Go Together Life

Much of what we do together falls firmly into the category of Type 2 Fun.

You know the kind: the experience that feels suspiciously like hard work, or, dare I say it, torture, while you’re doing it. But somehow, when you look back later, all the suffering fades away and only the wonder, accomplishment, and euphoria remain.

Hiking Acatenango was the most Type 2 of all the Type 2 fun we’ve ever had.

The Journey Begins

Our day started with breakfast at a hostel in central Antigua. Around us, 31 strangers cautiously sized one another up as we all nervously contemplated the next two days we’d be spending together on the mountain.

Eventually, we loaded into a bus, backpacks and duffels piled high on the roof, and headed to the supply centre for our briefing and equipment check.

Unlike many guided hikes, everyone was responsible for carrying their own supplies. While mattresses, sleeping bags, and pillows would be waiting for us at base camp, our packs were still bursting with cold-weather gear, rain jackets, a change of clothes, sleeping bag liners, headlamps, first aid supplies, snacks, three meals, and enough water for two days.

As ready as we were ever going to be, we climbed back onto the bus and headed for the trailhead, about 45 minutes away.

The drive wound steadily uphill, first through the leather district, lined with shops selling cowboy boots and jackets, and then through the rolling foothills surrounding Antigua.

Last Chance for Comfort

At the trailhead, hikers had one final opportunity to buy snacks, rent hiking poles, and use the bathroom.

A quick word of warning: you need to pay to use the restroom, and local currency is preferred. They’ll accept U.S. dollars, but only if the bills are pristine. As we discovered the hard way, even the slightest crease or faded corner can earn your note an immediate rejection.

This is also where you’ll encounter the local porters. For roughly $35, they’ll carry your backpack to base camp, with prices varying according to weight. Many of the porters are teenagers who eagerly take on the work, earning several times the local daily wage in a single afternoon.

And then there are the trail dogs.

A rotating cast of friendly strays accompanies hikers up and down the mountain, hoping for the occasional snack and a good scratch behind the ears. Before long, you’ll start recognizing familiar canine faces along the trail.

The Climb

We began hiking shortly after 11:30 a.m., one of the last groups to leave the trailhead.

Acatenango is a dormant volcano that sits beside its far more active neighbour, Fuego. The two are connected by a saddle that allows hikers to watch Fuego’s eruptions from Acatenango’s various base camps, or, for the particularly adventurous, to hike much closer to the lava field itself.

That optional saddle hike costs extra and must be paid for on the mountain.

For the record, we were not that adventurous.

Watching lava explode into the night sky from the relative comfort of our cabin sounded much more appealing.

The climb itself is usually divided into two sections: a steep ascent of endless switchbacks to the lunch stop, followed by a longer traverse around the volcano to base camp. Depending on your group’s pace, the journey takes anywhere from four to six hours.

The trail is coated in loose volcanic ash and sand, which makes maintaining traction surprisingly difficult on the steepest sections. It was somewhere during this climb that we realized our “training plan”, walking stairs at home while carrying 10-pound dumbbells, might have been slightly inadequate.

The hike was tough with a capital T.

Not only are you climbing nearly 800 metres, but you’re doing it at an altitude where the air is already noticeably thinner.

Fortunately, our guides set a reasonable pace. Patrick and the boys naturally drifted toward the front of the group, while I happily settled into the middle.

At least, I did until about thirty minutes before lunch.

Altitude Wins

The nausea arrived suddenly.

The guides had warned us about altitude sickness, and we’d read all the articles, but I was completely unprepared for how hard it would hit.

Lunch passed in a blur of queasiness and shivering. I barely registered the collection of dogs circling hikers in search of scraps, though one particularly entrepreneurial stray managed to chew the lid off a distracted hiker’s water bottle and enjoy a long drink before being caught.

I also vaguely noticed a group of locals selling drinks and snacks. Given how far we’d already climbed, the effort required to haul those supplies up the mountain was genuinely impressive.

Shortly before we left, a group of hikers rode through the clearing on horseback, earning the envy of every exhausted person on foot.

After some anti-nausea medication and plenty of reassurance from the guides that the next section was “mostly flat,” we set off again.

Spoiler alert: it was not flat.

While we didn’t gain much more elevation, the trail constantly rose and fell as it wrapped around the volcano.

One Step at a Time

The scenery, however, became spectacular.

