March 19th, 2022
The world is a beautiful place, and I wish I could remember every moment of every one of these days; encapsulate it in a little file in my memory, easily recalled any time life isn't quite as beautiful.
Many volcanos have been climbed before, but none this massive. This one, called "7 Orejas" which translates to 7 ears, has not just one peak, but seven, and the width of the peaks around the crater of the once active volcano is just under 30 kilometers. (18.6 miles)
(Here we can see the last two peaks, as we stood on peak one.)
From the peaks, that range from a mild walk in a meadow, to climbing on your hands and knees through thick underbrush, and scaling vertical dirt walls, you can see dozens of other volcanos, including my favorite, Santa Maria, and her baby, active volcano Santiaquito.
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Our challenge today: Summit each of the seven peaks...And I always thought one was satisfying.
Today started at 2 am. (Actually yesterday at 2 pm because I decided to arrive a day early to get some sleep instead of traveling all night;D) Bags packed, food carefully planned, body (yeah right) prepared and prepped. We loaded the bus with 30 sleepyheads, and drove to the base of the volcano.
Siete Orejas is so massive that you can't even see it in one photo - but you could see each summit, that looked like a volcano each one.
(7 Orejas filled with clouds, with Santa Maria in the background)
We all gathered for a prayer, asking for protection and safety on our venture before enjoying a simple uphill hike to the first peak where we watched an incredible sunrise, ate breakfast, and watched the little but powerful Santiaguito erupt in the distance....but then, the real fun started.
For the next two hours we crawled, bent down, backed up, and slid through little vine tunnels fighting with long thin branches with thorns and dead flowers throwing pollen dust everywhere. But hey, it was fun!
We reached our second and third peaks this way. Our fourth peak was a bit simpler, just narrow deer paths through the woods, interspersed with beautiful views, open meadows, and lots of brown, dead grass and flowers thanks to six months of dry season.
The next section became greener, and steeper, and after summit number five, which consisted of bouldering style climbing up rock walls and breathtaking views...
...a couple people decided to descend the mountain and take a bus to camp. I was half seriously considering it as my 50 pound backpack was cramping my style but...nahh.
As we continued we entered a cloud forest. We stopped and ate lunch in the chilling cold and then...well...
But when we got to the top- the highest point of the volcano, suddenly, everyone came alive. "Feliz cumbre!" (Happy summit!) And hugs were had every time someone made it up the grueling trail. And from our place on top of summit number six, we could see number seven - the final, and toughest challenge.
By then, night had fallen. We all had a renewed energy, knowing the challenge was over and it was all downhill from here - literally. Everyone congratulated each other and pulled out our headlamps for the downhill slide in the dark. (It was pure sand, hence the slide.)
Before starting the decent, Kenneth called a little reunion with the other guides. It was difficult to hear what they were saying, but word spread that "there may be men with machetes...but 'they know we're coming.'" Real comforting, right? Everything was going well, the full moon popped out behind the mountain, little night-time animals buzzed and chirped and flew around and glowed. We had come out to a "main" trail, when suddenly, there they were. We all stopped. In front of us, doting long machetes and club looking things, were somewhere around ten men standing in an intimidating line, shoulder to shoulder,. We called Kenneth and he fearlessly called a greeting out and approached the men. (I had been in the front. I slowly inched backwards letting the fearless men go first. Ha) Although I was surprisingly not afraid - I think calmed by all the experienced hikers around me that seemed unphased - the men didn't seem to happy. It was hard to make out everything they were saying, but Kenneth was calm, explaining how he had called someone and had permission to be there. He told them the name and the men all said, "We don't know anyone by that name." (I potentially felt a little worried at that point.) But then Kenneth showed them the calls, messages, and the full name of the contact - who, thank God, happened to be in the circle of men and had just forgotten to let the other men know, so when his whole name was said, all the men just looked at him.
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After a few more minutes of discussion, they stepped aside so we could continue down the trail. After we passed (I couldn't help worrying just a bit that they were going to attack us from behind after they let us go.) we continued into an eerily quiet town. It was dead. No people, few lights, a full moon glow...Kenneth told us to pass the town silently, that we don't want to disturb anyone here. But then...WOOF...At first it was just one...then two..then...imagine, a town full of something like 300 dogs, angry to have intruders. Thank God most of the dogs were behind fences, and for the ones that weren't, Kenneth seemed to be gifted in scaring them off simply by holding out a finger and staring them in the eyes. We continued through the town, up another mountain, and the barking grew fainter.
Every time I challenge myself, physically, mentally, and emotionally, I question why on earth I put myself through this - today I can barely walk, my knees hurt, every muscle in my body hurts, and I'm exhausted beyond belief. And then I remember those little files of happiness: the way that strangers become friends and push each other to keep going, the laughter and jokes to distract us from our aching muscles, the views from above the clouds, the pure rush of adrenaline as we slide on our bellies under a tunnel of bush and pokey vines, the way the headlamps shine in the dark, illuminated only by the full moon, the way the clouds drift about among the rock cliff faces...and the pure joy in every face when we finally reach the top.
Not every moment in life is beautiful, but it's impossible to deny that billions of tiny beautiful moments make life, life.
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The rest of the trek, another hour through the woods along a valley, was uneventful. We arrived to camp, ate a cold dinner, took warm showers, and passed out...Just to be woken up at 6 am for one more volcano.
Chicabal, with a lake in the crater and views of all the other volcanos. It was worth it, but my knees were done. I headed back to camp early and took a nap before we packed up and climbed in the bus for the three hour drive home.
