From First Failure to Five Summits

Reignition at Base Camp

He didn’t try to talk me out of quitting. Instead, he offered something better: a different mountain, a smaller step, a chance to rebuild before I broke myself trying to run before I could walk. I said yes.

That’s how I ended up in Tlachichuca, a mountain town wrapped in the shadow of the volcano I’d just given up on, shaking hands with a guide named David. We drove further up, toward Orizaba’s base camp, and hiked in together. For a few hours, sitting at the foot of that giant, David talked and I listened — about the mountain, about the altitude, about what it actually takes to stand on top of it.

Something in me came back to life up there.

I still hadn’t summited anything close to what I’d come for. I now knew, with total clarity, that I’d underestimated both the mountain and my own fitness. David told me that almost everyone does the first time — high altitude has a way of humbling even strong climbers. But knowing I wasn’t ready yet wasn’t the same as accepting defeat. I flew home to Southern California with a promise to myself: I was coming back, and I was going to finish what I started.

Back for Good

One month later, I was back on a plane to Mexico City. This time I didn’t pack for a trip — I packed for a mission. Enough clothes to last months. A condo rented in Puebla. And a detailed plan built for one purpose: get strong enough, get acclimatized enough, and get back up that mountain.

But somewhere in building that plan, the goal got bigger. Why stop at one volcano when the five tallest peaks in Mexico were all right there, within reach of Mexico City and Puebla? I decided to hire a guide for each climb — not just for safety, but to learn everything I could from the people who knew these mountains best.

Over the following months, one by one, I stood on every summit: La Malinche. Nevado de Toluca. Sierra Negra. Iztaccíhuatl. And finally — the mountain that had sent me home defeated — Pico de Orizaba.

Five Summits, One Idea

Standing on that last summit, looking back at everything it took to get there, an idea took hold that I couldn’t shake: what if other people could do this too? Not just the climb, but the whole transformation — the fitness, the acclimatization, the mental toughness required to take on Mexico’s highest peaks one at a time. That idea became the Cinco Volcanes Challenge.

One honest footnote: technically, Popocatépetl ranks as Mexico’s second-highest peak. But it’s an active volcano, and climbing it is illegal — so it doesn’t make the list. The Cinco Volcanes Challenge only counts mountains you’re actually allowed to stand on top of.

Three Years on the Mountain

What started as a one-month trip turned into three years living in Mexico. Three years learning these volcanoes not as a tourist, but as someone who’d failed on them, gone back, and earned every summit. Three years building relationships with the local guides who make these climbs possible — the same expertise now built into every Cinco Volcanes expedition.

I didn’t get to the top of Pico de Orizaba on my first try. I’m glad I didn’t. That failure is the reason Cinco Volcanes exists — built by someone who knows exactly what it feels like to turn back, and exactly what it takes to go again.