Tajumulco

On Saturday I woke up at 3.50AM after having slept awfully because I was worried I wouldn't hear my alarm. I put on my hiking boots and backpack and left. I picked up Jaimie, a pal from school and we met Josh, another pal from school by his house then walked the 25 minutes to the Quetzaltrekkers office on the other side of the park. Quetzaltrekkers is a non-profit tour/guide company who we went with as well as 18 other folks to Tajumulco, the highest peak in all of central America at 13,800 ft. We got in a pickup truck (2 trips) and got dropped off at the Minerva bus terminal where it became clear that all the vicious stray dogs hang out for the night. We hopped on a Chicken bus to San Pedro for an hour and a half, got off and ate breakfast of rice and beans at a restaurant, and hopped on another chicken bus for another hour+ that dropped us off near the trailhead. We began walking with up the trail towards the mountain which I´d seen before in the distance from the old Guerilla camp last weekend. My pack weighed around 40 lbs with my gear and the group gear too (nuts, spice kit, and pasta sauce as well as 6 liters of water). We stared the hike at around 10,000 feet and I had to be conscious of my breathing immediately. Deep breaths help. We took frequent breaks and I was doing fine. Other people were having a hard time with the weight and the altitude. The mountain off in the distance looked massive and like a hell of a climb once we got to the base. That day was spent getting to our base camp at 13,200 ft. On the way up there were young guatemaltecos with small backpacks with a blanket rolled up and tied on, wearing jeans and sweatshirts. We gringos all had synthetic clothes to wick away the sweat and keep up warm even if wet as well as adequate provisions if disater struck. Did they have first aid training or foam sleeping pads in case of injury? Did they have enough water to wash out a wound? What would they do if they got wet? The temperature drops below freezing at night and their illpreparedness could be their undoing! Or maybe they´re just tough Guatemaltecos who deal with much more difficult things on a regular basis and can handle things that I´ve been trained to prepare and double prepare for. I guess preparation is a luxury, another thing to which I´m privelaged. Towards the base camp I was having to rest with great frequency, but I recovered quickly, which, I guess is an indication of being acclimated. Good for me. We got to base camp and there was a group of campesinos, of all ages near a makeshift tent for 20 near our camp. They were conducting a ceremony of some sort led by a guy with a bible including a lot of chanting and one guy kneeling, the bible held over his head. A donkey, led by a few guys, that we saw on the way up had brought them provisions. The preacher and some of his pals came over to use and we talked for a little while and he spoke a little English and seemed surprised that we spoke Spanish. His followers all seemed really stoked to meet a bunch of gringos from all over the place. He didn´t seem to be familiar with Austria. We were unable to finish our pasta that dinner or our oatmeal the next morning so one of the guides brought it over to their tent and I assume they ate it. We played a round of energy ball (!!!) and Josh taught us a game that he had played with some campers at a camp he worked at. Big Booty is my new favorite game and I will bring it back with me for sure. We played until we were too tired to do the chant and as dinner was being prepared it started to hail. Clouds had been coming in on us (literally) for the entire time we´d been camped and now they were starting to open up. I was really tired so I lay down and then it started to rain and lightning came within a kilometer, but let up in time for dinner. I was thinking about assuming lightning position, if it got closer and was surprised the guides didn´t encourage us to be prepared. I guess NOLS trained me good. I was surprised how much of a disparity there was between my NOLS experience and the leadership there and the leadership on this trip. I was really shocked to hear one of the leaders say something was for pussies and two of them calling each other "big dick." It´s not that I have such a problem with such language, but rather in the context of group leadership I´ve been taught that that´s totally unacceptable. Whatevs. Anyhow, after dinner I went to sleep and slept pretty well considering. We all got up at 4 and hiked the 600 remaining feet up to the top to view the sunrise. My how there were stars and we could see the lights of Mexico on the other side. We all had headlamps and the group of Guatemaltecos ahead of us only had 2 flashlights among 10 people which made the class III (using your hands) climb really slow until we finally passed them and made it to the top. There was a blanket of clouds over most of the terrain below and the 5 or 6 other volcanoes were visible off in the distance, poking through the cloud cover. One of the volcanoes near Lago Atitlan was erupting far off in the distance with the approaching sun yellowing the sky behind it. Pretty rad it was. We watched the sun rise and make a shadow of our volcano in the sky opposite the sunrise. Then we headed back down around the crater along the ridgeline into a valley which led right into camp. We ate our breakfast of oatmeal with jam, sugar, peanut butter, granola, and cinnamon (XXXtra delicious), packed up camp and headed down. The breathing became easier and easier. When we got to the road that led to where we were to catch the bus there were a few houses and a couple of dirty little kids ran out saying, "Quetzal, quetzal," but alas they got no quetzal. Bummer. Their old man was standing in the doorway of their cement block house in a cowboy hat and jeans with a big belt buckle. We got to the main road and saw a group of soldiers walk by with their big ol guns which made me a little nervous, but I guess massacres are for campesinos, not gringos. We cram-jammed onto an already-filled- to-capacity chicken bus with one of our guides hanging onto the bar by the door for dear life. I had my crotch against some poor lady´s shoulder. She´s suffered worse things than gringo-crotch, I´m sure. We stood for the entire ride, as is the style and finally got dropped off at the bus station in San Pedro where we hoofed it to a restaurant a good walk from the station. They fed us rice, tortilla, salad, and lemonade. I was very apprehensive about the lemonade and the salad, but one of the guides said he drinks the lemonade every week and doesn´t get sick and I figured the restaurant has a lot to lose by poisoning 20+ gringos every week. So I dug in, but still avoided the salad, for the most part. I asked the manager if the food was safe for gringos and she assured me it was, but my new pals reminded me that I would only hear what I wanted to hear from a restauranteur in Guate. A day later and I think I´m fine, but these things can take a little time to develop. We got on another Chicken driven by an insane man who took that thing to its limits, especially around blind turns and straight aways. Fortunately that 1962 Blue Bird handled like a goddamn Ferrari and functioned as an extension of the drivers body, like fighter pilots´ planes do. I gripped the seat in front of me as hard as I could, sitting next to Jaimie who was also convinced that doom was a´comin´. After a while I decided to surrender to the Chicken Bus Gods and a bucket of peace washed over me. Acceptance is key. I noticed the Guatemaltecos don´t worry about dying on a chicken bus, at least outwardly. My strategy worked for a while, but then I´d grip again and have to chill myself out with some more Zen. Towards the end of the ride the seat in front of me started to give. One of its two supports had totally broken off and the 500lbs of european heft were making it bounce a lot with every bump in the road. I didn´t think my legs could handle being broken in guatemala so I kindly asked my fellow trekkers to get up and let the seat do what it wanted without their assistance. Finally we got to Minerva and walked the entire way back to Quetzaltrekkers HQ to return borrowed and group gear. On the way I saw a Nissan Sentra with an all-rear-windshield-covering NIGHTWISH decal!!! That band has some serious global reach. I walked all the way home, showered, ate dinner, and went to sleep for a long long time.