Ups and Downs...part two "Chopicalqui"

As aurora brought us to wake, we quickly ate breakfast and packed up camp.  Although the last two days were fairly difficult, they would surely seem feeble in comparison to what was lying ahead of us.  

On our feet, we moved on down to the next valley and began our accent.  The day was clear and we were all in good spirits as we manuvered through the dwarf forests and into the pampa.  With an exceptionally high hunger for our next objective, we quickly found ourselves at the moraine.  

Climbing up and around the boulders of landslides past, I was marveled at the view of our next "port of call".  To add to the excitement, we spent the day witnessing numerous avalanches (most definitely in the double digits) on neighboring mountains, as well as on the one we were soon to ascend.  Nonetheless, we pressed on.  We skipped base camp, deciding it best to just push on,  and arrived at the moraine camp with dusk in the early evening.  

There we spent our evening, wedged between enormous boulders and tremendous rock wall.  It was a rather relaxed evening for the following day we would only have to ascend about 600 meters to camp on the glacier.  We watched the sunset reflect off the opposing glaciers and continuously admired the peak we were hoping to meet in two days time.  

As we dined in the brisk air under the shadows of our headlamps, we were blessed with the most remarkable exhibition of stars that I have ever laid eyes upon.  On a clear night, at about 16,500 ft, there was a bowl of stars which seemed so close that they were just out of arms reach.  Words cannot describe the countless glints of light on the blackest pallete.  However, soon enough we were forced into our tents under the iniquity of the first snowfall I've encountered in Perú.  

Morning's light brought us promise and a slow pace through the moraine and onto the glacier.  As soon as the sun broke through the tops of the eastern mountains, we were once again blessed with the fervor of the tropical sun.  Seemingly well rehearsed, we once again drew our ice axes and strapped into our crampons when we arrived at the base of the glacier. 

Thus, we ascended in a fairly uneventful manner.  The novelty of jumping over crevices, passing couloirs, and staring into infinite ravines had somewhat worn off.  Now, more than ever, I was focussed on the end result.  I yearned for that feeling of standing on top of a mountain.  Although the views were nothing short of spectacular (to describe them as marvelous would be a goss understatement), I necessitated that sense of accomplishment of which I had been robbed on the previous mountain.  

And just like that, we pushed on until we climbed the final wall which brought us to a the flat area where we would set up camp...on the glacier at about 18,700 feet above sea level.  And there I sat, sitting on the rain cover of my backpack, using my bag itself as a backrest, until my butt was well beyond frozen.  Under the screaming silence of our thoughts, the following day's summit attempt lingered heavy in the thin mountain air. 

That evening, two of our five team members were bold enough to admit that the would not be carrying on in the summit attempt the following day; that brought us down to three.  However, that also meant that we would be going up in one solo team as opposed to the two we had been moving in prior.  Therefore, if one of the remaining three couldn't continue, we would all have to return.  

That night we did our best to relax our overwrought minds and bodies as we dined and enjoyed the sunset from on top of the glacier at 18,700 ft.  As the sun left, it took with it what little warmth was left in the air, and we quickly filed into our tents to get whatever little sleep possible.  

Throughout the night, I regularly woke up short of breath, cold, and anxious.  Nonetheless, the 12:30 AM wake up time arrived rather quickly.  Under the light of the stars, moon, and our headlamps, the three of us geared up and forced food into our uneasy stomachs.  Already out of breath from what little work it took to strap into our crampons, we bid farewell to our two friends and started toward the summit.

Immediately after leaving camp, we found ourselves trudging up a very steep and lengthy incline.  It was a prompt reminder of just how hard this summit attempt would be.  We pushed on silently, focusing on our steps, our breathing, and doing our best to be aware of our present condition.  

As we hit the first ridge, our climb turned into more of a hike up a gradual slope.  However, at that altitude, every step takes a great deal of energy.  We had been moving for a couple of hours, and we were still under the night sky.  Off in the distance, the lights of our department capital came into site and served as a reminder that most of the world was softly in bed, warm, relaxed, and comfortable.  

