So I'm standing there on a 3 foot wide path, thinking that any sort of mistake is going to be the end of me. The fear of heights grabs me.
Each step is hard, the sandy terrain makes it so that every move you take upward makes you slide back. To go progress one step, you really have to take three steps forward. And if I didn't mention it before, I'm petrified.
I don't often let myself get scared. I'm an anxious person by nature, but I can't always let myself be scared. This whole trip, these past 7 months, have been about what I want to do. And if I let myself be stopped by fear, I'll never take risks. People often tell me when I meet them on my travels that I'm being brave. But to me, this trip feels like something I have to do; fear or no.
It's not about being brave. Something tells me that I won't become the person I'm supposed to become without this trip. And because of that, no matter how tired, lonely, hungry, sad, or angry I get (and have gotten), I will not let myself be paralyzed by fear. This year is going to define me and I'm not about to let something like fear get in the way of that.
But it's not always as easy as making the decision not to be scared. You have to work at it all the time. But the decision is where you start. And so I decide: I'm not going to let fear stop me from making it up this mountain. And you put one foot in front of the other. And again. And again.
You know that if you stop, you're just going to turn around. So the tears threaten to come, but at this point you need to do it, to prove something to yourself-- that you were brave enough to conquer your fears; that you have it in you.
Sometimes it is just too much. I burst into tears. I was a bit hysterical. Heights are something I will probably always be afraid of.
When the tears stopped, as they always eventually do, I realized I was sitting in the sand. In a crater. Specifically, the crater of the volcano. The crater where the lava comes out. You know, the top of the volcano.
We can't be completely free of fear. Sometimes, this is a good thing; fear warns us of danger.
However, when we let those fears stop us from something we always wanted the only person we deprive is ourselves. And in this case, it is hard to find anyone else to blame but yourself.
Monday, February 27, 2012
Monday, February 20, 2012
Acatenango Part 1
About two weeks after our trip to Pacaya, Sarah convinced me that we were athletic enough to climb another volcano. We signed up for what was advertised as the trip of a lifetime climbing Volcano Acatenango. This volcano lies next to the famous Volcano Fuego, which is know for its regular, but relatively calm eruptions. Acatenango is also active, erupting about once every 30 years, the last time being around 30 years ago.
Acatenango was a challenge; Sarah and I both knew it going into it. The elevation was 13,045 ft above sea level, so not only would we have to deal with the climb, but the altitude as well. I admit, during the prep talk the night before we headed out, I started to get nervous. I had never done anything like this in my life. The day hikes in Maine with my family were years ago and nothing compared to the strenuous climb that would be Acatenango. But I had already payed.
I awoke at 5:30 early the next morning as the sun was about to show, and Sarah and I walked to Base Camp, a hostel/office in Antigua. I was nervous, like I was about to get up in front of people and sing. My stomach was a mess and I desperately needed to go to the bathroom (like I always seem to need to do when I am nervous).
We packed our once-empty, but now heavy backpacks with supplies for meals, the tent, changes of clothes, and 5 liters of water each. We loaded them into the back of the truck that was to take us to the base of the mountain and after a quick stop in a cafe for breakfast, we headed out as the sun rose.
Robert, our guide, had started our prep-talk by telling us the walk was 20% physical, and 80% mental. For some stupid reason, I didn't believe him until our first break on the mountain about 20 or 30 minutes after we had first started. I was already lagging (my excuse being that I am a sprinter not a marathoner).
I wish that I could say sometime between 8 (when we started) and 11:30 (when we took a break for lunch) that I regrouped, but I have to say most of my morning (and later the afternoon) consisted of falling behind out of sight, only to catch up when the rest of the group took a break. My constant (and only) companion was Lorenzo, the hired gun (literally) who climbed behind me, bringing up the rear.
