The author and four friends enjoyed blazing sunshine in February, 1998, when we visited Mexico's El Pico de Orizaba. The 18,400 ft volcano is the third highest peak on the North American continent.

We began by flying to the city of Veracruz, on the Gulf of Mexico. From there, we took buses to the small and beautiful city of Coscomatepec, in the shadow of the mountain. Climbers visiting this area should bring at least a small Spanish vocabulary, as practically no English is spoken there.

We rumbled up the dirt road in the back of a vegetable truck past the countryside of central Mexico. Our fears that the driver might not know the way evaporated when it became apparent he lived on this road. At the village of Cuiyachapa, we dropped off the numerous pedestrians we had picked up along the way.

After that there were no more villages, only potato farms, goat pastures and pine forests. The road ends, rather unexpectedly, at the camp of Senor Manuel Gutierrez. He has been a ranger with the Parque de Nacional Orizaba for seventeen years, and has built a modest camp among the pines at 10,000 feet. We rolled out our sleeping bags on the wood bunks of the cabin, but then stayed up late, sitting in front of a smoky fire, eating roasted peanuts and watching Mexican television.

The next morning we hiked seven miles to the huts of Piedra Grande, the climbers camp at 14,000 feet. The mules carrying our packs made the trek much easier.

A disconcerting element regarding this approach to the mountain is the fact a road exists to Piedra Grande from the other side. Being Bushwhackers, of course, we scoffed at the idea of riding in a jeep, sniffed at the climbers arriving freshly showered, and sneered at all of their delicious looking food. Sissies!

Sleep was difficult so the nights were long. None of us felt very fresh when we arose at 3:00 to climb. It was difficult to follow the rocky trail in the darkness and dawn arrived just as the trail ended. We needed light for the 800 feet of class 3 and 4 scrambling.

A logical picnic spot is the plateau at 16,000 feet. We had lunch and put on the crampons. Finally, time to break out the ice axes!

High winds in the afternoons required an early start and steady progress. Running late, we realized the summit would elude us. We fudged on the turn-around time long enough to reach 17,000 feet. From here we enjoyed a sweeping vista, including the volcanoes Popocateptl and Ixtaccihuatl.

The next morning the cowboy arrived on schedule with the burros and his dog. He was only a kid, but he expertly loaded our gear on the beasts, then led us down the trail.

The climbing season begins when the summer rains end, usually in October. All winter the sun dries out the forest until, by February, it’s a tinderbox. During our stay at 14,000 feet, a wildfire scorched the forest below, which was still smoldering as we hiked down. The ground was still warm and smoky, and several stumps still blazed.

We paid Senor Gutierrez for a ride back to Coscomatepec, and enjoyed a night at the Hotel San Antonio. The next day was Monday, market day in Cosco. This weekly event had products from all over Mexico, including yards of linen and jalepenos.

We bused back to Veracruz just in time for Fat Tuesday, the culmination of Carnival. One hundred thousand people in the street and the longest parade any of us had ever seen. Everyone had a fabulous time and it was the perfect ending to a great trip.