Some situations in life are catalysts that prepare us for big changes. Or should I also say challenges?
In February I had the opportunity to prove myself what I'm made of. Climbing to the summit of the Barú volcano, the tallest mountain in Panama, was a challenge I wanted to accomplish.

The date of the climb was already set for the Carnival weekend (a holiday in Panama), the group was formed and the expectations were high. I hardly knew all of the people that were part of the trip, but I wasn't worried about that.

I must admit that I underestimated the Barú and wasn't prepared for all the difficulties we had to face. But all this doesn't make sense if I don't tell you the story from the beginning.

I had other plans for Carnival. A friend from University invited me to go to Ocú, a town in the province of Herrera where Carnival celebrations include queens, parades, loud music, a lot of booze and party.  I had already confirmed when there was a change in my plans. Another friend told me about the Barú plan and after long considerations, I decided that the volcano expedition was much more interesting.

We did meet our guide, well, his brother actually, one month before the climb. Nariño and Chaly Airzpurúa are experienced hikers and know the trail almost by heart. In terms of preparation, having a guide is maybe the most important aspect you have to take care of before going on the adventure. Other details, such as booking a hostal in Volcán, the town nearest to the volcano foothills, is also as important as the guide. Many people have gotten lost during the climb of the 3,475 m to the top.

The meeting point for the group was Las Heliconias hostel in Volcán, which is quite modest, but if only for the night it's acceptable.  Chaly, his wife Annett and son Chalitin came the night before the climb to our hostel in order to explain how things would be done the next morning. We handed a list with our names and passport/ID numbers to the local police, just in case something went wrong. It's important to always take precautions.

I couldn't sleep that night. I don't know if I was nervous after the packing, not knowing if I would have enough water or if some of the granola bars were unnecessary weight. Or maybe because of the winds that were blowing against the zinc roof of the hostel.  I was up all night. Jacko, who also had trouble sleeping, gave me ear plugs that helped me to finally close my eyes and rest for an hour or two.

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All the alarms went off at 3:30 am. We got ready in what seemed the blink of an eye and by 4:00 am the transport came to pick us up and take us to the volcano foothills. It took us about 40/45 minutes to get to where the Volcán trail starts. Our plan was to hike the Volcán trail to the top in one day, camp in the crater, watch the sunrise and descend using the same trail. There's another path through Boquete, which is less challenging, because it's a road. An unpaved road, but still easier than a 7 hour hike through the jungle.

The atmosphere inside the mini van was great for such an early hour; some people even joked with each other and listened to the guide's explanations about the 7 ecosystems that we were going to observe during that day. With every bump in the road and the heavy rain we got closer to the starting point and when we got out of the car, the wind was blowing so intensely that everyone immediately reached out for their gloves, scarfs, beanies and rain jackets. Our adventure had started.

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Using nothing more than dynamos or head lamps and trekking poles, the first hours of the hike demanded a lot of concentration. You can't take your eyes off the path. I couldn't even see what was around me. You just know you have to walk. I concentrated so much on what was ahead of me that I couldn't think in anything else. We developed a kind of special language during those first hours that consisted merely on the phrases "watch out with the branch/root" or "be careful to your left/right", which as the trail got more challenging simply were the words "left/right" and "branch/root".

Annett, one of the guides, cheered us up by telling us that that part was just the warm-up. That we should wait until the part called "the 45". By the time we got to that part, the first morning light was allowing me to see more of the landscape: the blue hues of light on that rainy morning gave the trees a gloomy look that reminded me of the blue colours of Chagall's paintings. And the cold. My wool pullover was soaked and the cold breeze was making me shake. It was still raining, but the thought of a little sun warmed my spirit.

The thing with this "45" part is that it's 45 minutes of a steep climb, in which you practically have to hug trees and grab all the branches within your reach if you don't wish to fall down the precipice. I wasn't even thinking about the sun anymore, all I wanted was those 45 minutes to end. To my surprise, I was holding up to the challenge and kept going without once asking myself why I wanted to reach the summit.

 After the "45" part is over, the trail changes a bit and you have to descend for half an hour in order to begin climbing again. The nature does change and I suddenly had the chance to appreciate this even more because of the sunlight. Not that it made much of a difference, since it was still raining; at times it was just a slight rain, but during other parts of the trail the heavy raining just made it all much more challenging.

Until we got to the woods. Chaly told us to take a pause. It was 9:00 am. Only 3 more hours to the summit. By midday we would be there. But our pause turned into an indefinite stop. According to him, if we decided to continue the climb, it would be useless because we would have zero to no visibility at the top. If the weather conditions didn't improve, we would have to set the camp ahead of time and wait.

