My legs were shaking like a bashed-in boxer’s. I’d been hiking all day uphill towards Fuego volcano, weighed down by a backpack, rain-lashed clothes, and the doomy realization that I was the most unfit member of my 35-person tour group.
We’d reached the ‘knife ridge’, a gray, ash-covered natural path a few hundred meters from the boiling lava bowl crater of Fuego, which stands 12,345 feet tall (3,763 meters) and is Central America’s most active volcano. To our right, cloud tops glowed orange as the sun set. In the distance, to our left was an inactive volcano, its wrinkled surface covered in greenery unbothered by lava.
Fuego greeted us with a rumbly boom, then a huge dark mushroom cloud burst from its crater. Selfie sticks were extended, fingers maneuvered into peace signs. As the dark cloud drifted, the sound of rocks thudding against ash mixed with cheers.
A once-in-a-lifetime experience? Or a risk that no-one, least of all local people who work as guides, should be taking?
