Sandwiched between an Israeli boys trip and a high pitched group of English tourists, our overcrammed shuttle drove out of Lake Atitlan en route to Antigua. As dusk approached we arrived back at Ox Base Camp. It felt like a lifetime ago we had arrived here, wide-eyed and reserved. Now, a week later, we were overflowing with a new found adoration for the mesmerising country we were in, and a flurry of butterflies pre-empting the Volcano climb.

Knowing the ropes we headed straight for the roof of the hostel, eager to meet our fellow climbers during the 5pm debrief meeting. A different guide welcomed us; a humble, quietly spoken Guatemalan who we instantly warmed to. Accompanying him was a mixed bag of nationalities, ages and open faces. After introducing himself as “Chino”, our guide methodically took us through the climb, stressing the level of difficulty of Acatenango, the amount of water needed and the freezing temperatures we would feel at the camp. He predicted we would be facing about a 7 hour trek to the summit, which could involve a lot of rain and mud given the season we were in and no guarantees of a view. Outlining the expedition on a map, he also geographically pointed out Acatenango’s neighbour, the active Volcano Fuego which we would hopefully see erupt while camping the night on our volcano. Chino concluded by shyly asking each of us for our names and how high above sea level we had trekked before. Turns out we were going to be hiking with a mother and son team from China, an American, Spanish and Swiss couple, and two single travellers from Germany and the US – all completely surprised the tallest mountain in Australia is a mere 2,000 metres tall. Bidding goodbye to our new companions we headed out for food, aspirin (for altitude sickness which was strongly recommended to us by Chino) our 4 litres of water, and a shit tonne of snacks.

9TH – DAY OF CLIMB

We excitedly jumped out of bed at 5am on the dot. Quickly grabbing packs borrowed from Ox, we were bouncing up and down as we began organising our weight into the three bags. Sam and I had opted to share a porter who was going to carry half of our weight, which meant we would only need to strap about 9 kilos on our back. Every individual was also allocated a piece of a tent, cooking utensils, and our lunch and dinner packs. One of the Americans soon emerged from the room to inform his girlfriend was sick and unable to climb, and the Swiss couple ended up being a no show. As were were about to take off, the Chinese mother and son team ran in the door whilst profusely apologising for being late. Chino calmed them down, handed them their packs and within about a millisecond of the time it had taken all of us to get organised, they were ready, arms folded, waiting diligently. It was not their first rodeo!!

By 6:30am we had a sightly crew of 9 trekkers lined up, loaded and grinning from ear to ear. We were on the move!

Stopping for breakfast on the way at Chino’s favourite haunch, we started ascending by car about 7:30am. The villages we were passing were waving as we huffed and puffed past the 2000m mark and disappeared into the morning fog. Snaking our way around the valleys the countryside began transforming into rows of crops and fruit trees. Dogs ran after the shuttle car, tails wagging. They knew the drill.

Looking down over the lush green mountainside we felt so high up already! We could see the sporadic dotting of villages around us as they glistened in all their bright colours against the crisp, dewy air. As we turned onto a dirt track, roadside markets started lining the way, stocked full of back packs, walking sticks and water. We had reached the beginning of our trek.

With nervous, sweaty palms we gripped our soon-to-be-lifesaver of a walking stick and skipped to the start line.. and just like that we were off. Having been warned the first hour is one of the more gruelling trails of the climb, Sam and I had mentally prepared for the worst. One of the single travellers soon joined us in alliance. She had paid for a porter to carry all of her gear up and so was freely able to hurry ahead to us. Within 10 minutes of walking, the other lone girl had fallen over, was out of breath annd physically not able to continue with her pack. Our beautiful guide rushed back down the side of the volcano and returned moments later with a porter to carry her load. We were off once more.

Sam and Chino winding up around a steep slope.

The four of us remained right behind Chino, the American girlfriend-less guy closely tailed us, the Chinese couple kept a slow and steady pace behind him, and the Spanish couple struggled right at the back of the group. She was the only woman carrying a full pack! Three porters, a horse and a menagerie of beautiful mountain dogs loyally followed them. Single file, we pretty much remained in this formation all the way to the top.

