Hiking a Volcano with a Sinus Infection. As You Do -- Antigua, Guatemala

Tammo and I have a bet. Well, maybe not a bet so much as a fierce competition. We've both decided to make 2018 "the most adventurous year of our lives." 

(which... uh... might be tough for me. I've had some pretty adventurous years, as of late)

So far this year, I'm winning the bet/competition by leaps and bounds. Not only did I get my nose pierced, but I had to re-pierce it myself with a rather dull instrument (which gives me equal badass/idiot points. But we're not keeping track of the latter). I've also gotten giardia twice, been stung by a scorpion three times, and have eaten more brownies than any sane human being should eat in a lifetime (this might not equal adventure points, but I thought I should mention it anyway). 

So in order to keep 2018 adventurous, Tammo and I decided to hike Acatenango, a dormant volcano with a breathtaking view of Fuego, a remarkably active volcano. 

We left The Yoga Forest on Monday morning at around 7:30, boarding a lancha bound for Panajachel at 8:00. 

"We won't have much time for breakfast," I noted as we huddled on the cold benches of the boat with the lake breeze whipping at our sweaters and hair. "We probably won't get to Pana until 8:45, and then we have to book the shuttle and be on it by 9:30." 

"Maybe a quick breakfast." 

"Yeah, we'll see." 

Feeling rushed and slightly frazzled, I booked our shuttle to Antigua with the first tour company we happened upon. Which grossly overcharged me, but I really couldn't be bothered. 

It's only an extra six dollars, in the end. I'm not going to throw a tantrum over six dollars. Even though being ripped off isn't the best of feelings... 

In the spirit of adventure (and hunger) we pocketed our ticket, promised to be back at the agency by 9:20, and then speed-walked to the main drag of Panajachel. Where we found an average restaurant serving average breakfast. 

We so do not have time for this, I chastised myself as we sat down, watching the kids jumping hurdles in the school across Calle Santander. 

A meager plate of plantains, beans, and eggs graced our table at 9:17. And was unceremoniously inhaled by 9:18 and 8 seconds (give or take). 

"Necesito pagar ahora, por favor," I stumbled through a Spanish sentence as paltry as our breakfast. 

"Bueno," the waitress agreed, bringing me la cuenta and accepting my hundred quetzale note. Which I naively hoped she would pocket and then immediately produce some cambio for me. 

But in Latin America, there is never any cambio. Ever. Cambio in Central America is a myth. The waitress at this average restaurant serving an average breakfast couldn't muster my Q35 in change. To my dismay, she walked out the door and down to the tiendas below. Presumably to ask around for this fictitious phenomenon.   

"We can't wait," I checked the time on my phone and groaned. "Guess we'll just have to leave the extra Q as a big tip." 

So we abandoned our cambio at the average restaurant serving an average breakfast and jogged back to the shuttle.Where we clamored into the  back row seats, and I experienced yet another moment of intense gratitude regarding my short legs. 

Haha, I snickered to myself with great empathy and understanding. Tammo has to scrunch up so much more than I do to fit here. My knees almost have ROOM. This shuttle be spacious. I might not be able to reach the yoga blocks on the top shelf in the Shiva Temple, but this girl won't have aching knees by the end of the journey. Take that, tall people. 

In the midst of my satisfying snickering at the expense of tall people everywhere, I began to feel a modicum of dread trickle into my thoughts. The all too familiar sensations of tingling around my eyelids, of pressure in my forehead, of pain in my teeth, of burning in my eyes, and a comprehensively blocked nose started to surface.  

Damn... am I really starting to get a sinus infection right before hiking a four thousand meter volcano? 

Well. Poop. 

Our shuttle driver dropped Tammo and I off in Antigua's city center. Where Tammo ordered a smoothie at a creperie and I used the wifi to check Whatsapp for messages from Pancho, our couchsurfing host. 