Lorenzo, I learned speaking only my broken Spanish, was a 57-year-old former farmer who had changed careers because the pay was better guarding gringos on the mountains in the area he used to farm. He was married with a daughter about 4 years older then me. He had been on the climb about 30 times before. Both this, and his history of farming in the hills explained how he could hike consistently with a huge shotgun carried in his hands. His backpack he carried on a strap that he cast around his forehead instead of supporting the majority of the weight on his hips and shoulders. I think he did this because it is the traditional way to carry heavy products in Guatemala.
I wish I could tell you that this was the hardest thing I had ever done, and it probably was the most traumatic for me physically. But knowing I couldn't turn back without making the rest of the group turn back too made it easy. I was going to make it.
And I wasn't going to complain about it either. If I learned anything from those hikes with my family in Maine, is that complaining just makes the whole thing more miserable. So what if I had a slight cramp in my leg from hiking long distances? If I just sat down and cried and complained and whined about it (like I probably would have done in Maine in similar circumstances), it just would have made everyone else miserable, which would make me more miserable, and the cycle would never end.
So I didn't. Not only was I going to make it up the mountain (which had to be a given), but I was going to do it laughing and with a smile on my face (even if it hurt)... (and it did, hurt, I mean).
I complain about the trip now, but the worse came after the saddle.
Most people who know me know that I have a severe fear of heights. In fact, I would say that it is one of the only deterrents of my rampant curiosity to see and experience everything. Sadly, I will probably never go base jumping :( The clearest example I can give of this was my determination about 5 years ago to climb to the top of the dome of St. Peter's Basilica in the Vatican (on the inside). A once in a lifetime opportunity I let pass because I let my fear of heights (and my vertigo) stop me. Obviously, I still remember this.
After you pass the saddle, the path ascends up a step incline of volcanic sand. The path is only wide enough in some areas for a person. But instead of vegetation on both sides of the path, on one side there is a steep incline and on the other an endless steep drop of sand that seems to fall out from under your feet (and does).
By the time we actually started up this way (after a false start complete with heavy packs) we had set up camp in the saddle of the mountain because of a storm. We were able to climb without our packs to the top.
This didn't hurt like the first part had. The first part hurt, but wasn't mentally hard, cause I knew I was going to make it. The second part was not physical stressful, but mentally I didn't think I was going to make it. The rain is starting to come down and the sun is half set. Not that you can see because of the clouds moving in. And I was petrified.
Acatenango was a challenge; Sarah and I both knew it going into it. The elevation was 13,045 ft above sea level, so not only would we have to deal with the climb, but the altitude as well. I admit, during the prep talk the night before we headed out, I started to get nervous. I had never done anything like this in my life. The day hikes in Maine with my family were years ago and nothing compared to the strenuous climb that would be Acatenango. But I had already payed.
I awoke at 5:30 early the next morning as the sun was about to show, and Sarah and I walked to Base Camp, a hostel/office in Antigua. I was nervous, like I was about to get up in front of people and sing. My stomach was a mess and I desperately needed to go to the bathroom (like I always seem to need to do when I am nervous).
We packed our once-empty, but now heavy backpacks with supplies for meals, the tent, changes of clothes, and 5 liters of water each. We loaded them into the back of the truck that was to take us to the base of the mountain and after a quick stop in a cafe for breakfast, we headed out as the sun rose.
Robert, our guide, had started our prep-talk by telling us the walk was 20% physical, and 80% mental. For some stupid reason, I didn't believe him until our first break on the mountain about 20 or 30 minutes after we had first started. I was already lagging (my excuse being that I am a sprinter not a marathoner).
I wish that I could say sometime between 8 (when we started) and 11:30 (when we took a break for lunch) that I regrouped, but I have to say most of my morning (and later the afternoon) consisted of falling behind out of sight, only to catch up when the rest of the group took a break. My constant (and only) companion was Lorenzo, the hired gun (literally) who climbed behind me, bringing up the rear.
Lorenzo, I learned speaking only my broken Spanish, was a 57-year-old former farmer who had changed careers because the pay was better guarding gringos on the mountains in the area he used to farm. He was married with a daughter about 4 years older then me. He had been on the climb about 30 times before. Both this, and his history of farming in the hills explained how he could hike consistently with a huge shotgun carried in his hands. His backpack he carried on a strap that he cast around his forehead instead of supporting the majority of the weight on his hips and shoulders. I think he did this because it is the traditional way to carry heavy products in Guatemala.
