pauls-paradigm2: Day 12 - Camp II to Base Camp (5,800M to 4,200M)

Return to Fullness

The winds of the prior night had not died down, but at least the snow accumulation had stopped. A sweeping wind would bring a powdery moment of snow fog and then pass. This was the much touted viento blanco or white wind.

Aside from the occasional blasts, camp was very still. The summit crew was taking every advantage of the 11:00am waking schedule.

This gave me time to sift gear from the remaining silt of last night's storm, that had accumulated in the tent's vestibule.

Bartek was a much more energetic compatriot this morning and eager to leave camp.

Tromping through layers of freshly blown snow, the group fractured quickly, as the stories of the ascent began to surface. Apparently, one member could only make the return trip with the aid of at least one guide under arm and two others made the trek on their own power but leashed to guides. The advertised 10 hour return trip from Independencia had lingered on to 13 hours, with the aid of the blizzard. The snow was so dense that even after lighting off 5 liters of gas in base camp, the descending guides couldn't find the way point. That is when years of experience and intuition deciphered the route and Camp II location.

Despite the previous day's efforts, the guides each carry massive loads, as well as leading.

We took many breaks to try to allow the group to reassemble. But with guides spread evenly across the mountain, we continued in smaller pods.

All seemed right with the world for New Zealand Richard. He is a Kiwi, living and working in London, while "ticking off" the Seven Summits list. Richard has a humble confidence in mountaineering. He takes one calculated step after another. I have no doubt that if other conditions make it feasible Richard will complete his Seven Summits quest. After our first hike to Camp II, it was somehow reassuring to see the exertion in his face as well. I told him that this was comforting and he gave the only appropriate response of a "one finger wave" combined with a hearty smile and laugh. You could trust your life to this guy and he would respect that.

It is hard to make out the black dots of our group, splintered across the snowy bowl, but we were accumulating at Camp I, prior to making the push down to Base Camp.

The air at Camp I was thick and delicious. If it were possible to taste with lungs, we were doing it. Smiles were all around and the crew eager to hit the slip stone path to Base Camp.

Along the glacial return, the ice bridge had finally collapsed, providing one of the more exciting few steps. No one was eager to take a glacial bath at this point. (What can't be seen from this angle is that Bartek, in red, has just finished a very narrow up-hill crossing.)

Maybe, since this would be the last crossing of the ice field the dangers were more apparent, because the narrow paths on cliff faces were getting more than usual attention. (That's a really big drop to a massive bolder.)

The glacier seemed to go on "for ever". Our expedition was now spread sporadically between Camp I and Base Camp. Many hiked alone, as a fast cluster pushed downward.