We tramped on through the dark, noticing only the shadows of crevices and gaping holes in the glacier.  When climbing in The Tropics, the sun softens the snow severely.  Although we were unable to enjoy the views through the darkness, it was the safer option.  More so, I was growing too exhausted to pay heed to the panarama.  

Hours passed and the sky finally began to shake the encumbering darkness.  We were able to switch off our headlamps just as we approached the famed 120 meter (nearly 400 ft) wall that contemptibly rests at an outstanding 19,685 ft above sea level.  The misery I was dealing with a few hundred feet lower was now gone.  This last gigantic barrier became the focal point.  Filled with dynamism, we conquered the wall in two 60 meter sections.

I was first to arrive at the top of the wall, and rolled over with exhaustion.  A few seconds passed before I finally raised my head and saw it.  In the not-too-far distance stood the summit.  It's cone shape was majestically soaring above the background.  The end was in site.

After a couple minutes of catching our breath, we ardently maneuvered towards the obstacle.  Upon reaching the base, we cut around the right side.  Hugging the wall firmly, standing on a mere six inch ledge, I did my best to ignore the plummeting drop bellow.  Finally, with one more step, and a large stretched, my axe connected with the ice in the final narrow shoot.  After a mere 30 more feet, I found myself there, on top of it all.  In great elation, we admired our view from on top of the world at 20,850 ft above sea level (6,354 meters).

So, what do you do when you reach a summit of that magnitude?  Well, first you have a group hug.  Then, you take a few pictures.  After that, if you're anything like me, you take a seat, enjoy the view, and eat the cheese sandwich you've been toting to the top.  

Sitting up there, we were all in great spirits as we seemed to have already forgotten the burden we bared to arrive.  With an overwhelming sense of accomplishment, I admittedly felt very emotional.  Nonetheless, our stay on the summit was short-lived as we had to make our way down before we found ourselves in foul weather or before the snow became dangerously soft.

Of course, navigating back down the mountain was a lot easier than the ascent.  Not having to battle gravity, we kept a good pace and rapidly repelled down walls which were once so painful to go up.  In spite of all that, we managed to find ourselves in a whiteout at about 18,000 ft for a little over an hour.  It became so severe that I couldn't see my partner in front of me, nor the one behind.  Again, we were robbed of the view on that stretch of the mountain.  In addition, we had an episode while repelling down one of the walls which certainly caused a bit of a stir.  In spite of all that, we safely converged with our other two friends waiting back at the glacier camp under blue skies.

As we descended together, we were attacked by a rockslide off a nearby mountain.  Myself and a friend both had to literally dive out of the way, and one fairly large rock came very close to taking my head off.  Regretfully, I had already removed my helmet...that was a very poor decision, kids.  Other than that, the descent was fairly uneventful.  

We arrived for one more night in moraine camp, and hiked out of the valley the next morning; holding our heads high as we passed a group just leaving base camp and on their way to their own summit attempt and wishing them well.  Afterall, we knew exactly what they were getting into.  And that's the funny thing about climbing mountains..."To the sober person adventurous conduct often seems insanity"(~Georg Simmel)

Ups and Downs...part one

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.

We're All In Training

As I prepare for the big climbs which are rapidly approaching, I am in high hopes that my training regiment has been sufficient.  From the early morning "prison workouts" to the evening jogs at high altitude, I sincerely hope that I will have what it takes to push on to the summits.  The training has been fairly enjoyable as I am blessed with magnificent views looking down at my site from afar.

I've found, however, that I'm not the only one in training.  

I recently hosted a group of Peace Corps soon-to-be Volunteers in my site.  Just as I w

as in training one year ago, this latest batch of do-gooders is currently undergoing their fairly monotonous three months of training in Lima.  However, for one week, they were allowed to break free from the arduous grips of the Training Center in order to have their Field Base Training.  Half of this group recently spent a week in and around my site gaining insight into the life of an actual Peace Corps Volunteer.

In fact, it was a pleasure to host this gang.  Not only was I able able to share the knowledge which I have accumulated throughout my service, I was also benignly reminded of just how far I have come myself.  Indeed, I found their questions and concerns indistinguishable from the ones I held during my time in training.  However, now I am the person providing the consoling remarks; reminding them, that Peace Corps is indeed far much more than the life they know in the Training Center.  