I wish I could tell you that this was the hardest thing I had ever done, and it probably was the most traumatic for me physically. But knowing I couldn't turn back without making the rest of the group turn back too made it easy. I was going to make it.
And I wasn't going to complain about it either. If I learned anything from those hikes with my family in Maine, is that complaining just makes the whole thing more miserable. So what if I had a slight cramp in my leg from hiking long distances? If I just sat down and cried and complained and whined about it (like I probably would have done in Maine in similar circumstances), it just would have made everyone else miserable, which would make me more miserable, and the cycle would never end.
So I didn't. Not only was I going to make it up the mountain (which had to be a given), but I was going to do it laughing and with a smile on my face (even if it hurt)... (and it did, hurt, I mean).
I complain about the trip now, but the worse came after the saddle.
Most people who know me know that I have a severe fear of heights. In fact, I would say that it is one of the only deterrents of my rampant curiosity to see and experience everything. Sadly, I will probably never go base jumping :( The clearest example I can give of this was my determination about 5 years ago to climb to the top of the dome of St. Peter's Basilica in the Vatican (on the inside). A once in a lifetime opportunity I let pass because I let my fear of heights (and my vertigo) stop me. Obviously, I still remember this.
After you pass the saddle, the path ascends up a step incline of volcanic sand. The path is only wide enough in some areas for a person. But instead of vegetation on both sides of the path, on one side there is a steep incline and on the other an endless steep drop of sand that seems to fall out from under your feet (and does).
By the time we actually started up this way (after a false start complete with heavy packs) we had set up camp in the saddle of the mountain because of a storm. We were able to climb without our packs to the top.
This didn't hurt like the first part had. The first part hurt, but wasn't mentally hard, cause I knew I was going to make it. The second part was not physical stressful, but mentally I didn't think I was going to make it. The rain is starting to come down and the sun is half set. Not that you can see because of the clouds moving in. And I was petrified.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Real Life
When I'm traveling am I living my real life or taking a break from it?
When I return to the States, will I be going back to my "real life?"
Who cares? this is so much better than whatever else I would have been doing.
Who cares? this is so much better than whatever else I would have been doing.
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Shameless Blog-Plug
Like my page on Facebook, to see pictures from Guatemala!
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Around-the-World-in-Days/239638059417642
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Around-the-World-in-Days/239638059417642
This is Guatemala...
This is Guatemala, when...
1) The bus shuttle for your day trip picks you up 20 minutes late and instead of bringing you to your destination, like you assumed it would, it drives around the city for 10 minutes picking and dropping off people until you stop around the corner from where you started and the driver tells you to get out of the car and wait for another bus shuttle.
2) you wait 15 more minutes, the whole time wondering whether a bus is actually going to come, or if you just got tricked out of $8.
3) the driver arrives and when you finally do get on the bus you head to an active volcano (Pacaya) where you have heard that several people died in 2010 when it unexpectedly errupted.
4) the guide, several men with horses, and many kids with walking sticks bombard you when you disembark the bus. The guide wants to simply take you up and down the trail before dark, but the kids want to sell you their walking sticks and they won't give up until that have sold you one. The men with horses just want to charge you to ride a horse up and down the mountain.
5) you find out that entrance to the park was not included in the ticket price, so you and your friend beg from the other tourists 100 quetzales (about 12 bucks) and you get it in return for a promise to pay it back.
6) 5 men with horses follow you up the mountain, waiting for people to get tired so that they can charge them to ride the rest of the way up the mountain, even though only one person actually wants a horse.
7) the terrain you are climbing up keeps shifting under your feet because it is actually not ground, but 25 cm of tiny rocks and debris that rained down over the mountain and the surrounding area when the volcano erupted a year ago.
8) you get to the top of the mountain and half the group has ended up on horseback. Gringos.
