Day 13: Volcan Acatenango and Fuego summits

Last night I initially lay awake in my tent. Too excited, too curious and too adrenaline filled to sleep. But eventually tiredness got the better of me and I fell into a deep sleep. Chris grumbled at me in the morning, saying "That thing never bloody stops!" Apparently there has been consistent violent eruptions all through the night, but fortunately I'd managed to sleep through them. The first task of the day was a partial ascent of Fuego itself, to the shoulder below the summit. It seemed wreckless and irresponsible to head closer to such a force of nature that I knew could cause so much destruction. Back in 2018, a violent eruption resulting in pyroclastic flows killed 159 people and both in 2022 and 2023, large scale evacuations occurred due to huge eruptions. And here I am - lacing up my boots, strapping on my headtorch, zipping up my layers at 4am ready to get closer to this active volcano. Diego had briefed us on the risks in an attempt to settle any doubts. Firstly, as Fuego had been persistently active recently with relatively low scale, non-destructive eruptions, this was a good sign as it means enough pressure hasn't built up to cause a disastrous event. Secondly we would instantly turn back if the volcano began to show signs of "getting angry". Thirdly he outlined there are only 3 possible outcomes of this mission; 1. We stay safe and see the best possible show of our lives, 2. We see the best possible show of our lives while running for safety and dodging the "fire rocks" 3. We die seeing the best possible show of our lives. This was a lot to take on board at 4am, I let it wash over me, too tired to overthink and allow worries and doubts to cloud the experience.

The route initially descends steeply down sand caked slopes before gaining altitude to climb onto the shoulder of Fuego. A line of headtorches flickered in the dark and we began the descent. The slopes were steep and we slid uncontrollably initially until we learnt how to negotiate the terrain. Chris behind me huffed and cursed and sighed. I couldn't help but laugh. Normally people on these adventures are full of energy, bursting with enthusiasm and excitement. Chris however had a dry sense of humour, was extremely sarcastic and constantly questioned why he was here. His review of the volcanoes so far had been "These are the worst trails I've ever been on in my life", referring the fact that he struggled to remain upright due to the steepness and difficult terrain. "I'm done" he mumbled behind me, "that's it I'm going on a cruise next year" he called out as he fell to the ground again. I was simultaneously crying with laughter while trying to remain upright myself. Fuego emmited another huge ash cloud, accompanied by another huge thunderous sound. "Oh for god sake" Chris groaned, "That's all we need!" To be honest, the whole situation was surreal and ridiculous. Sliding down sand slopes in the dark while heading towards an active volcano. Sometimes I heavily question my life choices!

After the descent, the climb began. It was gruelling. Every step churned up ash that the wind whipped into our faces. Visibility was poor, the light of my headtorch only revealing the cloud of dust and ash ahead of me. The slope was steep and every foot you placed slid back down. The only way to gain momentum was to use all your leg strength and just power up, not allowing the sand to drag you down. It sapped my strength but the technique worked. It was exhausting but I was doing it, I was gaining height. Diego let me go ahead as to not disrupt my rhythm while he hung back, encouraging the others. After 2 hours of repetitive climbing I arrived on the shoulder, feeling insignificant in the presence of such a force of nature. Within seconds of me being on the shoulder I heard a huge bang and felt shock waves underneath my feet. Wow! I gazed up in awe, amazed by the sheer size of the ash cloud. As the others arrived onto the shoulder the sun began to rise and an orange glow accompanied the grey ash that swirled above my head. After a few more eruptions Diego prompted us to head down, not wanting to prolong our time in this dangerous zone and ensuring that we would experience the first of his 3 possible outcomes. "Let's go" he called, "It's a slide to the bottom!" The sand was a nightmare to climb but immensely fun to descend, you can run down allowing your heels to dig into the sand and pushing your body weight forward. I propelled myself to the bottom of the valley, climbed back into camp and dived into a camping chair. I felt relieved as the adrenaline slowly dissipated and drank tea as Fuego continued to eject large dust clouds.

