We didn’t plan every detail of our Guatemala trip, but one thing was certain: we were going to climb that volcano. Guatemala has 37 volcanoes in total, one of which (Fuego) is currently active and can be viewed in all its glory from climbing nearby Acatenango. ChatGPT gave Acatenango an enthusiastic thumbs up, and Trek Guatemala made it sound like more of an adventure than an ordeal. So there we were: rucksacks packed, boots laced, and mentally preparing ourselves for 13,000ft of what they described as a “moderate challenge.” Ha.

My rucksack was carefully packed with essential hiking layers – yes, including the woolly hat!, snacks, water, and a few non-negotiables: my teddy bear (don’t judge, he doesn’t weigh much) and a hip flask filled with rum (I said don’t judge!). I figured if we were going to spend the night halfway up a volcano, we might as well do it with some creature comforts.

The trail to Acatenango’s summit started innocently enough — a light breeze, some sunshine, and our cheerful Trek Guatemala guide giving us a pep talk: pace is everything at altitude. “We go slow,” he said seriously, “poco a poco.” “Got it!” I acknowledged. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s going slow. Cut to him fifteen minutes later, practically sprinting uphill like he was late for happy hour. I guess his idea of going slow isn’t quite the same as mine.

Acatenango is known for its four distinct ecosystems, each unfolding as you climb higher. It begins in agricultural lowlands, where neat fields of corn and coffee line the trail. Then comes the cloud forest – lush, green, and, true to its name, complete with clouds. As the trees thin out, you’re into high alpine scrubland, where the views start to open up and the air gets cooler. And finally, you reach the volcanic scree: stark, dramatic, and unmistakably close to the summit. The landscape changes constantly, which keeps things interesting. The one thing that doesn’t change? The steady upward climb.

But the trail has its own distractions. Like the dogs.

Yes, dogs plural. Apparently, half the street dogs in Antigua moonlight as mountain guides. They trotted alongside us with wagging tails and the effortless grace that comes with four legs and zero concern for altitude. We felt honored when one befriended us, tagging along for miles. Until it became clear he was only in it for the snacks. Turns out, he pulls that trick on everyone.

After climbing 4,000+ feet, we finally rolled into Basecamp – legs aching, lungs slightly offended, but spirits high. The views were already worth the effort. Time for a comforting cuppa, a quick lie down, and maybe a moment to wonder what we’d got ourselves into, with the push to the summit still ahead of us.

While most groups huddled in their tents to rest before a 4am summit climb, we had a cunning plan. Why sleep when you can summit now and avoid the silly o’clock start.

And so, leaving enough time to get up and back down again before dark, we began the final mile to the top. It was steep, loose, and punishing. At this point, it’s not even a trail. It’s just sandy scree and gravity working against you. The upside? Just us and our loyal canine companions. No crowds. No head torches. Just the dramatic black volcanic rock landscape, the neighboring Volcan de Fuego doing its thing, and the buzz of static electricity in the air. Literally—my hair was standing on end.

The way down was… somewhat less graceful. The trail had transformed into a volcanic sand pit, ankle-deep in pebbles with zero traction. I eventually surrendered and slid down on my bum, dignity be damned.

Back at Basecamp, we were greeted with a welcoming campfire and a warm bowl of hearty soup, followed by hot chocolate. The rum from my hip flask made a not insignificant contribution to its success.

Meanwhile, as darkness fell, the eruptions from Volcan de Fuego glowed against the night sky. What had been a hazy plume by daylight became a full-on fireworks show after sunset, to excited chants of ”Fuego, Fuego” from fellow hikers. It was both mesmerizing and a little unnerving. And I’m pretty sure it’s the closest we’ll ever get to an active volcano.

We collapsed into our glamping tent, which was, let’s be clear, more “rustic hiker chic” than “Instagram influencer.” But it had a mattress, sleeping bags, and a teddy bear for company.

The next morning, we were treated to a different kind of magic, as the sun crept up through a thick blanket of cloud.

All that remained was the long descent back to Antigua. What goes up must come down, and in this case, must also navigate steep dusty inclines and loose gravel. And just when we thought we were making good progress, the trail just kept on coming. Because apparently, 4,000 feet of descent is just as long as 4,000 feet of ascent, only harder on the knees.

