Pictures here
Tajumolco is the highest point in Central America, all 4222 meters of glory. Led by a crazy Guatemalan guide, Carlos, who always seemed to be smiling, I climbed the beast along with 8 others from the UK, France, and Holand. In fact, I was the only one from the US. We packed our changes of clothes, 4 liters of water, food, sleeping bag, mats, and set off at 6 am in the morning. I don’t think I have ever been to altitude that high before. The only thing that could stop me from getting to the top is if I got altitude sickness, or so I thought.
Switching buses through two different towns, we were dropped off at the side of the road,which hardly seemed like the starting point for the hike to the highest point in Central America. I expected a grand entrance with guards. But this is Guatemala – on a tight budget, so all we get is a sign. Carlos, standing no more than five feet five inches, was easily carrying 60 lbs of supply on his back. My backpack felt heavy because I carried all of my clean and dirty clothes just in case I got cold. After all, at the top it could get close to freezing with wind chills. The only difference between hiking and living in cold weather is that during a hike, there is nowhere to hide from the cold.
We walked through farm fields on a dirt road, which quickly turned narrow.  Not far into the hike, we were already way above the other nearby villages. The French couple fell behind the group since Carlos kept a pretty quick pace. The French girl gave her backpack to the second guide to carry, but still they were falling behind. We took turns walking behind Carlos. The air chilled and wind picked up. My Pirates of the Caribbean hat and gloves warmed me pretty good, but I sensed that they were going to be enough for much farther into the trip. Our bags felt heavier the higher we climbed; pretty soon we were all taking deep breathes to get more air to our lungs. Having climbed Tajumolco 28 times this year, Carlos had no trouble at all and kept a steady pace, only stopping when we all seemed like we were gasping for air.
By the time we stopped for lunch, my pants and shirt were soaked from my own sweat. The strong wind on the plateau made me not want to move, but as I stayed stationary, my body temperature cooled down fast. Not long after, I was freezing even through my jacket and sweater. I should have changed into a dry shirt then, but I was too cold to want to move. Our simple ham and cheese sandwich with onions and tomatoes tasted great after our initial stage up.
After lunch, the trek got much steeper; my quads were beginning to ache, but nonetheless we continued on. The distances between everyone, which had been pretty close, were now starting to spread out. We passed a few wild mountain cows, or maybe they were bulls. I don’t know. Who knew there are wild cows thousands of meters up on a mountain? I was beginning to regret not leaving all of my dirty clothes back at the hostel. I could drink my water to lighten the load on my back, but I wanted to save it for later.
I knew the hike wouldn’t be a piece of cake, but reality was setting in that I would be working hard to get to the top of this mountain. My left quad was tightening up more and more. We breathed quicker and took smaller and slower steps. Man, I signed up for this; I have got to get to the top. Eventually, we reached our camping ground. By then I was totally beat. I crawled into my sleeping bag and was happily wrapped up.
It must have been my wet shirt and the humidity trapped in my water tight pants that made me feel like an ice cube. I was pretty uncomfortable to say the least. The rain started to come down. The tent was kept dry luckily. Carlos cooked up some warm soup and spaghetti, which I chowed down pretty fast. By sunset, I was deep asleep.
Later in the night I would be woken up many times. I remember liking camping when I was in middle school. But after all these years living comfortably in cities, I am really not a camping person. I like my warm room, pillow-top beds, air conditioning. That night I was trapped in a completely pitch black tent with nowhere to run to.
And then the worst came. I woke up with a headache. I thought altitude sickness finally set in, but secretly I was hoping that I was only dehydrated. I am not a big fan of taking pills, but I was still 200 meters of steep climb from the top of the Beast. I wanted to get to the top. I needed to get to the top. I took the pill from Carlos.
We began the final ascent in the dark without our backpacks. This was the steepest part of the climb. Carlos didn’t let up on the pace; in fact without our backpacks he set an even faster pace. I would look up at the top of the mountain but each time the view didn’t change much. Looking up trying to see over the top is probably the biggest taboo in hiking because that just makes the hike that much harder. I could hardly see where I was stepping, but as light started to creep in, my steps became more secure. The morning wind blew right through my jacket. Somewhere along the way, my headache vanished. Other guys turned off their head lamps. We were just meters away from the top.
Holy cow! I felt great to make it up to the top. The cold, the leg cramps, the headache and whatever else bothered me no longer mattered. I got to the top. From there, we could see all the way into Mexico. The air was crisp. I took many deep breathes. I was no longer out of breath. How high up was I? It didn’t matter. I conquered it. Hella Yeah.