The dense jungle gradually gave way to more open terrain, and for the first time we could truly appreciate how high we’d climbed. Clouds drifted across the mountainside, sometimes enveloping us entirely.

This section was everyone’s favourite.

Everyone except me.

I was deep in a spiral of self-pity, stopping every few hundred feet to be violently and ungracefully sick beside the trail.

A special thank-you is owed to the lovely British couple we met along the way, who not only kept me company during some low moments but also generously shared supplies from their first aid kit. Kindness from strangers can be an extraordinary thing.

Even our first glimpses of Fuego failed to lift my spirits. At that point, my entire world had narrowed to a single objective:

Put one foot in front of the other.

Repeat.

Reach base camp.

Arrival at Base Camp

The final thirty minutes pass through a restricted area that can only be accessed with a guide.

You pass a welcome sign, round a corner, and suddenly Fuego appears in full view.

The rest of our group erupted into selfies and excited commentary.

I managed something closer to a grunt.

Fortunately, the various tour operators have kept their camps relatively small and unobtrusive. Despite the popularity of the hike, Acatenango still feels wild.

Accommodations range from basic tents to simple wooden cabins. There is no electricity, no running water, and only long-drop toilets.

This is not the Four Seasons.

But after six hours of hiking, it felt luxurious enough.

We had two-person cabins with mattresses on the floor and just enough room to shuffle around without stepping on each other. Compared with the four-person bunk cabins nearby, we considered ourselves positively spoiled.

Upon arrival, I collapsed onto my mattress like a stranded whale while everyone else gathered around the campfire for hot chocolate.

The Show Begins

Our guides postponed the optional saddle hike because of an approaching storm.

That didn’t stop other groups.

As darkness fell, flashes of lightning illuminated long strings of headlamps moving across the mountainside toward Fuego.

Soon the clouds rolled in completely, reducing visibility to just a few metres.

I spent several hours resting until, thankfully, I began to feel human again.

Outside, the storm intensified.

Surrounded by lightning and perched on the side of a volcano inside a small wooden cabin, I started filming the spectacle.

A few minutes later, Adam walked by and I proudly showed him my footage.

He looked at the video and asked one simple question.

“Why didn’t you film Fuego?”

Confused, I pulled back the curtain a little farther.

To my horror, I realized the clouds had lifted and just beyond my narrow field of view, there, illuminated against the darkness, was Fuego. Lava erupted from the summit and streamed down its slopes in glowing rivers of orange and red. It was one of the most awe-inspiring things I’ve ever seen.

In a single moment, every miserable step up Acatenango became worthwhile.

Front-Row Seats to a Volcano

For the next several hours, we sat cocooned inside our cabin, watching eruption after eruption.

Some were small. Some shook the mountainside.

Roughly every fifteen minutes, Fuego delivered another spectacular reminder that it remains one of the most active volcanoes in Central America.

Later that evening, a small group from our tour set off on the optional saddle hike. Four hours and $35 later, they returned exhausted, filthy, and absolutely thrilled. Our guides rated the excursion an 11 out of 10 for difficulty and we could see the truth of it on their faces.

From the comfort of our beds, we remained entirely convinced we’d made the correct choice.

The Descent

Sleep came in short bursts between the occasional booming eruptions.

Before dawn, we climbed out of our cabins to watch the sunrise spill across the surrounding mountains.

After a breakfast of English muffins and strawberry jam, we began the journey back down.

The descent was dramatically faster than the climb, though arguably more dangerous. The loose volcanic ash made footing treacherous, and hikers regularly slid several feet at a time.

Naturally, I managed to fall twice.

Both times I performed what I can only describe as an elegant seated slide down the trail before popping back up, covered in dirt but feeling vastly better than I had the day before.

As we passed the lunch stop, we once again acquired a small escort of trail dogs, who effortlessly bounded down the mountain alongside us.

Final Thoughts

By the time we reached the bus, we were filthy, exhausted, and running entirely on accomplishment.

But that’s the thing about Type 2 Fun. The suffering doesn’t disappear completely—it just loses the battle against the memories.

What remains is the laughter, the achievement, the incredible people you met along the way, and the image of lava exploding into the night sky from the side of a volcano.

If you’re looking for an adventure, aren’t overly attached to comfort, and don’t mind a serious physical challenge, we can’t recommend hiking Acatenango highly enough.

Just maybe spend a little more time training than we did.