So, I'm back and I'm safe from the endeavor that was climbing two mountains in a weeks time. And, of course, I have a lot to say about the experience. It was tough...really tough. The sites were absolutely breathtaking...or, perhaps that was the altitude.
Our trip started off with an early departure from our departments capital. Several hours later, we arrived at the entrance to the park. From there, we went about another hour in car until we were at a point where our feet finally had to do the work.
That first day, we hiked to the other end of the valley and up onto base camp for mountain number one. We arrived at base camp late that afternoon with the elation of going for our first summit that next morning. It was a brilliantly sunny day and we took careful notes of the snow covered peaks surrounding us. However, there was one peak in particular that we had our eyes on.
Unfortunately, I fell a bit ill and began to question whether or not I would be able to push on. That night was long. Not only did we have three men crammed into a two person tent, but my stomach prevented me from getting more than an hour of sleep. More so, the notion of not being able to soldier on through the following days climb weighed heavy on my mind.
Near one-o-clock AM, one of my tent mates left the tent to alleviate himself. About a half hour after his return, I began to hear a rustling outside of our tent. Most definitely, the thought of a robbery in such a remote area seemed very improbable. That led to only one other possibility. Many Peruvian campesinos allow their cattle to graze the lower sections of the mountainsides. However, as we discovered, some of these cows can be quite menacing.
As I prodded my recently returned tentmate, I gave shouts of "waaka! waaka!" (the word for cow in Quechua). My good friend and I climbed out of our sleeping bags and into the frosty starry night, wearing nothing but our long johns and our headlamps. In so doing, we discovered that a cow had managed to get his cuddy lips on a plastic bag which contained items I had set aside that I would not be needing on our summit attempt; which was now only a couple hours away.
Quickly, we gathered my disbanded items, which consisted of my one change of underwear, an extra pair of pants, some food rations, and an extra t-shirt. We gathered it all under the moonlit night (or so we thought), and climbed back into our tent for about another hour or so of rest until we departed for our first summit.
At three in the morning we all rolled out of bed, had a quick Quaker breakfast and began our hike up through the moraine and towards the glacier. I was still very concerned about my physical well-being, and had informed my comrades that I would make a decision as to whether or not I would go for the summit when we reached the glacier. However, for the time being, I was going to push myself until quitting was the only option. Afterall, I had put a great deal of effort into making sure that I would be ready for these mountains, and I wasn't going to give up so easily.
The sun slowly began to shed it's light as we hit the first ridge line. As we shut off our headlamps, the panoramic views of being at about 15,000 ft besieged us. Along with the welcomed warmth of the sun, we too saw the breadth of what was yet to come.
Climbing around and over the scattered boulders of landslides past, we eventually arrived at the base of the glacier. Mounting this glacier appeared to be no easy task. As we geared up, took out our ice axes, and stepped into our crampons, we prepared to climb the ice wall which would put us onto the snow.
Our guide went first. He set the route and placed an anchor at the top. He was a quiet man, a few years younger than myself. He had already told us of tales of past experiences, including encountering an avalanche one exceptional climb. Whether his aim was to instill fear or a greater sense of caution, he succeeded.
Anyway, once he secured the anchor, I followed. At this moment, I suddenly realized exactly what I had gotten myself into, and felt the hastening of adrenaline that accompanies it. As I buried my axe into the ice, and kicked my crampons into its resistant surface, I krept up the wall; making sure that I always had three points of contact secure. Finally, the rope tightened and my friend began his first encounter with the glacier.
A few minutes past when the third man mounted the wall, and it became obvious that the number two was struggling. Now, evermore aware of the difficulties, I was sure to dig deeper into the ice with every movement. Eventually his distrusting steps failed him, and he fell off the wall.
Suddenly, I felt the pinch of the added weight in my harness. I laid my body into the wall and put trust in my prior placements hoping that they would hold. After a few words of encouragement, my calves began to bounce under the added wait. I then got rather short. I regret my use of explicits. However, he soon regained his positioning and we all successfully made it onto the glacier with nothing more than the small reminder that this is far from the leisurely outdoor activity you see on the cover of an REI catalog.
Eventually, we all made it onto the glacier and began our zigzag hike towards the summit. This was my first experience on top of a glacier, and I found it to be quite fascinating. From a distance, the glacier looks like a large mound of snow blanketi
ng the uppermost portions of the mountains. However, one fails to see the intricate maze of crevices which plummet to infinity, as well as the amazing ice murals which spring up sporadically.
Proceeding upward, we lept over several crevices and often took a break to catch our breath...only to loose it again while taking in our surroundings. We wound around enormous bulges of ice protruding from the mountain, mystified by how they are formed. We also took note of how there were no footprints. Unbeknown to us, we were the first team to go for the summit on this particular mountain this year.
So, on we trudged; up and through the untouched snow. As we neared the summit, with only about 150 to 200 meters to go, we came stumbled upon a declivity of soft snow. On the other side, we could see the route which would lead us to the summit. This slope extended for about 70 meters, the snow was soft, and it stood between us and our destination.
As we began to maneuver across the incline, the angle became increasingly apparent; along with the obvious level of danger. The snow was deep. Even with crampons, every step was knee level. Worst of all, my ice axe was rendered ineffective in such a soft surface. More so, I apprehensively watched the loose snow fall from my feet. I watched it slide down the slope and into a patiently waiting crevasse about 100 meters bellow. My heartbeat was rapid, my breaths were deep, and I did my best to stay focused.
So there we were, inching through the knee-deep snow, roped together, and completely exposed on an open face of the mountain. I was the first man behind our guide, and have never felt so defenseless as I timorously crept across the slope. After reaching the halfway point, every man in the team was on the slope. The unmissable danger was prevalent to all. The snow was unstable, and it became apparent that if one man fell, we would all go with him. More so, the conditions were quite prone to avalanche.
As we stood there, exposed and at the mercy of the mountain, we decided that it simply wasn't worth the risk. Therefore, we began the difficult backtrack across the impossible escarpment. The unworkable footing was maddening. With every step, my feet slid and my heart raced. At this moment, in all sincerity, I didn't think that I was going to make it off the mountain alive. However, and quite obvious as you read this, that was not the result. We all made it safely back to the other side of the dangerous declivity, and began our defeated march back down the mountain.
The descent was much quicker than the ascent, and we all felt very humbled. Within a couple of hours, we were repelling down the ice wall and back to the moraine. A few hours later, we arrived back at base camp. In our exhaustion, we discovered the remnants of my favorite t-shirt which we failed to find the night before. Without a doubt, the cow that found it chewed on it excessively before deciding that it wasn't a worthy meal. As sad as I was to lose such a fine article of clothing (my possessions here in the Peace Corps are quite limited), it was nice to have something to joke about and to lighten the mood.
Rather than spending another night amongst the delinquent cattle, we decided to hike back down to the valley and towards a camp closer to the start-off point for our next endeavor. Surely, our next climb would be more difficult (by at least 2000 ft). However, even with our trounced feelings of failure, we would eat and sleep well; knowing that we did our best. Sure, we failed; but we were safe. The time arrived to start thinking about part two of the journey. That first mountain was the "warm-up". Tomorrow, we would start off on a climb that could take us 20,846 ft into the air if we could meet the challenge. Nonetheless, and perhaps to no suprise, I slept quite well.
Stay tuned for the sequel.
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