Guatemala

The trip began in Antigua, a city of cobblestone streets, colourful markets and old buildings marked by centuries of earthquakes.

I spent the first days wandering through the historic centre, where I met Maya selling bracelets she made by hand. Beyond the rooftops and ruined churches, volcanoes dominated the horizon — and in the distance, Volcán de Fuego could occasionally be seen erupting.

The next morning, we would begin climbing toward it.

The climb up Acatenango was long and relentlessly steep.

As we gained altitude, the forest gradually disappeared and the landscape opened beneath us. By the time we approached base camp, somewhere around 3,700 metres, we were walking above the clouds.

The valleys seemed impossibly far below, giving the strange sensation of looking down from an aircraft rather than standing on a mountain.

Then, around one of the bends in the trail, Fuego appeared for the first time — erupting across the valley.

That evening, some hikers continued down toward Fuego. I chose to stay at base camp for sunset.

It turned out to be the right decision. The air was unusually calm, with almost no wind, and Fuego remained completely visible as darkness fell.

Across the valley, the headlamps of hikers formed a long S-shaped line on the volcano.

I had no tripod with me, but managed three long exposures before the cold eventually won.

At 3:30 the next morning, we left camp for the summit of Acatenango.

For most of the climb, the world was reduced to darkness, headlamps and the occasional glow of Fuego behind us. Near the summit, the Pacific coast slowly appeared in the distance as the sky began to change.

Near the summit, I realized that the sun was going to rise almost perfectly behind Volcán de Agua.

For a few minutes, the cone cast an enormous shadow across the landscape while the first rays of sunlight appeared on either side of its summit.

It remains one of the most remarkable sunrises I have ever seen.

After Acatenango, the pace of the trip changed completely.

We travelled to Panajachel and crossed Lake Atitlán by boat to San Juan La Laguna. The volcanic landscape was still present everywhere, but the following days became much more about the people living around it.

San Juan was filled with colour — murals, traditional clothing, markets and small workshops. I spent hours walking through the village, meeting local artists and watching painters work before buying a few small pieces to bring home.

One of the people I met was Pablo, who came from a neighbouring village. He was weaving and selling baskets to raise money for children in his community.

Around the lake, the smaller moments gradually became as important to me as the landscapes: fishermen leaving shore, people going about their day, and, on Valentine’s Day, couples sharing the waterfront — some young, some much older.

On my final morning, I woke before sunrise and walked alone above San Juan.

The lake was almost completely still. One by one, the surrounding volcanoes emerged from the darkness, while Fuego continued erupting far beyond them.

It was a quiet ending to one of the best trips I have ever taken.