We had the remainder of the morning to relax and rest in preparation for the second summit of the day, volcan Acatenango. Three of the resident volcano dogs curled up in a shade patch next to me and we snoozed in the warmth of the afternoon. I ate snacks, rehydrated and ate a huge plate of guacamole, tortillas, cheese, black beans, salad and spiced chicken to fuel me up for Acatenango. At 3.30pm we gathered our gear and prepared for the final volcano of the trip. Number 7! Chris had decided to stay at camp, "I've seen enough sunsets this trip and I can't climb up another sand slope!" I laughed telling him to get booked onto a cruise next year. The remaining 3 of us headed up assisted by our two guides .

This was the toughest ascent of them all. It was steep. Painfully steep. The kind of steep where you look at the incline and don't understand how you are supposed to physically get up to the top. The terrain was deep sand with pebbles, incredibly slippy and difficult to climb. I gave myself a pep talk, telling myself I've done all the others and this is the last push. You are good at climbing steep things Amy, one step at a time! And that's what I did. Yes I slid, yes I got my footing wrong, yes I misjudged the stability of some rocks but I was moving forwards. Upwards. I couldn't look at the summit, instead I intensely concentrated on each foot. Meticulously placing my feet and using all the remaining power in my quads and glutes to propel forward and not slide backwards. It was working, I was getting closer. Within an hour and a half I reached some stable boulders that needed to be negotiated by scrambling over them, using my hands to stabilise each step. From here the sand was flat and there was a huge crater ahead of me. This is the summit I thought. I did it! I collapsed onto the sand, caked in ash and dust, my heart rate elevated from both the adrenaline and the physical exertion. Diego pulled me up, giving me a high five and hug - shouting "Volcan numero 7 Senorita Amy!!" I felt everything in this moment. Happiness, elation, relief, excitement and an underlying bittersweet feeling as I knew this was my final summit. I felt proud and incredibly happy that I'd overcome the challenge and reached all 7 summits unscathed.

I walked the circumference of the crater, appreciating the flat gradient. As the sun began to descend, the horizon transformed into a beautiful complex palette of oranges, pinks and reds. Fuego erupted in the background and I looked across to the shoulder where I had stood just hours ago, shaking my head in disbelief. During the difficult moments on the ascent when my legs began to shake from the height or I struggled to gain momentum on the sand - I thought to myself surely 7 volcanoes is enough for a lifetime. I don't need to do anymore. But as I stood on the summit basking in the reward of the exceptional panoramic view, I looked across to the distant lands that belonged to El Salvador, where several more volcanoes emerged from the clouds. As I gazed ahead, my mind completely switched - no 7 isn't enough, I want to climb those!

The sun turned to a glorious burnt orange and descended below the horizon. Our route down was another "slide" which was almost completely vertical. Thick deep sand and ash lined a gully that you simply ran down and hoped for the best. The light had almost gone so we descended with the light of our headtorches but the sheer volume of dust that our boots disturbed as we ran made visibility extremely poor. The experience was a unique mix of exhilaration and terror. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or scream, so I did both! I descended fast, the incline and the weight of my pack shoving me down at an uncontrollable speed and I could barely see where I was going. I trusted the process as there was no other option. As my pace began to slow as the incline flattened, I stumbled attempting to regain my balance and waited for the dust to settle so I could see where I was. Ahead my torch illuminated a row of green tents. "Camp!!" I shouted "We're at camp!" I had no idea who I was talking to, unaware who was ahead or behind of me. Disoriented and exhausted, my legs shaking, giggling to myself in disbelief. Once we were all down we ate dinner and drank tea around a fire, laughing at how surreal the day was. Diego told us of a couple of near death experiences he'd had on Fuego, tactfully saving them until after we'd safely returned to camp. I climbed into my sleeping bag, and slumped down. I was an ash coated happy mess. All that I needed to do now was successfully descend from base camp and my mission will be accomplished. As I drifted on the edge of sleep, Fuego erupted prompting me to poke my head out my tent. Sparks of lava spread across the sky and streamed down the slopes. What a day!