Would we do it again? Maybe not tomorrow. But the views, the challenge, the ridiculous elevation gain, and the magic of a sunrise on a volcano above the clouds? That’s the kind of once-in-a-lifetime hike you remember long after the soreness has worn off. Just don’t forget the hip flask.

We didn’t plan to go to Guatemala. In fact, a few months ago, I might’ve struggled to find it on a map. But after Plan A (a Princess cruise to Mexico) fell through, followed swiftly by Plan B (Holland America Line cruise to Mexico) and then Plan C (flying to Mexico City), it became clear: Mexico just wasn’t happening this year.

Enter Darren and his new best friend, ChatGPT, who suggested Guatemala as a worthy alternative. A little research revealed options for hiking, biking, and a vibrant, friendly Latino culture. Right up our alley.

Most of our recent travels have been in the US. Now don’t get me wrong, we lurve traveling in the US. But there’s something just a touch more tantalizing about going international. Going rogue! The chance to immerse ourselves in a different culture, with new sights, sounds, smells, and experiences. Plus, we had to dust off our backpacks, which hadn’t seen the light of day in a good few years.

To avoid you also having to look it up: Guatemala is in Central America, right next to Mexico (as it happens), bordered by Belize, Honduras, and El Salvador.

After an overnight flight into Guatemala City, the smart move was to get the hell out of Guatemala City and head straight to Antigua, Guatemala — the place where the cool kids go. Not to be confused with Antigua and Barbuda in the Caribbean.

We eased into the Guatemalan culture gently: a nap, a walk to a viewpoint, and a rooftop brewery. Not a bad start.

We quickly fell in love with Antigua’s pastel-colored colonial buildings, its cosmopolitan vibe with al fresco coffee shops and bars, and its dramatic backdrop with three volcanoes. I especially loved the little ice cream carts in the main square, modeled after the colorful local ‘chicken buses.’

The chicken buses deserve a mention. These are vibrant, retrofitted American school buses decked out in chrome, with religious slogans and blaring music — each one with enough personality to rival a parade float. They’re the standard mode of transport for locals and a visual feast for visitors.

We embraced the local culture with a coffee-themed bike tour, starting with a ride through the streets of Antigua Guatemala. (I find the whole Antigua Guatemala thing a bit odd, like when Americans say Dallas, Texas or New York, New York—where it’s really not in any doubt which Dallas or New York you’re talking about. Henceforth, let it be called just Antigua, and I think we all know I’m referring to the one in Guatemala.)

The thing about Antigua is that the streets are cobbled. Quaint and charming that may be when you’re wandering around on foot. But it rises to a whole new level on two wheels. Every cobblestone becomes a mini speed bump, providing an unwelcome medieval massage and testing the integrity of your dental fillings.

Having survived the cobbles, we cycled through rustic villages and scenic countryside, past horses, dogs, and goats, to a coffee plantation on the lower slopes of Volcano Agua.

Surrounded by lush greenery in the plantation, we learned the life story of a coffee bean. Back at the family home, we helped turn the already shelled, fermented, and dried beans into a cup of the good stuff. We took turns roasting them over an open fire in a kitchen that looked like it time-traveled from the 1800s, then hand-ground them on a stone the couple had received as a wedding gift 25 years ago. By the time we brewed that coffee, we were spiritually bonded with it. No wonder it tasted so good.

After soaking up more of Antigua’s atmosphere, we took another (mercifully cobble-free) bike ride down to Panajachel on Lake Atitlán.

To reach Tzununa across Lake Atitlan, we had to cram into a small public boat with far too many people, most of whom had no concept of personal space, even if there had been any. The ride across the windiest lake ever was so bouncy I narrowly avoided biting my tongue clean off.

But it was worth it for a couple of truly relaxing, chilled-out days in a stunning setting. It’s times like these, you know you’re on holiday.

Guatemala wasn’t even on the cards earlier this year – but it turned out to be an awesome choice. Sometimes the best trips are the ones you never planned. And it’s not over yet – because there’s a volcano out there with our name on it.