Watching an active volcano erupt from atop another volcano is probably one of the coolest things I’ve ever done. I had this amazing experience in Guatemala, where Volcan de Fuego spews lava every 15 minutes or so. For the best view, there’s a campsite on the side of Acatenango, a neighbouring volcano that has (only) been dormant since the 1970s. The colourful eruptions are even more dramatic in contrast with the night sky, but hiking to the campsite was challenging to say the least.
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My experience hiking to an active volcano
We get up at the crack of dawn and walk to the Wicho & Charlie’s office. It’s about 20 minutes from our hostel, and the old colonial town’s cobblestone streets seem even more beautiful at this hour.
That’s Volcan de Fuego in the distance.
Hot tip: If you want to get some great photos of Antigua, this is the time to do it! Not only are there no people around, but the clouds are typically clear around the peak of the volcano this early in the morning. (I’m not a scientist so I don’t know why that’s the case, but it’s true.)
It’s 7am, and this cute little counrtyard office space is blasting — and I mean blasting — high energy rap music. I’m not sure it’s really the vibe I was expecting but it has certainly woken me up.
We help ourselves to tea, coffee, and snacks at the breakfast station. About 30 other people slowly filter in and the guides give us a run down of what we need. They’ve got all the essentials available for rent, from hiking poles and water bottles to hats and gloves. Even though it’s 29°C outside right now, we’re hiking to an altitude of 3,600 metres. So it’s going to be cold.
Fortunately we came pretty well prepared, with our own high-quality over night packs, 2.5 L water bladders, hiking shoes, wool socks, poles, layers, and rain gear.
With breakfast in our bellies and our bags filled to the brim with hiking essentials, we’re ready to hit the road. The team at Wicho and Charlie’s loads us into minibuses for the one-hour drive out to Acatenango — the volcano we’ll be climbing. At the base of the trailhead, there’s a last-chance bathroom stall and a woman selling snacks, water, and beer of all things.
The guides hand us each a paper bag with a handful of dog food in it. But don’t worry, it’s not a trail snack. There are a bunch of stray dogs that live in the area and love to accompany hikers on the way up! What a dream. I dole out a bit of dog food to make friends but save enough as a reward when they get to the top.
If I get to the top, that is.
I ask one of the guides how often people give up, and he says it’s not uncommon — at least once a month. We’ve met several people over the past two weeks who had already done the hike. And no matter how fit or outdoorsy they seemed, every single one of them told us how hard it was. I feel like we came into this with reasonable expectations. So while my legs are already burning, I know I can handle a four-hour hike. I’ve hiked the four-day Milford Track in New Zealand, so it can’t be harder than that! (Right? Right???)
As we start into section two — the switchbacks — the rain has rolled in.
We’re still going relentlessly uphill, but we can finally plant our feet firmly on the ground without sliding back in the sand. So there’s that.
The lunch spot is, umm, not what I’d hoped. Not only is there nowhere to sit, there’s only a thin, hole-y bit of plastic draped over a branch for shelter. We’re all soaked and there’s no escaping it. We continue to trek on up the switchbacks, and the rain starts to hit even harder. It’s making the rainforest look lush and magical, but it’s also making me cold.
Chesney has gone up ahead and I’m fighting for my life but not at the very back of the pack. One of the very old doggos has become my companion and we take turns encouraging each other to keep going. (However he is the only one between us getting treats, so it seems a bit unfair tbh.)
The pup on the right was my main hiking companion
The rain turns to hail as we climb higher. We’re in the clouds, surrounded by the storm. Lightning strikes and thunder crashes so loud it rumbles the ground beneath my feet. Marble-sized chunks of hail tumble down and I’m half-expecting one of the trees to fall in my path. I’m alone, except for my dog, and enthusiasm is waning.
I can barely see a metre ahead because the fog is so thick, and my hands are frozen and getting pelted by hail — painful even through my gloves.
I can’t feel the hiking poles in my grasp anymore, but I can see they’re still there and doing their part as I drag myself up this mountain. I’m also starting to feel a little pessimistic about whether we’ll even be able to see Fuego from the top. But at least the trail is undulating a bit rather than being a consistent, sharp incline.
It was so much worse than this at times, but photos weren’t a priority
This must be what they mean by "Guatemalan flat," which means I'm 75% of the way there.
“Flat” is definitely not how I’d describe this, but we’re on the home stretch, baby. Every time I pass a guide, they tell me we’re 10 minutes away. (This happens three times about 20 minutes apart, so the math ain’t mathin’ but I trek on.)