Super, I thought, as I saw the notification for a couple new messages. I love when communication with hosts is easy.  

"Hey, how are you? tell me when you arrive to Antigua, because I'll have to go to the city at the end of the day." 

"Hi Pancho! We just arrived and are sitting at Luna de Miel. We can meet you wherever you want. :)"

"Excellent. If you could come to the house could be nice." 

"Would you like us to come now? We could be there in about twenty minutes." 

"Perfect." 

... 

"Tammo," I reluctantly told my poor friend who had just received his smoothie. "I think you have to get that to go. Pancho wants us to head over now." 

"I think this is a theme for today," my tentmate commented good-naturedly. "Not being  able to relax and enjoy the things we order." 

We did not make it to Pancho's in twenty minutes. We made it to Pancho's in forty minutes, as neither Tammo nor myself possess anything akin to a sense of direction. Even Google Maps couldn't save us from finally calling Pancho and admitting abashedly, "Hey, sorry we're late. We... uhh.... we can't find you." 

"Okay, I'm coming out," Pancho's easy-going voice assuaged my flustered nerves. 

Pancho is an architect and organic farmer from Guatemala City who's been living in his stunning home in Antigua for four years. He introduced Tammo and me to his rescued dog, Alpha (who is comprised entirely of springs and enthusiasm) and his three house rules. 

1) make the beds

2) wash the dishes after using them

3) Leave a note on his wall

     3a) write a recipe in his recipe book. If what you cook is good enough to earn a place in the recipe book. 

Pancho gave us the keys to his home, suggested a cafe and told us that we could leave most of our belongings in his home while  hiking Acatenango. 

"Okay, so, if you're going to the city tonight, we'll both probably be asleep by the time you get back," I mulled over what our opportunities to actually hang out with our host would be. "So... see you Thursday when we're done with the hike? Maybe we can cook you dinner that night and we can have a nice evening together?" 

So Tammo and I left our host and his enthusiastic dog and returned to Antigua's colorful, colonial city center.  To hunt down lunch and tour tickets and extra food for the next day's hike.

 

My night in a cozy bed in the warm room passed slowly, miserably, mournfully.

It's okay, Bourget. It's okay to feel crummy. It's okay that you're not at the top of your game. You don't have to have the "perfect" experience hiking Acatenango tomorrow. You just have to show up. And be grateful for whatever experience you have. 

I mean, you're in Guatemala, for the love of all things dairy. How lucky are you already? You don't need to let a sinus infection get you down. 

The next morning, my body still felt objectively miserable. 

This is what I'm given today. The universe, life, whatever (probably a lot of my own poor choices) have conspired to deal me this hand for the hike today. So. I have choices. I always have choices. I can a) give up and stay here until we go to the Forest on Friday. I can b) do it (the volcano) anyway and feel really bummed and unlucky the whole time, or c) embrace this as a challenge life is offering me. See if I can keep that same feeling of softness -- of distance -- I did while walking up the stairs at the Yoga Forest whilst on San Pedro. 

This is what life is giving me today. So. I'm going to work with it. See what kind of growth can be find in it. 

Also, if I hike Acatenango with an out of control sinus infection AND an infected nose piercing, I'm totally beating Tammo at the bet/challenge. 

... 

This is a secondary motivation, but motivation nonetheless.  

"Aimee, we don't need to do this," Tammo said in response to my cough of death. "We really don't. Don't feel pressured to do the hike because you're afraid that I'll be disappointed if we don't. We can just hang out with Pancho in Antigua and then go back to San Marcos on Friday."

"No," I stubbornly slung Ellie onto my back. "No, I think this is just what life gave me today. And that I'm supposed to work through it. So I'm gonna. But thanks for taking the pressure off me," I added quickly. "I really appreciate it."

"Of course."

