An account of a mountaineering trip gone awry. With more enthusiasm than sense we made our way 4,000m to the top of a dormant volcano in Guatemala.
Our ascent to the peak was met with the sudden appearance of storm clouds. The sun went down. It got colder. A lot colder.
Then the rain came. Lots of it. With the rain came a demented gale. Our tent snapped, it leaked, our shoes got soaked. Cold, hopeless agony. We held onto each other for reassurance as much as warmth. As soon as the first light broke through the night we were up and out of that forsaken hellhole.