It must have been the excitement of our pending trip to the Villarrica Volcano as we didn't sleep well last night. We slowly pried ourselves from bed, packed our day bags and had a bowl of cereal before leaving to get to the tour centre for 6.30am. The weather as promised was glorious, the cloud hadn't broken over the mountains so Villarrica still remained hidden from view. At the tour centre we were given ruck sacks which was full of goodies. We were also given a climbing helmet with a piece of tape on spelling our names... SCOTT. We had been told to bring warm clothing, sun cream and a pair of shades. In addition to our kit the tour company provided us with clamp-ons, gaiters, snow trousers, a ruck sack, a plastic paddle to sledge down on, ice pick, jacket and a harness. Wow this is getting serious - it wasn't going to be the straightforward trek that we had been kidding ourselves it would be.

Julia had repeated the story over the last few days of how she had climbed Mount Kilimanjaro in Africa. She seemed more reassured than me because of her previous experience and as a result was more chirpy and upbeat than me. Naturally I was nervous, I hadn't climbed a mountain before. It also looked like I was ten years older than everyone else in the group - how would this OLD man cope?!

The tour guides, young and cocky, friendly and professional didn't seem to bothered by my pensive face as they threw the ruck sacks on the roof of the van. I felt a little like I was in for a 'beasting' (a military style exercise workout with no sympathy). All set we left in the cold morning air huddled together in the back of the van. As usual the victims all sported the standard tourist uniform of Khaki drab branded hiking trousers along with the obligatory North Face top or jacket. We started to make our way up to the start point of our trek. I could feel the temperature getting colder and I could see a frost on the ground which eventually turned to snow. The van stopped, doors open we dragged ourselves out into the cold air and prepped our bags under instructions from the guides. The car park was a flurry of tourist vans all going through the same routine as groups, varying in colours, started to form. I could now see Villarrica in all it's glory as I tried to work out which route we may take to the top. I could see smoke bellowing from the summit as it's white snowy silhouette sat against the inky blue sky. I felt nervous.

On your marks... get ready... go... it always seems to be the same mad rush on these group trips, the guides seem intent on racing the other tour companies. However it may be the weather they're racing this time? We set off in single file. With snowy ground under foot I quickly felt out of puff and started to work up a sweat. My gut instinct told me that I wouldn't remain warm for long. I tried to relax and take in the scenery - the mountain looked amazing, prehistoric and powerful. This is nature and she is in control - I just hoped she understood I wasn't another arrogant tourist and that I respected her!!

After an hour we reached the chair lift where we had the option to either continue walking up or to cut out a section of the climb which was only about 40 minutes. Ju and I looked at each other and quickly paid the £7 each required to ride the lift. After a short wait we found ourselves sitting on an icy chair riding to the next stage on our mountain trek. The wind became bitterly cold as we ascended higher - I had a slight feeling of dread which I tried to mask with humour. We were spat off the chair lifts, the wind now kicking up a mild snow storm. We were instructed to put our snow trousers, jacket, helmet and plenty of sun cream. As we started to walk I briefly looked up and could see the true scale of the mountain. I couldn't help but think what the @"*k are we doing - we have paid to do this, are we mad?

As we zig zagged up the mountain in single file I occasionally glanced down. I am not a great lover of heights but this experience definitely gave me vertigoat times. I gave myself a mental slap and concentrated on placing one foot at a time on the narrow trail carved out by our guide. The wind picked up in violent gusts. As it blasted our tourist convoy I watched the unidentified walker in front slide and lose their footing every other pace. This reminded me of Ju who I had forgotten about. The extreme conditions focus the mind and you block out everything and focus purely on your own survival. I know I am a tourist doing what many tourists have done before but this is scary and potentially dangerous. It was at this point I turned and shouted for Ju. "Ju are you ok?" "Ju" "JUUU" No response until the person in front turned slightly and said "what?" I hadn't realised she was in front - although it seemed obvious now after witnessing her slipping and sliding earlier.