So my tentmate and I shouldered our packs and strolled into the city center at seven on Wednesday morning, stopping at Cafe Barista to grab a quick coffee before heading to our tour company. After picking up about fifteen excited trekkers, the shuttle left Antigua and catapulted down windy roads towards the base of Acatenango. On the way, we stopped to pay the Q50 entrance fee to the park and to pick up our food for the rest of the day/the next morning's breakfast.

"Is this one meal?" a fellow on the shuttle looked at the scant portions in utter bewilderment.

"Two meals?" another trekker fumbled through her bag.

"Nah, I bet this is all three," I grimly announced.

A banana. A tupperware of dry spaghetti. A piece of bread and some chicken. Some yogurt and some powdered chocolate. 

I'm so glad Tammo and I came prepared with an abundance of bread, cheese, bananas, and pastries. 

We pulled into the trailhead parking lot sometime before noon. 

Here we go, I blew my nose. And tried not to curse as the infected nose piercing and the sinus infection collaborated to create a cacophony of pain in my face

Blurgh. 

The air at the trailhead was cool and crisp, made colder by a slight breeze. I braced myself as took my first breath, expecting the brisk air to hit my aching sinuses with all the softness of a freight train.

But... this actually feels good... Huh. 

Tammo and I were bombarded by young girls peddling walking sticks.

"Stick? You need. Very important."

"No, gracias," I said to the seventh person who'd approached me with a walking stick.

I'd rather have my hands free to take photographs. And who needs a walking stick, anyway? Pshaw. Not this Colorado girl.
 

Turns out, this Colorado girl needed a walking stick. The hike was... uh... not flat, and the trail was mostly made up of loose dirt and rock. Or slippery mud. Both of which are terrifically compatible with this Colorado girl falling head-over-heels-onto-ass. 

This... hurts so much... I thought as I trudged up the treacherous trail. But work on finding that distance, Bourget. Feel that softness. You can do it. 
  

"Aimee?" Tammo turned around, worry in his voice. "Do you want me to carry Fat Ellie?"
 

"No, it's okay," I huffed, aware of how much effort it took to blurt that short sentence, but not troubled by the effort. "I can do it."

"Just let me know."

"I will."

I wanted the first rest-stop to be the final destination. Desperately. 

Alas, we recommenced our slippery, vertical journey after about ten minutes of blissful sitting.

You got this, Bourget. You do. Feel the pounding of your heart. Acknowledge how heavy your breathing is. Be present to the insanity of your raging sinuses. And don't resent any of these things. Don't feel like anything should be other than what it is. Work with what your body is giving you today. Search out a smidgen of gratitude, even. 

We stopped for lunch a couple hours into the trek. The tour company lunch consisted of bland rice, fried chicken, a slice of lemon, and a few pieces of lettuce.

Yup, this is why the fellow at the tour company told us to bring extra food.

Eventually, the trail led us up and into a cloud. And as visibility dramatically decreased, the feeling of somehow stumbling onto a magical movie set increased.

This is mesmerizing.

After an interminably long time trudging through the cloud, we emerged into warm sunlight. 

And saw Fuego for the first time.

"Twenty minutes up, forty minutes flat," our guide consoled his weary trekkers with how close we were to our campsite. 

Only twenty more minutes up? My god. You're almost done, Bourget. 
 

 When we finally arrived at the campsite, I felt on top of the world. In more ways than one.

I did it. Holy bananas. I just finished a pretty tough hike with a sinus infection and an infected nose piercing. And I managed to enjoy it. Which is the most important thing for me, I think.
 

 
The rest of the evening was mostly spent with gazes glued to Fuego. Watching in awe as the volcano erupted over and over and over again.

This is an experience I never even dreamed I could have. That my life would lead me to. 
 

But here I am. 
 

As we watched Fuego, wisps and walls of clouds floated in and out, framing the volcano and creating a breathtaking, whimsical, dynamic spectacle. 

I could sit here indefinitely. Be mesmerized eternally. 
 

The sun finally set and Fuego revealed the color hiding behind the puffy pillars of smoke.

