentially, buffeting us like ragdolls, freezing any skin exposed to the air. A pronounced lean was required while hiking to avoid being taken off guard by the wind and swept off the mountainside. At one point one of our group leaned over to me and yelled “This is dangerous!” into my ear. I nodded stiffly in agreement, not wanting to expose my lips to the frigid air. Our guide motioned to us to sit down for a moment; it was too windy for us to continue. Meanwhile, Fuego boomed with regularity, indifferent to our struggles.
With the wind whipping at our clothes we pushed through to the summit. A gigantic crater greeted us at the top; small rocks were strewn about with a small warming hut placed in the middle of the monster depression. It seemed as if we had proceeded beyond Earth and stepped directly onto the moon. The sun was just coming up over Guatemala, and we had the best seats in the house. Miles and miles of lakes, mountains, forests, and cities were exposed to our view. Transfixed, we stood for several moments, appreciating the view and snapping pictures. The strength and cold of the wind made the peak almost unbearable, and after only 10 minutes spent on our hard earned summit, we had to head back down to base camp. We quickly learned that you could basically ski down the volcanic slope like it was snow, and the same hike up that took us over an hour took only 15 minutes to descend.
A final breakfast was served to us at basecamp - which seemed much more comfortable after spending time on the summit - and then it was time to hike down. Only 24 hours ago we had been picked up from our hostel to start our adventure, but it felt like a lifetime. This time around we were the ones telling those on the way up “Good luck”. Like clockwork, Fuego continued to erupt as we descended down the mountain and piled into our van.
Acatenango had not been in our plans when we set off for Guatemala, but it wound up being the highlight of the trip. The difficulty of the ascent, the howling winds, the exploding mountain peak - all of the things that comprised our experience made it memorable. It was truly something that words cannot adequately describe; a unique experience that will stay with me forever.