Being rainy season, much of the path had eroded away and the incline was extremely steep in parts. We were having to balance on unearthed logs and branches spaced metres apart, heaving our bodies upward with the help of our godsend sticks. Contrary to popular belief though, the first hour was one of the more enjoyable ones for us and probably because we were on such a natural high in the first place; dumbfounded we had began climbing an actual volcano which was covered in lush green forrest, farms, and locals working the land.

You could not rub the smile off our faces! There were three main parts to the trek, and soon we were through the first hurdle. As the sky began to be swallowed up by canopies of trees and only glimpses of sun streamed in like beams of lights, we had reached the Cloud Forrest. Vegetation began dramatically changing and thick moss carpeted the volcano. The path became more slippery, sunnies had to be removed and jackets were pulled out for warmth. With only a narrow path as the indicator of human interference, it felt like we were the first people to ever walk among such prehistoric lands. Massive trees towered above us with bright green fur running all the way up to the top, blanketing their tree branches. Long coils of greenery and swinging rope like stalks dangled over the path, waiting for a Tarzan to galliantly fly between them. We soon found it much easier to not look ahead at how steep we were yet to climb and instead just remain present in the world around us, focusing on one foot in front of the other.

Pretty soon Sam and I were on a massively wild tangent (standard) about the meaning of life with one foot in front of the other being the catalyst, and ranting on about approaching our whole existence this way….And within minutes, a full blown conversation between our single-file line of languages had erupted into sweeping life statements about living in the here and now, life meanings, and what everyone had for their next snack. As conversation flew from one person to the next, Paul the Chinese guy madly tried to translate it all to his very confused looking mother. When the next break rolled around, everyone sat a little closer together, eager to share their food and travel stories.

I was almost through my first 2L water bottle when I noticed one of the porters sitting alone. He could have been 65 and potentially carrying up to 18 kilos. Although backpacks are rented for them, they do not use them in the conventional way of strapping them around their waist and chest. Instead they add a strap around their forehead which takes the brunt of the weight. It’s incredible to watch! Although this is their job and they are more than experienced with the journey, I couldn’t help but think of what we must look like with our abundance of food and water in a closed off western circle. Not knowing whether it was belittling to offer water, I waited a little bit before thinking oh fuck it, it’s better to ask then not ask. The man eagerly accepted the bottle and had a tiny sip before handing it back. I insisted he keep the remainder; his eyes wrinkled in kindness as he grabbed both my hands in thanks and gulped the rest down.

About four hours in, and 5 breaks deep, we reached the last leg of our trek which ended up being one of the most difficult ones. The Pine Tree Forrest emerged with the sun, heat and a 3400 metres above sea level view. It was phenonomal! Almost instantly, beads of sweat began escaping down the side of our faces. We had walked upward, into the heavens and had been blessed with a crispy clear sky stretching across the country.

A hiker, porter and horse walking up a steep incline through the Pine Tree Forrest.

I don’t think we even have hills in Australia as steep as what we climbed through that Pine Forrest over the next couple of hours. We pushed forward on such an incline we were almost horizontal against the vertical path which inifinitely kept winding up. We would turn a corner only to find another million degree angle awaited. Sensing despair, lovely Chino kept chiming up “Only 10 minutes until we break” or “Only 10 minutes until viewpoint”. Really, he meant 30 minutes, but we loved him for the optimism. The last leg put considerable distance between Paul’s mother and the Spanish couple, but secretly we were all quite pleased as it meant longer breaks for us when we reached Chino’s landmarks. And that view was something else. It felt like we were peering down onto a foreign planet, looking out across it’s many layers to the edge of the world! Even though our legs wanted to detach themselves from our body and run far away, we were tranfixed on reaching the end point, which was teasing us with how close it was!

Finally, after 6 hours, 10 minutes, one fall, and seriously numb legs we reached our camping stop.. in the the clouds!