Just as I have been rigorously training to climb mountains, these new recruits are trying their hardest to prepare themselves for a successful service.  I hope that their training pays off as well.

I also hosted a group of high school students who were on a sort of social learning Sumer vacation type of trip.  To be honost, I was not too impressed.  Unfortunately, it seems as though this group was not truly resolved in cultural exchange nor social service.  Truth be told, they were an embarassment to myself and a poor representation to the United States in general.  Their lack of respect for the culture and an understanding for impoverished living inhibited them from obtaining a positive experience.  Perhaps they need a little more training.

Beyond the time I have been passing in preparation for the climbs, I have also made some huge leaps in lifestyle changes.  I am proud to announce that I have introduced an electronic shower head into my life.  That gushing glacial water most definitely will wake me up, but it is far from comforting.  From now on (as long as I have electricity at that particular time) I will be showering with a much more sultry experience.  

I have also constructed a "water evaporation cooler".  This fairly simple device involves the combination of two clay pots, sand, water, and a wet towel.  Now, I can buy broccoli at the Sunday market and it easily lasts five days.  Sure, it's no refrigerator.  However, extending the life of produce has definitely been a welcomed addition to my life here.

As far as projects go, I have continued working on the vocational classes with local high school students.  Thus far, I am quite satisfied with the results.  Also, I have completed my first large-scale vegetable garden.  This particular project was conducted at a local school for kindergarten students that is known for catering to some of the poorest children in town.  Needless to say, many of these students are also fairly malnourished.  However, with the help of a representative from the local Ministry of Education, a nutritionist, and the director of the school, we organized the parents to put in a few days of work at the school; transforming a once worried portion of the school's property into a first-rate vegetable garden.  To top it all off, the nutritionist and myself conducted a couple of nutrition seminars with the parents to help educate them on the importance of incorporating vegetables into their diets, and how to properly prepare them.  

I know it may seem petty, and prehaps a bit ridiculous to imagine that a person wouldn't understand the importance of vegetables.  However, these are educational elements which we have been fortunate enough to have been surrounded with our whole lives.  Perhaps, the next generation here in my site will also retain this information.  In the meantime, such negligible items will have to be carefully elucidated.  

Is this a job or a lifestyle?

This is a question that has been hitting me pretty hard as of late.  I mean sure, technically, this is a job.  Obviously, the pay isn't so great, nor do I have set hours.  However, I do have objectives, I have my bosses, and a pretty inclusive healthcare package.  More so, it's work; my days can be just as long and stressful as the next persons - if not more so.

The boundaries of my office are drawn up by my health that day, the weather, and how far I'm willing to go.  Do I have the patience?   Is that person or group going to show up?  All of which are considerably unpredictable factors.

More so, if this is a job, then it seems to fit very well into my lifestyle.  Thus, I suppose that the title "The toughest job you'll ever love" fits perfectly.  Nice job Peace Corps advertising team.

On other notes, things are moving along quite well these days.  My visit to the US about three months ago feels like a momentary blip in my memory.  As great as it was, it kind of threw me out of my standard practices.  And, now that I've recovered, I've been pretty busy distracting myself with work related causes.

I have been spending a lot of my time helping out at a local school for children with disabilities.  I will refrain on commenting on any personal predispositions in regards to how a developing nation handles children suffering from such complications.  However, I have found that my time spent there has provided me with some of the most rewarding experiences of my service thus far.  To be honost, I haven't achieved any great successes in regards to execut

ing outstanding projects there.  I fear that an entire culture needs to adjust before one could opulently solicit the appropriate changes.  However, I am always  received with ardent hugs from the young children and grateful smiles from the administrative staff.  These factors alone are more than enough to keep me coming back.  In fact, I believe that I get just as much (if not more) from my encounters with these children than what I provide for them.

The only actual "project" that has materialized in that particular school is a small vegetable garden.  My hopes are that within a few months, the children will be sent home with vegetables.  Now, if only I can convince their parents to introduce them to the dinner table...

I have also been working diligently on giving vocational courses to all high school seniors in and around my site.  This project seems to be going well.  Unfortunately,  the school system in the area fails to expose their students to a life after graduation.  I'm hoping to implant a few considerations in the minds of these students.  

