There are proper and improper ways to climb Guatemalan volcanoes. I have climbed only one, and unfortunately I chose an improper method. Volcán Acatenango is located about an hour from Antigua, where I reside. That is, it is an hour if you know the proper way to get there. Alternately you can go in a gigantic arc and take two and a half hours to get there. I was first approached about joining the planned mission at approximately 6 pm and my response was essentially, “What, are you kidding? That’s insanity.” Then we started drinking rum and playing blackjack for spare change. By 1 am, flush with my winnings and the resulting ego boost of taking all the money from the prospective volcano climbers, I was somehow convinced that a: It’s not that big a volcano, and b: I could make it up easily. Well, I was wrong on both fronts. The damn thing is huge, 16,000ft tall, and no, I couldn’t make it up easily. 8:00 am, insistent pounding on my door. “Jake you lazy bastard! Get up! We’re climbing a mountain!” Groans of protest emit from somewhere deep within my body. The plan is to leave, out the door by 9:00 am at the absolute latest. 11:00 am leave to get on a bus. We actually have no idea of the name of the town, so we start asking how to get to Acatenango. “We want to climb the volcano.” I tell people. “Why?” one guy asks me. I am stumped. Part of me wants to reply, “Because its there.” But this seems trite. I mean, we’re four hung over guys off to climb some stupid volcano because its something to do, we’re not climbing Mt. Everest or anything. We are informed that the direct bus doesn’t leave until 1:00 pm but alternately we can go a rather roundabout seeming method and the first leg is leaving immediately. 11:45 arrive in Chimaltenango to change busses to Ciudad Acatenango. Solicit directions from police officers who ask odd questions about England. “Is England still part of the Soviet Empire?” “Do people speak English there?” 1:10 pm arrive in Acatenango. We are unable to see the volcano anywhere, and Dean who has climbed the damn thing before expresses puzzlement about where we actually are in relation to the volcano. “Guys, I have absolutely no idea where we are or where the volcano is.” 1:25 pm sitting on a curb in Acatenango waiting for something to happen. 1:55 pm Ian goes off and buys a coke. 2:15 pm pickup truck arrives and asks if we want to go up the volcano. We pile in with several Quiche Indians who pepper us with rather pointed questions. “You guys have lots of money, huh?” “So, what do you have to give us as gifts?” “Why are you going to climb the volcano?” (A question that I had been asking myself since 8 am) 2:45 Arrive in Yepocapa at the bottom of the volcano, immediately begin looking for fireworks to buy. Billy from Yorkshire returns with potato chips that he refers to as “savory morsels.” 3:05 pm, begin actual climbing of volcano after giving up hunt for fireworks. My legs begin hurting immediately. I tell myself that the first half-mile is the hardest part and I will be fine in about 10 minutes. The initial phase of the ascent is up a nearly vertical dirt track through cornfields with no shade. Profuse sweating commences. 3:20 pm, my legs are hurting worse and I realize that my whole “first half mile” thing was a crock of shit and for the first time I ask myself, “What the hell am I doing climbing this stupid mountain when I could be comfortably perched on a barstool somewhere in Antigua enjoying a cold litre of beer?” 4:15 pm, we have moved out of the cornfields and into a bamboo forest. Someone makes the rather cryptic remark that they wished we had a panda bear to carry our packs. I announce that I want to turn around and go home. I am told to stop being a “woofter” and that we will take a break. At this point “Lord Of The Rings” nicknames are assigned. Dean is Gollum as he is our guide. Billy is Frodo because he looks like Elijah Wood (sort of). Ian is Legolas for no real reason and I am Boromir as I am the first one to die. This seems quite dorky to me, but I don’t care at this point. 5:45 pm, we are past the fern forest and into the pines which are becoming scarcer and scarcer the higher we go. Amazingly beautiful sunset almost makes me glad I have undertaken this fools mission. Feeling goes away as soon as I start walking again. 7:30 pm, pitch black but full moon is on the rise. The tree line is nearing and I can hear what sounds like a busy freeway above us. Turns out not to be a six lane blacktop but instead a steady howling from the wind driven mist obscuring everything. 8:15 pm, the trail is gone, replaced by small scrub and loose volcanic scree. The weather is slightly above freezing and I am wearing a sweaty t-shirt. In a feat of monumental stupidity I have been talked into NOT putting my fleece jacket on. As I look back upon this the reasoning escapes me. The only thing keeping me going is the idea that there is a possibility of fire and coffee at the top of the damn thing and I am going to make it or die trying. The latter seems more and more of a possibility. 8:50 pm, we have reached the summit and the mist and fog is so thick that the only person I can see is Ian about 10 ft in front of me. If he were to walk off the edge of the mountain I would surely follow. Dean in a sort of Gollum voice speaks of a shelter on the backside of the summit. Inwardly I am pissed off that he has any energy at all. 9:10 pm I decide to light the fire in my best Eagle Scout fashion: namely dousing the wood with gasoline and throwing a match on it. 9:20 pm I am inside sleeping bag with no intentions of coming out until the morning. I could go on and on about what a great adventure this turned out to be in the end, and how proud I am of myself for making it up, blah, blah, blah but I would be lying. To be honest I wish I hadn’t done the whole thing at all. I froze, my legs hurt for four days afterwards and I was in constant pain for most of the trip up and certainly the whole way down. One of the best moments occurred around four am when I was wide-awake and “You Take My Breath Away” by Berlin (is that right?) came on the radio. You know, the song from the sex scene in “Top Gun”. The morning was kind of cool, mainly because it got warmer and there was coffee and we made s’mores. Maybe when I am older and not traveling anymore I will look back on this whole escapade with fondness but I doubt it. I do recall upon returning to Yepocapa I reflected that I was glad I had done this once in a lifetime experience. I say “once in a lifetime”, because there is no way in hell I will ever do this again.