I lived in Peru from 2015-2018, which is where I took up running more seriously. Before I was a runner, though, I was a hiker. Every time I saw a peak I wanted to see what the world looked like from its summit, and when I arrived in Arequipa the plane flew over Volcán Misti, an impressive 19,101 feet above sea level, I just knew I had to climb it.
I was coming from a city just six hundred feet above sea level and the longest hike I’d done was when I had gotten lost on a trail near Mount Baker, Washington and ended up scrambling over a boulder field looking for a lake that I’d already passed several miles earlier. I’d also never gone on the hike that required much more than a light daypack. Nevertheless, I met several like-minded expats in Arequipa and we formed a small group of would-be summiters.
For its altitude, Volcán Misti is not an overly technical peak and could be summited in just one day but two are recommended so mountaineers have a chance to acclimate before the final push the next morning. If you do a Google search of climbing Misti, you will find many stories of people succumbing to altitude sickness or getting lost and having to turn back.
I was the least experienced hiker of my group and had had the least amount of time to acclimate to the altitude in Peru, so if anyone was going to perish in the attempt (or just fail spectacularly), it was me.
We drove out of the city towards the volcano, and even by the time we’d reached the start of the hike I was beginning to feel lightheaded. As we got our gear together (over five liters of water per person plus cold-weather gear and camping supplies), I noticed what looked like giant bees with stingers landing on our arms. I guess “noticed” is a bit of an understatement, as I I freaked out and started swinging my arms frantically and dancing back and forth. Our guide told us they didn’t sting or bite, but somehow that knowledge did nothing to assuage my fears.
We finally set out in the late morning, and although the hike was a relatively short distance every step proved arduous. I wasn’t used to hiking with a pack, and we were carrying all the water we would need to drink and cook our meals as there are no water sources on the mountain. The altitude and loose, sandy terrain added to the difficulty of the hike, and we trudged on at a slow pace and took breaks every thirty minutes.
We made camp just about an hour before nightfall, and our guides cooked a delicious soup from the water we’d lugged up the trail. I’d hiked up in leggings and a T-shirt, but the temperature began to drop rapidly with the setting sun, and we all retreated to our tents sometime around seven or eight p.m. Something strange happened when I tried to fall asleep, though. The best way I can describe it is almost like hyperventilating. I kept taking short, shallow breaths and my heart pounded in my chest. I don’t think I slept at all the entire night.
We were up by two a.m. the next morning and hiking by three. We left our heavy packs and tents behind us with the intention of summitting around sunrise and then returning to break camp and hike back down to the van. Soon into the hike, a woman from our group and I fell behind the other hikers. We kept getting turned around in the dark, so one of the guides stayed behind with us while the other advanced with the rest of the group. Sunrise came and went, and by the time we reached the group they’d already reached the summit and were waiting down below in a saddle. The guides wanted to leave, but they ended up agreeing on letting my friend and me go to the top while the main group went down to break camp. The final climb looked like just a hundred feet or so from below, but it must have taken us another twenty minutes.
When I finally reached the top, the feeling was incredible. I’m not sure if it was the lack of oxygen, the bits of chocolate consumed on the journey up, or the sensation of accomplishing something incredible, but I felt immense. I felt like I was on top of the world.
We were only at the summit for several minutes, but that was long enough to look down into the live crater spewing out sulfurous fumes and pose in a Life Aquatic-style photo with my red beanie (in addition to being a hiker and trail runner, I am also a huge dork).
So it was on the summit of Volcán Misti that I discovered that I was capable of so much more than I could imagine. This is one of the sparks that lit the flame for my passion of trail running, and after a few years of pursuing fast times and PBs on the road, I have returned to my roots in search of glorious peaks and a new kind of challenge.
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