Devouring our lunch packs as the porters set up camp.

Even Chino was marvelling out our sensational weather. So often groups are caught in torrential downpour on the way up, and are soaked through by the time they are able to climb into their soggy tent. We were joking about the need for bathers, as our little ledge off the side of Acatenango would have made the perfect tanning spot! Chino and the porters insisted on setting up our three tents. No one argued with this as we definitely didn’t want a tent peg one of us had rammed into the earth coming unstuck and blowing the whole thing down the length of a volcano! It was while these amazing men were at work I noticed our porter wearing the number 9!! Clear as day on the back of his shirt. What are the odds???

Sitting on top of the world looking down from this height was one of the most serene experiences to date. Everywhere was so calm and peaceful, cushioned by soft clouds and blurred colours of life. Mesmerised, we hardly spoke as we finished our lunch packs and gazed out at the view.

Minutes passed where not a sound could be heard but the gentle breeze as it passed over our delicate little ledge.

Then… out of nowhere, a sudden deep gurgling cracked through the silence. It quickly snapped us all out of our trances. Bolting upright Sam and I naturally turned our head to the sky looking for lightening. Furiously scanning, we were still facing upward when another explosion hit the air, echoing all around us. Chino appeared and calmly pointed toward Feugo. “Volcano. It’s erupting” he smiled.

It was like the Earth was belching from deep within the pit of its stomach. As it hit the open air it cracked like lightening and sent us all squealing and jumping and madly clicking on our cameras. Being light, there was not a great visual happening, but every now and then as the sky cleared around it a black puff of smoke billowed out of its crater. We felt incredibly small against these spectacular landforms.

As the hour passed, the clouds became heavier and darker. By 3pm we were running for cover from the instantaneous storm which had suddenly broken out on top of Actanenango. Rain hammered the sides of our little 4-man tents and we prayed those little Guatemalans could put up a strong barricade to withstand such a wild storm. I’ve never heard the lightening so close. We had to shout to each other to be heard and only then I was catching a muffled version of the conversation. With the madness of the weather, and the foreign sounds of a volcano popping off next door it was absolutely exhilarating. Then the hail hit! The three of us huddled into the middle of the tent as the sides were being smashed with golf ball sized ice cubes, the rain and wind danced with the outer cover, Fuego rumbled the earth and darkness blackened our sight. Everytime lightening exploded we screamed! Nature was enveloping us and we had no option but to sit and listen to these magnificent acts at play!

The storm surrounded our volcano for a good couple of hours. Eventually we went from excitable little balls to tired, stretched out humans. Sam even fell asleep! (Another of her amazing abilities). I was in complete awe of the power of Mother Nature. Wide-eyed, I lay there facing upward absolutely glowing with adrenalin at the thought of being part of this amazing storm! It was just incredible.

I woke up Sam about 5pm as Chino was yelling something from outside the tent. We threw on our rain gear (mine an XL bright blue poncho) and slowly unzipped the tent to a little drizzle and a lot of white!

Chino was in shock. We were now looking at a fire and ice show which no one had seen in over 20 years! Our little guide was madly flapping about, insisting the porters take photos of him boldly standing shirtless in front of the ice covered Fuego! As the volcano powerfully burped larvae, its white caps were thrust into the air, catching fire and exploding before our eyes!

We thought we were impressed before.. but holy shit now were just about ready to piss ourselves with excitement!!

Soon we had a fire, home cooked spaghetti bolognese, cask red wine and marshmallows to fill our bellies with. Ox Adventures were incredible with the offering they provided us. By dark fall we were hoarse from all of our screaming and wowing. We were parked up in front of a powerful volcano, wiping sloppy marshmallow off our wine-stained grins… I don’t know if life was capable of getting better?! This was by the far the closest to mind blown I had been! Photos do not do justice to the incredible performance we witnessed.

Chino gave us the option at about 11pm of trekking over to Fuego. We were warned it was a fairly treacherous hike but it would allow a much more close-up view of the active volcano. Only Paul opted for this challenge, and so off they set into the darkness!