...

Here I am. 
 

 We spent the evening witnessing the wonder of Fuego, drinking cheap Guatemalan rum, and trying to keep warm around a small, smoky fire.

"Tomorrow, four o'clock, we hike to the top for sunrise. One hour and half," our guide told us before all of us exhausted trekkers climbed into our tents. Exhausted trekkers and stray dog who crawled in through the broken tentflap and curled up on my feet.

"Aw, he looks nice," Tammo protested as I attempted to shoo the stray from the tent.

"He's a strange dog. I don't know him. I don't want a strange animal I don't know sleeping in my tent on my feet," I said, dog trauma rearing its ugly head.

But the stray refused to vacate the tent. When I gingerly pushed him towards the tent flap, he simply went limp, becoming a cold, stubborn, immovable lump of fur.

Guess this is another challenge from life. Oh goody. 

I spent the whole night awake with a burning fever and pounding headache, tossing and turning on the sleeping mat (which seemed harder than the ground beneath it) and listening to Fuego erupt in the not-so-distant distance.

At four am, the tour guide tapped on the tent.

"We're ready to go up!" Tammo scurried to the battered tent door.

"No, we're not going," they replied. "The weather..."

I poked my head outside, shining my headlamp towards Fuego.

And saw nothing. 

I walked a couple meters away from the four person, bright yellow tent and then turned and shone my headlamp on it.

And saw nothing.

yup. Probably a good idea to not trek another hour and a half straight up. Not only would it be super dangerous, but what would be the point? we wouldn't see anything at the top anyways. 

So I went back to bed, took an Aleve and experienced yet another moment of gratitude for my sinus infection.

It means I can't smell myself right now. Which is EXCELLENT. 

At eight o'clock, we gathered around the small fire, and breakfasted on our yogurt, bananas, and powdered hot chocolate (which, given how unbelievably cold I was, tasted sublime). Then we packed up and began the long slog down the slope.

I'm so glad we're not walking up today. The poor trekkers who start this afternoon probably won't see anything...

We made it back down to the trail head around eleven. Back to Antigua by twelve. Back to Pancho's by one. Where we immediately took much needed showers, then trudged back into town to enjoy our final afternoon in Guatemala's old capital city.  

After eating a nutritious lunch of frozen yogurt parfait, Tammo and I headed into the local market to buy food for the dinner we'd planned to cook for our couchsurfing host.

Tammo fried up a delicious batch of potato pancakes with chorizo and cheese. I made a dessert of bananas foster (as I do. Always). And, regardless of how exhausted we were from our volcano adventure, we stayed up with Pancho until well past midnight. Drinking, laughing, and just enjoying the sensation of being in a home again. Enjoying the warmth. The music. The comforting knowledge that we wouldn't have to put on our shoes and find a headlamp to use the "toilet" that night.

"If we come back again, I'll cook dinner and Tammo can make dessert. It can be a competition," I laughed while sipping my... err... third (?) glass of wine.

"I would be happy to host this competition," Pancho smiled. 

Wonderful. Now we have a friend in Antigua. A wonderful man we can visit when we want to relax and savor the experience of being in a home. Not to bash the Submarine in any way, but the heart of a home is in the kitchen. And neither of us have been able to experience that space in a while. 

Once a month weekend trip to Antigua to cook with Pancho? Yes, please.  

I left Antigua the next afternoon feeling sore throughout my legs, still a bit sensitive in my sinuses, happily full in my belly, and positively bursting with confidence. The confidence that comes when life presents you with the gift of a remarkable challenge, and you choose to explore the challenge, regardless of how much or how loudly your body is saying, "Eh, I'd rather stay in bed and watch netflix."

You explore the challenge and in doing so, discover that maybe your edge is a bit further along than you thought it was. Maybe you're capable of a bit more than you thought you were. Maybe you can say yes to a bit more of life than you thought you could.