Beyond the summit
It was about 4:30 in the morning when we finally reached the summit of the Santa Maria volcano.
After several hours walking in the dark, all I wanted was to get there. Tiredness was already weighing on my entire body and sleep was beginning to win the battle. When we finally arrived, I looked for a stone where I could settle down and rest while I waited for dawn.
I lay down and looked up.
Above me was the sky completely clear and full of stars. For a few minutes I didn’t think about the tiredness, the cold or how much it had cost to get there. I just stared at it.
In the midst of that darkness, surrounded by cold, silence and that immense presence of the volcano, I felt a peace that was difficult to explain. I was physically exhausted, but inside I felt strong, brave and, above all, happy to be exactly where I wanted to be.
It was at that moment, looking at the stars from that height, that I thought about how powerful our mind can be.
The night of the ascent
We had decided to climb the Santa María at night so that we could arrive in time and watch the sunrise from the summit. At first I felt quite good. The excitement of starting a new adventure meant that fatigue did not yet appear.
But as we progressed, the path began to change.
The terrain was quite rocky and there were stretches where I had to concentrate completely on where to place my feet. For some reason, I felt like I was getting tired faster than when I climbed Acatenango. The rocks were big, and as I walked, one of my thoughts would repeat itself in my head:
“I hope I don’t fall out of here.”
Besides, it was night.
Although I was carrying my flashlight, the darkness made the feeling of height even more intense. I have to confess that heights frighten me and make me dizzy. At times, when I looked down and could not clearly distinguish what was beyond the light of my flashlight, I felt that fear began to take hold of me.
There was a moment when I wondered if I really should continue.
My mind was concentrating more on the altitude than on the goal.
But then something came along that made a big difference: my group.
Hearing my classmates tell me “Feli, you can do it”, feeling that they were aware of how I was feeling and knowing that I was not alone gave me security. I did not have to face that fear on my own.
He breathed, looked ahead again, and continued.
Step by step.
When the body begins to weigh
By the time we got about halfway there, everything was starting to feel heavier. Legs were tired and I needed to rest more often.
We would take short breaks, about five minutes. We couldn’t stop too long because the cold was starting to feel more and more and, if the body got cold, it became even more difficult to continue.
And there was the dream.
He had not slept during the night and felt the fatigue accumulating little by little. His body was asking for rest, but there was still a long way to go.
I had a chocolate with me to recover a little energy. Between small breaks, deep breaths, water, chocolate and a lot of desire to arrive, we continued to move forward.
In those moments I learned not to think about how much was missing.
I was only thinking about the next step.
And then, in the next one.
Until we finally arrived.
A moment to remember
The sunrise was beautiful.
My feet were completely frozen and they hurt, but it had really been worth every step.
Little by little, the sky began to change and the darkness of the night gave way to the first colors of the morning. From the summit we could contemplate the Santiaguito volcano and enjoy an impressive view.
We were in El Picacho, a true natural viewpoint.
But as I watched all this, I understood something that was perhaps more important than the sight itself: for me, getting to the top wasn’t really the most important thing.
The important thing had been the whole process.
The sacrifice.
Tiredness.
Fear.
The doubts.
Every step I took even when a part of me wanted to stop.
All along the way I tried to focus on my steps, my breathing, and contemplating nature at night. I listened to the sounds of the volcano and, at times, simply allowed myself to be present.
And it was there that I understood that many times we are capable of doing much more than we think.
Meeting me on the road
Then came the relegation, which was completely different.
Going down was much easier. It almost felt like we were running. It took us about four hours to get back down, but by then I had something much more important than the fatigue of the climb with me: a huge sense of satisfaction.
I had proven to myself that I could do it.
Santa María was the second volcano I climbed and, until that moment, it has been the one I liked the most. Not only for its landscapes or for the beauty of watching the sunrise from the top, but for everything it awakened in me.
I felt like I connected with myself.
I connected with my inner child. I had the opportunity to take a break from the noise, disconnect for a moment from everything that is happening outside and refocus on my center.
For me, climbing a volcano means so much more than exercising or reaching a summit. It gives me strength, teaches me resilience, and reminds me that I can keep going even when my mind tells me I can’t take it anymore.
On the way up I understood that it’s not always about knowing how long it takes to get there. Sometimes we just need to focus on the next step.
And maybe that’s a way of life, too.
One step at a time.
When I’m in a volcano I feel like I can disconnect from everything and find myself again. I can stop the noise outside for a moment, listen to my thoughts, and just be present.
I connected with my inner child and discovered that these spaces of nature have become, in a way, my own therapy.
Santa María was my second volcano and I would definitely climb it again. Not only because I reached the top, but because of everything that happens along the way.
Because sometimes, when we think we’re going up to get somewhere, we end up finding ourselves.
Felisa Ucelo
