From the top of Guatemala’s Acatenango Volcano (13,000’) you can see for a long way. Mexico is to the north; the Pacific is to the west; everywhere there are steep-hilled Mayan villages and fields; there is a handful of smaller volcanoes; and holding it all together finger-like are rambling, off-white Guatemalan cities.
I was on Acatenago this past Tuesday just before dark. There were eight of us, and we had been most of the day climbing. But now, suddenly, we were there, we had summited, and whole of this Guatemalan otherworldliness lay before us. Continue reading