Today I climbed an active volcano...

...and it was by far the hardest physical thing I've ever done in my life. While I was precariously clinging to the rocky peak of Pichincha this very afternoon, I asked myself for the umpteenth time why on earth I had thought this was a good idea less than 24 hours ago.

The day started off well enough. Me and the two other volunteers who had decided to climb Pichincha, Tommy and Phil, all arrived excited and on time at our designated meeting point. The sun was shining and we were all in high spirits to begin our volcanic adventure.

A short taxi ride brought us to the Teloferico, one of the highest aerial lifts in the world that would take us over 13,000 feet above sea level to where we would start our hike up the volcano. Tommy and I are both afraid of heights so our ten minute ride up the mountain was tense to say the least. Phil, however, couldn't seem to get enough of the view. He refused to sit still and kept our little car swinging from side to side in spite of my and Tommy's fearful protests. I admit, though, the view was breathtaking and at times even I forgot just how high our cable car was hanging over the deep ravines in the mountain.

Thankfully, we arrived at the top without incident and after a quick bathroom break and a picture at one of the scenic viewpoints we set off.

After three weeks of acclimatizing to Quito's high altitude we figured that although the hike would be challenging it would certainly be doable. That was until we encountered our first hill anyway. It was shocking how quickly our little hearts began to race and our breathing grew short. We immediately began to question the sanity of our decision as we stood panting at the top. Could we really handle several more hours of this both up and then back down the mountain?

Our small group rallied though and, seeing other hikers further down the path, decided that we would not be so easily beaten. The next two hours on the trail were actually quite enjoyable. We stopped for two minute breaks whenever needed and made good use of our cameras to capture the insane views that surrounded us on all sides. It was incredible being so close to the sky. I knew that if I only stood on my tiptoes and reached just high enough my fingertips would brush the clouds.

We continued happily along but by the two hour mark, the trail became much steeper and narrower and the possibility of falling off the mountain was becoming much more of a reality. While my fear of heights had subsided once we had exited the Teloferico, they now came rushing back.

The temperature had also dropped and while the rest of me was sufficiently warm my fingers were starting to get quite cold. I kicked myself yet again for not taking the time to grab my gloves that morning. Still, my pockets were warm and we assumed that by this point we must be nearing the end of our hike so I pressed onward.

Sure enough, moments later we found ourselves face to face with a rock wall and a trail that had apparently dead ended. We congratulated ourselves for making the distance and I quietly celebrated that soon my hands would be wrapped around a warm cup of tea.

A group of Germans that we had encountered earlier along the trail kindly took our pictures and then informed us that no, we needed to scale the rock wall behind us and pick up the trail that continued on the other side.

I'll admit that by this point I was more than ready to throw in the towel. My poor heart and lungs had never been worked so hard in their life and my fingers were rapidly starting to lose their color. The boys, however, insisted that we not let the volcano defeat us and, following the Germans lead, scrambled over the rock and left me contemplating whether to continue or turn back.

As I wavered back and forth, I looked up to see one of the German guys patiently waiting halfway up the wall with his hand outstretched to assist me in my climb. The thoughtfulness of this total stranger pushed me off my fence and motivated me to make it to the top at all costs.

I rejoined Phil and Tommy and the rest of the German gang and together we began the final ascent up Pichincha. It was this final part that was the most strenuous and pushed me farther than I've ever been physically.

At this point in our hike, we had reached 15,000 feet above sea level and still had a couple hundred feet to go. I had foolishly assumed earlier that the air could not possibly get any thinner. I was wrong. Whereas before we could walk quite far without taking a break, we soon reached a point where every three or four steps we had to stop to catch our breath which, at this altitude, we couldn't ever really catch.

Along with the increasingly thin air, the trail became increasingly dangerous. The hard packed dirt we had been hiking on turned suddenly turned into sand that provided our shoes with very little, if any, traction. Interspersed among the sand were rocky crags that became more present the closer we got to the top. It became more and more difficult to find a secure path to the peak.

If this weren't enough, my fingers had lost all of their color and most of their feeling by this point. The boys had kindly been taking turns rubbing my hands every few yards when we paused for a break but even between their efforts and keeping my hands inside of my shirt, nothing seemed to be able to revive them. I'll admit that several times I was on the brink of tears from the pain. (And of course there was the irrational little voice inside of my head insisting that I was going to get frostbite and was sure to lose all of my fingers, which was not helping matters.) On a more practical note, though, it made gripping the rocks on my climb upward incredibly challenging.

While fearless Phil had been keeping pace with the Germans for the entirety of the ascent and was further ahead, Tommy and I chose a more moderate speed and continued to encourage each other to keep moving as we struggled our way up the rocks. I remember gasping out to Tommy several times that "I can't go any further" and him repeating that we would not let the mountain defeat us.

Painfully slowly, we hauled ourselves up a couple more feet and seated ourselves a short distance below the peak. We were literally in the clouds at this point and the visibility was very poor. While we could hear and faintly see people a little ways above us, we couldn't see a way to the absolute peak without having to descend from where we were and trying a different ascent. Two of the German girls were sitting near us and they too concluded that it would be too dangerous and exhausting to try and navigate the last several feet to the top from where we were.

So we had made it. We had reached the top of Pichincha in spite of everything and even though I didn't get my picture with the sign on the top, I felt an immense sense of pride and accomplishment. I had just climbed a volcano!

If you look at my thumb on the left you can see just how little circulation I had in my hands. It was much worse in the rest of my fingers which were completely white by this point.

And the view from the top...unbelievable! No matter how crummy you were feeling, when the clouds cleared for a moment and you could look down on Quito you literally felt on top of the world, physically and emotionally.

But the adventure wasn't over yet. We still had to get down the mountain. And this proved to be just as difficult as getting up there. The sand that had proven so difficult to climb up now sent us sliding down the volcano with little to slow us down or break our fall. I spent the majority of the descent from the peak sliding on my bottom to keep from picking up too much momentum.

Once we got past the sand, we stopped for a moment on a ledge to catch our breath and thank the Lord that we hadn't rolled to our deaths. It was while we were sitting here that we met up with another group of hikers and their tour guide. Seeing Tommy frantically rub my hands together to bring some color back to them, one of the hikers offered me a cup of hot tea from his Thermos and   yet another offered me his gloves to wear. Once again, I was completely taken aback by the kindness of these total strangers. It is truly amazing the way we humans bond together in trying situations.

Between the tea and the gloves I began to feel the slightest tingle in my fingers again. (I hadn't been able to feel anything in them up to this point.) My spirits immediately began to lift and we set off down the mountain again with this group.

We began to pick up the pace as we grew closer to the bottom and as the trail became easier to navigate. The finish line was clearly in sight! However, as we entered the home stretch, it began to rain. It started out as a light, refreshing mist but soon turned into a downpour. Even with my umbrella my shoes, pants, and backpack were soon quite wet and the rain was running off my umbrella in rivulets.

It didn't put a damper on our excitement at nearly being "home" though. If anything, we were thankful for the dampness which packed down the loose dirt on the trail and made navigating down the hills much easier.

An hour after we began our descent, we found ourselves at the Teloferico once again. Exhausted, wet, and out of breath but immensely proud of ourselves for what we had just accomplished. The mountain had not defeated us.

So, will I climb another volcano again over 15,000 feet above sea level? Probably not. (...well, maybe...) Am I glad that I took a chance and challenged myself to do something new? Most definitely yes! Does it make for a great story? That's up to you. Leave me a comment and let me know if you thought so.

Chao!