How Long Can One Live Without Water?
Miles hiked no longer matter from this point on. Success if measured in elevation gained against the 6,962M summit. For Ivan 4,200M would be the high-point. Unfortunately, his breathing difficulties increased overnight, showing signs of HAPE (High Altitude Pulmonary Edema) and the doctor sent him out by helicopter this morning. Only between 30 and 40% of summit attempts ends in success and if the remainder of our group summits we would have a 94% success rate. The inevitability of more fallout hung, as Ivan flew away.
The sun is absolutely piercing at these altitudes. Even though the start was only approaching mid-morning the building heat of exposure started almost immediately.
We were told that carrying 2 liters of water each should be plenty, as there will be ample re-fill points along the way. The first liter was gone within the first two hours.
The group is becoming adept at "rest break sprawl". Any reasonably sloped pile of scree is surprisingly comfortable.
The cloudless sky afforded crystal clear views of the Polish Glacier ascent. We would not be making a direct scale of the glacier but a traverse along the bottom and around the side.
Between the jagged rock outcropping, in the middle, and the ice patch to the right lies Camp I. Our purpose, today, was to supply Camp I with food, along with other provisions, that will be needed there and at higher camps.
Even though no ice is showing at the moment, we were walking on top of an active glacier, collecting moraine as it moved.
Just a kilometer or so beyond and we were reminded of this fact.
Stewart posed on a precarious ice bridge. We both joked about how much longer it would last.
Minor lakes or large ponds develop when areas of the glacier, without a protective layer of moraine, are exposed to the heat of solar radiation. The glacier fights back on a nightly basis by freezing at least a thick crust on the suspended ponds.
Lunch break before the push up the slide rock slope doubles as social session and napping opportunity.
Stewart is our lively generator of good will. He has the Irish "gift of gab" and is just as willing to share a story as a piece of his Cadbury Chocolate bar. I think it would be a real challenge to ever catch him with a discouraging word. Every opportunity is an honestly positive experience.
After taking lunch, it is always a challenge to get the legs moving smoothly again. Despite the stiffness the human chain of our expedition plodded upwards.
The slippage ratio was actually not that bad for much of the ascent. Sometimes, when climbing in scree, two steps up gleans the equivalent of one step backwards in slide, for a net gain of one.
All we needed to do to achieve Camp I was pull ourselves up a massive pile of gravel.
Fun, right... are you getting the idea that this took a while?
Reaching the penitentes was a nice distraction from staring at the bits of stone below each step. These ice formations are a specialized phenomenon, created by the strong downhill winds blowing the mid-day ice melt and refreezing it in vertically aligned scultures.
In the Spring the penitentes cover the entire slope, but this late in the climbing season they only remain where the afternoon shade protects.
Following a glacial melt stream, finally, the ridge of Camp I was in sight. Everyone felt the lung drag of the higher altitude and looked forward to refilling long empty water bottles.
Resting at 5,000M, Camp I is higher than any peak in the lower 48 United States. At this point, with the cold air blowing down the bowl shaped valley combined with the generally unsustainable environment, Camp I may have well have been on the moon.
Ever the optimist, Stewart gave the big thumbs up. His pre-expedition training regimen impressed and was now paying dividends.
The truth of the mountain, though, is that the effort is down right exhausting. Despite every effort towards preparation, everyone needs a nap.
I decided to stay up at altitude for an extra half hour with the guides. In that time, the stream at the entrance to Camp I had changed course, wiping out the standard trail. The guides searched for the best alternative descent option.
We forded the stream twice and headed down a fresh scee track. The slippage felt more like skiing than hiking. We pivoted on our poles, making a slalom descent.
In the heat of the afternoon, the ponds were coming to capacity. Unfortunately, that was not true of our water supply. Camp I only produced a silted, almost indigestible slurry. I gathered a liter of the sludge to imbibe in measured doses. (Note the size of the hikers on the left for scale.)
Part of the team threw rocks onto the glacial ponds in an attempt to crack the surface. This effort took the combination of not only the right sized rock, but a well placed shot to a weak point in the surface.
Tramping down to Base Camp, all that remained in the water bottle was a thick residue of sludge. My mouth was as dry as the surrounding slopes. The punishing heat produced exhaustion and the beginnings of blurred vision.
Base Camp was an extremely welcoming sighting. After arriving my head throbbed, vomiting ensued and the effects of heat exhaustion from a lack of water dropped me to my sleeping bag. Fortunately, after about an hour nap I arose ravenous and thirsty enough to drink four liters of water in the course of two hours.
Unfortunately, our summit bid team had decreased by another by the day's end. Jim, a San Francisco native, who is on a South American multi-year extravaganza, via motorcycle, pushed but fell short of Camp I. Altitude is a strange bedfellow. Despite having the most pre-expedition South American time at high altitude, of any of us Gringo climbers, it just wasn't Jim's time. We are going to miss his dry sense of humor and straight forward self-prescribed "balls to the wall" approach to life. He is planning on staying at Base Camp while the remaining crew pushes up hill.
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