The Kind of Humbling you Never Forget.

I don’t think I’ve ever been humbled faster than when I decided climbing volcanoes in Guatemala sounded like a fun idea. The trail went straight up, a tilt your head back to see it steep. Every step sank into loose ash, so for every two steps forward, I slid about ten back. Six long, miserable hours passed like that, with my heart pounding so loudly I could hear it in my ears and my brain replaying every terrible decision that led me there. My lungs were on fire, my

legs did nothing but beg for a break, and the only joy any of us found was laughing at whoever was suffering worse. Horrible yes, but it’s also the kind of absurd misery that makes the memory unforgettable.

When we finally dragged ourselves to base camp, I should have been relieved. Should have relaxed. Instead, I found the real challenge hadn’t ended. Apparently, I had signed up to hike with some absolute lunatics. Rest, it seemed, was only for sane people. Weak people. Amateurs. And of course, my ego wouldn’t let me be any of those. So, fueled mostly by stubbornness and dried mango, a few of us waved goodbye to the wiser souls who chose warmth and common sense by the campfire, and headed back down just so we could climb again. This time, up the neighboring active volcano. In the absolute dead of night.

In the hours that followed, everything blurred together in the cold and dark.

My knees made it painfully clear they were not enjoying the hike, the wind made it almost impossible to stay upright, and every time I thought we were close, I discovered we were somehow not even close at all. My headlamp cut a tiny circle of light in front of me, and beyond it was only deep night and the rumbles of the volcano. At some point, we all sank into a heavy silence, not the good kind, just the kind that happens when everyone’s too exhausted for words.

Eventually though, which is to say, not even remotely fast enough, that silence turned into awe. We finally got the chance to witness some of earth’s raw power. Under the stars, the glow of molten rock flared and we simply stood there and watched. Mesmerized.

I really had questioned everything on that trail, but I would do it all again without hesitation. The aches, the cold that stole my sleep after the hardest hike of my life so far, the exhaustion. It was all worth it. After all, there are few experiences as humbling as standing on solid ground while the earth trembles beneath you, disconnected by language from the guide next to you, yet united in equal parts fear and admiration as lava paints the night sky in front of you.

That is the pull of travel and of hiking. The way it strips everything down to what’s real. The stories I’ll carry forever, the relationships that become stronger somewhere between suffering and laughter, the privilege of connecting with people whose lives began in places my passport dreams of. These are the true rewards. And in the end, it’s not just the summit that stays with you, but the way the experiences reshape the way you see the world and perhaps more

importantly, yourself.

-Krishan Ubongen