I have also been preparing for the arrival of Perú's newest volunteers who will be coming up to visit me later this month as sort of a "in field practicum".  They are currently in Lima undergoing their training (as I was one year ago), and this will give them an opportunity to see what life is like outside the training center.  In addition, there is a group of high school students from various parts of the US who will be joining me in my site for a week as a sort of "service learning" experience.  

On a personal level, I have committed to climbing two mountains at the end of this month.  Therefore, I have been doing a great deal of training in order to prepare.  One of the climbs will be well over 20,000 ft, and should prove to be quite difficult.  On the upside, training means that I have visited many of the summits on the lower mountains surrounding my community.  Have you ever gone for a jog at 10,000 ft?  

I also 

took a couple of personal days and went down to a small beach town where I (and several other Peace Corps Volunteers) helped a fellow volunteer who had organized a marathon in his site.  Let's be honost, I really just wanted to mee

t up with some friends that I haven't seen in awhile, and spend some time on the beach, more than anything.  Plus, I had some close friends who were running their first marathons, and I wanted to cheer them on.  However, the marathon itself was a great success; and it looks like it will turn into an annual event.

All that said, life's been good.  I really have been finding it hard to distinguish between what is work-related and what is personal-time as of late.  That's the beauty of the situation I have going here.  The stresses I encounter are just as likely to stem from daily living as from my projects.  Just as well, I guess I don't really get to "go home" at the end of the workday.  However, my job seems to be pretty accommodating to my lifestyle, and I guess I'm happiest when the two are combined.  When I walk out the door in the morning I am uncertain of expectations; but I do expect to try my best as a Peace Corps Volunteer.  In the end, I suppose the title of job or lifestyle doesn't really matter.  What matters most is just making the most out of this life.  After all, no matter what your thoughts are on afterlife, the one you are living is most  definitely guaranteed.  

Back and Busy

Since my arrival back in Perú, I've been very busy.  Luckily, my projects seemed to have maintained steam, and I was able to jump right back into the swing of things.

Shortly after my return, I spent just under a week in Lima at a Project Design and Management workshop hosted by the Peace Corps.  

For these particular meetings, Peace Corps Volunteers were able to bring a member from their communities.  These selected participants were motivated persons with whom the volunteer wished to coordinate a future project.  The objective was then to further develop this project in order to have a great chance of success when they returned to their sites.

I chose to bring a worker from the local municipality with whom I've had past success.  He felt very privileged to be part of the workshop, and thus our results had a favorable outcome.  Our project (which has yet to be implemented) was to design a mentor/intern program for local youth interested in pursuing a career in tourism.  It seems like a plausible project; so, we'll see what the future brings.

Before I begin to further develop the previously state

d tourism project, I working on vocational courses to all high school seniors in the local public schools.  We have effectively begun in two of the four schools, and have solicited money for the remaining two.  The goal is to have implemented the five session course to approximately 400 students by the end of July.  That's pretty much the biggest thing I have planned for the next couple of months.

Of course, a volunteer is always working on side-projects; and I've got some interesting ones popping up.  I have begun to work with local tourism agencies and business.  A union has been formed and people seem to be willing to put forth some effort in regards to improving the local tourism economy.  To this same group, I've begun to teach English classes.  It's been a nice change up to work with adults.  More so, I was able to tag along on a day trip to one of the local tourist destinations free-of-charge.  Now, how could you pass that up?

I've also been spending some time at a local school for handicapped children once or twice a week.  This is just something to do in my down time.  They're a great group of kids and the professors appreciate the help.

I gecko has managed to enter my room.  I've decided to let him stay.  My place isn't all that big, but I'm pretty sure there is room for the two of us.  Now, if only Walter (that's his name) can keep the bug population down!

Perú recently celebrated that "Día de la papa".  Yes, that's right...a whole day to express potato appreciation.  Perú is home to over 3000 types of potatoes.  And, if you think I have some sort of agenda to try them all, well, you're mad.  I think I've already eaten more potatoes while I've been in Perú than I have in my entire previous life.  All that said, the displays of potato variety were actually pretty consuming (sorry about that).