Los Volcanes

These were the real reason that I traveled through Guatemala, these huge mountains that towered over all the towns through which I passed. Don´t get me wrong, it was great to explore urban areas, but I can only take so much of the markets and the crowds and the backfiring, honking traffic.

I first took a shot at Volcán San Pedro, the 3020 metre volcano that lies on the southwest end of the lake. My thwarted attempt at Acatenango back in Antigua had made me especially anxious to trek, so I signed up with a trusted tour company, gathered my gear, and set my alarm for 5:30 am. I don´t normally sleep well the night before a hike because of excitement. This time however, I slept great. So great that I slept through my blasted alarm till 7 am. I was furious with myself. I ran down to the tour company, but it was locked shut. However, thanks to the advice of a friendly Spaniard who had hiked San Pedro the day before, I returned at 8 am and was able to jump in with another guide and group. Disaster averted.
Besides being annoyed with the late start, I quickly became annoyed with the other trekkers, a couple my age from the UK who confessed to have hiked hardly ever. I didn´t mind climbing at a slower pace, (I myself was a spectacular caboose just a few days later), but I did mind the increased whining from the girl, who didn´t like how hard the trek was. San Pedro is 3,020 metres tall, and the average ascent is 3-4 hours. How you sign up for an excursion like that and expect it to be a stroll along the Thames, I have no idea.
The moaning and groaning was obnoxious, but the hike itself was good. After climbing the peripheral highway for a bit, we hit the park entrance and made our way through coffee trees and corn fields, occasionally bidding ´Buenos días´ to the local farmers in their plaid shirts and galoshes. The trail became steeper as we passed into dense forest, shaded from the sun which at that point was in full swing. After 3 ½ hours, and many moans and groans, we hit the final ridge. The summit itself was small, a space perhaps 10 yards wide crowned with boulders. There were two overflowing garbage bins on the south side that really added to the ambience, but the view was spectacular. At first we were completely shrouded in mist, but after waiting a bit we felt some warmth from the sun, and literally in seconds the clouds disappeared to reveal the lake shining below. Dark blue against dark green hills, and above both of those a sky as blue as a robin´s egg. The same waxing and waning of clouds occurred behind us as well, sometimes revealing the other two summits of San Pedro and the mountain chains far behind them. It was a little noisy up there thanks to a group of Italians that beat us to the top, but it was still good to be up high, away from the hubbub below.

My second hike was out of a dismal city called Quetzaltenango, where I snagged a trip to Volcán Santa María at the last minute with a Frenchman named Robin and a guide named Carlos, a Guatemalan who could have been a character out of Fern Gulley. He had long hair, showed us different plants used for traditional medicine, and spoke frequently and cariñosamente about ¨Nature¨.
I didn´t think I would luck out again if I slept through my alarm, so I set two alarms and was ready for my ride to the trailhead at 5 am. And yes, in case you were wondering, this is trip where I was the spectacular caboose. Both Carlos, who climbs all kinds of peaks in Central America, and Robin, who prances through the Pyrenees on a regular basis, could have run up the mountain. I tried to keep pace with them, but soon realized that I could either keep that up and fall over dead, or climb at a snail´s pace and actually see the summit. I chose the latter, and holy cow am I glad that I did. The initial ascent was similar to San Pedro, through fields and coffee trees, and then we jumped into the forest and wound steadily up along rocky, slippery terrain. As we approached the last quarter of the climb I began to see lupines, those wonderful, bright purple flowers that adorn so many trails in the Northwest, and when I finally finished the trek I found the summit´s sides covered with them. Santa María´s peak was extensive, deserted, and also mist-shrouded, but once again it parted for us to reveal a panorama of cloud fields, other mountain peaks, and even the Pacific Ocean to the far south. We had an hour to walk about, rest on the rocks, and just take in the beauty. It was so still up there, with the air so chilly and clean, and the earth 3700 metres below.