Pretty Good for a Girl

One of the things I have most looked forward to on this trip was the chance to climb Central America's highest mountain, Tajumulco Volcano, in western Guatemala.  I have dragged half a backpack worth of winter clothing around five hot countries because I wanted to have everything necessary for this cold-weather climb - gloves, scarf, sweater, wind breaker, hat, etc.  I arrived in Quetzaltenango - Xela for short- (the jumping off point for the Tajumulco hike) on a Sunday evening and posted on this blog that by Tuesday I would be "trudging" up a volcano.  It didn't quite happen that easily. 

It turns out that the tour companies only like to do this particular hike on the weekends and they prefer to do it as an overnight.  It appeared that I was out of luck since I had arrived on a Sunday evening and I wanted to do it in a day.

After talking to four different tour companies and getting the same message, I decided to give it up and book a shuttle to my next destination.  But at 6 o'clock the evening before I was supposed to leave Xela, one of the companies called to say they were going to do a midweek hike.  I just had to be willing to spend the night at the top of a 14000 foot mountain.  No problema.  I can pretend for one night that it doesn't hurt to wake up after a fitful few hours of sleep on a hard ground in freezing temperatures ;) 

So, on Wednesday morning, instead of catching a shuttle out of Xela and western Guatemala, I took a 2 1/2 hour ride on a chicken bus to the foot of Tajumulco with a local guide, Carlos, and a 1/2 Norwegian, 1/2 Spanish 20-year-old kid.  Tajumulco is so far west in Guatemala, it's practically in Mexico.

In Guatemala, as in all of the other Central American countries where I have hiked, they have not discovered the glories of the swichback.  So instead of gradually and progressively gaining elevation as you hike, you climb straight up toward your destination.  It's gruelling.  I kept up with my hiking companions for the first 1000 feet maybe and then I started to lag.  And I lagged behind them the rest of the way.  They would stop for a break every 15-20 minutes.  I would catch up.  They would give me a few minutes to catch my breath.  We'd start out again.  I would fall behind.  So on...  Every time I caught up, Carlos, our guide, would ask, "Esta bien, Karen?"  And I would say, "esta bien, Carlos" even if I felt like I was dying. 

The scenery was a welcome distraction from the thinning oxygen and my malfunctioning muscles.  We couldn't have asked for better weather.  The sky was a bright blue all day, and never dimmed into the whitish, hazy blue that I am used to in the eastern US.  We walked past cultivated fields in the beginning of the hike, and past penned-up sheep, donkeys, and cows.  Then, into an area of low, alpine grasses and shrubs.  Just before lunch, we got into pine forests that were interrupted by grassy fields with trenches that had been dug through them by the flood waters of Hurricane Stan, which hit Guatemala a few years back.

The Trenches in the Foreground with the Summit in the Background

The pine trees were tall and thin, with the needles at the top and with no shrubbery on the forest floor, so when we got onto some of the higher ridges, we got un-interrupted views in several directions. 

A View on the Climb Up... Notice the Town in the Bottom Right Corner

Farms in the Valley Below Us

The last part of the trail took us up the north face, which was a cascade of rocks that had to be half-hiked, half-climbed up.  By this time, I was stopping to catch my breath every 10 steps.  The last little stretch was a big pile of white dust.  Ever tried to climb up dust?  For every two steps you take up, you slide back one.  But at the top of that stretch, I found myself standing on the rim of the volcano's crater, the bottom of which was a good 200 feet below me.  It was an easy walk another 100 feet around the rim to the campsite, and from there, being at the highest point in Central America, we had an uninterrupted 360 degree view around us.

We reached the summit at about 4pm, which gave us 2 hours to set up camp and enjoy the scenery before the sun set.  There was a thick blanket of clouds on the western side of the mountain range - perfect for sunset.

Looking to the Southeast (toward Xela and Antigua)

   

View to the Northwest and the Second Highest Peak in Central America.  (The bottom half of the picture is the rim of Tajumulco's crater)

Tajumulco's Shadow over our Campsite at Sunset

Sunset

After the sun sets, there isn't much to do in a campsite at 14000 feet, so we went to sleep at 8 and slept until the sun came up at 6.  It was a surprisingly restful sleep, although I could hear Latin Beat music coming up from the town below us (you just can't escape it).  It was cold and windy the next morning, but clear save the mist in the valleys.   

Sunrise (You can see Fuego Volcano in Antigua Erupting)

Looking North at Sunrise

I've never been so happy to drink bad coffee in the morning.  Just wrapping my hands around the hot cup was comforting.  While we ate our oatmeal breakfast, I noticed for the third time that Carlos had a little tattoo on his hand.  I asked him about it, and he gave me a little smile and told me I didn't want to know.  So, of course, I googled it when I got back to Xela and found out that it's the symbol for a prominent Latino gang.  This was an umsettling thought at first, but then I realized that it's probably better to hike under the protection of a gang member than not.  Life in Guatemala is like a box of chocolates...

The hike back down the mountain took about 1/4 of the time as the hike up.  It was another clear, sunny day and we made it to the bottom of the trail just in time to catch a shuttle bus back to civilization.  Carlos and I made it down first, and as we dropped our bags on the ground he informed me that I am an "extreme girl."  He explained that most women that he guides up the hill make it to the campsite below the peak (about 200 meters below the campsite at the peak where we stayed) but don't go all the way to the top for the sunset and sunrise.  Translating from his broken English, I take this to mean that I did pretty good for a girl.

A parting shot of the summit from the trailhead: