Day 11 - Summit Bid

Promise Kept

How cold is cold? I have no idea, but the -40 degree sleeping bag finally needed to be zipped shut last night and our breath went from rising to the nylon ceiling, forming crystalline layers, to returning to the floor as frozen dust, before reaching the dome.

A 4:00am start to the day may seem a little excessive for a 6:00am ascent, but when the environment is taken into account there is just enough time. For instance, the relatively simple task of fastening boots may take ten minutes total at base camp, but here the effort is multiplied by at least a factor of two. Bending over is the equivalent of holding your breath. So if you want to simulate altitude, close your mouth, plug one nostril, run up two flights of stairs, then hold your breath and try to tie your shoes. After gasping to recover, repeat ten times, because you are tying double layer plastic boots.

The morning was beautiful. For the most part I resisted the urge to take pictures and focused simply on climbing in the pace line.

Then moon lit things up, so a break to capture the group was requisite.

It was a very long two hour plus slog to our first rest stop. Those willing to drink water were parched. The lesson here is to carry a water bladder in the future. That way hydration doesn't require a stop. Most of the guides have one so this may be why they push the group beyond a comfortable hydration zone. Canadian Dan enjoyed the break, sunrise, and view of the Andes with a strong "thumbs up".

The group continued to Plaza Independencia, where for the first time at anything, I accepted the invitation to turn back. Cacho admonished the group that it was a ten hour return trip to Camp II from that spot. The summit was tangible, but the aftermath is what concerned me. For the first time, I doubted myself and that was reason enough to turn. Before leaving home, Mom made me promise "not to do anything macho on the mountain." Well this whole thing involves a tremendous amount of self-will and perseverance. When does that end and macho begin or are they inextricably linked? By this time, the headache of the day before was a persistent roar and my dizzied steps led back to Camp II, but the views were great.

I was excited to get back to Camp II and made typical brain fog mistakes. When traversing the Polish Glacier, the obvious trail went straight, which meant hiking two legs of a triangle. The hypotenuse seemed like a much better option. Five steps off the trail, my left leg sunk to the knee. Wanting to break free, my right leg pushed hard on the ice crust and sunk to the hip. What remained of a clouded consciousness thought, "Great, miss the summit and sink into a cravas... real smart." Leaning forward, I crawled free of the pedal entanglement and tread softly back to the trail.

Camp II felt like an altitude haven. The skies were clear, with very early clouds forming. Bartek and Leigh, having heard of my return via radio, met me on the camp's edge. Surprisingly, they offered consolatory handshakes and hugs. It must have been the thin air, cracking the macho commando veneer, if only momentarily. (Later in Mendoza, Leigh thought it fitting, in a stupor, to openly challenge my sexuality. It's "ok" big guy, "real men" can hug without being gay. Don't worry, it will be our little secret that you initiated.)

Any way about it, I was ready to crash, even with persistent doubts as to whether I had really pushed hard enough. In talking to the guide, he said that an athletic person needs about three months of persistent training to prepare for the climb. I guess my four months of doing right arm beer stein curls in Europe didn't count and the one month of concerted effort at home was simply too far short of the mark.

Bartek was starting to feel human again, which was a great sign, as we all still had the descent to contend with... and I appreciated the lack of challenge to the open door today.

In our altitude clouded consciousness, frozen ice crystals in the ceiling vent appeared to be a giraffe leaning forward to gain a better view of a mother cheetah and cubs, who were standing under an umbrella acacia. What? You can't see it? As the crystals shifted, this game went on for hours... cheap alpine entertainment.

Lunch was a hearty instant soup, laced with white gas. Yummm...

TMI, but one of the challenges of high altitude is what to do when things freeze. The bottle won't melt in the sun, but it is obviously needed to be "empty" at night. So, simply put it in the sleeping bag and let the ambient body heat melt it over three or four hours. Did I mention it was still cold in the daylight?

Things began to shift in the late afternoon, with a blizzard setting in. We were very glad to be sitting in the relative warmth and safety of the tent, but concerns for the exposed group began to rise.

The snow does not flake or flurry here but is an airborne talc, seeping into everything. Someone made the comment that Aconcagua is actually the farthest mountain peak from the equator, so even though Everest is taller, at the same altitude there is less oxygen and raw fluid moisture here than positionally anywhere else on earth. Adding to this, Aconcagua is in the middle of a dessert, so the lack of oxygen producing plant life in the near vicinity doesn't help things either. I have no idea how this affects the snow, but these were the thoughts that passed the time.

The tent's twin vestibules are typically safe places for gear, but the fine powdery snow found every conceivable slipping point in which to enter.

Later that evening, we started to hear noises so I had to venture out to hear the tales of victory. Adam was nearby, sorting out his tent, in a post summit white haze. Unfortunately, everyone had left the screened vents open in their domes, so the inside gear was covered in powder. The good news is that it can be brushed off with no consequence. The bad news is that everyone was rightly exhausted, some to the point of ignoring the snow to climb directly into sleeping bags.

The great news was that all of the remaining group reached the summit. So for the expedition 11 of 16 peaked or darn near 70% of the group. Averaged against the season numbers of around 40% that is fantastic. The morning would reveal at what price this was achieved.