More than 2 hours passed and nothing changed. We had already set the tents and recharged our batteries. At times we thought the sun was finally coming out, but the ceaseless bajareque ( a local word for slight rain) dissipated our hopes. Uncertainty was starting to reign among us, because we heard nothing from our guides. Were we even going to make it?

Annett told me that the hardest part of the climb was still ahead of us. I was surprised and asked how difficult it would be. She said to me that it was even more challenging than the "45", with a steep part where you help yourself with a cable. But that wasn't even worrying her. What was on her mind was the fact that our muscles would cool down too much and be in pain after the long pause.

We spent the whole day there. With the exception of a brief exploration episode led by two of the group to confirm what our guides had already told us. We must have walked for 45 minutes or more without our guides (I actually lost the notion of time), when we realised we wouldn't make it. At least not that day.

The rest of the time we spent it at our camp, snacking and chitchatting a bit. We all went to bed really early. By seven o'clock everyone was inside their tent.Our plan for the next day was the following: we would wake up at 3:00 am, check if the raining had stopped, pack only the necessary and attempt to climb to the summit. We would hike in the darkness through a path that we knew was only going to get even more difficult and with sore muscles. One of the members of the group said he didn't even want to be woken up.

I wasn't so hungry and ate nothing before sleeping. I was still cold, even though I had changed my clothes. The four of us, Miguel, Benita, Patty and me snuggled up in our sleeping bags and tried to keep each other warm. I actually knew that I was going to have trouble sleeping, but the intense sound of the raindrops against the tent's raincover somehow helped me to slowly close my eyes until I fell in a deep sleep.

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Chaly did wake up at 3:00 am. As you might guess, it was still raining. So, we could sleep for a couple of hours more. By 6:30 am we heard the announcement. It took me a while to get up, only to feel my limbs a bit numb and my head a bit dizzy. In 20 minutes we would start climbing, so Chaly. This had to be it. You either climb or stay.

The first shot I took the morning of our second attempt to get to the summit.

Annett, one of the guides.

During this part of the climb, I kept playing one song over and over again in my head. London Grammar's "Sights", which is more of a love song, helped me focus on the challenge. If you haven't heard it, do listen to it. Here are the parts of the lyrics that I kept repeating:

"What are you afraid of? I know that you are
Keep it in your sights now, don't let it go far
Keep it together
What have you done my only friend, keep on 
Wander or leave,
Turn into winter lights
Keeping your strength when it gets dark at night"

Annett told us not to look down, because we might feel vertigo or fear of heights. She also advised not to look up, because one could feel desperate in realising that the summit was still hours away. I actually did both and the result was not that good. I was quite worried because I had turned on my camera and saw that the screen was damaged. I was so overwhelmed that I had to make a pause. The rest of the group continued hiking the trail, which at that moment was shockingly narrow. I held every rock around me and repeated again "What am I afraid of?". I closed my eyes and answered this question to myself in silence.

"Are you alright?" I heard Elliese saying in a short distance from me. I answered I was fine and kept going. We really developed a nice group in which everyone watched out for one another. In fact, Chaly said that it was one of the first groups he saw that stayed together until the end.

Finally, after three hours of hiking, Chaly gave each one of us high five and congratulations. "You're at the summit of the Barú volcano and behind this rock you'll see the crater".  I turned my back on him and looked at the mountain lying at my feet.
Peace is the only word I can now use to describe what I felt.

First views of the summit. The landscape was pretty gloomy, but the sun started to shine just minutes after.

In a matter of minutes the weather changed in such a drastic way! We finally had some sunshine!

First view of the crater.

The antennae.

Badass Chaly.

Elliese running in the crater.

Fantastic views on the summit. We never saw the Caribbean, but I was happy with a short glance at the Pacific.

A sea of clouds.

The crater.

'Los Arrechos'.  From left to right: Miguel and Patty, Benita, Elliese, me, Chaly,Jacko and Eduardo. David and Nicki behind the last two. Gilli and Rolo are not in the picture, they were probably at the cross by the time it was taken.

During the descend, we were able to appreciate all the natural beauty that surrounded us. I could take a closer look at the kind of plants that grow at that altitude, the trees, the path that was previously covered by the mist. The sun was shining in all its glory and the "challenge of the sleeping dragon" was accomplished.

If there's something I would like to highlight from this trip is the incredible group of people I met. I can confirm again that it's not about a place, a goal, a view. It's about the interaction between people and the shared memories that remind you just how special everyone is and how irreplaceable they are.

Mission accomplished!

The rest of the day was simply amazing. Some say they even saw a quetzal! The hike down the mountain seemed longer than the climb, but in the end there was a magnificent sunset to greet us.

After all, I truly believe that the greatest of adventures begin when they seem to be over...