Volcan de Fuego

Sometimes, the best days happen entirely by luck. I’m not saying to live your life by chance, but by being open to new things, new ideas, new places, you gain more opportunities for luck. I’d planned a day in Antigua, Guatemala, a nice little colonial tourist town that lies between two volcanoes, while on route to Mexico. Arriving at 3am the first morning, that day was a write off, for exploring the town, seeing what the craic was around, seeing what things there are to do. On route from Honduras, talking to a Slovak guy, he mentioned a hike where you can go up on an active volcano, but, unfortunately, it was two days, one night, so I didn’t have time. I’d a flight to catch across the border in Mexico.

Visiting the usual Spanish colonial plazas, churches, I could see the regular plumes of smoke rising from Volcan de Fuego above the town. Crazy that people live under this mountain, surely it can’t be safe. And it turns out that it’s not altogether safe. Antigua is fine, yet in June 2018 (two years ago), lava flows buried the town of Los Lotes in pyroclastic material and killed many of the residents, who had limited warnings to evacuate, killing at least 159 people and over 200 were left missing. Not ideal. Scenic though. I came across plenty of hiking shops advertising a hike up to Acatenango, the mountain next to Volcan the Fuego, but alas, I don't have time. In a coffee shop that afternoon, my email pings. Your flight has been delayed by 16 hours. Suddenly, I do have time. At 4pm, I go into one of the shops, and find space on a tour leaving the next morning. We’ll be back in Antigua by lunchtime the day after, loads of time to get to the Mexican border then. Let's go hike some volcanoes.

I’m given the gear, a helmet and a headlamp, and we get brought by bus to the trailhead. By 10am we’ve started walking, it’s a steep climb. 1500 metres above us is base camp, where we’ll spend the night. We’re already at 2300 metres. There’s a good bunch of us hiking, and I get chatting to an Irish pilot, Allen, who is there with his Dutch girlfriend, Daisy, and Dan, a Swede paraglider whose record was nine hours continuous flying. The company and conversation made the climb pass a little easier. Not that it wasn’t tough, four hours of constant rising, even with breaks, you’ll feel that by the top. Once sitting at base camp, sipping on tea, we got a panoramic view of Volcan de Agua, Volcan de Fuego and Acatenango, the three amigos towering well over 1000 metres above the land around. Volcan de Fuego was puffing off bits of smoke all day, nothing much though, I assumed there was a crater there that we’d hike up and see.

We were given two options for the evening: climb Acatenango, up above us, or continue over to Fuego. Fuego will be a longer, harder hike. Three options really, you could also stay at the camp, in your tent. About 4pm, we left to hike to Fuego, 4 hours hiking between getting there, waiting, and getting back. 300 metres down, 300 up, 300 down, 300 up, after already climbing 1500 metres this morning. We’d be coming back in the dark, so bring a headtorch. Walking down, and up, I questioned why I put myself through this, why people put themselves through long physically demanding hikes, and hoped to god it’d be worth it.

A few hundred metres from the peak of Fuego, we could see the puffs of smoke leaving its crater every few minutes. We were above the clouds now, and watched the sun drop into them as the volcano let off steam ahead of us. The sunset was an amazing sight, as below the clouds, it had to continue to the horizon, transforming the white fluff to an ice blue sea. As the sun dropped beneath the clouds, and darkness fell, the particles of lava glowed more clearly. Sitting watching the sun, we were the only group with helmets, and others were wondering why we had them. We didn’t know, no guides wore them, nobody had them on, we were carrying them in our hands, and were wondering the same. As the sun got lower, we turned to leave, when Fuego went off. First a big lava filled boom, then a second, bigger geyser of lava and pyroclastic rock that looked like it would take half the peak off with it. The entire mountain shook. You could hear our collective asses whistle they clenched so fast. The only thing stopping me running was the fact that no one else was running. The only thing stopping others running was that the guides weren’t running. We’re all sheep at the end of the day, as everything in my body was telling me to get out of there.

I considered putting my helmet on. We were maybe 800 meters away. And there were even some crazy bastards camping on the ridge by Fuego Volcan, 500 metres from where the explosions were going off. After the second explosion, we watched a slow leak of lava, and no more explosions, although the entire peak, and all sides of the summit, apart from ours, were covered in red hot ash and rock.

Walking back in the dark from Fuego to our campsite, trying not to get bitten by stray dogs, I was thinking. There is something about watching a volcano violently erupt in front of you that both scares the shite out of you, and humbles you at the same time. It’s a little like swimming out in the ocean, with the sea floors kilometers deep beneath you. Or getting caught outside in a storm. One becomes nervously aware that there are bigger forces at work out there, that are infinitely more powerful than you are, and there is no way to control them. One is insignificant in the face of nature. And it puts things in perspective.