Our first rest was in a concrete construction that had been a ski lift destroyed in the last Volcanic eruption. I was glad to get out of the wind and sit and relax. I didn't know what to feel at this stage. Cold and now tired we had been climbing for 2 hours. I sat and wondered how people climb Everest. It's obviously conditioning. I read many years ago that American Indians had made great steel workers in New York at the turn of the last century. They had the highest survival rate amongst their fellow steel workers. Rather than try to conquer their fear of heights the used it to stay alive. This fact echoed in my mind as I tried to cram a sandwich and energy bar down my throat. Everyone else seemed so upbeat - perhaps bravadoism, I didn't care. Cold and shivering we were told we had to wait until the wind dropped before ascending again. Ju now tired admitted that this was 10 times tougher than the Kilimanjaro climb. She turned to me a said "if the guides say we need to turn back now, I wouldn't be that bothered, I would actually be glad." I agreed. I managed to lighten the mood of our group. Unfortunately nature affects you in many ways and in this instance I had to take my first poo on a Volcano - now there's not many people out there that can say that now!!

One step, two step, pick in the snow. One step, two step, pick in the snow. Don't look down. One step, two step, pick in the snow. One step, two step, pick in the snow. Don't look down. "You ok Ju?". Puff, my legs are so tired, not long now, no turning back... must keep on going. This was to be the mental process over the next few hours as we ascended the mountain. Looking up the mountain was torture seeing convoys of people looking like ants. We didn't seem to be making any progress although we were. I had completely lost my appetite as we stopped for another bite to eat. I managed to cram another sandwich down along with some much needed water. The views were stunning as we looked down at the clouds below. We only had another 40 minutes to walk until we reached the summit. We had been walking for 5 hours and my legs were stiff and my feet cold.

The last section of the hike seemed the easiest of the day. Maybe this was because I knew we were almost at the summit. However it was the steepest section on the climb. Every time I glanced up I could see the summit getting closer. A sense of achievement started seeping in. I tried to remain focused and didn't fancy slipping at this stage in the walk and having to repeat part of the slog back up. The final few steps were exhilarating as I joined the others in our group who had already made it to the top. High fives all round as we congratulated each other. Even the guides who had completed the trek many times before genuinely seemed happy for us as we shook hands with them. Maybe they were happy as we had all made it in one piece. The top of the Volcano was awe-inspiring. To see the raw power of the crater before us as we stood in the howling wind - I felt like a lucky man to be stood there taking it all in. I stood with my wife as we had our photo's taken by one of our group. Our faces still beaming from our achievements, our thoughts slowly turned to the decent. Excited and nervous we were debriefed, harnessed and ushered to the edge of he mountain.

I couldn't wait to get down. We watched the first few drop off the edge of the mountain at uncontrollable speed as they tumbled and rolled. I exercised more caution as I dug my ice pick into the snow to regulate my speed. This was bloody steep, but the playful child in me took over and I soon gained momentum. I could hear screams of joy and terror coming from our group - it was safe to say everyone had a blast in the 2 hours it took to descending the mountain. We eventually reached the base of the mountain where we had started earlier in the day. Covered in snow and exhausted we stripped off our gear and dusted off the snow. Ruck sacks packed we walked an hour back to the van. Everyone seemed upbeat as we took one last look at the mountain before heading back to town. Most of the snow at the lower levels had started to melt - very symbolic of our depleted energy levels.

Back at the hotel our group enjoyed beer, wine and food. The girls made pop corn as we all sat to watch 'Inglorious Basterds'. Bodo the German in our group to my surprise had expressed a desire to watch this very violent Quentin Tarantino film. Julia can now replace her Mount Kilimanjaro story with... "When we climbed Villarrica, an ACTIVE Volcano..." Tired and contented we turned in for a well deserved nights sleep.