Now left alone on the side of our volcano we joked about bandits, and then got semi-serious about the possibility of them lurking in these parts. A little tipsy, a little tired, a little scared, a little cold, a little exhilarated, we slowly peeled off to bed knowing our 3:45am alarms would soon be calling us back to earth….

I got about a minutes worth of sleep! Not great at the best of times with being able to drift off, a volcano as a neighbour and a new outbreak of storm certainly didn’t do me any favours. Just as I had rolled into my most comfortable position yet, the soft drone of my phone told me it was time to get up. As we rubbed our tired our eyes awake, we realised the weather was absolutely bucketing down. Unzipping the sleeping bag meant frozen limbs to the poor suckers exposed so we bunkered back down, straining for instruction from the other tents. We were supposed to start hiking at 4am to catch the sunrise from another summit 300 metres higher. Already at 3,900 metres, this meant reaching more challenging altitudes and a riskier climb.

An hour passed before Chino finally knocked on our “door”. His disappointed look meant bad news. “Dangerous to climb in this weather. View will be all clouds. Better to see sunrise from lower point.” He disappeared into the darkness again. We also felt the pang of disappointment.. until we ventured out to look at what the morning had gifted us:

This image is not even altered! My emotions couldn’t keep up with what my eyes were seeing and my heart was feeling.

Breathless, speechless, wordless, we silently filtered out of our tents and into the soft colours of the morning. A numbness washed over me. This could only have been my dad who orchestrated this crystal clear moment, this miracle – unheard of this time of the year.

Thinking about it now gives me goosebumps… On the 9th day of the month, 9 trekkers and a porter wearing the number 9 witnessed an extremely rare fire and ice show, and the most spectacular sunrise that season has seen, 3,900 metres above sea level. Dad you beauty.. you nailed it!

After a hearty breakfast, a crazy account from Paul about his harrowing experience trying to get over to Fuego last night and a final farewell to our surroundings, we packed up our belongings ready for the trek back down.

It took about half the time to scale down the volcano then it did coming up. The rains had made the ground slippery and wet and there was numerous times I was attempting steep encounters butt first. There was as lot of falling and tripping, particularly from the boys as they fearlessly ran down slopes and jumped over pot holes. Taking things a lot more cautiously was our foresome who were now positioned further down the line. The wind bit at our ears and noses as we continued through the Pine Forrest so we tried to keep breaks short and persevere down. Complaints about knees, toenails and windburn frequented conversation but we were determined to make it to the bottom before it rained. Chino had filled us in about many other groups having to trek up Acatenango in the hail storm yesterday, who would be in wet soggy clothes now, lugging a heavy soggy bag with them. I was still feeling the glow of dad watching over us, I knew we would be safe from rain.

As we entered the Cloud Forrest our pace fastened a little, as we were a little more protected from the wind, and the terrain not as steep. We were still marvelling at so much of the path, as it looked unfamiliar in this morning light, but was the same one we had crossed yesterday.

Within a few hours we had reached the last leg of our hike. This was incredibly slippery, and we now faced a new challenge of having to squeeze past fresh groups of trekkers on their voyage up the volcano. Amazingly, we managed to see our English friends from Free Cerveza we had left in Lake Atitlan a few days before, and two lots of our Belize Sail mates as well! Shouting out plans of meeting up for drinks in Antigua, we waved them goodbye and slipped on down.

By about lunchtime, we had safely made it back to the dusty roads of Guatemala, absolutely exhausted, but dry and deliriously happy.

Hands down, that was one of the most incredible nights of my life. Sam and I still get fired up talking about the breathtaking views and powerful elements we were witness to from our little ledge off the side of Actanenango. An absolute MUST DO experience when in Guatemala. It was worth every part of the black toenail and aching legs I carried for the next three days after it!

Most of the shuttle fell asleep as we winded our way down to Antigua over the next hour. Sam was able to nod off after she pulled a hair covered in eye juice from the corner of her eye, and I couldn’t wipe the smile off my dirt covered face.