The only thing getting me through is the promise of the cabin at the campsite. Booking a private 2-person cabin wasn’t that much more expensive than the other options, so we decided to splurge. Chesney is probably already up there, cozying up with a hot chocolate by the fireplace.
After what feels like a lifetime, I make it to camp. My clothes are soaking wet and my legs are sore, but I am elated. The hail stops and the clouds start to break just as I see Chesney. The sun comes out, and there it is — Fuego in clear view, with black plumes of smoke rising from its crater. The combination of rain, hail, snow, and sun has created a rainbow. It feels like I’m in a movie. Every step of that gruelling hike was worth it for this moment.
But even with the sun out, it’s absolutely freezing cold. We head to our private cabin, which… isn’t exactly what I’d envisioned. Was I expecting a log cabin with 10-foot ceilings and a king-sized bed? No. But the whole cabin is the size of a double mattress. There’s a very tiny area in the entrance where we have just enough space to step in and remove our hiking shoes.
There are significant cracks between the corrugated iron and wooden planks that make up the walls, floor, and ceiling. And condensation is dripping from the roof onto our blankets. I really don’t think I’ve ever been this cold in my life, and please keep in mind I’m Canadian. It’s all part of the experience, but it’s only going to get colder as night falls and I already can’t feel my toes. We change into our dry campsite clothes and try to get warm under the blankets… but it’s entirely ineffective.
Our setup inside the cabin, trying to dry our clothes
Fuego is erupting and we didn’t come here for anything else, so we brave the cold to go outside and enjoy the views. The guides are handing out hot chocolate and a few other hikers have gotten a fire going. We lean our wet boots against the stones to dry and exchange stories around the campfire as the sun goes down.
Hot tip: Pack a pair of slip on shoes. I brought my Toms and it felt kind of silly to add anything to my pack that wasn’t necessary. But it’s such a blessing not to have to put on my boots to go the long drop bathroom in the middle of the night. Nearly everyone else tells me how jealous they are of the shoes lol.
As soon as it’s dark, the smoke rising from the crater glows red. We can now see — and hear — the actual lava spewing out and tumbling down the side of the volcano. It’s incredible.
I have to iclude this because it was too funny.
So on my walk up I’d been going more or less at the same pace as this other woman about my age. She’s wearing shorts, Blundstones, and just a plastic poncho to survive the hail storm. Not exactly volcanic peak hiking attire. We chat a little bit on the way up (suffering in solidarity) and Chesney and I share a table with her and her family over dinner.
She’s on the hike with her parents and 16-year-old sister… and they are not pleased with their mom, who organized the trip.
They’re all entirely unprepared. Her dad and younger sister are so mad they aren’t saying a word. You’d think they’d be over it by the time they were at the top and looking at Fuego, but that is not the case. The mom jokes that she’s been banned from trip planning for the foreseeable future. I’m sure once they all get to the bottom tomorrow and warm up, they’ll be able to look back and laugh.
There’s an option to tack on an extra hike to get even closer to Fuego. It leaves at 3 a.m. I’m really torn on whether I want to do it because like, obviously my heart says yes, but my legs are saying no.
It’s about three extra hours of steep incline up and down, and I’m not sure I can do that in the middle of the night and then also make it back down Acatenango. I pass, but Chesney and five other brave souls take on the challenge. They’re allowed to get close enough that they’re just 500 metres away from the crater!
I’m so impressed that he went for it, and super jealous when he comes back with pics.
But the hike back down is excruciating in a different way. We’re all moving much faster, but the descent is really hard on my knees! The joys of being 30, I guess.
By the time I’ve made it to the last stretch of black volcanic sand, my legs are wobbling. I basically collapse once I reach the end of the trail, right where we started. Now I understand why there’s a stall selling beer and snacks at the beginning of the hike — It’s for when you come back down.
Book the Acatenango hike in advance
I do a fair amount of hiking, and I think this may have been one of the hardest hikes I’ve ever done. Between the steep and unrelenting incline, the hail storm, and the altitude (3,500 metres), I can’t say I’ve experienced anything quite like it. But it was honestly amazing and I don’t think there are many places in the world where you can do something like this!
If you’re in Guatemala and love a good challenge, hiking Acatenango an absolute must. I highly recommend booking with Wicho & Charlie’s.
If you’re looking for an epic volcano experience that’s a little more chill, you should check out Pacaya. It’s about 1.5 hours by car from Antigua, and the hike is way easier and shorter. Sure, it’s not the same as camping overnight, but you can also cook pizza and marshmallows with the volcanic heat, so that’s pretty rad.
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