I sucked in an incredibly fresh breath of air; it was state of the art and I had never inhaled its equal. The air at 12,000 feet may be thinner, but it’s untainted and organic. I decided to go for a second round of deep breathing but I was met by an offending stench. I was even more offended when I realized that the funk was coming from the pits of my arms. I scrounged through my 25 lb. pack so that I could have a moment with my “Powder Fresh Secret.” I felt like there should have been music playing in the background as I dramatically applied it to my unshaven armpits. It did not 86 the smell but it did make the stink less raw.
I was perched on top of the third largest volcano in Guatemala with a small, yet matchless group. The volcano was dormant and held the name Acatenango. We had started our hike the previous day at ten in the morning. Our hike began with us donned in wife beaters and thin pants and by the time our world dropped below freezing; we were layered in every article of clothing that we had transported to the top. The hike was a character building hike that went straight up hill for hours on end. As the sun set, our team devoured dinner and we were asleep before we even had a chance to zip up our sleeping bags. Our night was filled with interrupted sleep because the sound of an exploding thunder kept delaying our dreams. The best part about that thunder was that it wasn’t thunder at all; but it was the overwhelming sound of an active volcano. Our campsite was a front row seat to Volcan Fuego; which happens to be one of the most active volcano’s in the world. After each eruption, the cone of the volcano seemed to be on fire as the lava slowly let gravity take its force.
My night of sporadic sleep could also have been blamed on my lower intestines. I think I had eaten one too many “energy” bars and I had OD’d on fiber. So I had at least three mini-adventures during the night that consisted of me cautiously roaming around with my head lamp leading the way to a safe spot to relieve my swollen stomach (or as our group called it; the food baby). The steepness of the volcano made it difficult to find a temporary restroom spot and the intense force of the wind didn’t make the toilet paper extravaganza any easier; but it was all necessary to relieve my stomach problemas.
After an interesting night and a marvelous orange sunrise we headed toward the actual peak of Acatenango. The sun beat down, the thin air got thinner, the dirt was in every crack of our bodies (and I mean every crack), and the dizziness began to set in. There was no alternative of falling or passing out because a fall from that height was not an option. The only thing that kept our group pressing forward was the encouragement from our professional local adventure guide; his name was Ryan but we called him
La Maquina(the machine)! His faith in us was inspiring and some how or another—we all made it to the peak which happened to be at 13,045 feet (that’s 3,976 meters for all you non-Americans).
We passed the next few days in Antigua; which is a magical city. The kindness of strangers is overpowering in this town. And it didn’t hurt that its antique beauty partners with the doorway to adventure; so it makes it a perfect pueblo for outdoor enthusiasts. Our small group was enjoying each others company since we had connected from the common bond of pooping outdoors. I had already learned to admire each of them as they each brought something different to the table. But they did all have one thing in common: their flexibility and their attitudes surpassed those of any normal caliber. They weren’t capable of complaining in a serious manor and if they were, they hid it the entire eight days. I have such a massive respect for people that live with a positive attitude. Their affirmative mood and their positive outlook on everything made our trip!!! (and I want to thank you guys for that!!!!!!!)
After a day or two of soreness passed, we traveled via van to the top of a mountain that held unspoiled views. Our spectacle consisted of mountains; volcano’s and the crystal blue Lake Atitlan. Our team happily jumped on some mountain bikes and rolled quickly down the hills, past rural villages, down more steep inclines at ridiculous speeds and into a town that was washed with color. The name of the Pueblo was Panajachel. It was filled with entrepreneurs that hadn’t hit puberty yet. The women that say “you can never have too many purses” have never been to that town. It was the land of souvenirs. But it was also the land of more people that exuded awesome-ness. Everyone smiled and everybody was neighborly. It had a good feel to it.
When the sun started to retreat, we jumped on a lancha(small boat) and headed towards our hotel. It was called the Volcano Lodge and it was a majestic place that was lost in the trees. After a surprisingly great night of sleep, we started our next day by climbing in sea kayaks and paddling for two scenic hours over the lake. We were lucky to be able to paddle free of any wind. We followed the maquina(Ryan) up some steep rocks till we looked down about 50 feet. Then we jumped. It was amazing to say the least (except for the part when we first hit the paralyzing-ly cold water).
We hiked back for about three hours on the edge of cliffs and through rural towns. We were able to see men and women in traditional clothing. We passed their dirt-floored houses, their chickens running in and out of them, and of course their big white smiles! It was an experience like no other. I hadn’t even left the country yet and I already couldn’t wait to come back!!!!! Me encanta Guatemala
During our trip, our group set aside some time to give back to the community. We brought food to families, fed the homeless and entertained children at a special needs orphanage. Those moments were just as important to me as my near death instances that I crave. They remind me of a purpose; whether we recognize it or not, we all look for that in life. We all strain to better ourselves and that’s how I pine to better mine.
There is a void that sneaks its way into my life on a regular basis and it screams at me “why aren’t you doing more? There are so many people you could be helping so step up your game!” Those are the howls that make me want to give up because I’m not doing enough. My convictions start seeping through and I start second guessing everything I am doing. Questions start flooding my mind. Guilt attacks. I think things like: I’m not doing enough. And: It’s not fair to be helping one situation and not the other. But I can’t allow myself to think that way. I don’t have the answer to all of life’s mysterious calamities. So instead of beating myself up about what I can’t do to help the world, I focus on everything I can do. I can buy stoves that will assist the hunger problem in Darfur. I can collect books for the children of Honduras so that they will have a better shot at an education which will enable them to end their vicious cycle of poverty. I can bring highly needed shoes to an orphanage of 15 small children that are all under the age of five.
We spend so much time focusing on the negative until we go stark raving mad and nothing gets done. So my suggestion to myself and to others is—find your purpose; your meaning, your aspiration, your target, your mecca, your scope, your scheme; whatever you want to call it, just find it! And once you catch it, don’t let anyone make you feel inadequate about having it. We are not all meant to do the same things or care about the same things in life. If you have a burden for the orphanages in Cambodia then hold fundraisers to raise money for supplies that you can send them. If you have a heart for India, then volunteer for community projects in Dharamsala. If you feel drawn to help your home town, then get to your nearest computer and google till you find something. Recognize your purpose and go for it! Your life will be changed for the better and so will the life of someone else.
A Special Thank you to Old Time Outfitters!
www.wanderlustadventures.org
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