Reaching new heights (literally and figuratively) in Guatemala
“Nothing in the world is worth having or worth doing unless it means effort, pain, difficulty… I have never in my life envied a human being who led an easy life. I have envied a great many people who led difficult lives and led them well.”
~Theodore Roosevelt
The feeling of accomplishing something you weren’t sure was possible is a pretty exhilarating thing. Pushing yourself beyond your comfort zone can be both mentally and physically exhausting. But I’m coming to the realization that nothing worth doing is ever going to be easy. The most challenging and rewarding part of my journey in Central America thus far, have been the two hikes I completed in the Guatemalan highlands a few weeks ago. The first was Volcán Tajumulco; an overnight adventure to the highest point in Central America (4222 metres above sea level).
♠ Volcán Tajumulco ♠
When I began researching Guatemala, it didn’t take me too long to find that it contains the highest peak in all of Central America. After discovering this fact, it took no time at all to know this was somewhere I was going to go – no doubt in my mind. It’s a two day, one night trek with a total elevation gain of 1200 meters. With a group of twelve other trekkers and four fearless guides, we begin at 3000 meters above sea level. This is already the highest altitude I’ve stood at in my life. With our heavy overnight packs strapped to our backs we begin the ascent in good spirits. The uphill battle begins. It’s a warm day with the sun beating down but there’s a nice breeze. The slow burn begins to settle into my legs. My heart’s working a bit more than it’s used to. First long rest stop. Feeling ok. Get handed a single Starburst candy from a guide. An explosion of deliciousness in my mouth. Since when did these things taste so good? Ready to go again. We continue up through the mountain and hit some mercifully shaded patches. I’m starting to hit my stride. It’s always a bit tough at the beginning but once I get going I start to find a rhythm. We stop for lunch at what seemed like the perfect time. I was ready for food. The guides break out some fresh bread, veggies, avocados, hummus and the spice kit to add that extra something. Anyone that’s ever done any amount of hiking knows that after the intense physical exertion, the taste of food is magnified so that even the plainest of meals tastes like 5 star cuisine. Needless to say, our simple lunch was oh so delicious. After packing up, it’s time for the final push up to base-camp. This is where the trouble starts. Shortly after starting out again, I start to feel the effects of altitude sickness. It starts with mild nausea, dizziness, and a headache – all of which are tolerable. We’re almost there. Don’t give in to weakness. Keep pushing. Second wave symptoms set in pretty soon after. These are the ones that hit me the hardest. The higher we ascend, the thinner the air is becoming. No matter how big a breath I take in, it feels like my lungs aren’t getting any air. At the same time, my heart is beating rapidly. Much faster than it should be considering I’ve slowed to turtle pace. I feel weak. My muscles don’t want to work. I’ve never felt anything like this. I’ve pushed through pain before but this is different. I feel like I’m pushing against a brick wall. Take three steps. Can’t get air. Stop. Just breath. Still can’t find the air. Slow it down. Go to your happy place. Riding fresh pow on a blue bird day. Breath in deep and slow. Breath out. Start again. One step at a time. One foot in front of the other. Left. Right. Repeat. Move slowly, but keep moving. This is the hardest leg of the journey for me. I’m last of our group to make it to base-camp, but I make it nonetheless. After chugging some water and a couple ibuprofen I take a lie down. I know the work isn’t done yet. In a couple hours time, Conception (the smaller of the twin peaks) is waiting for me. I didn’t come all this way to miss seeing the sunset. After a short rest I open my eyes and sit up. I’m feeling mildly better. My head has stopped pounding and I don’t feel as queasy. I emerge from the tent to find most of my comrades sharing stories, baking in the bright sun and snacking on various goodies they brought for the journey. I join them for a short time but it’s not long before we’ll start our journey to watch the sunset. Soon the guides come to rally the troops. Our campsite has fallen out of range of the sun’s rays. It’s starting to get cold. We bundle up and begin our ascent. Almost instantly, the altitude hits me again. Still not fully acclimatized. It’s not nearly as bad this time though. Just have to take it slow. Breathe deep. Breathe slow. I make it to the top feeling well enough to enjoy the sunset.
View from Volcán Tajumulco at sunset
If the clouds weren’t so thick you might be able to see Mexico from here.
Catching the sun’s final rays of the day.
The sun makes it’s final appearance before it ducks completely behind the clouds. It’s now quite cold. After all, we’re now above 4000 meters. We descend back down to basecamp and devour the pasta and hot drinks our guides have prepared while we were gone. With an early morning ahead of us, it’s off to bed at 20:00 hrs. The last tricky bit about altitude is that until you’re acclimatizes – it makes it hard to sleep. I couldn’t have had more than thirty minutes of sleep at a time. Constantly waking up and never quite getting into that restful sleep space. On top of that it’s freezing cold. The six of us in our tent have every layer of clothing on that we brought with us. I don’t remember being comfortably warm until about 03:00 hrs. At 04:00 hrs we are given the wakeup call from one of the guides. We’re given twenty minutes to wake up and prepare for the final ascent. Only two hundred odd meters more to catch the sunrise atop the roof of Central America. Nobody wants to open unzip the tent door. We’re all savouring the warm bubble of body heat we’ve created overnight. The guides give us the last call. Open the tent. In comes the chill. It’s cold again. Headlamps on. Start trekking. I feel much better than I did yesterday. Two others feel worse. They choose not to make the final ascent. I understand. Altitude sickness is no walk in the park. We march ahead through the dark along the flat. We reach the start of the rocky, uphill portion. Our guides give everyone the option of turning back at this point. No one takes it. We begin climbing the naturally carved out stairs in the mountainside. I’m tired. I don’t feel like I’ve slept at all. Breathing is heavy. One foot in front of the other. Left. Right. Repeat. The climb is much easier in the dark. I’ve got my blinders on. It’s tunnel vision. No choice but to focus on the next step in front of you. That’s all you can see. Before we know it, we’ve reached the summit. High fives and pats on the back all around. Now all that’s left is the cold wait for sunrise. We made good time. That means a longer wait. It doesn’t seem so bad though. We made it and our guides break out some cookies. It’s not a bad view either:
Just before sunrise. Pictures can’t do the experience justice.
the colours are unreal.
After the sun rises up and daylight starts to shine down, we begin the descent route back to base-camp. Stripping off those layers we cocooned in at the summit, we descend quickly back to the hot drinks that await us at camp. After a hearty breakfast of Mosh, granola and PB&J, we’re ready to start the journey back down. We quickly pack up camp and begin the descent with our fellow hikers who we now call friends. As challenging as the uphill parts can be, I prefer them far more than the downhill bits. With my history of ankle sprains, descending takes complete focus as one misstep will end up with me on the ground. I make sure to stop every now and again to enjoy the scenery. We take an alternate route down through some lovely forested areas with some more spectacular views.
the view on the way down.
the photo’s a bit stylized for effect but the natural beauty is there.
new friends.
With each meter we descend, I feel more like myself. The altitude loses it’s hold on my body and I have a renewed sense of energy. After a few short hours we arrive back at the base and stop in at a comedor. We indulge in some beers and devour the food placed in front of us. After lunch it’s a 3 hour bus ride back to the Quetzaltrekkers office to return our gear. Immediately after this task is complete, I say my goodbyes and I get back to my hostel for a hot shower and a warm bed (both of which have never felt better). I turn in with a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment… but also a hunger for more.
♠
Beautiful sunsets and sunrises!
Indeed! I still don’t think you can capture the true beauty in pictures though. So much better with your own eyes.
The pictures are absolutely amazing!!
Thanks so much!