Chile- 30 years old and feeling it!

I enjoy a good hike. I really do. If I told you this with Jack standing behind me, he would probably shake his head, roll his eyes, smirk a little and silently mouth the word "no..."

But I enjoy the fresh air, a nice, pleasant packed dirt trail, beautiful fauna and flora, shade, an awesome view, and nothing too steep. With this, I could go for hours. I don't think I'm a hiking rookie. In fact, I've hiked a small alp or two, a few canadian rockies, and heck, I grew up in California, and have hiked in many mountains, from the Shasta area to the Sierras, all the way down to Yosemite and Ojai.


All that said, I did not have a good time on this volcano hike. Our guide books didn't say much about this climb, and I'm convinced that whover wrote the Pucon section didn't actually do it. Our friend Jeff said that one of the highlights of his trip to Chile was to climb this volcano to the top of the crater and peer in to see the lava. So we just got it into our heads that it was something good to do. Looking back, we had no idea that we would be in for the toughest climb of our lives. For starters, I'm not much of a herd hiker. True, there were only 6 people total in our excursion today, plus 2 guides, but even still, I like to take my time and not worry about holding anyone back.
Things I'll remember about this day? Wearing the rented clothes and shoes that smelled of other people's sweat. The ill-fitting hiking boots, again, not mine. The super patient guides. The gooey gobs of snot clinging to the edges of my nostrils (from the wind. Come on, you've been there too.) The brochure with happy looking people standing at the top of the volcano giving a thumbs up. Same, said people, sliding down the volcano on their butts in what looked to be soft, fluffy snow. The crampons. The gaitors. The helmet. The ICE AXE. Looking up and seeing just a wall, and knowing that somehow, someway, I have to make myself go up. Thinking to myself, I paid to do this. Another thought, how the hell am I going to get down? Another thought on the way down, how much would it hurt if I just hurled myself over the cliff? The blisters, the bruises, the feeling that it would never end, falling on my knees 4 times.

And then there was the view. Yes, the view was gorgeous. Insane actually. I don't think I've ever seen a view quite like this before. Looking around, all you see is glacier, mountains, and another volcano in the distance, this one actually spewing something hundreds of meters into the air. Yes, it was quite active. As was the volcano we were climbing. It was like walking on a live, enormous animal. Our guides, Pablo y Pedro, said that this was the first year where they've noticed a significant absence of snow, and the glacier was melting at a faster rate than ever... which meant, no sliding down in soft, fluffy snow- we would have to hike down. Near the top, we began coughing, feeling our lungs burn, not knowing why until Pablo said, do you feel the gas? We looked up, and noticed that Volcano Villarica was spewing toxic gas into the air, a mix of sulfur, and other smelly gases that actually made my eyes sting for a while. The total climb should be about 5 hours, but an hour from the top, we really didn't feel up for going any further. Of the 3 parties in the our group, the Brazilians made it to the 3rd rest stop, the Americans (us) made it to the 4th rest stop, and only the two women from Europe made it all the way to the top. But they assured us that we didn't miss much- the view wasn't much different from where we had stopped, the climb in the last hour was the absolute hardest and steepest, they didn't see any lava, and the way down in the last hour was the most difficult part of the entire climb.

At one point, Pablo looked at me, almost apologetically, and asked, "Are you Ok?" In my head, I was screaming with desperation, fighting to hold back the tears of frustration, but all I could do was smile and say, "Just tired." He nodded understandingly, grabbed my hand, and just pulled me for a few minutes. All in all, it was really tough. Tougher than the marathon I ran last year. At least with the marathon, you have music, parties every mile, people cheering you on, volunteers handing out gatorade...

Was the view worth it? Well, am I really going to say no? Of course it was. It had to be. If there was a helicopter option to get to the top of the volcano, would I have opted for that instead? Heck yeah. But climbing is the only way up, and walking slowly is the only way down, now that the glacier is melting and there is no snow to slide on. And so, we climbed, and in retrospect, are grateful for the people we met along the way who could commiserate with our pain and share just a few hours of a truly unique human experience. We appreciate the talent, patience and skill of our guides (who do this climb everyday, by the way), and of course, we're just thankful that we made it down safe, whole, a little sore, but with yet another incredible segment of this journey under our belts.


Since we had already checked out of our hostel in the morning, and were boarding an overnight bus back to Santiago (10 hours) the same night, we didn't have a place to shower! But oh well. I stopped caring about cleanliness a few days ago. I smell. All of my clothes smell. Jack smells. So if everything we own smells, and we acknowledge that we smell, do we really smell? I don't think so. But maybe the person next to me does...