Hiking in Guatemala, for a Good Cause

Guatemala is a favorite travel destination of ours, but it’s better known for its pretty colonial cities and gorgeous volcanic lakes than its trek-worthy western highlands. This story (originally published on the now-defunt Ozy.com) is based on a trip we took many years ago, but it’s been updated to reflect current details.  

“Poco a poco,” the laden-down farmer advised as I gingerly stepped past him on a steep downhill path coated in thick, sludgy mud, headed toward a picturesque patchwork of fields that began in the valley below and climbed up the hills opposite. Little by little. It was 2008, and I was three days into a six-day, 37-mile trek through the remote highlands of western Guatemala. I’d already slipped on my rear twice and my feet felt literally broken—I couldn’t rush if I tried. Fortunately, I was in good hands.

It was the third time my husband and I were visiting Guatemala, and we’d wanted to do something different from our past trips to Antigua, Lake Atitlán, and the stunning Mayan ruins at Tikal (all of which we also recommend; see box at bottom). We certainly got that. I’d booked this guided hike through a 1995-established nonprofit, all-volunteer-run organization called Quetzaltrekkers, drawn to the idea of a challenging adventure through jaw-dropping rural landscapes—this part of Guatemala is rich in sacred lakes, Mayan mountain towns, and perfect volcano cones.

Best of all, it was for a good cause: All of Quetzaltrekkers’ profits go to a nearby primary school, Escuela de la Calle (EDELAC), and a long-term safe house for disadvantaged children in Quetzaltenango, the country’s second-largest city, where the organization is based and where our journey began. (2026 update: The organization is currently raising money for a new secondary school and library, and it participates in other community projects too, from reforestation hikes to solar panel installations in local mountain towns.) About 80 percent of the funding for EDELAC and the home comes directly from the hikes, estimates Kendall Ahern, an Ohio native and former guide who was serving a second volunteer stint at the org at the time of interviewing, as an administrator (the rest of the funding comes from outside donations). As the slogan succinctly puts it: Hike volcanoes. Help kids.

As a budget traveler, I was also attracted to the price of these guided treks: Day hikes run up to $40, and multiday hikes top out around $287, the cost of the six-day trek from Nebaj to Todos Santos that I did (editor’s note: It was $148 back in 2008). “Everything is included that you could possibly need. You can show up in a suit and a suitcase and we’ll have enough gear for you,” says Ahern. It seems a small price to pay given the value of the experience—not only in the stunning landscapes and physical adventure but also in the cultural access given to trekkers via their guides.  

Of course, with that access should come adjusted expectations: Lodging and food are often provided by families in rural villages along the way, allowing Quetzaltrekkers to spread some wealth around local communities and affording visitors an intimate look at a unique way of life—but not always a bed to sleep in. (On my trek years ago, there was one night when the local clinic our small group of five was supposed to sleep in was locked, so we had to pitch our sleeping bags on a dirt floor in an adjoining room. Ahern assures me “that doesn’t happen much anymore,” noting they’ve built stronger relationships with villagers over the years.) And while the food is always tasty and plentiful, it is basic, hearty fare—expect lots of beans, rice, tortillas, potatoes, tamalitos. You are, after all, in the middle of the mountains in an impoverished country.

While twentysomething backpackers comprise the bulk of the clientele, the organization caters to a wide range of trekkers, from gap-year students to families on Christmas vacation. Hikers should be relatively fit—you’ll be carrying a heavy pack at altitude—but needn’t be very experienced. An open mind goes a long way.

“We don’t promise the world to people,” Ahern says. “Guatemala is pretty unpredictable with the things it throws at us.”