The Time I Went Out for Breakfast With My Bestie and Ended Up Hiking Acatenango With Some Guys From Highschool

A breakfast plan that escalated quickly —unlike me, gasping for air.

Living just a few minutes away from Acatenango means this volcano is part of my everyday landscape. I see it when I step outside, when I run errands when I drive anywhere. It’s just there, towering in the distance, looking majestic and completely unbothered by our human struggles. I’ve climbed it more times than I can count, even worked as an adventure guide at one point, and I still go up every month or two.

But just because I can hike Acatenango doesn’t mean I always want to. Case in point: this particular hike, started as a relaxing breakfast with one of my best friends and ended with me questioning my life choices while hiking in the dark and reaching the summit only to see nothing at all.

Peer Pressure and Poor Decisions

It all started with an innocent breakfast. Just me and a childhood friend, catching up at a cozy little café. I was just happy that she had time between caring for her home, taking her little girl to and from daycare, and soothing her 2-month-old baby to sit down with me for 45 minutes. I’m the only childless one among my friend group and know what a struggle that can be for them so I appreciate it so much!

I was happy and excited in my comfort zone, thinking about the coffee I was about to order and about seeing baby Javier. But as I walked into the cafe I noticed three guys looking at me and smiling. At first, I didn’t recognize them, probably because I hadn’t seen them in around 15 years, but they were old high school buddies. My bestie also knew then because we all went to school together so it ended up being an amazing improvised meeting.

After the initial “Oh wow, it’s been forever!” moments, they casually mentioned they were about to hike Acatenango but had no idea what they were doing, they were there just for the adventure.

I was still not interested I just wanted a mellow Monday morning. I even said something like, “Oh, that’s cool, have fun!” But they knew I enjoyed hiking and kept taunting me about how I wasn’t going to be able to match their pace. On top of that, my friend turned to me and said, “Come on, go with them!”

I resisted at first. I pointed out that I wasn’t in my fittest condition, that I had other things to do (I didn’t), and that we had just eaten (which, in hindsight, was the only legitimate excuse). But she kept insisting. “It’ll be fun,” she said. “You love Acatenango,” she said.

So, after some back-and-forth, I gave in. Fine. I’ll go. Just let me go grab my stuff.

So off we went, starting our hike way too late, at around noon.

Overprepared and Still Struggling

One thing I can say in our favor? At least we had the right gear.

We had hiking boots, solid day hike backpacks, strong headlamps, and good windbreaker jackets—because if there’s one thing I always make sure of, it’s being properly prepared. The irony, of course, is that no amount of good equipment can make up for being out of shape.

My friends, on the other hand, were all athletes—runners, cyclists, gym regulars. In theory, they were in much better shape than me. The problem? They were also spectacularly hungover.

So while I was dealing with digestive regrets from the previously relaxing breakfast, they were battling dehydration, headaches, and questionable life choices from the weekend before. It evened the playing field in the worst way possible.

The Uphill Battle (Literally)

Acatenango doesn’t care if you’re an athlete, a hiker, or a last-minute tag-along who just wants to enjoy breakfast in peace. It will make you struggle.

The first section of the hike, through farmland, is dry, steep, dusty, exposed, and the kind of climb that makes you rethink everything, especially at noon. My stomach was already plotting against me at this point, but I kept moving. Meanwhile, my hungover friends were attempting to rehydrate, swearing that they would “never drink again.” (They would.)

Somewhere along the way, one of my friends decided to impress a group of French tourists we ran into. It was going shockingly well. He was making conversation, flashing his best smile, and even cracked a few jokes that actually landed. As we started to move ahead, he turned back with full confidence and said, “See you at the summit.”

The universe did not appreciate that level of cockiness.

Minutes later, he got a double cramp, one on each leg, and fell on his face, right in front of everyone. He tried to play it cool, but there’s only so much you can do when you’re frozen in place, grimacing in pain. And the French girls? They just laughed. Not in a mean way—more in an “oh no, that’s unfortunate” kind of way—but still. Devastating.

Luckily, we never saw them again. In fact, we never saw anyone again. The trail was completely empty. It was just us, our suffering, and the never-ending uphill climb.

By the time we reached the last stretch to the summit and after an unfortunate bathroom/latrine visit I was feeling amazing.

A Summit With And Amazing View

Somehow we had the luck of reaching the summit right as the sun was going down and we saw a gorgeous sunset. However, we were only halfway done with the hike -we still needed to hike back down- and as soon as the sun went away we got covered by humid, windy clouds. Form then it was all Fog. Thick, relentless fog.

Now, I actually enjoy night hikes. There’s something peaceful about climbing in the dark, the quiet, the cooler temperatures. The problem?

• My friends were not used to night hiking.

• I had forgotten my glasses. F*ck.

So while I was normally comfortable with a night ascent, this time, we were all stumbling messes, tripping over rocks, and mistaking tree branches for people, luckily I have been up there enough times that even in the dark, fog, and without my glasses I was able to easily keep us on the right track.

No glowing lava from Fuego. No city lights twinkling in the distance. Just a solid wall of nothingness.

Someone optimistically said, “Maybe it’ll clear up in a few minutes.” Spoiler: It didn’t.

At that point, all we could do was laugh. We had fought through late starts, stomach issues, dehydration, cramping, and exhaustion… for this.

The Descent: A Mess of Darkness and Poor Coordination

If going up Acatenango is tough, going down in the dark is just chaotic but so fun if you are with a group of people who love that sort of adventure.

With my missing glasses and my friends' inexperience with night hiking, we weren’t exactly moving with grace. We were literally walking on sand, and every few minutes, someone would slip dramatically, followed by either cursing or nervous laughter.

My friend—the same one who had tried (and failed) to impress the French tourists—managed to trip again, landing in a way that left absolutely no dignity intact. No one was around to see it this time, but we still make sure he never forgot it.

By the time we reached the end of the trail, we were cold, sore, and exhausted. But strangely enough? We were happy to have had such a great time.

Sure, it wasn’t our most graceful hike. But it was fun in the way that only poorly planned adventures can be.

Lessons (Not) Learned

• Start early. Or don’t. Who am I to judge?

• Be prepared. At least we got one thing right.

• Don’t get too cocky, especially in front of girls. Just… don’t. The volcano will know and will humble you right then and there.

Would I do it again? Of course. I do—every month or two. Most times it is a relaxed hike but, with Acatenango, you never really know what you’re going to get. And that’s exactly why I keep coming back.