9) instead of staying a safe distance from the steaming crater in order to take pictures, the guide leads you through hardened magma to a plateau right under the mouth of the volcano.
10) the guide provides clean sticks to roast the marshmallows you brought. Over lava.
11) you realize that the best s'mores you have ever eaten were cooked over magma (FYI this is quite a good way to toast marshmallows. With a fire the marshmallows are either slow to cook or on fire because you got them too close to the flame. Lava, on the other hand, toasts the marshmallows speedily and there are no worries that they will catch fire.)
12) as you reach the bottom of the volcano, your guide excitedly points off in the distance where you can see another volcano spitting lava into the sky juxapositioned against the dark night sky.
13) you climb back into the shuttle at 7, and the group drives for 20 minutes when the van starts to act up.
14) the van breaks down, full of 11 gringos and the driver. The driver gets out, calls someone, and tries to fix the car on his own.
15) he fails. (though this also happens in America. Frequently)
16) a tow truck comes up, and the driverof your van informs you that it is unsafe to disembark in this area of Guatemala, so you have to stay in the van.
17) the van is jacked up onto the back of the tow truck.
18) the tow truck pulls the van loaded with 12 people all the way back to Antigua in about 2 hours, only stopping once to pick up a passenger up from the side of the road.
19) this is the great adventure that you were hoping for.
1) The bus shuttle for your day trip picks you up 20 minutes late and instead of bringing you to your destination, like you assumed it would, it drives around the city for 10 minutes picking and dropping off people until you stop around the corner from where you started and the driver tells you to get out of the car and wait for another bus shuttle.
2) you wait 15 more minutes, the whole time wondering whether a bus is actually going to come, or if you just got tricked out of $8.
3) the driver arrives and when you finally do get on the bus you head to an active volcano (Pacaya) where you have heard that several people died in 2010 when it unexpectedly errupted.
4) the guide, several men with horses, and many kids with walking sticks bombard you when you disembark the bus. The guide wants to simply take you up and down the trail before dark, but the kids want to sell you their walking sticks and they won't give up until that have sold you one. The men with horses just want to charge you to ride a horse up and down the mountain.
5) you find out that entrance to the park was not included in the ticket price, so you and your friend beg from the other tourists 100 quetzales (about 12 bucks) and you get it in return for a promise to pay it back.
6) 5 men with horses follow you up the mountain, waiting for people to get tired so that they can charge them to ride the rest of the way up the mountain, even though only one person actually wants a horse.
7) the terrain you are climbing up keeps shifting under your feet because it is actually not ground, but 25 cm of tiny rocks and debris that rained down over the mountain and the surrounding area when the volcano erupted a year ago.
8) you get to the top of the mountain and half the group has ended up on horseback. Gringos.
9) instead of staying a safe distance from the steaming crater in order to take pictures, the guide leads you through hardened magma to a plateau right under the mouth of the volcano.
10) the guide provides clean sticks to roast the marshmallows you brought. Over lava.
11) you realize that the best s'mores you have ever eaten were cooked over magma (FYI this is quite a good way to toast marshmallows. With a fire the marshmallows are either slow to cook or on fire because you got them too close to the flame. Lava, on the other hand, toasts the marshmallows speedily and there are no worries that they will catch fire.)
12) as you reach the bottom of the volcano, your guide excitedly points off in the distance where you can see another volcano spitting lava into the sky juxapositioned against the dark night sky.
13) you climb back into the shuttle at 7, and the group drives for 20 minutes when the van starts to act up.
14) the van breaks down, full of 11 gringos and the driver. The driver gets out, calls someone, and tries to fix the car on his own.
15) he fails. (though this also happens in America. Frequently)
16) a tow truck comes up, and the driverof your van informs you that it is unsafe to disembark in this area of Guatemala, so you have to stay in the van.
17) the van is jacked up onto the back of the tow truck.
18) the tow truck pulls the van loaded with 12 people all the way back to Antigua in about 2 hours, only stopping once to pick up a passenger up from the side of the road.
19) this is the great adventure that you were hoping for.
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